No Common Sense Beyond This Point

First, I want to wish each and every one of you out there a very Merry Christmas (a few days late) and a Happy New Year! With any luck, you are enjoying this holiday season as much as we are in the House o' Joe. This week is especially awesome, now that the hectic shopping, sociopathic crowd-fighting, and last-minute gift-wrapping sessions are finally over! As usual, it was down to the wire for me... December 24th and I was standing in long checkout lines with all the other men in town who still hadn't found the "perfect gift" for their significant other. I can't help but wonder about the poor guy behind me in line at Wal-Mart... Were those holiday-print oven mitts as big a hit with his wife as he thought they'd be? Anyway, I've made a decision this year. Enough of this putting it all off until the last minute. I'm going to start procrastinating a lot early in 2005!



Okay, with all that out of the way, how's about you indulge me in a long-overdue rant? Buckle your seatbelts, kids... Here we go!



My girlfriend and I both have children from previous relationships. This means that, when it comes to holidays, our kids only spend half their time with us. This year, that meant having the brood home for Christmas Eve / Christmas Morning, then sending them off for Christmas Dinner and Boxing Day. And so, it was in this way that we found ourselves alone by about noon on Christmas Day.



It was bittersweet, in a way... After a morning of giddy, screaming, sugar-rushed children, the peace and quiet was a welcome relief. On the other hand, not having them around on Christmas left us feeling rather empty. So, we did what any other couple would do in our situation: We went to a movie.



Note: Before you think of us as totally pathetic human beings with nowhere to go for Christmas, let me point out that we were supposed to go to her sister's place for dinner. The problem was that she lives about an hour outside of town, in the mountains, and the brakes on the van were acting up. Not being with family on Christmas is one thing... Having to pull yourself from the flaming, twisted wreckage of a late 90's Grand Caravan and hitchhike back to civilization on Christmas is quite another!



Wondering when I'm going to get to the rant? Well, wait no longer...



The Paramount Chinook is an impressive movie theatre. It sports the 200 - 300 screens common to movieplexes these days, but they've done it with a bit of flair. The theme is Ancient Egypt, complete with giant cobras encircling the massive hieroglyphic-laden columns, monstrous scarab beetles clinging to the walls, and a King Tut death mask with lasers coming out of the eyes. Quite impressive, really. Anyway, since this particular theatre isn't in my end of town, I seldom get out to it. So, I wasn't prepared for the surprise...



Right there in the main lobby, along with Burger King, Pizza Hut, and Tim Horton's was a new concession... There, for all to see, from the couples sitting and eating over-priced Whoppers, to the kids thrashing away on the air hockey tables, emblazoned in bright neon where the words I never dreamed I'd see in a movie theatre: Beer & Wine.



I kid you not.



They were actually selling beer and wine at the theatre! Can you believe it? Well, I couldn't! Now, I'm no prude, so don't get me wrong... I enjoy a few cold ones from time to time, and I've even been known to pretend that I appreciate a fine glass of vino. But at the movies?!? Come on! Am I the only person who could instantaneously see the problem with this? Sure, there were signs posted at all the exits and the hallways leading to the theatres saying "Absolutely No Alcohol Beyond This Point", but who are they kidding? I mean, it doesn't exactly take a college degree to figure out that the pimply-faced kid taking your tickets isn't going to ask for a sip of your beverage to make sure you haven't made that simple mental leap and replaced your Coke with something a little stronger. Of course people are going to sneak the stuff in!



My suspicions were confirmed not two minutes after sitting down. The previews hadn't even come on yet when a couple of the guys behind us stood up and announced to their friends, "We're gonna go put some beer in these Coke cups!" The typical dumb jock laughing and high-fives as they made their way out to the lobby effectively eliminated any subterfuge their walnut-sized brains may have been able to muster up. Great. So much for enjoying the show. For the record, this same group made themselves known to the entire theatre by shouting obscenities at everyone who entered, and managed to make 2 more "beverage runs" before the movie ended. Color me impressed.



I'm not as pissed about the fact that these morons ruined my movie-going experience than I am at the fact that many future ones may be ruined as well. And what if I want to take the kids to see a show? What "extra entertainment" are they going to be subjected to because some brilliant marketing executive decided to cash in on the premise that we can't live without beer for a 2-hour stretch? Seriously.



So, I ask you, what's next? Am I going to see a Beer Gardens tent erected at the zoo? How about a swim-up bar at my neighborhood wading pool? Seriously! It's enough to drive a person to... well... write a rant about it. Thanks for indulging me.



Seasons Greetings and Peace To You All in 2005.

Where Have All The Comments Gone?

Okay, so it took me a little while to notice, but did you know that Haloscan archives comments older than 4 months and holds them for ransom?



"Yeah, we gots your comments all right. You's wanna see 'em again? Then make with da money, or we start sendin' 'em back... one vowel at a time."



That's right, until I pay the $12US to become a Premium Member (there's a dirty joke there somewhere, but I'll leave it alone for now), nobody can access the brilliance you fine readers wrote as recently as July. That's ridiculous!



I understand that Haloscan is a free service, and that they can't exactly keep up a high level of service without donations, so I won't argue the point. However...



I've noticed a lot of other bloggers have started using the comments feature offered by Blogger. I was wondering what the ups and downs of it are. Should I switch? Should I stay with Haloscan? Are there better options out there that I just haven't discovered yet?



Help me out people... You are my eyes, ears, and left frontal lobe. Tell me what you think. You just better hope I actually get around to reading the comments in the next 4 months!

The Scatterbrained Monologues

So, I have this friend... I've known him now for something like 17 years, or so, and we seem to be "on the same wavelength" most of the time. We often have long talks about things that would absolutely bore anybody else, but we "get each other". I suppose that's one of the biggest reasons we are friends. However, there are times when he goes off in a completely different direction, intellectually speaking, and just makes me laugh.



The other day, I was chatting with this friend on MSN. At one point, I had to step away from my computer for a while. As usual, I provided the necessary courtesy of a "BRB" message, just to let him know he could stop talking for a bit. But do you think he did? Nope. Instead, he chose to just keep on typing, to my eventual amusement.



Below is an excerpt of what I found when I sat back down at my keyboard. Just to let you know, he was in the middle of commenting on my post "Kids These Days"...

[14:58] Nav: hahaha There is no superwoman. It was SuperGIRL

[14:58] Nav: duh!

[14:58] Nav: haha thats bloody brilliant

[15:00] Nav: the sutext in your blog is rapidly becoming longer than the text itself

[15:00] Nav: bubtext*

[15:00] Nav: SUBtext*

[15:00] Nav: dammit

[15:00] Nav: You cant have bubtext, unless you know a guy named bub

[15:01] Nav: In which case i can understand why you'd cleverly hide the words, instead of addressing them directly to him

[15:01] Nav: If I was anmed bub, i'd want a low profile, for sure

[15:01] Nav: NAMED bub

[15:01] Nav: maybe Anmed Bub is his full name

[15:02] Nav: Hello there my friend. I'm Anmed Bub. And who might you be being today?

[15:03] Nav: Nav once again proves that he is master of the scatterbrained monologue

[15:03] Nav: It's free ascociation day

[15:04] Nav: !! ...

[15:08] Nav: anyway, back to the subtext thing, your blog says more about the disassos... err never mind. woudl ruin the stark beauty of it to flesh it oui

[15:08] Nav: out*

[15:08] Nav: I like to flesh it, oui?

[15:08] Nav: paddon moi, but i like to Flesh it! oui, oui!

[15:09] Nav: ugh. Flesh it. Fl Flesh it real good!

[15:09] Nav: ugh Flesh it! Fl-flesh it real good!

[15:10] Nav: So i was with this babe the other night, fleshing it, if you know what i mean

[15:10] Nav: ayy. It's a Moo point

I dunno... For some reason, this stuff just cracks me up...

Belated... As Usual

Leave it to me to completely miss a birthday, anniversary, or any other occasion that I have a year to prepare for. I'm horrible with dates. Don't get me wrong, I can remember them, no problem... But I'm not usually very aware of the current date, so remembering significant ones is kind of pointless.



I'm the kind of person who really should use those pop-up reminders in Microsoft Outlook to let me know when something's coming. Of course, like most of the sane world, I despise pop-ups of any kind. If one popped up to tell me I should call my brother and wish him a Happy Birthday, I'd probably get hostile and not bother! So, I guess that's out of the question...



I could always revert to an old-style calendar one the wall. During this time of year, those Calendar Shops are popping up in malls all over the place. I guess calendars are a popular choice for presents with some people. I never really understood that, to tell you the truth. Are there any other types of stationery or office supplies that make appropriate gifts for a loved one? How about a stapler? Or a pack of neon colored Post-It Notes? It sure would ease my budget if they were! Actually, I bought a calendar for my girlfriend last Christmas, now that I'm thinking about it. But that was more for the pictures of waterfalls (which she loves). But, I digress...



