Pondering
Lots of people refer to Wednesday as "Hump Day". I wonder what prostitutes call it...
He Shoots, He Scores!
NHL Hockey returns tonight... Oh, baby! And, in case you haven't heard, Sport Illustrated has already picked my hometown Calgary Flames as the Stanley Cup favorite for 2006. Oh yeah! Iggy and Kipper are gonna rock the 'Dome this year!
Help Wanted
Lookin' for a job in fun, high-paying, fast-paced environment? Well, I can't help you there... But, if you live in Calgary, are lookin' for work, and don't mind having embellished stories of your workplace performance posted to the Internet, drop me an email. Who wouldn't want Cuppojoe for a boss, eh?
The Other Cup Fever
My thumbs are almost completely healed... Must be about time for Tim Horton's to bring back their Roll Up the Rim to Win contest. I swear, if I don't at least get a free cup of coffee out of them this time around, I'm gonna... Well... I'm gonna... Uh... Damn! I probably won't do anything, but I'll sure be pissed! (Curse this cursed addiction...)
War... What Is It Good For?
Can anybody help out a poor Canadian and explain the Iraq War in a non-biased, non-partisan way? I've heard about a thousand people give their fist-shaking, frustration-venting accounts, but I still don't get it. What is the fight about? Is Iraq evil? Is Bush the spawn of Satan? What's going on here? Please, just a simple breakdown is all I ask for!
Wednesday, October 5, 2005
Monday, October 3, 2005
Analyze This: Up the Creek Without a Pilot
Standing at the open cargo bay door of the Hercules aircraft, I watched the clouds crawl past below and marveled at the fact such a huge plane could even get off the ground, let alone stay aloft.
Looking back, I saw the fighter jet holding position a little below and behind us, despite the lack of a pilot. I guessed the autopilot must have been engaged. Without question, someone would have to land the plane, or it would eventually run out of fuel and plow into the ground. What were the odds the impact would occur in an unpopulated area? Not good, I was sure. Bottom line, we had to find a way to bring it down safely.
I turned to see if either of my companions had a brilliant idea that would save the day. Alec Baldwin stood holding onto one of the massive hydraulic arms that operated the hatch, staring back at me with his patented cold stare. Or maybe it was a blank stare and I have over-estimated him all these years... It was hard to tell. Rockstar (of "Scenes from the Forklift" fame), on the other hand, was already springing into action. Without a word, he hurled himself out the back of our plane and plummeted the 40 or 50 feet separating us from the jet.
Miraculously, he hit the fuselage about midpoint and was somehow able to cling to the smooth metallic surface. Turning himself around, he straddled the fighter and inched his way forward until he was positioned just behind the canopy. Then, gripping two small handles that I hadn't seen before, Rockstar gave a tug and remotely activated the ejection seat. With a violent burst, the canopy came away from the plane. Half a heartbeat later, the empty pilot's seat erupted upwards, climbing for a few moments before the chute deployed. I quickly lost sight of it as we left it far behind.
Knowing we had little time left to avert a potential disaster, Alec and I jumped as well. I suppose I should have been terrified, jumping out the back of an airplane without a parachute, hoping to hit what seemed an impossibly small target, but it all happened too fast. Before I knew it, I was standing on the wing of the fighter, looking at the profile of Mr. Baldwin and wondering how his hair stayed so perfectly still as we screamed through the sky. Come to think of it, should I have been able to stand up and walk along that wing without the airflow ripping me from it and sending my body tumbling to the ground far, far below? Probably not, but I didn't have time to think about it. We still had a plane to land.
I climbed into the cockpit and situated myself on the floor. Without the seat, I wasn't able to sit high enough to see out the front of the plane, but the wind whipping in my eyes probably would have prevented me from seeing anything anyway, even if it didn't blow Alec Baldwin's hair out of place. So, gripping the flight yoke, I disengaged the autopilot and, using instruments alone, settled the fighter into a level course.
As I got everything under control, Rockstar and Alec climbed into the cockpit as well, one on either side of me. While trying to stay focused on the little floating ball with the white line that told me I wasn't about to flip the plane over, it crossed my mind that the inside of the jet had quite a bit of elbow room, considering we were sitting three abreast, much like Cylons from the old Battlestar Galactica series. Being the experienced pilot that I somehow sensed he was, Rockstar began barking out orders and Alec jumped to flip various switches and turn assorted dials in response to his instructions. Working together like a well-oiled machine (but not in the homo-erotic sense), the three of us were on the verge of landing the plane and saving the day.
