JPTH International

INXS FORTUNE

2007-03-15T23:11:00.000-04:00

After their Rock Star TV series, INXS went on tour with a stop in town. This was my first experience shooting a “real” event, and it was at the local coliseum. That meant real security people, real media people, and a real challenge.

Traditionally, as I would find out, media are ushered in moments before the show starts, and are restricted in what they can shoot. For this event, I was allowed the first minute of the first two songs. That’s OK by me. I’d fill out the feature with some person on the street interviews. No problem.

The street interviews also solved my other concern: Would I be interviewing the actual band? What would I ask them? What would YOU ask them? I wanted to ask if Fortune was JD’s real last name, or a stage moniker, and, now that he is with an international mega band, would he consider changing it from Fortune to JD I’M-DOING-OK? Turns out ET Canada had the exclusive interview rights, even though they didn’t come to the show.

After filming on the street, I head to the security desk. Since this is still a new feature that the newspaper is branching into, there was a bit of confusion as to my being media PHOTO or media VIDEO. It was cleared up rather quickly. Adding to the confusion though was my lack of equipment. When the local TV stations cover events, they bring a large camera, and the necessary accessories. I arrived wearing a fanny pack that carried my MiniDV camera, tape and battery. And all that was hidden under my coat. It looked like I arrived with nothing.

About the timing issue: There was a media rep assigned to me that effectively was there to watch the time and tap me on the shoulder when time had expired. Good thing too, since I hadn’t brought a tripod, and would have to shoot the show from the back of the floor seats, holding the camera over my head as high as I could reach, and zooming in as tight as it would go.

These sorts of productions are very tight, media wise. While I didn’t see anyone telling the hundreds of flash camera users in the crowd to put it away, I told twice, “No Cameras” as I stood on the sidelines with a media rep and a big Green Press badge on my coat. When you are only allowed to tape the first minute of a song, you only get one take. I couldn’t stop and look at the guard. Fortunately, the rep beside me with the stopwatch waved the guard off. I’m not sure if you can hear him in the video or not. Thankfully, he didn’t put his hand in front of the camera.

Talk about learning on the job. And since the timer is on, and there is no do over, if you blow it, it’s blown. If you watch closely, you’ll notice that I actually start by filming a crew guy rolling up the dropped curtain instead of JD Fortune as the song begins.

Oops.

MONSTER BUSY

2007-02-02T23:11:00.000-05:00

Back in September, my brother, my Dad and I went out to Saskatchewan for a wild weekend at the One Red Paperclip Housewarming party. As some of you may rememeber, I shot a video of the trip for submission to the local newspaper for their website.

That little video has turned into an adventure and, dare I say it, a part-time hobby job. The Editor of the web department has offered me many kind words and has extended me more and more opportunities to not only represent the newspaper in the community, but also to shoot and edit my own short features for posting.

While posting these videos will certainly expose any remaining anonymity to you the blog strangers, I suspect that those of you that still visit once in a while may already know more than I think you do. So be it.

Over the next few posts, I'll bring you the videos I've been shooting. The picture at the top of the post will link you to the video, which is currently archived on the newspapers website. i could post them to youtube, but when I submit them to the paper, they have final approval and edit, and they, in turn , add the credits to the feature. Sometimes they even spell my name right!

It's been great to see these videos featured in a little paragraph in the paper each time as well, listing me as a host or producer. It's a fun project, and I hope you enjoy some of these interest pieces.

The first one, posted here, is from the Monster Jam show that came through town last November. Frank, driver of Blue Thunder, was out on the corner meeting fans, and talking to media. Frank was a great interview, and shared an understanding that it is the ticket buying fan that keeps the sport of Monster Trucks viable.

This one was shot by a camera man from the newspaper, and he commented at the end of the shoot that he had never shot one in one take before. Not that I don't make mistakes, but I certainly don't stop unless it's a terrible mess. Even then, the editing suite can be good enough to fix those.

TWO BAGS OF POTATOES IN JANUARY

2007-02-01T23:11:00.000-05:00

Can you believe it? One month, and 20 pounds gone already. The start of this story is in the post below.

It's a lofty goal, and it's not "easy", but other than being grumpy when I'm hungry, it's been very rewarding.

I expected to be able to lose 2 lbs per week which have put the weight loss goal somewhere around the end of April. I've been averaging 4.8 pounds per week. Could I complete the 40 pounds before the end of Feb?

Anyone want to make it interesting? I'll look for your wagers in the comments section.

And if anyone is concerned about the rapid weight loss, or how I'm doing it, drop me an email. I'm happy to talk about it. When I'm not hungry...

NEW YEARS RESOLVE

2007-01-08T23:11:00.000-05:00

It's time again to resolve to lose weight. This silly ticker is going to keep track for me, and be the official measurement tool for the incentives laid out at home.

Incentives, you say? Yes. Here's the story as best as I can relate it to you, my strange visitors at this nearly defunct blog.

When I met Z, I was 18 years old. She thought I was tall, dark and handsome. She's also half blind, so I fooled her on the handsome part. But then, as Meat Loaf would say, "Two outta three ain't bad."

Over the many years that we've now known each other, I have put on weight. My argument for years was that when I met Z I was still finishing puberty. Come on. At 18, I wasn't finished filling in as a man. Or at least my scrawny too tall body was hoping I hadn't finished filling out.

But fill out I have, but in all the wrong places. And it's now hard for me to continue that argument. I've clearly finished puberty, and I'm still filling out. So the race is on.

It wasn't really MY choice. While I will acknowledge that I do need to lose a few pounds, it was made clear to me that I hold a double standard in my house. Z takes great care of herself to be the little hottie that she is for her dazzling husband, but I have not kept up my "eye-candy" physique.

Sure, she'll still love me no matter what I look like, but I feel like I've been letting her down. So, with that in mind, I decided to make a serious attempt at weight loss. And it's off to a smashing start.

But since I'm really losing the weight for Z, I asked her to incite me to lose weight. Give me something to strive for. Z came up with an incentive plan that includes a treat or trinket at each 5lb interval I am able to surpass. It might be hockey tickets. It might be a night way. Who knows? Well you, that's who. I'll never tell!

I have had a steady stream of support from those kind readers that pop over here once in a while, I'm turning to you again for your supportive messages. I'll be reading those instead of running to the vending machine for candy bars and soda pop.

The goal is 40 pounds. That's ambitious, and while it would be fantastic, I'm not going to cry myself to sleep if I only get to 35 pounds. In fact, I think Z secretly doesn't want me to get to THAT goal. The incentive is too good...

I hope that she gets to eat these words. I know I won't be eating my share for the next few months...

A PAPERCLIP FOR A HOUSE

2006-09-19T11:11:00.000-04:00

Yes, I may be a little insane. But this is how I get my kicks.

I convinced (emphasis on CON) my brother to join me on a road trip. Where? Why, Kipling, Saskatchewan, of course.

Now Kipling may not sound like much if you live in Regina, but when traveling from an hour outside Toronto on Labour Day Weekend, it would be a bit of a haul. About a 5400 km (3356 miles) round trip kind of haul.

I approached a manager at our local newspaper that was launching a new website called Traveller. I told her my idea of driving 60+ hours round trip to Saskatchewan to check out the One Red Paperclip house. She was excited about the idea, and even offered help in procuring a vehicle. They branded my brother and me in official newspaper clothing, while sending us with a bag full of bling to trade along the way.

I’ll tell you more about the story later, but let’s start with the final video. Then you can ask questions, and I can blog about the stories behind those questions. Does anyone have any questions?

So, without further ado, please visit The Traveller on thespec.com to see my One Red Paperclip Trip video. The link will open in a new window.

I look forward to your comments.

SPEND LESS TO SAVE MONEY

2006-08-25T11:11:00.000-04:00

I actually read the junk that is sent in the envelope with my bills. Sometimes I learn something.