I don't think a calendar would work for me. There just isn't anywhere that I frequent on a daily basis that would work as a place for a calendar. Naturally, there are places I go everyday... But taking a shower, eating breakfast, or going to bed are not convenient times to be reminded that I need to go say "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"



I need some kind of reminder that goes with me. And I'm not talking about anything as fancy as a PDA. No, I need something that jumps out at me... Not something I have to remember to use. Isn't that the problem I'm trying to solve in the first place? I know! Why don't I just pin the event of the day on my shirt, like our teachers used to do for the kids who could never remember to give notes to their parents? Yeah! That would work! Picture it...



I'm walking back to my desk from the coffee machine when I suddenly bump into Rockstar. "Hey, Cuppojoe," he'd say, "Why do you have a bright green card with my name on it pinned to your shirt?" I'd shrug and say, "No reason." Then, as I turned to continue on my way, I'd suddenly look back up and say, "Hey! Happy Birthday, by the way!"



It's a flawless plan, I tell ya... If only I would have thought of it in time to remind myself that this blog turned one-year old on November 2. Oh well, there's always next year.



I think I'll go make the card...

Things That Go Hip-Hop in the Night

I must finally be getting old.



There was once a time in my life when I could fall asleep at the drop of a hat and you'd have more luck raising the dead than rousing me. When I was a teenager, my uncle used to get me out of bed on Saturday mornings by using a variety of clever tactics. Once, he set my clock radio really loud, then hid it somewhere else in the room. Frustrating. Another time, he actually threw water on me in an attempt to get me to leave the comfort and security of slumberland. Annoying. On a particularly vicious occasion, he set off the fire alarm outside my room! If the incredibly loud sound wouldn't have coaxed me out of bed, I'm sure the fact that I wet myself would have!



Last night, despite how terribly exhausted I was from the new hours at work, I just couldn't make myself fall asleep at a decent hour. I tried watching some boring TV (we certainly have enough of that in Canada!), reading a book that I'd read already, and, finally, willing myself into unconsciousness.



Nothing.



Well, maybe not nothing, exactly. You ever lie in bed for so long, trying to fall asleep and thinking about a million different random things, then suddenly you are wide awake asking yourself, "Was I just asleep?" Well, that happened quite few times last night. If I had to guess, I'd say I probably finally drifted off around 11:15, a good hour and a half after I went to bed.



And then the fun began.



At 11:45, I sat bolt upright in bed, something I never do. Something had woken me up. Was it the phone? No. How about the 5-year old sleeping in the next room. Again, no. What the..? And then I woke up enough to realize what was going on...



Music.



You see, I recently moved into a new house with my daughter. To be specific, we moved into the basement suite of said house and, lucky us, there are 3 20-something guys living above. Now, I haven't been here long enough to have met these guys yet, but that's okay. So far, they've kept to themselves and I've done likewise. There hasn't been any reason to think that this living arrangement wouldn't work out... Until I heard the music.



I couldn't exactly make out the words to the song, but the drumbeats were coming through loud and clear, making an interesting counter-rhythm to the steadily increasing pulse in my ears as I became more and more angry. It was almost midnight on a Tuesday, for crying out loud!



Unacceptable.



I got up and went to check on my daughter. Apparently, she takes after dear old Dad, since she was as motionless as ever with her pink, plush dog clutched under her arm. Good. One less thing to worry about... For now.



The music wasn't quite as noticeable in the living room, so I toyed with the idea of simply crashing on the couch and dealing with the problem the next day.



Yeah, right.



As soon as I laid my head down and got myself settled as well as one can on a sofa, the song changed and I could hear it as loud as ever. Now I was sure my daughter would wake up any second. So, despite my less than presentable appearance and the late hour, I pulled on a pair of jeans and went to meet the neighbors. I felt like Mr. Roper storming upstairs to yell at those "crazy kids" from Three's Company. I can't really be old enough to remember that, can I?



I can only imagine what was going through that guy's mind when he peered through the blinds on his back door and saw this stranger with a headful of bedhair glaring back at him. I have to admit, I'm impressed that he had the guts to open the door at all... I'm not sure I would! Anyway, it turned out that "Dillon" is a pretty decent kid and he was more than apologetic and willing to turn down the tunes. Turns out, we're so quiet downstairs that he thought no one was home!



So, with that potential disaster averted, I made my way back down to my suite, exchanged the jeans for the pajama bottoms, and crawled back into bed. As you can probably imagine, after all that excitement, it took quite a while for me to settle back down to the point where I could fall asleep...



I think the clock said 1:45 the last time I looked.

Scenes from the Forklift: Caffeine Don't Fail Me Now!

There's been a big shake-up in MSA One as of late. For a few months now, there has been an eerie calm over the place, not unlike the eye of a hurricane. We have been lulled into a false sense of security that is now threatening to break. Indeed, the tides of change have begun to erode the... Oh, enough already! On with the blog...



We used to work from 8 am to 5 pm, Monday to Friday. Not so anymore. As of last yesterday, our hours have been changed. Now we work from 7 am to 5 pm Monday to Thursday, and from 7 am to 11:15 am on Friday.



Did you catch that? I said 7 am! Seven o’clock in the freakin’ morning! Sure, we have half of Friday to ourselves now, but come on! I’m not sure my blood even starts circulating before 7:30!



It’s only been two days of the new Torture Schedule, but you can already see it taking its toll. Gone is the spring in our step, only to be replaced with a shuffle that strangely resembles that of a zombie from the Micheal Jackson "Thriller" video. Computers are on, email clients and Inventory programs running as usual, but people are spending a lot more time staring blankly at them as they wait for their synapses to fire quick enough to enable comprehension. The coffee drinkers in the crowd (including yours truly, of course) have gone from having a relaxing morning cup o’ Joe to pounding three or four back like frat boys doing shooters in an effort to kick-start their brains.



You can see it on an individual level as well… For instance, Rockstar, who usually takes orders and rounds up lunch for a select few everyday, started wandering through MSA One grumbling that he was hungry and saying, "It’s gotta be almost lunchtime!"



It was 9:45.



And then there’s Jughead, one of the recent newbies to join our ranks. He’s normally your typical early twenties male… Doing the slow walk, cracking the odd joke here and there, and basically trying to project an air of "cool". Well! Get this guy up and into work before 7, and suddenly he’s like a 9-year old who’s had too much cola and is up way past his bedtime! Now he’s talking a mile a minute, and every second thing is a fart joke… And he thinks he’s funny! It’s quickly becoming obvious that somebody needs a nap…



Even the great Cuppojoe isn’t immune to the effects of this time-shift. No sir! I’m what the common man would refer to as "cranky". Now, I already have a somewhat low tolerance for stupidity as it is, but now that a dose of sleep deprivation has been added to the mix… Watch out! I am totally on the edge with the guys working under me! We are approaching some very important deadlines for commitments I have made to The Powers That Be, and I am constantly having to go back to double- and triple-check work that I thought was straight-forward. Naturally, this has me in a mood that has earned me a few names behind my back, most of them deservedly so. Still, the fact that I had to show a guy how to count to ten today has me shaking, and I don’t think it’s just the coffee this time!



Well, I guess I better cut the rant off there… After all, it is 6:30 in the evening. I should have been in bed a half-hour ago…

Photo of the Week: Hero from the Past

A peaceful resting place instead of the scrapyard.
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Something Sucks

I am recently led to believe that my blog sucks.



Or so I've been told...



Here's the email I received:



Your blog sucks... I have this huge comment for your Analyse This: The Ringers and it wouldn't post... so here it is



Got a reunion coming up? Or it sounds like you want to randomly run into some old friends, perhaps some nicely dressed ones and tell them about your blog so you have more people commenting on your crazy dreams. What? We aren't good enough for you? Don't you like our comments. I understand we might not be witty enough for you, but come

on, we try! I know how to play volleyball, maybe not as good as some Junior high kids but you don't need to go around telling people about the blog. Before you know it there will be so many comments you won't even notice the little guys who were your loyal readers from the start. *sniff* Please coach, put me in.......



Let me clarify... It would appear that this reader actually enjoys the blog, but has a problem with the commenting system. Admittedly, Haloscan has its limits, but it's free and looks good. I think I'll keep it for now. So, if anyone else is having problems controlling their long-windedness, I encourage you to break your comments down into 2 or more smaller ones.



As for the comment itself... Maybe you're right about the "want to randomly run into some old friends" bit. I dunno. Who wouldn't, right? But what interested me most was the "loyal readers" part... No way do I think of you as the "little guys". In fact, the last part of the comment, to me, comes off as one big Ego Stroke for Cuppojoe... Which I like.



Keep it coming!

Analyze This: The Ringers

There I was, standing just inside the entrance of a Junior High school somewhere. It wasn't a place I've ever been before, but pretty typical none the less... Dark brick walls, large windows with stainless steel mullions looking into the Main Office, heavy orange doors to the outside flanked by wire-reinforced glass... A wide flight of stairs led off into another area of the school.



I guess I was standing in what could be called the foyer or main hall... Anyway, on this particular occasion, there were a number of folding tables set up, some with papers strewn across them, others piled high with file boxes. Evidently, there was some sort of Sign-Up going on, as people were lining up to speak to a girl at one of the tables, then scrawling their names on a sheet of paper.



Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by faces that I haven't seen in over a decade. They belonged to the Men's and Women's Volleyball Teams from my days in College. I have to say, I went to a pretty small college, so I immediately recognized the vast majority of them. The only difference was a change in their uniforms (which they were wearing)... Instead of the snazzy white V-necks with blue collars from 1990, the wore black T-shirts with white volleyball logos on the left breast. Very professional looking.