Suddenly, the cockpit was filled with a raucous noise that threatened to break my concentration. I turned to find out were the sound was coming from and realized it was chatter from my headset. No... Wait. Not from my headset. It was coming from the radio...
...on my nightstand.
Time for this Fly Boy to hit the showers and get ready for work.
Looking back, I saw the fighter jet holding position a little below and behind us, despite the lack of a pilot. I guessed the autopilot must have been engaged. Without question, someone would have to land the plane, or it would eventually run out of fuel and plow into the ground. What were the odds the impact would occur in an unpopulated area? Not good, I was sure. Bottom line, we had to find a way to bring it down safely.
I turned to see if either of my companions had a brilliant idea that would save the day. Alec Baldwin stood holding onto one of the massive hydraulic arms that operated the hatch, staring back at me with his patented cold stare. Or maybe it was a blank stare and I have over-estimated him all these years... It was hard to tell. Rockstar (of "Scenes from the Forklift" fame), on the other hand, was already springing into action. Without a word, he hurled himself out the back of our plane and plummeted the 40 or 50 feet separating us from the jet.
Miraculously, he hit the fuselage about midpoint and was somehow able to cling to the smooth metallic surface. Turning himself around, he straddled the fighter and inched his way forward until he was positioned just behind the canopy. Then, gripping two small handles that I hadn't seen before, Rockstar gave a tug and remotely activated the ejection seat. With a violent burst, the canopy came away from the plane. Half a heartbeat later, the empty pilot's seat erupted upwards, climbing for a few moments before the chute deployed. I quickly lost sight of it as we left it far behind.
Knowing we had little time left to avert a potential disaster, Alec and I jumped as well. I suppose I should have been terrified, jumping out the back of an airplane without a parachute, hoping to hit what seemed an impossibly small target, but it all happened too fast. Before I knew it, I was standing on the wing of the fighter, looking at the profile of Mr. Baldwin and wondering how his hair stayed so perfectly still as we screamed through the sky. Come to think of it, should I have been able to stand up and walk along that wing without the airflow ripping me from it and sending my body tumbling to the ground far, far below? Probably not, but I didn't have time to think about it. We still had a plane to land.
I climbed into the cockpit and situated myself on the floor. Without the seat, I wasn't able to sit high enough to see out the front of the plane, but the wind whipping in my eyes probably would have prevented me from seeing anything anyway, even if it didn't blow Alec Baldwin's hair out of place. So, gripping the flight yoke, I disengaged the autopilot and, using instruments alone, settled the fighter into a level course.
As I got everything under control, Rockstar and Alec climbed into the cockpit as well, one on either side of me. While trying to stay focused on the little floating ball with the white line that told me I wasn't about to flip the plane over, it crossed my mind that the inside of the jet had quite a bit of elbow room, considering we were sitting three abreast, much like Cylons from the old Battlestar Galactica series. Being the experienced pilot that I somehow sensed he was, Rockstar began barking out orders and Alec jumped to flip various switches and turn assorted dials in response to his instructions. Working together like a well-oiled machine (but not in the homo-erotic sense), the three of us were on the verge of landing the plane and saving the day.
Suddenly, the cockpit was filled with a raucous noise that threatened to break my concentration. I turned to find out were the sound was coming from and realized it was chatter from my headset. No... Wait. Not from my headset. It was coming from the radio...
...on my nightstand.
Time for this Fly Boy to hit the showers and get ready for work.
Saturday, October 1, 2005
Simple Pleasures
I like my toast made with 100% whole wheat bread, lightly toasted so it has that nice, crispy exterior with a core of breadiness to it. Then, I slop on a healthy helping of margarine, spread to all corners so as to avoid any dry spots. Sometimes this is good enough for me, as is... But, more often, I like to put a thin layer of pasteurized honey on for flavor. Barring that, there's always the old standby: Peanut Butter. There's nothing quite like 6 slices done this way and washed down with a hot cup of black coffee as a late Saturday morning snack...
Just thought you might like to know.
Incidentally, thanks again to Mrs. Joe for the new toaster...
Just thought you might like to know.
Incidentally, thanks again to Mrs. Joe for the new toaster...
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Scenes from the Forklift: We're Back, Baby!
Scenes from the what-now? Yeah, you read that right... Time for a long-overdue episode of Scenes from the Forklift.
It's not for a lack of material that I haven't spoken about work in such a long time. Rather, it has been a lack of desire and, quite frankly, lack of a forklift!