Like with my natural gas bill. I received a brochure that had this gem in it. In case you can’t read the scan, it says:

The best way to insulate yourself from higher energy prices is to use less energy.

Insightful.

I have come up with some other gems of wisdom.

"The best way to save money is to spend less."

"The best way to be hungry is to eat less food."

"The best way to make a tank of gasoline go farther is to use your car less."

Thanks, natural gas company. But, if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, wouldn’t lowering the rates be the best way for me to save a buck on energy prices?

You want me to buy less. I want to you to charge less. Either way, I will still have energy, and you will be getting less.

You should be happy.

YES! I CAN BE BOUGHT!

2006-08-23T23:11:00.000-04:00

Don't expect me to post every day, you grubby beggers, you! But the squeaky wheel gets the oil, or the grease, or something slippery. And since I ranted last year about a percieved injustice, I will now reflect on the latest developments.

My life is so filled with irony sometimes...

This blog garnered a bit of a reputation when I posted my Father’s Day Bank Rant in June of 2005. At the time, my bank was offering free iPod shuffles to new customers, while shafting the existing customers with higher service fees. I was quite bothered by the whole promotion, eventually preparing myself to move all my banking away from them.

I had already done my homework with a couple of other banking institutions, laying the groundwork for my eventual transition. When dealing within a long term business relationship though, I wanted to give my bank one last chance to "save the business".

I went into the local branch, the one that offered my zilch when I ~~complained~~ asked about this promo last year, and approached the first personal banker willing to see my sour puss.

I was surprised at this particular banker. When I explained to her what I was doing, she didn’t frazzled by the pressure I put on her to be better than the competition. Her answers, while not necessarily "better" than the alternatives, were accommodating, and achieved the short term goals I was most interested in fixing.

Then came the clincher. She was wearing a lanyard that showed the latest iPod Nano promotion, with the words, "Ask Me How to Get Yours". Or something like that. I’m not quoting it. It’s probably copyrighted anyway.

I got my back up and ~~complained~~ ~~rehashed~~ explained the situation from last year, conveniently leaving out the information about posting it online and having it picked up by AdRants, a large advertising blog (Thanks for the traffic, Steve!) (Speaking of posting it online, does anyone have any idea what this blog was saying about me?)

She looked at me and stated emphatically, "You can get this!" She looked over my accounts, and in a more hushed tone, started to explain that if I opened an account somewhere else, put some money in it and came back to the branch with an account number, not only would I be eligible for a shuffle, I could get a nano if I upgraded my Visa card. Since I was being screwed out of my points on that card anyway, I had no hard feelings giving it, and it’s 19% interest rate, up.

To make a long, boring story short, I walked across the street, set up an account at the bank and returned with an account number.

I still have hard feelings about my bank as a whole (or is it a hole?), but I have found a new personal banker that makes me happy. Like I told the branch manager, as I was signing some papers later that week, "The woman in there just saved my business."

The Nano came in the mail yesterday. It rocks. By being patient I now have something way better, way cooler, and way fun.

Besides, if nothing else, I can repackage the Shuffle for Z on Mother's Day next year!

SAM ON A PHONE

2006-08-21T23:11:00.000-04:00

I got a call on Thursday. It was from Samuel L. Jackson. Turns out, he wanted to tell me about a movie that may become, and I quote Sam, “the best motion picture ever made!”

Samuel L. Jackson, the movie actor from hits like Star Wars and The Incredibles, on the day of his big movie release, Snakes On A Plane, was making personalized phone calls to remind people to see his movie. It was really more of a threat actually, "Do as I say, and you live," I think he said.

I told him I would try to check it out, but it is rated R, and I’m afraid of snakes, so I doubt it. So I told Sam, “If nothing else, I’ll blog about it. How’s that?”

I think he may have said something about my mother or forks or both, but I’m sure he wasn’t being mean. That’s just our Sam.

If you want to ask Sam to call you or a friend about Snakes On A Plane, go on and click here.

Ya’ hear me?

SURPRISE! THIS BLOG STINKS

2006-08-18T23:11:00.000-04:00

I've been mulling about a whole multitude of new blog posts in my head, but I never get around to posting anything. I'm sure this November I'll be posting stories from this past April.

To appease those people that still visit here, in hopes of a new post, SURPRISE! Here is a new post. Actually, it's more of an educational/teaching moment.

DID YOU KNOW: The men's room in the Hanover, Ontario Wal-Mart smells like Vanilla.

Well, at least it did when I went IN.

A TEA STEEPED IN IRONY

2006-05-15T23:11:00.000-04:00

Let’s just ignore the fact that we haven’t talked in a long time and I’ll jump right into this post.

It seems I go through each day with the same routine. I get dressed in the same order. I eat pretty much the same breakfast, at about the same time. If I don’t eat at home, I get the exact same thing when I go to Tim Horton’s, which is a stop I make every single day. I get a tea: extra-large, with one milk, one sugar, steeped.

Today, I left something out of my routine. Something didn’t feel right. And as I stood at the counter of my local Tim’s, fishing through my pockets like an imbecile, I realized what I missed. I forgot to grab the change off my dresser, or as I will further call it, Morning Routine Step 6.

I go to my Tim’s so often that they know me and my order without my having to say anything. Long line-up? Someone slips a tea to me, and I quietly slip the change to them. One morning, I had a problem that two separate people saw me pull into my parking spot, and they both made me a tea. I bought both, and shared one with a friend at work.

But today was different. The counter staff was presenting me my tea, amidst the long line up of people crammed into the little foyer of a store front, and I had no money. What to do?

The girl looked at me and just said, “You’re here every day. We know where you work. You’ll be back tomorrow, just catch up with us then.”

I couldn’t believe it. I was being given a tab at Tim Horton’s.

Now, here comes the ironic part. As I finished my hot cup of steeped leaves, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be funny if this free cup won me something?” I have only one twice in the recent Roll up the Rim campaign. Very few stores have any cups available. Mine does. And I always lose. I stopped counting when I won once after in 19 cups. I was getting disappointed.

Here was my “free” cup, and wouldn’t you know it… it was a winner. The prize? One free drink.

Tomorrow, with proper change in hand, I can walk back into my Tim’s and turn over the winning tab.

Thanks Tim! I guess we'll call us even?

ONE RED PAPERCLIP: PATCH OFFER

2006-04-11T23:11:00.000-04:00

I have an addiction. It’s called blogging. Granted, I’ve been able to overcome my addiction within my OWN blog, but I can’t get enough of others.

I used to stalk poor Jason Eaton. He was living the life I could only imagine. Jason is skilled at model making, with the time, money and magic to make things happen. He’s even visited the Skywalker Ranch, a dream that many nerds like me could only, well, dream of… I’m sure he’s doing fine, but I am not entirely sure. His blog now requires a password. I don’t think that was my fault entirely… I’ll just have to send in my email request, and wait for a reply. Start holding breath… NOW.

In the meantime, my new stalking victim is Kyle MacDonald over at One Red Paperclip. I wanted to post about this so many times over the months that’s I’ve been watching him, but he had so much exciting things going on, from CNN, CBC, CityTV, RocketBoom, and trips to LA and Yahk, I couldn’t figure out where to begin.

For those under an internet rock, Kyle decided to create a trading blog. His plan was to trade things for bigger and better things until he trades for a house. Starting with one red paperclip, Kyle has moved through a fish pen, door knob, coleman stove, generator, instant party, snowmobile, trip to Yahk, and a cube van. Now, Kyle sits on One Recording Contract with many offers to consider.

I don’t envy this decision. What do you choose to move up the trading ladder? The trades get more complex, and more expensive each time. His goal of completing the house trade by June is going to be tough.

I think this is an incredible chance for someone. I spoke with some of the local housing people I know to get them jones’ed about the idea. There will be a book. There has been international press coverage. There may be a movie in the works. There has even been the hypnotic George Stromolopolous!