One of the guys approached me with the expected, "Hey! Haven't seen you in a long time!" I turned to see MW (name withheld, initials revealed), a guy that I also used to play a lot of foosball with. He told me that they were all there to participate in the Volleyball Tournament, which I guess was a part of whatever everybody else had been signing up for. Naturally, I thought this was a little odd... a bunch of full-grown adults competing against Junior High kids... Talk about a Slaughter-Fest! I could see a group of people gathering in the Main Office already, pointing at the black-clad warriors and whispering.



Before I could respond, he went on to tell me that he had been reading my blog lately, and the whole team was considering using it as some sort of forum. I didn't quite understand how they proposed to do that, but I was flattered (to say the least) that they had been reading my blog! So, even though it wouldn't be the least bit fair, I told him I would go talk to the people in charge about letting them play in the Tournament.



As I approached the cluster of people peering out through the Office window... I woke up.



What was that about?!?

Kids These Days

The other day, I overheard a teenage guy talking to his girlfriend on the bus:



"You don't like Smallville? It's, like, Superman when he was a kid! If I was him, I'd beat everybody up! If you were Superwoman, wouldn't you beat everybody up?"



"Why would I do that? Then nobody would like me!"



"But you could make them like you 'cuz they can't kill you!"



What is wrong with kids these days?!? Is this an indication of where our society is heading? Perhaps we have failed our children... Perhaps, in the hustle and bustle of today's corporate-driven world, we have left our offspring to be educated by TV instead of sitting them down and imparting unto them the wisdom they will need to survive.



Lest there be more young, impressionable minds out there that are on the verge of making the same mistake the boy on the bus made, let me set the record straight:



There was no Superwoman... It was Supergirl!



Duh!

Boring Childhood Stories: The Squishy Log

By Canadian standards, I'm from a fair sized city. So, it was quite a culture shock when, at the age of 14, my family moved to a sea-side community on Vancouver Island. Gone were the 24-hour convenience stores, the crowded buses, and the metropolitan sprawl. Instead, we found ourselves surrounded by giant trees, swarms of hummingbirds, and the Pacific Ocean itself.

In a place that was in such sharp contrast to everything we considered "normal", the possibilities for adventure were limitless. My brothers, J & M, and I spent almost every chance we got exploring. We'd hike through the nearby forests, wander along the logging roads, or bike down the "highway" to the nearby "town". But the best place to go was always the beach.

Now, when I say the word "beach", one instinctively pictures an expanse of pristine white sand, sun sparkling through gentle waves lapping at the shore. In this case, nothing could be further from the truth... In fact, our beach was rocky, strewn with driftwood and seaweed, and surrounded by jagged cliffs. And, since we were located right at one of the narrowest straits leading into the local harbor, whether the tide was coming in or going out, the water was always racing through there at a furious pace. Treacherous, to say the least.

There were lots of ways to amuse ourselves down on that little beach... Sometimes we'd go looking for starfish, prying their red or purple bodies from the rocks as low-tide exposed them. Other times we'd walk around flipping over large rocks to see how many little crabs were underneath. We even played a game once or twice where we'd put on ski gloves, thrust our hands into a nest of the crustaceans and see how many held on when we pulled them out. Not the highest form of entertainment, perhaps, but we were kids. And, of course, there was always "The Rope"...

At the base of one of the cliffs was a dead tree, the kind without bark or branches... Essentially no more than a slender wooden pole angling out over the water. The thing had to be at least 40 feet tall. Some brave or stupid soul at one point had climbed all the way to the top and tied a boat rope there. So, what we found on our first trip to the beach was the Mother of all swinging ropes. And, until is was washed away, there was originally a massive log right under the rope that we would run along and jump off of to gain extra momentum. It was especially exciting during high tide, when we could launch ourselves out over the choppy water. Naturally, once our parents learned about this, we were forbidden to go near it. Of course, being good little boys, we obeyed this missive (wink, wink).

As I said, the massive log was eventually washed away, and we would always go down to the beach afterwards, hoping to see another in its place. Well, it just so happened that my brother M found exactly that... or so he thought. J and I were walking along with our heads down, probably looking for more crabs to torture... er... play with, when M started wildly calling for our attention.

"Guys! Guys! Check out this big log!"

We turned around to see him standing on top of a very large oblong mass. He jumped up and down a little bit.

"It feels kinda squishy!"

We didn't need to get too close to see, and probably smell, why it felt "kinda squishy"... I think that's pretty much what you can expect from the bloated carcass of a full grown (but recently expired) seal.

I'm Choking Here!

Three simple words: Brush your teeth!



You are a co-worker, a fellow bus passenger, or a complete stranger... And your breath is bad! You stand too close, talk too loud, and project your own special brand of foulness into my face.



Chew some gum.



You pile onions on your burger, choose Caesar salad over tossed greens, or down three too many cocktails with lunch... And your breath is bad! You are oblivious to the stench that emanates from your mouth and causes me to wince.



Have a mint.



You have a phlegmy chest cold, a horde of happily multiplying germs, and an inexplicable inability to cover your mouth when you cough... And your breath is BAD! Your infectious exhalations mount a two-pronged assault on my nose and immune system.



Pop some pills and a breath strip.



You're reading this now and you're wondering if I'm referring to you. In a word: Yes. I don't mean that in an offensive way... I'm not the type to tell you to your face that you stink. But I've been quietly suffering through the putrid waves of nauseating aromas for too long now. Something needed to be said. And that something is:



BRUSH YOUR TEETH!

Ode to a Hero

I can't remember a time in my life when there wasn't a Superman.



From the black and white re-runs of George Reeve as the Man of Steel, to the animated Super Friends in the Justice League of America, to the eventual pinnacle of it all with Christopher Reeve in the flowing red cape... All my life he has been crashing through walls, deflecting bullets off his chest, and bravely saving the day.



No more.



The death of Christopher Reeve is, in a very real way, the death of Superman.



In my early twenties, I happened across a DC graphic novel, "The Death of Superman", in which the hero finally meets his match. I remember very little of the actual story, but forever burned in my mind is a single image: A scene of destruction... a piece of wood jutting up from the rubble, holding the torn and tattered red cape with its emblazoned "S" fluttering in the breeze... a distraught Lois Lane holding the broken and lifeless body of Superman...



The utterly unthinkable had happened. The one superhero that you just knew would never be beaten was dead. In that moment, with all the pain and anguish portrayed in Lois' face, the childhood innocence of millions worldwide also died. With the fall of our mightiest hero, we now knew that nothing was certain, nothing lasted forever, and nobody was indestructible.



It was more than the final chapter in a work of fiction that spanned 5 decades and all forms of media... It was the death of an ideal.



In a strange twist of fate, or perhaps more of a tragic cosmic coincidence, barely two years later, Christopher Reeve, the man who's name had become synonymous with "Superman", also lay broken and dying. He didn't battle some monstrous villain, himself succumbing with the final death-blow... He didn't meet his end saving the world... No, as hundreds of people watched in horror, Reeve fell from his horse at an equestrian event and broke his neck.



Superman was down.



But unlike the man in the red-and-blue tights that he portrayed on-screen, Christopher Reeve did not die the day he fell. Despite being completely paralyzed and needing a respirator to breathe, he became the new Man of Steel and a hero all over again.



For nine years, Reeve battled for the cause of stem-cell research from the confines of his wheelchair, not once giving up. He challenged not only himself by re-learning to breathe on his own or to wiggle his finger, but also the entertainment community that he was such a part of, urging Hollywood to make more meaningful films about important social issues.



Christopher Reeve left this world with an enduring legacy. His steadfast resolve to continue fighting in the face of insurmountable odds has brought hope to the hundreds of thousands of people with spinal cord injuries and to those researching cures. But more than that, he has given back to us all the belief in heros.



Godspeed, Superman.

Photo of the Week: Summer Nights

Books, brew, and a beautiful sky...
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Heart-Stopper has Nation Holding Breath

What a game!



Team Canada went into today's semi-final match in the World Cup of Hockey 2004 against the Czech Republic with a flawless 4 and 0 record. Easily the favorites in today's match-up, they had the benefit of Home Ice Advantage and knowing their opponent would be fighting the wearying effects of jet-lag, having to travel from Europe for the game. The only thing that might have caused concern for the Canadians was an injury to goalie Martin Brodeur's wrist that would keep him out of the game. And this only days after becoming the first Canadian goalie in history to post a shut-out in International Hockey.



Enter Roberto Luongo.



Facing enormous pressure, the Florida Panthers goalie took to the ice to net-mind for Team Canada... And it's a good thing he did!



The Czech Republic showed today just how they were able to eliminate Sweden so handily. They skated hard, back-checked ferociously, and stripped the puck from the Canadian sticks again and again. Throughout the First Period, it looked as if Canada had forgotten to put their skates on! The Czechs dominated all over the ice!



The tide began to turn going into the Second, as Canada found their legs and managed to post 2 goals, including Mario Lemieux's first of the tournament, in a little over 3 minutes. But the Czechs simply would not give up and came right back with a two goals of their own. The game had opened up, and it would be up to the goalies to keep their teams in it.