The desire part can be directly linked to the massive amount of work we've been doing lately. I'm sure I could have come up with quite a few funny stories over the last year, especially considering the daily antics of our latest crew, but did I want to? Did I really want to work myself into the ground (those of you who know me personally, stop laughing!) and then relive it as soon as I got home? Not bloody likely! Hence, no desire.
As for the forklift... Well, let's just say that 3 tons of industrial machinery can become 3 tons of industrial scrap metal if you're willing to neglect it enough. And, apparently, we were. In fact, so dedicated to this cause, we were, that we managed to do in two of them in a mere matter of months! The electric one now stands in a corner, up on blocks with its drive motor sitting on a nearby oil-soaked piece of cardboard. The motor we could move if we really wanted to, but the forklift itself remains a 10-foot tall, immobile testament to our complacency. Meanwhile, the good old sit-down propane forklift occupies another corner of the warehouse, its insides a mass of twisted metal and shredded belts that tell a sad tale of hard-livin' and scarce attention.
Yep, we done 'em in good!
But fear not, Good Reader! The day is darkest before the dawn, and I see the sun coming up... Remember how busy I said we were? Well, you can't get through that kind of workload without some heavy lifting-power. Not around here, anyway, and it seems the Powers That Be have inclined their mighty heads in our direction and noticed our need.
Have they bought us a new forklift, you wonder? Not exactly. But they've done the next best thing... They've rented us one!
Yes! At long last, Scenes from the Forklift can rise from the ashes like the mythical phoenix to entertain once again! Well, as long as the rental company is also providing service and maintenance...
Stay tuned...
It's not for a lack of material that I haven't spoken about work in such a long time. Rather, it has been a lack of desire and, quite frankly, lack of a forklift!
The desire part can be directly linked to the massive amount of work we've been doing lately. I'm sure I could have come up with quite a few funny stories over the last year, especially considering the daily antics of our latest crew, but did I want to? Did I really want to work myself into the ground (those of you who know me personally, stop laughing!) and then relive it as soon as I got home? Not bloody likely! Hence, no desire.
As for the forklift... Well, let's just say that 3 tons of industrial machinery can become 3 tons of industrial scrap metal if you're willing to neglect it enough. And, apparently, we were. In fact, so dedicated to this cause, we were, that we managed to do in two of them in a mere matter of months! The electric one now stands in a corner, up on blocks with its drive motor sitting on a nearby oil-soaked piece of cardboard. The motor we could move if we really wanted to, but the forklift itself remains a 10-foot tall, immobile testament to our complacency. Meanwhile, the good old sit-down propane forklift occupies another corner of the warehouse, its insides a mass of twisted metal and shredded belts that tell a sad tale of hard-livin' and scarce attention.
Yep, we done 'em in good!
But fear not, Good Reader! The day is darkest before the dawn, and I see the sun coming up... Remember how busy I said we were? Well, you can't get through that kind of workload without some heavy lifting-power. Not around here, anyway, and it seems the Powers That Be have inclined their mighty heads in our direction and noticed our need.
Have they bought us a new forklift, you wonder? Not exactly. But they've done the next best thing... They've rented us one!
Yes! At long last, Scenes from the Forklift can rise from the ashes like the mythical phoenix to entertain once again! Well, as long as the rental company is also providing service and maintenance...
Stay tuned...
Monday, September 26, 2005
Dying Wish Granted
If this one doesn't get to you, then you're colder than that leftover coffee I accidentally took a swig of this morning.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
No More Musing... If There Ever Was Any
That's right... I've dropped the "Musings of a". You see, upon reflection, I began to wonder if there ever truly were any "musings" on this blog. Oh, sure, there were plenty of questions, mostly of the rhetorical nature, and more than my fair share of hair-brained theories and ponderings. But did I ever really muse on a topic?
Perhaps that last paragraph could be considered my first and only "musing". But, moving on...
So, I've decided to stop living the lie and tell it like it is. I'm Cuppojoe and I've got a Caffeinated Mind. There. I've said it. No more pretense at musing, just good old random thoughts as they rise to the surface.
I feel 20lbs lighter already...
(P.S. Don't forget to update your Favorites... I am in your Favorites, right? Hello?)
Perhaps that last paragraph could be considered my first and only "musing". But, moving on...
So, I've decided to stop living the lie and tell it like it is. I'm Cuppojoe and I've got a Caffeinated Mind. There. I've said it. No more pretense at musing, just good old random thoughts as they rise to the surface.
I feel 20lbs lighter already...
(P.S. Don't forget to update your Favorites... I am in your Favorites, right? Hello?)
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