What a perfect marketing opportunity for a Real Estate agent! They love to see their name and faces crop up on everything. Here is an investment in some wide reaching, long lasting marketing. Why, O why, don’t I have an extra house around? I would have traded that for the cube van, and used it to move people into THEIR new houses… What a tie-in. But what do I know?

All I want to do is trade something for an official One Red Paperclip patch. So, Kyle, here is the offer:

I work on another blog called Useless Advice from Useless Men. I considered offering free advice on a trading question with a link to your site. But I wanted to offer something better.

I'd be happy to trade an exclusive Useless Men shirt (I make each one by hand (actually, I just iron on a logo.) for a patch.

They are short sleeve Penman’s dress shirts (quality product) with your choice of colour available at my local WalMart. There is only one other shirt at this time. Mine. I can ship it to you, with a return envelope for your patch.

If you will accept my offer, you can simply reply with your shirt size in the comments below! It’s really that simple…

Oh… and the advice question is a standing offer. Anytime. Really, without those questions, we really are useless!

DAN OF GREEN GABLES

2006-03-27T23:11:00.000-05:00

Speaking of other bloggers, did you know that the One Useless Brother has finally joined the hit parade?

I should introduce the new blog link I’ve added here. Always the last one picked, my brother, Dan of green Gables, has joined the blogosphere.

He will be replacing the void in my link bar that was left when my Useless Men co-founder, Happy And Blue, closed up blog. Which is only proper since I am Blue that he is no longer active online, but Happy for him in his newest, latest and greatest endeavors.

Dan's blog is a music-centric site reviewing the many, many, many, many, many CD’s that he currently has in his collection. Despite their import status, most of his crap collection is not what you would traditionally hear on commercial radio.

For a chance to expand your musical tastes, from KISS to the Trans Siberian Orchestra, with a little Jingle Cats for good measure, I introduce Psychotic Philosophy.

TURN DOWN THE MUSIC!

2006-03-24T23:11:00.000-05:00

Kids these days...

In an effort to expand the minds of you, the loyal reader at JPTH, while I traipse the world fantastic trying to find a more useless place, I bring you Calvin from Singapore. That’s the International in JPTH International.

The last campaign saw 8 different people click on the little Rent This Blog feature. Can I get 10 this time? Can I? Will YOU click for me?

If you click on mine, I’ll click on yours. Deal or no deal?

BRING YOUR OWN CLEANING SUPPLIES

2006-03-17T23:11:00.000-05:00

There is a new renter this week. It is the Full Metal Photographer. I like to post pictures in my blog, and this is a photo blog, and you are still reading, so go figure…

Last campaign had 10 clicks on the renter. I’m never going to make a lot of credits if only 10 people click through. Why not check it out? You can see pictures like the one above. Or like the one on the thumbnail. In fact, I’ll give a reward (read: Auto Show touque) to the person who can tell me in comments what the real picture is from that thumbnail. Of course, that’s going to require me doing some research, too. Multiple correct answers will be entered in a random draw from which I will randomly select the person that costs the least postage… or something like that.

I really have no idea what it is, so I hope I’m not causing anyone to go blind seeing something they shouldn’t. If it’s bad, I’m warning you, I’ll pull the lease on this so fast, it will make your head spin.

And no using a hot plate either!

CHEWY WHITENESS or WHY MY JAW HURTS

2006-03-16T23:11:00.000-05:00

I don’t chew a lot of gum. Not my thing. Maybe it has to do with my baby teeth.

When making my impulse purchase of gum, I considered, do I just want fresh breath, or is there more to gum than that? Forget all the wacky flavours and the juicy fruits. I’m not in the 10th grade anymore. I wanted adult gum. And adult gum comes in with teeth whitening additives.

About every other day I’d chew a piece of gum to get my mind off, say, eating an entire pork roast . But after a few packs, I didn’t think my teeth were any whiter. That’s when I started to read the fine print.

Did you know that gum has FINE PRINT?

Trident claims it will whiten teeth and remove stains in 2 weeks. All you have to do is chew 2 pieces of gum 4 times a day for 20 minutes. Sounds easy. Surely, a one-dollar pack of gum has got to be cheaper than those teeth whitening kits. Let’s find out shall we?

The pack of gum holds 12 pieces, at a cost of $0.99, which would last a day and a half. You need to go for 14 days. So doing the math, 14 days multiplied by eight pieces per day is 112 pieces divided by 12 pieces per package is 9.33 packages (of course. Couldn’t be an even number of packages!) multiplied by the price… equals $9.99 plus tax.

It is cheaper! Teeth whitening kits could run anywhere around... ? Still, that seems like a lot of gum. I think I’ll just stick to brushing and flossing…

AND NO MUSIC AFTER 11:11

2006-03-10T23:11:00.000-05:00

I have my first renter. As the first to respond, I’m happy that Books and Random Thoughts took a chance on me. First to bid on this first time renter. And it seemed like a match.

A match for you, valued reader. I wanted to add some class to the blog, so I was happy to see that the renter features book reviews. Well, not JUST book reviews. There is the occasional random thought placed, er, randomly within the posts.

Personally, I love to read. I’ve never really posted any reviews here, so this was a great compliment to my toilet paper valentines and computer mouse in jell-o practical jokes.

If you don’t have time to read a book, I recommend Books and Random Thoughts

To read more, click here. Seriously. The people over at the rent control board are keeping track of that stuff.

Go on. Click it. There’s nothing else new here…

BLOG FOR RENT

2006-03-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

As you know already, I've been a neglegent little guy with this blog. This blog has been good to me. I hope it's been good to you as well.

But right now the Useless Men need me. Or maybe I need them. Who really knows?

What I do know is that this space shouldn't go to waste, and you, valued reader, shouldn't see nothing after nothing.

In an effort to find a balance, I've tuyrned to the folks over at Blog Explosion to rent out this blog. On the side bar over there you'll see a rent my blog square. I want you to click on it. Not now... in a day or so.

I will be accepting bid offers shortly, and will be hosting a renter for a week. I'll tell you more about them when they have been selected, subject to terms, conditions, weight and height, and a full diagnosis on their car.

Or if they offer the full amount of credits. Whichever comes first.

Stay tuned folks. There will be content here again! Until then, Stay USELESS!

NOT DEAD...

2006-03-08T23:11:00.000-05:00

Just Useless.

Thanks for visiting. More to come some day...

Isn't it about time you read the archives? Huh?

EAT MY RUBBER

2006-02-17T23:11:00.000-05:00

This weekend is the Daytona 500 (check your local listings). I’m not a HUGE race fan, but I like to fall asleep watching it on a Sunday afternoon. I have friends that are really into it, although I don’t know who to cheer for.

Ricky Rudd or Kevin Harvick? Let the debate begin in the comments section below.

What I do know is that I like the number 8. Mostly because if you turn is sideways it looks like the symbol for infinity.

I’ll watch the race as a casual fan. Casual fans think the speed is cool, the cars are cooler, and the crashes are the coolest. NASCAR is to crashes what the WWE is to wrestling. In the end, you’re head will be spinning but your going to remember at least one flaming crash.

The first race Z watched of NASCAR was the Daytona 500 when Dale Earnhardt Sr died. She saw the crash. She heard the news. She found it unbelievable.

I mostly just like to race on my own. Not so easy with a Metro. But one day I’d like to let ‘er rip on a quarter mile oval. What’s the worst that could happen? Blow the engine? Again?

They say betting makes games more meaningful. I don’t bet, but here is what I will do. I’ll hold on to these chocolate NASCAR treats and eat them in the reverse finishing order. The one that comes closest to winning (without going over?) will get to sit on my desk going stale. The others will be eaten…

It’s a win-win for me! Mmmmmmmm... NASCAR....