Luongo rose to the challenge with more amazing saves than you could ever hope to see in one game. At one point, he made 3 miraculous stops on shots from close range... without his stick!



In the Third Period, Kris Draper was able to get a step on his defensive coverage and streak down the inboards into the Czech zone. He let a blistering shot go that beat the Czech goalie on the glove side and put Canada up 3-2. With only minutes left in the game, the crowd at the Air Canada Centre in Toronto began to celebrate. They could taste victory... But that celebration was only to last 6 seconds.



Right off the face off, the puck popped into the Canadian zone. The defensive team, struggling to contain a Czech player racing for the net, became entangled with each other and could only watch helplessly as Patrik Elias one-timed the puck right through Luongo. The period ended 3-3 and the two teams went back to the dressing rooms to prepare themselves for Sudden Death Overtime.



The first overtime period didn't look much different from the rest of the game, with the Czech Republic continuing to stump and frustrate Team Canada. The fear that Canada might not make it out of this game was growing...



Then, beginning with a harmless play behind the Czech net, it happened.



Vincent Lacavalier, falling, managed to scoop the puck out from behind the net. He immediately regained his feet and took a position to the left of the Czech goalie. The pass came... The goalie went down... And the puck went through Lacavalier's skates. But he spun, picked it up again, and fired blindly from a near impossible angle. As if in slow motion, the puck floated up, up, and over the Czech goalie.



Horns. Flashing lights. Crowd gone wild.



Canada wins their semi-final game against the Czech Republic in overtime by a score of 4-3 and earns the right to play Finland for the World Cup this Tuesday. Both teams will go into the contest unbeaten, Canada with 5 wins, 0 losses, and Finland with 4 wins, no losses, and 1 tie.

To Plug Or Not To Plug...

Okay, folks, time for a little "Blog Promotion"...



An "associate" of mine has recently stumbled upon the world of blogging (mostly through my repeated, "When are ya gonna do a blog? When are ya gonna do a blog? When are ya gonna..."), and has launched his own. So, without further ado, I'd like to introduce you all to CalgaryWineGuy's Rants and Raves.



At first glance, this blog seems to appeal to the "upper crust", as its content deals a lot with... You guessed it... wine. But don't let that fool you! There's a very down-to-earth side to CWG, as can be seen in his profile quote, "I am an enigma. Frasier Crane meets Tommy Lee". Yes, you'll find out about some good wines, and experience first-hand the knowledge he has gained from his first year of training to be a sommelier, but don't be surprised if you detect a little of his "heavy metal" side, just under the surface. Intrigued? I thought you would be.



On another note, a great big thanks goes out to Clint Vander Klok for naming Yours Truly the latest "Leonard of the Month" over at www.clint.ca. I've been an avid fan of his for about 2 years now, but I never thought I'd be honored with such a prestigious award! Check it out... And I'm not just saying that to drive up his traffic... I'm actually quite proud and vain!



Well, that's it for tonight, I'm afraid... I shredded a couple of fingers pretty badly at MSA One today and typing isn't exactly comfy right now! Once they're feeling better (or I suck it up and stop whining), perhaps I'll do a "Scenes from..." to let you know how it happened.



Nah... Only other people's screw-ups are funny. Right?

Scenes from the Forklift: The Revelation

A common problem in almost every job is the lack of feedback. Day in and day out, you come in, punch the clock, and get down to the business of doing what you do, but seldom is there anybody there to say, "Lookin' good, Charlie!" or "Gonna have to pick up the pace, Bob...". Instead, you have to wait for that magical time once every few months when someone higher up the ladder than you feels it's time for a review. Even then, you are usually only offered vague references to "increased productivity", "future potential", and "setting goals to achieve before your next review" ("I suppose I could try to be on time for work, say, 3 days out of 5..."). Wouldn't it be nice, for a change, to simply find out what they think of you?



Maybe not.



I was sorting through the usual assortment of Jurassic-era PC's that find their way to the DID when a page came over the loudspeaker, instructing me to call The Boss. Now, I like to think of myself as something of a Go-To Guy, someone that can be called upon in tough situations to figure out the best and most efficient way to meet our objectives. So, as I strolled to the solitude of my office, I flexed my mental muscles in preparation for whatever problem The Boss might throw at me.



I dialed the extension and only waited about a half-ring before he picked up on speakerphone. This isn't unusual, since he's usually doing about 5 different things at once.



"What's up?", I asked, projecting an air of calm self-assuredness.



"Hey, Buddy..." We are all, on one level or another, The Boss's "buddy" when he's in a good mood. A good sign, in this case. "Are you very busy at the moment?"



Let me pause here to say that "busy" is a very subjective word. Considering the fact that there is always something to do in MSA One, my cohorts and I are always, technically, busy. However, I'm the type of person who likes to come across as relaxed and on top of everything... an image most people would describe as "not busy". Some have gone as far as to say "slacker", but they just don't see the work that's being done. Besides, if that description of my work ethic was actually true, I'm sure there would have been a lot more "Scenes from the Unemployment Line" posts by now! That being said, I chose my answer carefully...



"Well, I'm just doing a little Receiving..."



The moment the words left my lips, laughter from at least 4 different voices erupted over my handset.



(Warning! Warning! Ego Systems damaged! Self-Evaluation Diagnostic required! Vanity Subsystem Shutdown imminent!)



Talk about a smack-down! Ouch! He had an office full of Sales Reps and Managers who, apparently, had some reservations about the size of my workload... And to add insult to injury (or would it just be more insult to insult?), I wasn't even able to help The Boss out with the problem that prompted the call in the first place!



Perfect.



Perhaps working in a vacuum wasn't so bad after all, eh? Ignorance is bliss, folks...

Photo of the Week: The Mighty Pass

The highway into Radium, British Columbia coming through a break in the mountain.
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Rude Awakening for Slovakia

Slovakia played there first game in the World Cup of Hockey 2004 tonight against the formidable Team Canada (back in their traditional Red-and-Whites). Hot off a 2-1 win over the U.S., the Men of the Mighty Maple Leaf came flying out of the gates, much like the night before, and jumped to an early 2-0 lead in the first period, compliments of Joe Thornton and Ryan Smyth. But unlike last night's game against the States, tonight Team Canada showed no sign of slowing down. Simon Gagne kept the pressure up and increased Canada's lead to 3-0 early in the second period and Martin St. Louis made it 4-0 early in the opening minute of the third.



The Slovaks were finally able to get one past Martin Brodeur as Team Canada fumbled the puck deep in their own zone. Martin Cibak came flying out of the corner to bury one top-shelf over the sprawling Canadian goalie. The goal breathed life into the Europeans and it looked like there could be a repeat of another game earlier in the day. Sweden was up 4-0 in the third period over the Czech Republic, but only beat them by a score of 4-3 in the end.



Slovakia's hopes were dashed, however, on an unbelievable play at 7:15 of the third period. Vincent Lacavalier hammered a shot past the Slovak goalie, only to have it carome off the post. Ryan Smyth, however, marked his second goal of the night by picking the ricocheting puck up and burying it in the near-empty net to give Team Canada a 5-1 advantage. Even a penalty to Canada late in the game for roughing couldn't reduce that deficit for the Slovaks, so that's where it ended.



With 4 points, Canada remains the top team in the North American Pool and plays Russia this Saturday in Toronto. Sweden still dominates the European Pool, also with 4 points.

Bring On The World!

There may still be leaves on the trees, but hockey is back!



The World Cup of Hockey 2004 is on... And the highly anticipated game between Canada and the United States has just wrapped up with the Boys from the Great White North edging out the Yanks by a score of 2 to 1. This puts Canada in first place (for now) in the North American Pool, while Sweden and Finland, long-time hockey powerhouses, are tied for first in the European Pool.



As a Canadian, it was a thrill to see Canada beat the U.S. for the gold medal in the last Winter Olympics, and that feeling came rushing back tonight... It almost eases the pain of only securing 12 medals in Athens while the States dominated with 103. But enough about such silly things... Let's talk hockey!



Canada took to the ice tonight in replica vintage jerseys in honor of the Winnipeg Falcons, the first Canadian gold medalists in 1920 at Antwerp, Belgium. The uncharacteristic yellow trimmed in black was in stark contrast to the beloved red-and-white, but it did serve the purpose of reminding us of our past and where the great sport of hockey was born.



Martin St. Louis, the bane of the red hot Calgary Flames in last season's Stanley Cup nail-biter, opened the scoring for Canada with just 4 minutes left in the first period, and Joe Sakic made it 2-0 just 3 minutes into the second. The U.S. finally managed to make it onto the board halfway through the second, thanks to Bill Guerin, and, while it did ignite the team, it proved to be too little too late.



Both goalies made outstanding saves to keep the scores low and the match close, with Robert Esche for the U.S. showing off near-acrobatic maneuvers in his crease.



Canada can enjoy this victory, but only for a short time as they face Slovakia tomorrow night. But enjoy it we will!

My Inner Child is a Nerd

Okay... When people you are sure never read your blog start commenting that you haven't been blogging in a while, it's time to shake off the cobwebs and get back to it...



