goddamned dead grapes.

Raisins are fucking sick. If you still don't believe me, please click on the following image:


fairweather friends, and other annoyances.

First things first... cell phones. Now, there is no way I will ever get a land line again, but when you really think about it, cell phones are a pretty piss-poor alternative. The main reason being that they are more disposable than they ought to be. I honestly believe that every phone is sold with the battery already half dead, and that the SIM card is purposely attached to said half dead battery so that once it does die, you don't have the option of just purchasing a brand new battery, just an entirely new phone. That's pretty fucking sneaky. Just wait until I invent a chip that lets us communicate with eachother 'telepathically'.

Secondly. To you people out there who have uttered the following, "You wouldn't understand because you've never been married/had kids/owned a farm/killed a man/etc.": die. Seriously. Sure, I may not have first hand experience at everything in life, but I am also not a) blind, b)deaf, c)completely unobservant, or d)a moron. Give me the benefit of the doubt, because my observations/advice can sometimes be pretty goddamned helpful. But if there's a chance that you do not want my opinions because I can't possibly even relate to whatever it is that you're saying to me that's so important, then maybe I'm not the person you need to be talking to.
I'm just sayin'...

And now, the actual reason for this post...
people who haven't called, written, sent smoke signals, sent emails, texted, etc. in months and months (okay, I won't be that nice about it... it's been well over a fucking year), and then suddenly invite you to something like a birthday party. Or, for arguments' sake, let's say it's a stag/stagette party. And let's also just say that this little shindig falls on the same night as another shindig (let's make this one the 'hypothetical' birthday party) with people who run in the exact same social circle. Say you only want to go to the birthday party because it's for someone who actually calls you once in awhile.

Are you even following me still? Whatever, let me finish.

You go to the birthday party, then somewhere in between one of the stag party people shows up for a bit (remember, same social circle), and then leaves again, reminding you that they're at the Ship (ahhh... there goes 'hypothetical'...) and that they hope to see you later. Needless to say, after the birthday party, you just ditch everybody to go drinking at a dive bar with one of your most alcoholic (and unrelated to these other clowns) friends.

Are you sure you got all of that? Because it is pretty damned convoluted.

Anyway, I believe what I was getting at is this: why do people who essentially stop associating with you suddenly invite you to stuff, and fully expect you to say "Awesome! I'll totally be there!"? Are they just trying to rub it in your face somehow? Did they truly forget that they haven't actually spoken with you for well over a year? Do they just not have very many friends, so they have to resort to inviting people who may or may not even remember who they are? Then again, there are people who are going to tell me that perhaps they are making a genuine effort to revive the friendship... but I doubt that, because if they were, why wait for a specific occasion? There were plenty of other times when it might have looked much more sincere.




Repost from someone's Facebook note:

I got this email this morning as SPAM, normally I would just delete it but after taking the time to read it I thought I'd share it with you. For all you Band of Brothers fans and anyone who has had any family or friends serve in the military. I'd rather read about this than the recent celebrity deaths that have been all over the news / news papers / internet / radio . . .

One of the "Band of Brothers" soldiers died on June 17, 2009.

We're hearing a lot today about big splashy memorial services.

I want a nationwide memorial service for Darrell "Shifty" Powers.

Shifty volunteered for the airborne in WWII and served with Easy Company of
the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, part of the 101st Airborne Infantry.
If you've seen Band of Brothers on HBO or the History Channel, you know
Shifty. His character appears in all 10 episodes, and Shifty himself is
interviewed in several of them.

I met Shifty in the Philadelphia airport several years ago.
I didn't know who he was at the time. I just saw an elderly gentleman
having trouble reading his ticket. I offered to help, assured him that he
was at the right gate, and noticed the "Screaming Eagle", the
symbol of the 101st Airborne, on his hat.

Making conversation, I asked him if he'd been in the 101st Airborne or if
his son was serving. He said quietly that he had been in the 101st. I
thanked him for his service, then asked him when he served, and how many
jumps he made.

Quietly and humbly, he said "Well, I guess I signed up in 1941 or so, and
was in until sometime in 1945" at which point my heart skipped.

At that point, again, very humbly, he said "I made the 5 training jumps at
Toccoa, and then jumped into Normandy .. do you know where Normandy
is?" At this point my heart stopped.

I told him yes, I know exactly where Normandy was, and I know
what D-Day was. At that point he said "I also made a second jump
into Holland, into Arnhem." I was standing with a genuine war hero . . .
and then I realized that it was June, just after the anniversary of D-Day.

I asked Shifty if he was on his way back from France, and he said "Yes.
And it's real sad because these days so few of the guys are left, and those
that are, lots of them can't make the trip." My heart was in my throat and
I didn't know what to say.

I helped Shifty get onto the plane and then realized he was back in Coach,
while I was in First Class. I sent the flight attendant back to get him and
said that I wanted to switch seats. When Shifty came forward, I got up out
of the seat and told him I wanted him to have it, that I'd take his in coach.

He said "No, son, you enjoy that seat. Just knowing that there are still
some who remember what we did and still care enough to make an old man
very happy." His eyes were filling up as he said it. And mine are brimming
up now as I write this.

Shifty died on June 17 after fighting cancer.

There was no parade.

No big event in Staples Center.

No wall to wall back to back 24x7 news coverage.

No weeping fans on television.

And that's not right.

Let's give Shifty his own Memorial Service, online, in our own
quiet way.
Please forward this email to everyone you know. Especially to the

Rest in peace, Shifty.

"A nation without heroes is nothing."
Roberto Clemente



... that make me realize that my brain has been severely altered by the use of drugs over the years.

1) Short term memory: I don't have one. No, seriously. Unless I write it down, I won't remember in 5 minutes.

2) Some of my memories never actually happened in real life, but I can't tell the difference a lot of the time. Fuck.

3) Comments I make like this:

"The word 'epic' should only be used if the event actually WAS epic. I mean, unless you're at a party where suddenly it starts raining hot dogs and cherry-flavored jelly beans from the ceiling, and then half the people in the room turn into zombies, and the other half of the peoples' heads explode, then it is probably NOT epic."


is there a point to this?

No, no there isn't. It's just a video of a pug pushing around a stroller.


the one where i bitch about 'the greatest show on earth', or whatever the fuck the tagline is.

Guess what, today is the start of my MOST FAVOURITE ten days of all in Calgary.

Okay, no, they are not actually my most fave ten days.

Of course, I am speaking of Stampede. During these ten days, it's like hick/redneck paradise, and all the trash from surrounding villages comes out to play. During these ten days, I seriously have to wonder what possessed me to keep on living here. While I will admit that I have certain redneck tendencies (I can't help it, I was raised in Alberta, so some of that was bound to have a lasting effect on me), I generally shake my head at the goings on during Stampede. All it is to me is a bunch of drunks who, ostensibly, have been given an excuse to act like assholes during the work week. Not that it's necessarily that much different any other time of year (this is, after all, Calgary), but I think what makes it worse is that on top of the usual douchebaggery, everybody feels the need to dress up in fake cowboy gear and listen to bad country music. Especially the women. You know how Halloween is meant to be 'the only day of the year where any type of woman can dress like a whore and get away with it'? Well, here we just tack on ten extra days of that each year. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I lived in the world's biggest bordello with the way some of these women behave.

But I'm not saying that the rest of you shouldn't enjoy Stampede. Maybe what I am saying is that I pride myself on knowing better.