BIRTHDAYS, VALENTINES, GRANDMAS AND MAC & CHEESE

2006-02-14T23:11:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentines. I tend to remember Valentines Day for a very different reason. It’s my Grandmother’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Grandma!

That might explain why, as a new boyfriend, I was so inept on what to do for Valentines. I don’t usually mix love and romance with Grandma.

The first Valentines I celebrated with Z was a bit of surprise. We had what might be called a long-distance relationship, in that, she was an out-of-town student, and went home on weekends. That first Valentines was on a Friday, traditionally the day that Z would head home.

Instead, Z decided to stay late that night so we could enjoy a Valentines dinner together. The problem was that I was also a struggling student, who lived at home with his mother. It wouldn’t be romantic to be at my place, but the week was over and there was no food at Z’s place. There also, as she noted to me earlier in the day, no toilet paper.

This left me with the inevitable decision of getting something romantic for someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Or get something practical that would also be mmemorable. I went with practical, and showed up with a box of macaroni and cheese and a roll of toilet paper. Dinner was taken care of.

Z was a little less practical and got me a pair of boxers with flying cows on them. Silly girl only got me a medium. Was she trying to flatter me, or something?

Clearly she was blind. How else can I explain getting a hottie like her with a body like mine? She must be blind. She saw tall and dark, and figured handsome must be come with it.

I’ve taken much ribbing over the years for my romance-less Valentine. To set the tables straight, this year I purchased a pair of underwear for every ruined Valentines gift I’ve given Z, and I hid them around the house for her to find in her daily comings and goings. I got her small.

I hope she makes macaroni and cheese for dinner. Use Grandma’s recipe. It really is my favourite.

STANLEY CUP SETTLEMENT

2006-02-13T23:11:00.000-05:00

In other hockey news, I was right. The NHL does NOT own the Stanley Cup.

Last year, during the lockout of the NHL, I argued incessantly with everyone that would listen that the Stanley Cup does not belong to the NHL. Well, technically, the term "STANLEY CUP" is owned by the NHL under copyright law. The image and words Stanley Cup are their property now. Just read the fine print on their website.

But the actual cup, the Dominion Challenge Cup donated by Lord Stanley of Preston, is not. Never was. And hopefully, it never will be.

When Lord Stanley donated the cup, he appointed trustees to care for it. The main responsibility of the trustees was to maintain the rules, govern any competitions and ensure that the cup was awarded and returned in proper condition.

As it states on the Hockey Hall of Fame website: “The trustees have absolute power over all matters regarding the Stanley Cup.”

Let’s be honest, the NHL has been the competition used to determine the winner since 1926. But that didn’t mean it could only be the NHL. That would be a Trustee's decision.

Some men in a Wednesday night beer league took to task the decision of not awarding the Cup. The NHL has just settled out of court, acknowledging that the trustee has the right to award the Cup each year, even in years the NHL does not participate. The Stanley Cup remains a free agent.

In addition, the NHL agreed to make a substantial donation each year for the next 5 years towards women and youth hockey. In my mind, that would be the punitive portion of the NHL’s settlement.

This is tremendous news for a hockey fan. I’ve often said I’m a fan of the Stanley Cup. There is such a rich and storied history to this trophy, the oldest of any trophy awarded to professional athletes in North America.

Last year was not an exception. The Cup should have been awarded. There should have been a nationwide challenge tournament put together. If those locked out NHL players wanted to complete for it, they would have had to put together a team, like anyone else.

Can you imagine that Round Robin tournament? A bunch of Toronto area NHLers forming a little rec league team to complete for the Cup?

Wouldn’t it be cool to see the 2004 winners Tampa Bay Lightning team listed beside a 2005 winner such as a Brampton Capitals OHA Junior A team?

In Canada, let it be known, the Stanley Cup is bigger than the game. The failure of the Trustees to acknowledge this fact, before it was too late, is the bigger black mark from the locked-out 2005 season.

TEFLON WAYNE

2006-02-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

Talk about out of a frying pan, into the fire.

With all the recent tragedy for the Wayne Gretzky, losing a mother and a grandmother, and the pressure of defending the Olympic gold-medal for hockey, I’m sure this is the last thing the guy needs.

Wayne Gretzky is a good guy. Wayne would autograph a picture and take a photo with Gary Coleman without an assault case pending. Wayne is just a nice guy. Every one will tell you that. Well, everyone except Darren Frost.

However, Wayne seems to get his fair share of controversial people. Peter Pocklington wasn’t the purest of purists. Bruce McNall ended up going to prison. And now Rick Tochett, the assistant coach of Gretzky’s owned and coached Phoenix Coyotes, is being implicated in some very serious charges. The legal minutiae is a little over my head since I don’t practice law in New Jersey, but it sounds very serious.

The part that bothers me is all the blather in these parts about Mrs. Gretzky’s affiliations. In no way is Wayne being implicated here. Some say he knew of the operation, but that does not mean he was aware of its legality. Some would say that Janet was a front for Wayne, but Wayne says, “I don’t bet.” Janet is expected to make her public statement tomorrow.

I’m giving the benefit of the doubt to any alleged bettor or financier. I know I would say, “I don’t bet.” But I do throw an occasional toonie into a Superbowl office pool once in a while. Last I checked, our man in the office wasn’t licensed for gambling. (Actually, I’ve never checked. I’m hoping ignorance could be my defence.)

I’ll be following this very closely, if not for the result, but to help defend the hometown boy Wayne as another of his associates goes up in flames, alleged or not. The fire has been set.

Regarless of all the other players and such, my hope is that if Wayne is found guilty in any way, may papa Walter take him out to center ice in the Arizona Glendale Arena and give that boy a spanking. Walter didn’t raise a son like that.

And if you‘re going to order a frying pan online, be sure use a licenced retailer.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ARNOLD

2006-02-08T23:11:00.000-05:00

“Whachutalkin’bout, Willis?”

I’m telling you, that never gets old. But Gary Coleman does.

Lucky little guy is 38 years old today. Life hasn’t been kind to the once famous TV star. Legal battles with his parents and manager over his $70,000/episode earnings on everybody’s favourite show, Diff’rent Strokes (BTW - Thanks for making my spelling atrocious over those developing years. I us’d to apos’trph’ ev’ryth’ng!)

Sure, Gary had some downtime, like his bankruptcy in 1999 and the charges of assault from an autograph seeker. It’s not all a penthouse in the sky for this poor orphaned child celebrity.

In honour of Gary’s birthday I wanted to ask that you please, leave Gary Coleman alone. Please.

The man will make himself known when the time is right. He just needs his space. Sure it’s his birthday, and you’ll want to give him the traditional spankings, but don’t. He knows the judicial system, and I think he’d be willing to use it.

There used to be a campaign called Leave Gary Coleman Alone, but I see that the links have been disconnected and no longer exist in the cyber-sphere. I wish I could have directed you there. Instead, I'll direct you here for all your Diff'rent Strokes Online needs.

Instead, I will honour my own way, not by patting the birthday on the head, or making him make that face and say that line. Everyone does that.

I’ll just wish the man that came in 8th out of 135 candidates in the California recall election of 2003 a ~~short and sweet~~ sincere HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

And leave him alone.

30 YEARS FOR 10

2006-02-07T23:11:00.000-05:00

It was thirty years ago today that a legend was made. The story of Daryl Sittler scoring 10 points (6 goals, 4 assists) in that single hockey game February 7th, 1976, is an NHL record and legend. In the flying 80’s of hockey, even Wayne Gretzky could not equal the night that Sittler set the Bruins straight.

That’s two hat tricks, friends. Sittler had a natural hat trick in the third period alone, scoring three goals in a row. Final score: Toronto 11 Boston 4

For all his luck, the NHL awarded Sittler with a silver tea set. I hope it was a set of 10. And the legend grows with story books like “My Leafs Sweater”, about a boy going to that February game for his first hockey game with his Dad on his birthday.