I'd love to be able to say that I have been so incredibly busy with my jet-set lifestyle and edge-of-your-seat adventures that I haven't been able to spare the briefest moment to regale you all with the tales... But most of you know me personally and would slap me for lying!



Actually, we (my girlfriend, I, and our kids) all got away two weekends ago for our Last Get-Away of the Summer. If you can believe it, we all went to a Bed and Breakfast in the Rocky Mountains! I know, you're looking back over the last couple sentences to see if you read that right. Yep... I said "kids" and "Bed and Breakfast". Yes, people usually go to those kinds of places for quite, romantic weekends together, but it was a nice treat for the kids. We had the entire place to ourselves, too, so we weren't worried about spoiling anyone else's "quite, romantic weekend together" either. All in all, despite the fact that my girlfriend was still suffering from the bite on her, er, posterior (self-control, be respectful, self-control, be respectful, self-control...) and I was in a sour mood about nothing in particular, everyone had a pretty good time.



Of course, that only covers three days out of the 14 that it has been since I last posted. So, what else have I been doing? Why, I've been getting back in touch with my inner geek, that's what! You see, every now and then, I get this uncontrollable urge to do something with my computer. Once I had to configure it to support 4 monitors... Not because I needed it to, just because I thought it would be cool to say I did it. Nobody's said, "Hey, cool!" to that story yet, so I'm still undecided whether or not that was a waste of time... Another time I set it up so that I could watch the movies on my hard drive on a TV in a totally different room, without the use of wires or cables. I'm talking about 2.4GHz wireless video broadcast, baby! Oh yeah! With an FM remote control, no less! Full PC control on a 27" TV up to 100' away... I'm getting a little excited just remembering it! Well, as I said, the urge hit me again...



This time I was determined to get my HP Palmtop Computer working again. It's an ancient precursor to the PDA's every self-respecting geek either owns or covets nowadays... It's just bigger, bulkier, slower, less powerful, and, well, completely useless. But that's besides the point! I wanted it hooked up again! So, I set about reattaching the cables and installing the software.



I won't bore you with the details... And don't say that it's too late! Suffice it to say that, in the end, the only way I was able to get the thing connected to my desktop PC was by attaching it to another machine on my home network, then using a Remote Terminal program to access that second machine from my own. Sigh. Tedious, and it consumed a good number of evenings, but it's done. Now, I can Blog-On-The-Go and dump the text when I get home! More realistically, though... It'll probably sit on my desk for 2 months before I dig it out from under a pile of papers and pack it back in the box.



On the bright side, my inner geek has been satisfied once again... So, until it raises its nerdy head again, I'm free to live the life of a normal, healthy, 33 year-old guy with a blog.



All is right with the world.

Photo of the Week: Killer Sunset

Our tour group watches as three Killer Whales swim into the sunset... The perfect end to the perfect day!
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Friday the 13th and the Awful, Awful Ass-Bite

(This blog makes prolific use off the word "ass". If this word offends you in any way I suggest you stop reading now. Alternately, you could substitute another word of your choice for each occurrence of the word "ass"... which may or may not add to the comedic effect, depending on your choice. In any case, reader discretion is advised...)



I've never really been a believer in the whole "Friday the Thirteenth" thing, but this happened on that day, so I might as well work that angle...



I got a phone message at work to call my girlfriend. "She's been bit on the ass," they said. Well, actually, they only told me it was an emergency, but that's what the emergency turned out to be. Yep, she had been driving along, doing errands, when she was suddenly bit on the ass. Pretty hard to picture, considering she was sitting on her ass (usually the most comfortable way to drive), but it happened. In fact, even as she slammed the van into park in the middle of traffic and jumped from the vehicle, she continued to get bit on the ass. Whatever it was really didn't want to let go... of her ass!



By the time I had her on the phone, she was already in a Walk-In Medical Clinic. She had bravely managed to rip the creature from her ass and fling it as far away from herself as she could. What was it? Well, I guess we'll never know... She didn't exactly stop to examine the attacker. Actually, knowing how terrified she is of bugs, I was amazed to hear that she had grabbed the thing at all! They say that a mother will get the super-human strength needed to pull a car off her trapped child... Well, I guess that is also true of the super-human courage she needed to rip a bug from her ass. Anyway, she managed to collect herself enough to get to the clinic before the pain became unbearable.



The doctor on duty said he had seen bee stings, hornet stings, and spider bites, but nothing like the bite on my girlfriend's ass. Not exactly the most comforting thing to hear from a doctor, really... So, they decided to transfer her to the ER at the hospital, which is about all she had time to tell me before she hung up and turned off her cell. Which hospital, you might ask? Yeah, that's pretty much what was going through my head too. Well, that and, "She got bit on the ass!"



Calgary only has 3 major hospitals, so it didn't take long for me to track her down, and not much longer than that to convince my boss I'd need the rest of the day off. So, before long, I was strolling into the Emergency Room of the Foothills Hospital, like a knight in shining armor, looking for the girl with the bug-bite on her ass. I was told that she had already been looked at (I guess arriving at the ER in an ambulance puts you on the short-list to be seen) and was now in Minor Treatment. I found out this was the place where they do stitches and minor surgeries. Damn! How big was that bug anyway? This is Canada, after all, not Australia!



I followed the green arrows painted on the floor and eventually found my girlfriend. There she sat, in the waiting room of Minor Treatment, looking about as miserable as a person can. She was in a wheelchair, being too light-headed from the pain and the venom (Venom?!? What the hell?) to walk on her own. She had an ice-pack wedged between her ass and the back of chair and a rapidly growing pile of used tissues beside her. She looked like she was having about as much fun as the old lady with the mysterious brown paper bag on her lap, or the old man with one leg and a bleeding head wound... This was quite the party I had stumbled upon!



I tried to give her a hug, but found out rather quickly that any movement was excrutiating for her, so instead sat beside her and her pile of tissues, waiting for the nurse to call her name. She had been there for an hour already.



We did the usual Hospital Waiting Room Routine... We watched some TV, perused the terrible selection of magazines, read the educational posters on the wall, and eventually settled into that empty stare that always claims you in the end.



The minutes dragged by...



In an effort to break the boredom, I decided a little bathroom break was in order. I was only gone about 3 minutes but, when I came back, she had been taken in. It figures! And they wouldn't let me go in with her because the location of the wound was "too embarrassing". No kidding it was embarrassing! It was on her ass! But didn't they know I was her boyfriend? Apparently that didn't matter... Back to the Waiting Room with me.



Round Two.



It was difficult to sit and wait the first time, but at least we had been together. Now, there I was, out in the Waiting Room with a growing crowd of sick and injured people, completely unaware of what was going on with my girlfriend or how long she would be in there. A couple times I tried to get in to see her, but was turned away by the nurse. Bitch.



The minutes dragged into hours. The chair I had now was right beside the TV, so I could hear it but not see it. Frustrating. A couple of times I actually left the building, walked around the grounds, and read some of the memorial plaques posted around the place. Every time I returned, though, it was like I had never left. Everyone was in the exact same position, with the exact same blank stares, and the only open chair was the one beside the TV. Damn.



As the life was being sucked out of me and I feared we would never leave that hospital again, I notice an interesting phenomenon... Little signs all over the place telling me how long I could do certain things... "Loading Zone: 5 min. Max."... "Courtesy Telephone, please keep all calls under 2 minutes"... They were telling me that I must perform whatever actions I was going to perform in periods of time measured in single-digit minutes. They, on the other hand (judging from my wait thus far), would allow themselves unlimited hours to do whatever they needed to do. Control freaks! I actually think it's an elaborate head game. They torture you each and every time you visit so that the next time you hurt yourself, you ask yourself, "Do I really need to go to the ER? Maybe if I just stay off this broken leg for a while..." After all, you can always sit around your own house in pain, listening to the TV, right?



In the end (for once in this blog, not a reference to my girlfriend's bitten ass), they had to make an inch long incision along the already 3/4 inch bite, flush out the venom, and ensure no piece of the bug was actually still in her ass. So, 6 hours and 3 stitches later, we were finally set free. They never did figure out what it was that bit her, and she vows to never drive that van again, but at least the worst is over. Now, she can get on with the healing and look forward to May 2005 which is, yep, you guessed it, the next Friday the Thirteenth...

Analyze This: The Shower

Put on your psychiatrist hats, boys and girls... It's time to figure out the inner workings of a Caffeinated Mind with a new feature I call Analyze This. I'm going to describe for you one of my recent dreams, then let you offer your deepest insights into the meaning (or meaninglessness) of said dream. Are you ready? Too bad, here we go anyway...



As with most of my dreams, this one seemed to start off in the middle of the story instead of the beginning. I found myself in my house, but not my house... You know, it's not the house I live in, nor one I have ever lived in, but in the dream it was my house. For some reason, there were lots of people there, too... Mostly family, but a few strangers as well. It felt as though all these people were visiting us ("us" being my immediate family, you understand). It was about mid-morning and I knew that I would have to rush if I wanted to beat everyone to the shower. So, grabbing a towel that I knew was too small, I made a dash for the bathroom.