Only one goal that night was scored without Darryl having a hand in on it. Everything was bouncing Sittler’s way. Sadly, Bruins goalie Dave Reece never played another NHL game in his career after this loss.

You’d have thought someone would pull the goalie on a night like that. But Bruins coach, the one and only Don Cherry, recalls the night this way:

"I'm gonna tell you the full story," says Cherry. "Gerry Cheevers was playing for WHA in Cleveland. We got him up about a week before and he was in bad shape. He wasn't sharp. So, we brought in a kid: Dave Reece. Now we start the game and it was one of those games that I know right off the bat (we're a first place club, by the way) and you know you're not going to win. So now they're pumping 'em in all over. They're going off guys' heads. Everything Sittler touched went in. Now, I gotta make a decision. I look down and I look at Cheevers around the seventh goal and he puts a towel over his head. He didn't want anything to do with it. Do I put him in? What's the sense? We're not going to win. And I sacrificed Davie Reece."

Sittler joked, David Reece tried to commit suicide. “He stood in front of a subway car… and the subway went through his legs."

Reece is not dead. He’s now a consultant and an educator.

Today, in honour of Sittler’s achievement, I want to recognize and appreciate the sacrifice that Dave Reece made that night. It had been decided before that game that Reece was going to the minors. The bruins would go on to win their division, but missed the Stanley Cup finals to Montreal, the eventual winner of the Stanley Cup that year.

As a goalie myself, I know the feeling when you have no hope of winning, and little hope of keeping it close. No matter what you do, you find the puck is behind you. When a baseball pitcher is considered un-hit-able, he is golden. Being un-hit-able, as a goalie, is not a compliment.

To read more about Dave Reece, click here.

SUPER RAY XL

2006-02-06T23:11:00.000-05:00

What a good man, that Super Ray is. Despite a family addition that is still counted in weeks, he was happy to have his basement invaded for a round of useless banter and quarter tossing while the greatest commercials of the year were interspersed through a very a popular football game. I brought a dip!

I had no interest in either team winning. I guess when a player retires in his hometown after the big game with a championship, you want to root for him. The bus stopped in Detroit this year.

I liked Pittsburgh for it resemblance to the Tiger Cats. Pittsburgh is a steel city, blue collar, and loves its football. Good for them. Considering their great hockey team that should have been a contender is mired in last or next to last place any given day of the week, despite teenage phenom Sidney Crosby, this championship will be the only hardware hefted this sporting season.

(How bad is it that both Crosby’s linemates have retired this year? Is this a trend? Did he just work so hard that he tired these old men out? Oh, the many mysteries in Pittsburgh.)

It’s even better knowing that a Pennsylvania team won, and it wasn’t the Eagles. Terrell Owens knows he could have made a difference.

What makes the difference in this big game is getting together with friends and enjoying company with one another regardless of the score or officiating. In an effort to super things up myself, I made a Buffalo Chicken Wing Dip for the big game. It was a hit. You could say it was “Super”.

If you would like the recipe, here you go.

BUFFALO CHICKEN WING DIP

2 cups Cooked Shredded Chicken
2 cups Shredded Medium Cheddar Cheese
16 oz Cream Cheese (2 bricks)
3/4 cup chopped celery
4 oz Blue Cheese

1/2 cup Frank's hot sauce for MILD
- or - 3/4 cup of Frank's hot sauce for MEDIUM
- or - 1 cup of Frank's hot sauce for SPICY

1 Bag of Dip Chips

Directions
1) Soften cream cheese with hot sauce,
2) Add celery, chicken, cheese's – mix well
3) Pour into baking dish
4) Bake @ 400 for 20 min or until melted
- or - Microwave 3 min, mix well /wave
2 mins more until melted
5) stir well when done

Dip and Enjoy!

J.L.! THERE’S A PROBLEM AT THE PLANT!

2006-02-01T23:11:00.000-05:00

What would J.L. Kraft say about this shoddy product display? If I were J.L., I’d say, “Ooops. Silly machinery.” Then I’d get a coffee and sit at my big desk using a stack of fifties as a coaster.

There used to be a time when mangled or dented products meant DISCOUNT. Not anymore. The only discount you’re going to get in today's big box store is for sun-cured mayo the day before expiry.

“Hmmm.. Half price. One litre. Expires tomorrow. I think I can use it.”

That’s why I always check the eggs in the carton at the grocery store. Check before you buy. You can’t return one broken egg. If you buy it broken, you keep it broken.

Even store brands are getting all fancy. I went to a No Frills store recently. There certainly were no frills added. Is selection a “frill”? At this store, if you want toilet paper, you can get the brand you like in an 8PK or the Sandpaper brand for less, but only in quantities of 24 or more rolls. I think I could still see pieces of wood in the paper. Ouch.

My grocer carries clothing, electronics and appliances. My clothing, electronics and appliance stores now carry groceries. I’m so very, very confused.

Now I have to comparison shop for a no name can of green beans! I have to go to the clothing, electronics and appliance store, check out their selections of no name green beans, and find the lowest price. Then find that same product at the no frills store. Then find it once again at the regular grocers. Not to mention that the drug store up the street has a grocery aisle.

Someone HELP! I don’t even LIKE green beans. I’m just trying to save a nickel…

All this diversification but no one is doing it completely. My deli sells milk, eggs and selected groceries, but no fresh veggies like lettuce, or tomatoes, the kind of fresh veg you like to put on a good deli sandwich.

If I had it my way, I would create a shopping all that had one of every store in it. Each possible purchase would be under one roof. Lawn care, grocery, vehicle maintenance, clothing, electronic, appliances, lumber, you name it, it’s in the mall. It would be the size of a few city blocks and three stories high. One stop shopping. And shopping carts would be golf carts with little trailers!

No wonder men hate shopping. I blame Kraft.

GENERAL LEE SPEAKING

2006-01-26T23:11:00.000-05:00

It was Friday, January 26, 1979. I was just a youngin’, never meanin’ no harm. Either were the Duke boys, during the premiere of the TV series, The Dukes of Hazzard.

I had a thing for cars back then. Not fixing them. Not driving them. Just liked really cool looking cars. Like the 1966 Batmobile.

And the General Lee. A bright orange Dodge Charger. A bright orange Dodge Charge that could jump rivers and other cars.

I had the little toy General Lee model cars. I had the little toy action figure set of Bo and Luke Duke. I had no interest in Daisy Duke, other than her Jeep was OK. Not as good as the General Lee (or the Batmobile for that matter).

I even went to a car show with my Dad to get my picture with the General Lee. Even better, I got an autograph from Deputy Cletus Hogg. He signed my scrap of paper Cletus. Only today did I figure out his real name is Rick Hurst. I guess, to a kid, who wants an autograph from Rick Hurst, when I went to see Cletus, still in his uniform, and slightly nervous since he was the nephew of the baddie Boss Hogg.

As I sat and watched the first episode of The Dukes of Hazzard Season 1 on DVD, One Armed Bandit, I had to laugh again at how silly the show was, and how terrific the stunts were, and how I still am in love with that car.

Maybe I could just paint my Metro? A-coo-coo-coo!

WHAT HAPPENS IN [INSERT PLACE HERE], STAYS IN [REPEAT PLACE HERE]

2006-01-20T23:11:00.000-05:00

This is an old story, in today’s news age, but I found it rather funny.

I tend to find these sorts of thing funny. The problem with contextual advertising has been discussed by many people with far greater impact, importance, and interest than I will. They always talk about the negatives, but I prefer to simply find humour in the bad taste of it all.

It’s like reading garage sale promotions to “get rid of unnecessary junk” next to the obituaries.

When the boys of the Minnesota Vikings went about their little riverboat fantasy, they may have thought, what happens on the riverboat stays on the riverboat. This never happens.

But when Yellow pages gets in on the action with a little “What happens at the Stag, stays at the Stag” action, you have contextual advertising at its best.

To me, I now know that if I’m ever a partying member of an NFL team, and I want to plan the type of party that good, moral citizens might object to, I should consult the yellow pages.

I just wonder what I would have to look under?

Any suggestions?

GO DENVER!

2006-01-19T23:11:00.000-05:00

With the NFL Playoffs completing this weekend, before the BIG GAME IN DETROIT. Can’t use the ACTUAL name of the BIG GAME IN DETROIT. It’s under some sort of copyright, and by doing so, I would probably owe the NFL some money. For those gambling fans, you know what that’s like.

I don’t gamble. So please, tell me: What’s it like?

I’ll be cheering on Denver this weekend. I have no idea if Denver is any good this year or just got lucky getting this far in the season. I follow the Buffalo Bills. I think they were officially eliminated around week 5.

I just remember going to my first, and only, NFL game. It was at Mile High Stadium in Denver. I bought a ball cap. Since it is the only paraphanelia I have for an NFL team not in Buffalo, I’ll have to pretend like I support them.

To be honest, I was mildly disappointed with the game. It was versus the Kansas City Cheifs, a true NFL rivalry. My seats were at about the 35-yard line in the 17th row.

The 17th row of the fourth level. I think another 30 rows up was the official MILE HIGH line. Then again, my Avalanche tickets the next night were in the top row, but that was still only two levels up. Watching what appeared to be an effective running game is not much fun from that high above sea level. It’s hard to really appreciate the athleticism while watching players that resembled my Madden 95.

Seventy-thousand fans. Seventy THOUSAND fans. 70000 FANS. That was the WOW factor to me.

Sitting in the sunshine was great too, right until the sun dipped behind the western side stands. The game couldn’t end enough after that. And I’m Canadian. You’d think the 70,000 fans would generate a little heat, but I guess the heat just rises. Did I mention the 70000 fans?

Can you see me in my seat? Can you? You shouldn’t. I’m the one taking the picture.

There were other aspects of that day I will remember, mostly the long conversation I had with my friend afterwards about the Christians in the concourse holding up JESUS SAVES signs and preaching to the home crowd after a late quarter loss. They weren’t happy with the team, and their mood wasn’t real open to hearing about the Son of God. Not unless he could catch a pass.

I haven’t talked to MB in Colorado in quite a while, but I think often of my trip down to visit with him. I do pray he’s feeling better. Who knows? If MB bulks up a little, there may still be a position for a receiver on the Broncos!

THANK YOU. YOUR VISIT IS VERY IMPORTANT...

2006-01-18T23:11:00.000-05:00

Your visit is very important to me. All of my blogging resources are currently reading or writing other blogs. Please be patient.

Your visit is important.

Your visit will be rewarded with the first available blog post. Please continue holding, while I re-connect with my blog…

I really have nothing new to say right now. I have some thoughts, but most of my energy has been going to other areas of my life like family, and friends, the holidays, earning a pay-cheque, cleaning up after discharging fire extinguishers in oven fires, finishing a wedding video I shot in August, attending workshops, re-admitting myself to the gym, and sulking after not going to Chile for a wedding.

All that, and a little eating and sleeping on the side.

Ok... a lot of eating. Thus, the gym part.

Thanks for the encouraging emails and comments. Both of them. Very, very encouraging.

In the meantime, please hold for more information…

click

While holding, be sure to check out the following regularly updated blogs:

USELESS ADVICE FROM USELESS MEN or THE LAST WORD

THE LAST WORD… IN MOVIES

2006-01-11T23:11:00.000-05:00

I have always had a grand fascination with movies. I love watching them. I love how they are made. I’ve made study of styles and performances in my earlier years.

At one time, my friend TC and I had seen every video in our local rental facility. EVERY movie. I wish I were joking.

I can’t claim to be up with the times any more. No time to get to the theatre house any more. Rarely a full two hours to sit in front of a television, home theatre surround sound or not.

What I really needed was a boost, a meaningful way to get to the end of a movie. Martini had an idea. It was silly, and now it is real. I guess that makes it really kind of silly….

Check out the latest blog in the blog-o-sphere. The Last Word.

The Last Word is quickly becoming the largest collection of movie quotes in the inter-verse. Of course, to save time, we are only collecting the last spoken word from each movie.

No longer do I have to sit through countless hours of There’s Something about Mary just to hear the word "penis!" No longer will you have to wonder when the three-hours of tripe, called The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring, is going to end. (Really… the movie title should have been a clue that the over-produced, and under exhilarating movie version of the classic books was going to be long. The title takes three times longer than your average movie title just to type, let alone speak.) Instead of sitting through three more hours of hobbit-on-hobbit love, you can just tune yourself into the word “me” and be prepared to wake up at that time.

In fact, that works for the second in the trilogy as well. Trilogy? Couldn’t they have taken a page out of George Lucas’ memoirs and turned those movies into 2 hours of excitement and doubled the box office a few more times?

Sure, I’m editorializing my personal views on poor Peter Jackson’s Oscar-winning masterpiece, but no need to worry. No editorializing at The Last Word. Just The Last Word.

Anyway, the writers changed things up for the final installment, LOTR:TROTK, probably in an effort to thwart my stellar example set in the first two. If you want to know what THAT word was, you’ll need to check out the site. OR sit through the movie again. Do that, and you’ll realize the true beauty, in its simple silliness, that Martini’s brilliance predicted.

Once you’ve heard The Last Word, you’ll know it is time to cue the credits.

ROLL CREDITS

IS ANYONE ELSE READY TO SCREAM?

2006-01-10T23:11:00.000-05:00

I can’t believe I watched it. I really can’t. Not that I don’t have plans to vote, but since when do I actually vote for the party leader.

The recent election debate was a joke. I can’t stand how Paul Martin never answers a question. Instead, he says something like, “Before I answer your question on gun control, I wanted to talk about the notwithstanding clause.” Really? As a voter, perhaps I wanted to hear your response to gun control? Wasn’t that the question the other three candidates JUST ANSWERED? It’s sad that this party is still running on promises it made in the last election, and the one before that, and the one before that. After 13 years, why haven’t you already instilled some of these promises? Didn’t you promise to get rid of the GST in one election? If you’ve forgotten, just ask Sheila Copps about that…

Not that I’m pro-anyotherparty. Please. Stephen Harper, of the Conservatives, while not the Robotic Hellion that many pundits like to make him out to be, is not perfect. If I had to choose between him and Martin only, he does seem like a reasonable choice, at times. However, I remember what the provincial PC’s did in Ontario, and I really don’t want to see everything get so, well, conservative, too quickly.

The NDP leader, Jack Layton, while adamant that his party is a viable third choice, I’d like to think that the Green Party, or the Christian Heritage Party, or at this point, the Bloc, all seem like reasonable third choices. The greatest problem being that those dissolved of any desire to listen anymore, will only be splitting their votes among these, dare I say, second-tier parties instead of actually making a change.

While the NDP say they want to earn my vote, not buy it like the other parties are trying, I’d like to think they could do more for the country than stand like one of the last to be picked with his hand up yelling, “Oh! Oh! Pick ME! PICK ME!”

Perhaps there needs to be more candidates in my riding for the Undecided Party.

NORMA IS A LITTLE CONFUSED

2006-01-09T23:11:00.001-05:00

I have a friend, I'll call her Norma. She gets a little confused. Recently, she went to a major coffee chain and noticed something that confused her. Here is her email exchange with the company.

Dear Tim Horton,

I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm a little confused. I noted a sign in my local franchise regarding allergies. I checked your web site FAQ regarding allergies, but the response made me a little more concerned.

Your site, under the Nutritional Information FAQ, says, "..., please be aware that Tim Hortons products may contain, or have come into contact with, peanuts, nuts or other possible allergens."