Now, here is where it gets weird... As I undressed for the shower, I noticed my face laying on the counter. My face! There it was, eyes open, just staring at the bathroom ceiling! I wasn't the least bit alarmed, however... I simply looked at it, noticed a pimple on one cheek, and wondered if I should get rid of it now, or once I put my face back on. It was like seeing my watch on the counter and wondering if I should set it now, or after I put it on. But did I mention it was my face?!?



Without a second thought for my face, I turned to the shower. I pulled back the sliding glass door and reached in to turn on the water. That was when I noticed a problem... The walls of the shower were covered with what looked like thousands of hairs. Now, finding a hair or two stuck to the shower wall isn't that uncommon... But thousands? And these hairs were moving! I decided they must be bugs and proceeded to rinse them off the walls and down the drain.



Once the walls were hair/bug-free, I figured it would be a good idea to scrub the walls, just to make sure there wouldn't be a re-infestation. So, I got to work with a sponge and some of that gritty cleanser. It was about this time that I noticed another person in the bathroom, scrubbing along right beside me. I can't say for sure who it was, but it may have been Roseanne (Roseanne Barr, Roseanne Arnold, Just Roseanne...). Anyway, she just kept scrubbing away without saying a word to me, so I did likewise.



As I began wiping down the back wall of the shower, I noticed that there was a small gap between it and the wall of the bathroom. The longer I looked at this gap, the larger it became. Soon, I could see that the shower was actually built inside an old abandoned jacuzzi. There were even a few children's swim toys laying around and a small ladder for getting in and out of the hot tub. It was at this time that my girlfriend came walking out from behind the shower to stand beside me. I pointed out that our shower was actually built inside a jacuzzi, just in case she didn't notice as she walked through it. She just shrugged as if to say, "Yeah, I know." I told her that I thought we should just tear out the shower and renovate the hot tub, to which she laughed. Apparently, it had been decided long ago that this plan was a waste of time and money. I was disappointed until I remembered another jacuzzi elsewhere in the house that wasn't being used.



Now, I have to interrupt the dream here to explain that I dream of this "second jacuzzi" a lot. Usually, it is part of a very fancy bathroom just off a fern-lined, glass-enclosed mezzanine in a part of my house I seldom go to. Not that I have a place like that in my real house, mind you, but it exists in almost every home I occupy in my dreams.



In this dream, the fancy bathroom was run down and out of service, but I couldn't see a reason to leave it like that. We could have our Shower-in-a-Jacuzzi and a jacuzzi too! What a wonderful idea!



And that's when I woke up.



Now, I have a few theories about the meanings behind some parts of this dream, but I'd like to hear what you think. So... Analyze This!

All Aboard the Anti-Social Express!

Lately, I've been joining "the masses" by taking public transit to work. Yep... I'm riding the bus.



Now I begin everyday with a "jog" to the bus stop that leaves me winded, only to stand around waiting for that 5 minutes that feels like an hour with three other people who take turns staring at their shoes, leaning out and looking up the street for the bus, then glancing at the watches they glanced at 20 seconds ago...



Stare, lean, glance... Stare, lean, glance... Ad nauseum.



When the promised chariot finally arrives, my stop-mates scramble and jockey for position at the precise spot they think the driver will stop. We can all see the dozens of people aboard who are forced to stand, but it's like these 3 are sure someone has overlooked the last seat and they must get to it! I let them pile on ahead of me, then proceed up the stairs where I almost run over one of them as he stands beside the driver, digging desperately in his pockets for "exact change". It's hard not to smile as I pass him.



As predicted, there is no Last Seat and I, too, am forced to stand in the aisle, swaying with every turn and bracing for every hard acceleration and even harder brake. I know this is the only real entertainment that the bus driver gets in his day, so I don't let it bother me. However, the guy beside me with his armpit mashed against my ear can get annoying real fast! A shower and a clean shirt are good, but a sweat-stained jacket totally defeats the cause. If only I could reach a window...



I've noticed that the bus is a very strange social situation in and of itself. 50 or 60 people all packed into a relatively small space for anywhere from 15 minutes to half and hour and, aside from the noise of the engine, you could hear a pin drop. No one is talking! Where else does this happen? Nowhere! You go to the Supermarket, people are talking up and down the aisles... You go to the park and people are laughing, shouting, making noise... Even in church you find people whispering among the pews! Come to think of it, librarians must be awfully envious of bus drivers...



Occasionally, there will be one talker on the bus... He'll be sitting near the front, saying, "Hello!" as each rider gets on, and trying to make small-talk in much too loud of a voice to anyone who will make eye contact. Which is usually nobody. Anywhere else, this man is considered "polite", "friendly", or "pleasant"... In here, however, he is "weird", "crazy", or "creepy"... You can actually see everybody around him trying to do their best chameleon impression and just blend in with their surroundings. Maybe he's like a T-Rex and if you just hold really still...



To me, a bus ride is the polar opposite of a High School dance. You go because you have to, not because you want to... The wallflowers are the Lords and Ladies of this event, while the loud, outgoing types are shunned and ignored... And there's no fruit punch to spike with vodka. Although, if there were, maybe I wouldn't have had to write this blog!

Scenes from the Forklift: Reinforcements At Last!

Well, the number of bodies in MSA One has swollen from 2 to 6 in a matter of 3 days! Unbelievable, but true. I guess the Powers That Be have finally decided against their previous plan to let the company slip into frantic chaos as myself and Doogie, the Shipper Boy Genius slowly sink beneath the rising tide of obsolete and unrepairable electronic paraphernalia of yesteryear...



While it is a breath of fresh air to have enough people to accomplish our daily goals for a change, it's incredibly tough train them all at once. They out number us "veterans" 2 to 1, for crying out loud! And we've spent the last few gruelling months churning through the morass of tasks alone, so it's difficult to remember how or what to delegate! It won't take long for them to get tired of hearing, "Uh, well, I don't have time to show you this yet... Why don't you grab a broom and sweep that section of floor that Johnny just swept 5 minute ago? Can never be too clean around here, ya know!"



Well, I couldn't let myself worry about these new guys all day, so I did what anybody else would do in my position... I let Doogie handle them.



In truth, today was my first chance in over a month to get back over to my side of the warehouse and start swimming through all the product that has been waiting for me. Knowing that it would be impossible to train someone to help with the job, I told Doogie he could keep the new guys over in the Department of Outbound Deliveries until I get my mess straightened out. I'll bring someone over once I can show them what really goes on here, not just a growing, smoldering mountain of unknown gizmos and doo-dads that would have them running home to their Mommies.



See? I abandoned them with Doogie for their own good... Ain't I just the greatest?

One Word: Exhausted!

I've heard it many times from co-workers (usually Upper Management, truth be told), but I never really understood it until this last week. It goes something like:



I just got back from holidays and, boy, do I need a vacation!



My week away from work was, in a word, spectacular. We rose at 3am to begin our journey from Calgary to Vancouver, a trip of nearly 1000km through the magnificent Rocky Mountains and the lush interior of British Columbia. Not wanting to miss a single moment of this holiday, I insisted that we drive the entire distance in one day. Thanks to some very nice highways, lots of coffee, and the unwritten rule that 10 or 20km/hr over the speed limit is okay (as if 110km/hr wasn't fast enough), we managed to make fairly good time. In fact, we would have done it in about 12 hours had we not stopped a couple hours short of our destination to visit with my Mom in a city called Chilliwack. But we did, and had a very nice visit at that. So, we dragged our exhausted bodies into a hotel in Vancouver (technically, we were in Burnaby, but it's all Vancouver to me) around 9pm and fell fast asleep. Step One of our mission was accomplished.



The next day was spent trying to figure out a city the size of which I had never had to deal with before. I think that my hometown of Calgary actually covers more area, but I wasn't prepared for the incredible congestion of such a highly-populated city as Vancouver! But, with much cursing and doubling-back to get the exit I missed, we were eventually able to make it to the world famous Stanley Park and the Vancouver Marine Aquarium. To ease the stress of finding the place, we took a leisurely one-hour horse and carriage ride around the Park with a dozen or so other tourist-types, after which we made our way to the Aquarium.



There were so many things to take in, and so many people to push through to see them. I wanted desperately to take a thousand pictures, but most wouldn't or didn't turn out due to the darkness of the undersea exhibits, not to mention the fact that I couldn't possibly have gotten a shot without someone posing for their boyfriend stealing the scene... I did, however, manage to get a few good shots of some coral and a sea otter. I also captured the entire Beluga Whale Live Demonstration on video, which was pretty cool.



After that busy day, we had just enough energy to grab a couple burgers and stumble back to our hotel.



The next day we took a ferry over to Vancouver Island. There, we spent our first 2 days in Victoria, the capital city of British Columbia. It wasn't nearly as busy as Vancouver had been, but still a little on the confusing side. It took us so long to find a decent hotel (somehow, we kept ending up in the "questionable" areas of town) that we very nearly decided to leave and travel further up the island. Fortunately, my girlfriend persuaded me to try a hotel that I was sure was outside our price range. As it turned out, the kind woman at the front desk took pity on us and gave us a great deal on a huge, luxurious room. So we stayed 2 days, as I said.