I'm not allergic to peanuts or nuts, but I am allergic to cats, dust, smoke and mold spores. Should I be concerned about any of these allergens in your food products, in particular, the cherry cheese danish (my personal favourite!)?

Sincerely,
Norma

---------- THE REPLY ----------

Hi Norma,

Thank you for your interest in Tim Hortons products. The allergen signage posted in our stores is more geared toward people with food allergies, rather than environmental allergies. You don't need to worry about any of the items that you are allergic to being in our products.

Please do not hesitate to contact me should you require additional information [phone number removed].

Regards,
[Name removed]
The TDL Group Corp
Quality Assurance
[Phone number removed]

What struck me about this exchange was how the corporate representative politely, and accurately, addressed Norma's insane and rather ridiculous question.

Kudos to Tim Horton's for dealing with Useless people in good faith! Keep up the good work.

Maybe Norma should get involved with the Useless Advice site, taking time once a month to send Useless questions to other corporations?

What do you think?

IN OTHER ‘NO PURCHASE NECESSARY’ NEWS

2006-01-04T23:11:00.000-05:00

This past summer, a beer company had a promotion that involved t-shirts for the local football team. I wanted one of the t-shirts but I don’t buy beer. So, I called the toll-free number for the No Purchase Necessary option. Sadly, it was out of service. In turn, I emailed the company, and by the next day, the number was in service (not that I think I had anything to do with it. That’s just the way it happened. Probably just surprised them that someone was trying to reach it, and they hadn’t thought to record the outgoing only message yet.)

As the message went on, it explained how I should send some self-addressed certain sized envelope to a certain address with almost $9.00 in postage for the return. To be honest, I wouldn’t have paid $9.00 for the free t-shirt. It wasn’t that great.

“No Purchase Necessary” does not mean no cost to you. It just means I didn’t have to purchase their product. Instead, I got a different free t-shirt from a team representative.

Sometimes all you have to do is ask.

iCHOKED ON iCOKE

2006-01-03T23:11:00.000-05:00

I’m a Pepsi fan. But I’m also partial to winning things. Not that I have won anything recently. Still, I feel rather blessed.

The greatest thing about contests in Canada is the No Purchase Necessary function. Any contest in Canada cannot require you to have to purchase something to enter it. There has to be a No Purchase Necessary area. This is not widely advertised. Usually it is quickly mentioned in the fine print, as they announce that the prize is inside another product.

Online contests are much better. Take iCoke.ca for example. Once you have logged on and registered, you can go straight to the No Purchase Necessary tab as I did this very morning. I expected there to be a little skill-testing question, and sure enough, there is. In fact, it’s a skill-testing exam. A 19 QUESTION EXAM on all things Coke and Canada, (and Penguins, which are native only to the Antarctic (and not the Arctic like the Polar Bear that the Coke marketing people would like you think get along so well. (They live on ALTERNATE POLES, people!)))

Nineteen multiple-choice questions. You have to get them ALL right before they will email you a No Purchase Necessary PIN number for entry. If you get one wrong, you run the risk, as I did, of changing the wrong right answer from right to wrong making two wrong, and still no entry PIN.

I think of myself as being rather trivially minded, but this was of the greatest annoyance. It became my mission to get this exam correct.

There were good Coke questions like:
How many mL are in a can of a mini-Coke?
Complete this sentence: I'd like to buy the world a _______?

There were good Canada questions like:
What is the Capital of Canada?
The Canadian flag consists of which colours?
How many official languages does Canada have?
How many periods are in a hockey game?
Name Canada's National Sport for winter.
(You should know this one, if you read this blog regularly)

There were good trivia type questions like:
Sight, smell, touch, and hearing are all senses, what's the fifth?
The sun always rises in the...?
How many letters are in the alphabet?

Those are 10 of the 19 very good skill-testing exam questions.

Then there was the one that I went, “eh?” to.
How many legs does a dogfish have?

Eh? Doesn’t a fish have no legs? And it was at this point that I had to second guess if this was in fact the wrong answer of if some other piece of inane trivia in the other questions was wrong.

After all the effort, I finally got all the answers right, and received the notice pictured above and the similarly corresponding email:

All right the wait is over. Here's the No Purchase Necessary PIN you requested.
PIN: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This PIN is valid for a one-time entry up until the contest close date on December 26, 2005.

Have a good one!

Thanks from iCoke.

The contest CLOSED on December 26th? Do you THINK they could have told you that before the exam?

What a significant waste of time. 2006 is off to a banner start!

USELESS IN 2006

2005-12-30T23:11:00.000-05:00

The holidays allow us some time with family and friends. I've enjoyed the few days of recharging away from the monitors and keyboards of computers. I've spent time with my family, at the cost of neglecting my friends online. I hope you've used my time away wisely, and for the greater good of all.

I'm resolving that 2006 will be the year of the Useless Men. I've been spending an inordinate amount of work on that blog since we were the MSN Site of the Day (now expired from the archive) and being featured in a local newspaper. It's time to put together some merchandise and submitting letters to publishers and tv executives.

It's time to get rich quick.

I always seem to hear about these over-night successes that took 15 years to make it. If it took 15 years, how is it an overnight success? If you were a failure for 15 years, then got a lucky break, is that an over-night success? To me, the only over-night success is when a Purolator package makes it undamaged to the recipient before 9AM. Let's all stand and applaud the delivery person in the blue shorts in December. Way to go!

2005 is almost over.

It's time to put behind the loss of loved ones, while keeping their memory alive.

It's time to keep the same holiday focus on family on days when there is no reason to celebrate.

It's time to reconnect with friends that we've lost touch with over the year(s). Bury hatchets and make new memories.

It's time to celebrate new life, in a new year, with new challenges and greater rewards.

I wish you the best in 2006. Happy New Year everyone!

WHEN THEY HAD SEEN HIM, THEY SPREAD THE WORD

2005-12-23T23:11:00.000-05:00

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about."

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.

But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

Luke 2:1-20

GOT RICH, AND NO ONE DIED

2005-12-21T23:11:00.000-05:00

There was some controversy recently regarding the 50 Cent concert in Toronto last night. A politician, with more time than brains on his hands, tried to have ‘Fiddy’ banned from entering Canada.

After a summer of gun violence in Toronto, the worst in recent history, it would seem inappropriate to promote a man whose last concert ended with violence. In the end, nothing happened. But only an emu, with its head in the sand, can look at this problem and blame it on poor Fiddy.

Point of attack: Fiddy’s music promotes violence.

TRUE.

I have not intentionally listened to the music of Mr Cent, but it has been widely reported, and though being too lazy to actually look up his lyrics, I’ll assume there is some validity to these claims, since it would be a fruitless argument if it were so blatantly untrue.

Counter point: Fiddy’s music carries the appropriate parental guidance warning on the packaging to warn concerned parents about the content that Curb, their little street-cred kid, is listening too. Of course, that would assume the parent is involved in some way with their child.

If a person of appropriate age, let’s average it at 18, buys a 50 Cent album, I reckon that they are already pre-disposed to a certain level of violence or not. I can’t believe that one record or one song is not going to make a man kill or turn from a life of good to a life of bad. Is it a part of a cultural element that promotes violence, crime, and lewd behaviour? Most certainly. Particularly with children of an age more impressionable.

But where are the parents? Where were they when the child bought his first violent album? First violent video game? Rented his first violent movie? In what other aspects of life are these parents neglecting their child, and, in turn, neglecting the greater community? It takes a village to raise a child, but we live in a city of silos.

We have to stop passing the buck, and put the responsibility of child rearing back on the parent. If there is a problem in society today, it is the problem with passing the blame. I, for one, take responsibility for my actions, both the good and the bad. It makes me strive to do well.

Should we ban 50 Cent or promote him? It really is a consumer decision, not one for the government. I make my decisions with my wallet.

Think about it. In today’s society, what doesn’t sell doesn’t last long.