On our first day, we visited the Undersea Gardens, a touristy little get-up in Victoria Harbour where you can go beneath the water and view a variety of creatures. There was even a live show, where a diver went down to point out the different types of crabs, starfish, and their resident octopus. After that we went Whale Watching. As we were traveling out to the spot where we were to see the whales, I was sure it would be like fishing... We might see one or two in the distance, if we were lucky. Boy, was I wrong! We saw about 60 Killer Whales (Orcas) all around us, jumping, spouting, popping their heads up to look at us! . I was amazed and my girlfriend couldn't stop saying how beautiful they were. To see such incredible creatures swim past our small boat is an experience we will both treasure for the rest of our lives. After that 3 1/2 trip, we were beat again and had to retreat to the comfort of our hotel.



The next day, we went to the Royal British Columbia Museum to see "Eternal Egypt", a collection of Egyptian artifacts on loan from the British Museum in London. My girlfriend and I have been fascinated by Ancient Egypt for years, so this was an opportunity we couldn't pass up. To walk amongst statues, jewelry, and writings from a time up to 5000 years in the past was indescribable. It's one thing to see them on TV or in books, but quite another to have them right in front of you. All in all, what with the Egyptian exhibit, an Imax on the Mysteries of Egypt, and touring the rest of the museum (which is one of the nicest I have ever had the pleasure to visit), we spent a good 4 1/2 hours there, after which we bid farewell to Victoria and continued our journey northward.



After only 45 minutes of driving, we came to the town of Duncan and decided to find a place for the night. I don't want to tell you too much about this stop, because it is worthy of a blog all its own... But I will tell you that we spent an incredible night in the most unlikely of places.



The next day, we were off to Nanaimo (pronounced Na-Nigh-Mo, with the accent on the Nigh). I had lived in a small town just outside Nanaimo when I was 14, so I was eager to go back to some old stomping grounds for pictures. I found my old house had been radically renovated, to the point where it was all but unrecognizable. But the view of the ocean hadn't changed and was as beautiful as ever. I also located a couple of the schools I attended and preserved digitally for all time. We finished off our stay with a walk along the Nanaimo Harbour front, looking at all the boats, visiting the shops, and buying souvenirs. Then, it was back in the van and on to Parksville.



Parksville is a tourist town, through and through. From its long stretch of beachfront hotels, to its miniature golf courses, to its annual Sand Castle Building Competition, it definitely caters to the visitors. We only spent one night there, but we managed to play 2 rounds of minigolf, walk along the beach as the sun went down, and collect shells the next day when the tide went out. All in all, a nice little visit.



We had to return to Nanaimo to catch the ferry back to the Mainland. Once there, we decided to take a little "Picnic Cruise" around the Harbour and out to one of the nearby islands. It was a quite, 2 hour affair, but worth every penny of the $60 it cost us. In fact, it was the perfect way to cap off our trip to the island. After that, we boarded the ferry and began the first leg of our trip home.



We went straight through Vancouver and all the way to Chilliwack, where we stopped in one more time to visit Mom. We stayed and chatted rather late, considering we wanted to travel through a good portion of the night, and didn't really get back on the road until almost midnight. My girlfriend wasn't too happy about that (the late drive, not the visit), but we forged on and made it to the City of Kamloops (about 1/3 of the way home) by 4am. Here, she insisted that we stop and get a room... I was too exhausted to argue!



After about 6 hours rest, we were set to go again and get home to our kids. But, you know what they say about the best laid plans... Before we could even pull out of the parking lot, thick smoke began to pour out from under the hood of the van! And so, we spent another night in the fine City of Kamloops while our transportation was being repaired...



Shortly after the crack of dawn on Sunday morning, we were finally on the road to home. Despite how eager we both were to get the trip over with, the 7 or so hours seemed to fly by. Before we knew it, we could see the outskirts of Calgary on the horizon and our holiday was officially over. It was a bittersweet moment, but we were both too excited about seeing our kids to let it get us down.



Once at home, I had to quickly get some laundry done for work the next day, and then I collapsed into our bed.



I don't think we stopped, or even slowed down, throughout the entire week! There was always somewhere to go, something to see... It really took a lot out of us! That's why I finally understand and wholeheartedly agree: "I need a vacation!"

I'm Outta Here!

Well folks, I must apologize for the definite lack of posting lately. To tell you the truth, it's been a bit of a mad rush to get things done before the Summer Shutdown. What's that? You don't know about the Summer Shutdown? Well, you see, the warehouse where I work (MSA One, to you faithful readers) closes its doors for a week every Summer, to allow us loyal employees a chance to take some much needed R & R.



So, I'm actually going to leave town this time... In a matter of hours, I will be on the road to Vancouver Island. I haven't been there in 19 years, so I'm pretty excited! Anyway, I'm sure there will be lots of pictures for you when I get back, and I may even try to whip off a quick post if I can find a place to do so (no promises, you understand).



Alrighty then... You kids have a great week, and we'll see you later!

You Don't Look a Day Over 100

Guess who's 137 years old today? That's right, it's the second largest country (by land mass) in the world, that's who! Let's hear it for Canada!!!



There's nothing quite like a National Holiday that lands on a Thursday, is there? Sure, I have to return to work for Friday, but it's going to feel like a one-day work week! Nothing to complain about there, either!



I had high hopes of taking a drive outside the city today. I thought it would be a nice way to celebrate Canada Day... Just my girlfriend and I exploring all the towns and country-side that we live so close to but seldom give thought to. It would have been a brilliant idea, had the weather been willing to cooperate! Instead, it's pretty grey and dismal out there right now... So, here we are at home, watching TV.



Oh well, you make the best with what you've got, I suppose... Maybe the weather will clear a little towards the evening and there will be some sort of fireworks display. That would be a lot of fun to go see! At the very least, I'm sure they'll be lighting the flame atop the Calgary Tower in commemoration of this great day. Maybe I'll be able to get a pic or two...

Boring Childhood Stories: Unexpected Funerals

This story doesn't actually belong to me, but it's one of the best I have, and the topic has come up recently in my comments...

The year was 1981. I had just moved from my Mom's place to my Dad's. Luckily, they were divorced or this would have been a very weird scenario! Anyway, in the move, most of my toys were left behind for my two younger brothers, J and M. Among these many cool and fascinating things was my collection of "dinky cars". And thus begins our story...

The curtain rises on J and M, happily playing with their cars in the alley behind their home. I should point out that the cars they played with were a mix of the ones I left behind and whatever vehicles the two of them already owned. In short, enough to keep them occupied for hours. Also, this particular back alley was the dirt and gravel type that lend themselves so well to the construction of miniature roads, parking lots, and impound yards. And so, the two young boys were making the most of their day cruising around their tiny Automotive Utopia.

As mothers usually do, ours called J and M in as the day drew to a close. Now, since it was the middle of Summer, they just knew they'd be playing outside again the next day, so they couldn't see the logic in packing up all the cars and bringing them in. Why, they'd just have to bring them out again! Talk about inefficient! But how could they be left outside without creating too much of a temptation for the other neighborhood children? It was then that J had a brainstorm... They could bury them!

And so, before Mom could call again and threaten a grounding that would last until the next school year, the boys dutifully consecrated the dinky cars to their temporary graves for the night.
The next day dawned bright and sunny. The boys jumped out of bed, wolfed down their breakfast of generic-brand cornflakes and powdered milk, and set off to resume their play of the day before. However, as they approached the back alley, their hearts sank and they knew they would never see their precious little cars again...

The alley had been paved.

At some point in the morning, before J and M had risen, a City Crew had come and added a new, pristine asphalt hard-top to the previously gravelled back lane! What are the odds?!? Now, the collection of cars, trucks, and various other vehicles would be forever enshrined in their little tombs...

It has been over 20 years since this terrible tragedy occurred, and almost as long since any of our family has lived in that house. Yet, the house still stands, and the alley remains paved. Now, if J would only borrow Dad's metal detector, as he has often vowed to do, and resurrect those treasures of yesterday, maybe he and M could finish what they started... Better late than never!

Picture of the Week: Bird Over Banff

The town of Banff in Banff National Park from high atop Sulphur Mountain. Taken during our visit on Father's Day Weekend.
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Scenes from the Forklift: Supper Hero No More

It has been a sad week in MSA One... The great CK, infamous self-proclaimed Supper Hero, is no longer with us. Alas, as of last Thursday, he has gone on to bigger, better, and (hopefully) less tiring things, leaving myself and Doogie Howser, the Shipper Boy Genius, to hold down the fort for the summer...



Has the Hive Mind we call Management completely flipped their lids?!? We're expected to run a full-time warehouse on only 2 guys? No, I don't see any problem with that plan of action... Do you? I'm sure everything will get done accurately and we'll be the Model of Efficiency. Yeah, right. Of course, we have been promised for the past 6 months that they will be hiring more people as soon as they get some decent resumes. Hello! This is a warehouse folks! A "decent resume" for a job here would be any one that indicates the applicant is still living... Period.



Anyway, I don't really want this post to be a rant about the Company, so I'll just leave it at that. More about me...



The Great Unboxing and Reboxing Escapade has finally come to an end, but not without certain consequences... The Department of Inbound Deliveries (DID) has taken on the look of a scrap yard. There are computers, monitors, and printers from every stage of technology over the last 12 years just piled on skids and strewn about my half of MSA One. Basically, I have about a month and a half worth of product drop-offs from a dozen different locations that I eventually have to sort through, inventory, and make ready for our Production Crew.



Fun.



So, I'm really gonna miss good ol' CK in the coming weeks... Not only for his vast knowledge of music and his domination in Name That Tune... Not just for his He-Man cartoon collection that kept us amused at lunch... And not only for his "let's just get it done" approach to a task. No, I think I'm going to miss him most of all because I just don't want to do all this work by myself! Help!!!



By the way, if you're reading this, and you live in Calgary, and you're looking for a job, drop me an email... Please!

Boys and Their Toys

No matter how old I get, I think I will always love toys.

When I was a kid, I used to collect "dinky cars", the little Matchbox and Hot Wheels brand scale replica cars. Back then, they were made to look just like the cars you saw driving around everyday, with the odd "exotic" one thrown in for flavor. Every time my parents took me to the department store, my Dad would let me pick out a new one for my collection. Then I'd take the new treasure home and put it in the little tin box I kept the rest of them in.

As I got a little older, the cars got left behind in favor of G.I. Joe. These weren't the Barbie-sized ones with the "real" stubbly beard (although I did have one of those at one time too), but the smaller "action figures", complete with Swivel-Arm Battle Grip. I'd spend hours setting up the massive G.I. Joe Head Quarters with it's dual-barrel turret gun, stockade, and computer Command Center. When my Birthday or Christmas rolled around, everyone knew exactly what to get me... More G.I. Joe!

Now that I'm an adult (most of the time), I'd have to say that computers have become my new toy. I don't really play any games on them, but I do enjoy figuring out all the cool things a computer could do, then trying to make it happen. I like to play with my 3 digital cameras and the pictures I get out of them... It's fun to re-mix music and sound-clips... I'm even set up to broadcast my computer's display to any TV in my house and control it with an FM Remote Mouse! Very little of what I do, in fact, is of any use... It's just fun to be able to do it. Hence, the computer is my toy.

Well, my girlfriend played a Trump Card this past weekend when she bought me my new Ultimate Toy for Father's Day: a portable DVD player.

I can't even begin to tell you how cool that thing is! Sure, I've been watching DVD's for years (even burning a few, from time to time), but this is a whole new experience! I feel exactly like I did when I was 13 years old and I got my first Walkman... Well, it wasn't a true Sony Walkman, just a cheap rip-off, but it was huge, silver, and came with the same awesome body-strap that the real thing had. No longer did I have to sit in my Mom's living room with my ear pressed up against the cabinet stereo to hear my Hit Explosion K-Tel record... Never again would I have to hear her telling me to turn it down... I was finally free to enjoy my tunes anywhere, anytime!

Now, 20 years later, I've regained that same freedom with my movies... I doubt you'll find me walking down the street watching Pulp Fiction anytime soon, but now I can watch a show in bed without disturbing my Better Half and road trips with the kids just might be a little quieter.

I could go on and on about it, but I really must get back to The Bourne Identity... For crying out loud! The guy can't remember that he's Matt Damon! Can you believe it?!?

Down, But Not Out

I'm alive... barely.



If you've been checking in at Musings lately, you might be under the impression that I simply couldn't go on after the Flames failed to bring the Stanley Cup back to Calgary with them. I assure you, however, that is not the case... In fact, I got over that pretty fast, all things considered.



If you are a regular reader, though, and have been following the Scenes from the Forklift, you may have figured out that I've been too busy to blog lately. And in this you'd be mostly correct.



To tell you the truth, my disturbing lack of presence can be blamed on sheer fatigue and nothing new to say. The past week and a half has been nothing but the same old song and dance in the warehouse... Too much work, too few people. So, I figured I wouldn't bore you... Ain't I just the greatest?



I can say, however, that there are things stirring in Cuppojoe's life, things which will definitely warrant a blog or two... So, until then, I now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast already in progress...

Clock Strikes Midnight...

It's over.



The Calgary Flames, the so-called Cinderella Story of the 2004 Stanley Cup Finals, have tried on the glass slipper and it doesn't fit. The heart-stopping series went the full 7 games, but it's the Tampa Bay Lightning who have earned the right to hoist hockey's most coveted prize over their heads.



As with Game 6, the Flames didn't seem able to put forth a consistent effort tonight. Instead, it was the Lightning who dominated most of the play. Calgary seemed to come alive in the dying minutes of the Third Period after a goal by Craig Conroy, but it was too little too late. The final nail in the coffin came with 1:01 left in the game as Andrew Ferrence was assessed a 2-minute penalty for allegedly charging Lightning player Martin St. Louis behind the Flame net. The call was made by none other than (you guessed it) Kerry Fraser. Even though another penalty was called less than a minute later against Tampa, the time for Calgary's come back had passed.



It was such a good ride for Calgary, one of the last teams anyone even expected to be in the Playoffs in the first place, and it was an equally good ride for this city. Even the glory days of the '88 Olympics and our Stanley Cup victory in '89 couldn't compare to the spirit that has had each and every Calgarian walking on air for the past 2 months. The dejected Calgary Flames will come home, probably with their heads hung low, but they will come home to a Hero's Welcome. They deserve nothing less. And I'm sure the Flames flags will fly from the cars for weeks to come, honoring the valiant effort put forth by our little underdog team.



And who knows? Just because the ugly step-sister came out ahead this time, doesn't mean Cinderella won't be invited to the ball next year...

Picture of the Week: Urban Web

Classic example of art imitating life...
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Close, But No Stanley

The Calgary Flames lost. They could have been handed the coveted Stanley Cup tonight in their home arena... but they lost. The city could have gone crazy with celebration... but they lost. I could have written a happy blog... but they lost.



I'm not going to get into the game this time. I just don't think I have it in me. This whole city was holding their breath, waiting for the Big Moment to arrive, but it never did. Now, we all just feel deflated.



However, it's not over yet... This crushing loss was only Game 6. Monday night will tell the final tale of the 2004 Stanley Cup Finals. The Flames are undoubtedly already on their way back to Florida to prepare for the winner-takes-all Game 7. I just hope they can do it...



Until then...

Scenes from the Forklift: I, Daredevil

Some people call it a pallet jack. Others call it a pallet-puller or a skid jack. I like to think of it as transportation.

I have to admit, I've become quite the Pallet Jack Pilot in my time. Like a kid on a scooter, I can zip from one end of the warehouse to the next... I can maneuver deftly between the piles of product left carelessly about the floor... I can even slalom the warehouse work-horse indefinitely without having to touch the ground! Yes, it has become almost second nature.

Until today.

I was cruising from the Department of Outbound Deliveries toward the Department of Inbound Deliveries, where CK (self-proclaimed "Supper Hero" of MSA One) and I were working for the day. As I was about to round the final corner, I noticed the way was bottle-necked with the forklift parked dangerously close to a skid of dead monitors. A less experienced Jack Jockey would have shied away from this tight avenue of approach, but not me. No, sir. I could see that I would easily have a few millimeters of breathing room on either side. Full-steam ahead!

I powered straight toward the forklift, knowing that only a last-second turn would put me past the obstacle. A mere heartbeat before slamming into the massive piece of machinery, I jerked the handle of my pallet jack violently to the right, swinging straight into the channel.

Well, I thought it was straight...

In hindsight, it looks like I missed my turn by a few degrees. As the front of my mechanical chariot cleared the side of the forklift, two things happened. First, I found myself heading directly toward CK, who had heard me coming and was watching my approach. The second (and more important) occurrence was the jamming of the jack between the front wheel of the forklift and the skid of dead monitors.

Sudden stop... for the pallet jack.

Newton's First Law of Motion states that a body at rest will tend to stay at rest, and a body in motion will tend to stay in motion. Well, my body was certainly in motion! Before my brain could comprehend what was happening, I was thrown smack-dab into the middle of a lesson in inertia.

Now, the handle of the jack stands about 3 1/2 to 4 feet off the ground, and it was this part that I was hanging onto (in front of me) at the moment of impact. As my body continued in a straight lined toward the stunned Supper Hero, this handle gave way before me by levering downward, such as it does when one uses it to jack up a pallet. At this point, I had a choice to make:

A. Let go of the handle and have it spring back towards me with great force, quite likely whacking me in a tender region as I flew over, or,

B. Continue hanging on and be reverse catapulted into the concrete floor, much like Wile E. Coyote.

Neither seemed to be a very attractive option at the time, and I had precious little time to choose.

In the end, I compromised. I held on as long as I could... Then, like a player in some sadistic, nutcracker version of leap-frog, I spread my legs, pushed the handle down and away from me, and landed clumsily at the exact moment the handle slammed back to it's upright position.

The racket drew a small crowd, not to mention a little blood to my cheeks, but I was none the worse for wear. In fact, instead of making me fear such dangerous antics, I think this incident may have opened my eyes to the possibility of a whole new career: Warehouse Stunt Man. Why not? They make movies with warehouses in them... And I could do the stunts for all the big name actors! Okay, so I probably won't be filling in for Stallone or Governor Schwarzenegger anytime soon, but I don't think Frankie Muniz or maybe the girl from "Spy Kids" is out of the question... Do you?