GRIEVING GRETZKY

2005-12-20T23:11:00.000-05:00

Today it has been reported that Phyllis Gretzky, mother of NHL superstar Wayne, has passed away at the young age of 64.

I wanted to take a moment to send my thoughts and condolences to the Gretzky family, with whom I shared a hometown.

Brantford has always claimed Wayne Gretzky as its son. But in all honesty, before he grew into the superstar he would become, he had long ago left living in Brantford.

It was his parents that stayed there, living in a modest home, in a modest neighbourhood. You could pass Phyllis at the grocery store as easily as you could Walter at a hockey rink.

As much as Wayne, and his father Walter, had been in the forefront, it was Phyllis in the background, out of the spotlight holding dearly to the family nest, ensuring each of her children received equal love and care.

I went to school briefly with the youngest Gretzky, Brent. He, too, left Brantford early to pursue a hockey career. He still plays in the UHL, after spending a brief time with the Tampa Bay Lightning. To him, I send my sincerest condolences for the loss of his mother.

The Gretzky parents have always been a tremendous example of support and love through struggles and riches. They have truly never changed. It will all be changing for the family now.

I wrote awhile back about Tom Cheek, a nationally known sports broadcaster, and the voice of the Toronto Blue Jays. I wrote about how his passing was felt by a fan, someone who contemplated many of life’s struggles sitting in a car, listening to his gentle voice calling a boys game of summer.

Isn’t it amazing that there are people out there that share so much of their lives with us, and take so little credit? I have taken so much pleasure from the Gretzky family, not just with my fascination as a fan, but as a brother in the community, supporting them through their charity. They may never know how the small decisions they made regarding their family would touch so many lives, but they have.

Thank you Phyllis, and Walter, for sharing your family with me, and with all of Canada.

GUESS AGAIN

2005-12-19T23:11:00.000-05:00

It’s holiday time. It's time for a little holiday fun.

At work, there is a contest to guess the number of heresy kisses in the two canisters. I’m no good at these games, so I need your help.

Submit your answer in comments for the total number of Hershey kisses being held in these two canisters. The person closest to the actual number without going over will win an official, not yet released Useless Advice from Useless Men prototype coffee Mug. I can’t say anything more than that at this time.

Happy guessing! Contest closes Friday!

Fine Print/Legal Disclaimer:
Anyone affiliated with my work is not eligible to play.
You probably already beat me anyway.

THE APPRENTICE SQUARED

2005-12-16T23:11:00.000-05:00

Since it seems all the reality shows end in the same week (Survivor on Sunday, Amazing Race on Tuesday, The Apprentice on Thursday). I will continue today with my thoughts on the "Randal Scandal".

I can’t say I watched any of these shows with any degree of commitment, although The Apprentice got the best of me with its time slot most accessible in my busy life. Thursday night has always been a TV night for me. I love to sit and watch Must See TV on NBC with Z. You see, I like to SHARE the experience.

Not Randal. One can give all the arguments for his decision to be the sole Apprentice on Trumps Mega-commercial, but that’s not the point. Randal won. He was picked first. Stroke you ego, Randal. If it weren’t for Rebecca, you wouldn’t have made it. It’s not like Randal didn’t screw up enou8gh times when he was working for her. Anyone remember the signage mistake at XM Radio with the wrong call letters on the materials? That was a Randal. Rebecca’s team lost that day but Clay took the axe. If she hadn’t been so committed to Randal, it could have easily been him that failed that day.

It was Randal who was the Jedi master for his team when the leader, Brian, missed the meeting with Lucas executives. Randal gave the overview of the movies and made the decision to stray away from the main story arc of Darth Vader and focus on all the other characters. In the meantime, Rebecca was simply stepping up when Marshawn was quitting, putting together a decent, if hastily produced, presentation of Randal’s inept design. The loss wasn’t just Randal’s, as he wasn’t the team leader, but the crosshairs certainly passed his way a few times that night.

But enough of my whining. The fact is Trump was ready to make Apprentice history. I knew it. You knew it. We all knew it. In a season when Trump fired anyone at anytime, making it all the more entertaining, Trump was ready to hire both Randal and Rebecca, since they both were deserving. Trump, in PERFECT business executive fashion, put the question to Randal after his pre-emptive celebration was cut short. Should he hire Rebecca as well?

“Mr. Trump, I firmly believe that this is ‘The Apprentice,’ that there is one and only one apprentice, and if you’re going to hire someone tonight, it should be one,” Randal said. “It’s not ‘The Apprenti,’ it’s ‘The Apprentice.’”

Cue the booing! To a smattering of boos, Randal stood waving to the crowd as Trump accepted Randal’s decision, and Rebecca simply shook Trump’s hand with her thanks.

Why didn’t Trump counter the decision? It would have made his Apprentice decision look bad. You simply couldn’t ask your new Apprentice to make a decision, and then Trump it in disagreement. In the end, Trump must have known that this is what people would be talking about, and Randal looks like the bad guy, not Trump.

Why ask Randall at all? I can’t say for sure, other than perhaps Trump was expecting the same response as the rest of us. Randal was the nicest guy, a giving guy, a very smart guy. Then he turned into the selfish guy.

It was this that made me realize there is much to learn about business from the Apprentice.

300: A PRETTY GOOD BATTING AVERAGE

2005-12-15T23:11:00.000-05:00

Three Hundred is also a good time to mark a blogging milestone.

Welcome to my 300th post. What better time than to recognize the man who started me on this journey, Kev of The Archies.

I’ve mentioned Kev many, many times on my blog. His blogging started as a way to keep in touch with friends in the UK when he returned to Canada after a number of years living and working over there. After his touring of Canada settled down, Kev’s blogged turned into an unemployment diary, a chance for him to regale his friends with the efforts of finding employment upon his return home.

After that had been secured, Kev went back to what he is best at: finding the weirdest, wildest, funkiest, funniest websites on the WWW. Before the blog, I would get this links in emails. Since the blog, I no longer have to forward them to all my friends. The downside is that I no longer look so internet cool to my friends. Oh well. Give Kev The Pure his due.

He’s getting his due this week. In the past, Kev scooped me on a great local story when the West Wing was filming in his hometown. I tried to get down for the taping, but wasn’t able to make it.

The West Wing is a big show, but then something bigger happened. He ran into Oscar winning actor, Robin Williams. I don’t buy into astrology, but if the sun or the moon or the stars or whatever lines up lined up, it did for Kev that day. That day he created the perfect blog post. The blog post that we all wish we could write. The one blog post that gets picked up in the news and carries, and carries, and carries, if not for the traffic to our blog, then just knowing that people are reading.

Kev, in his experience with Robin Williams, began chatting about online gaming. This is the closest someone can get to a full on nerd-gasm. One of the world’s greatest comedians, an acclaimed actor of movies and television, talking about video games.

The internet was made by these “geeks”. Multi-million dollar gaming products are made, or die, from the millions of online players. Kev is one of them. He was able to connect Robin Williams with the online community in a way that each and every one of them could realistically share the experience of playing against him. And Kev ad the photographic proof to back up his claim.

When the Useless Men were chosen by MSN as the Site of the Day, we received more than 1200 hits that day. That was a month’s worth of visits in one single day. Kev’s site had been up for about a year when this story broke, and in the first day of wildfire passing he had doubled his entire stat history in one day. More than 4500 hits in one day alone, and will easily surpass 10000 hits in this single month. Wanna check it out? His SiteMeter stats are public. (At least they were! Poke around, I’m sure he won’t mind.)

Kev’s blog story has been picked by countless message boards and websites, in many countries and languages. Talk about a break through. It really is a WORLD WIDE WEB. Thanks for hooking me up with Blogger!

Congrats Kev on hitting a grand slam homerun.

AMAZING SPORTS

2005-12-14T23:11:00.000-05:00

At first I was amazed at the choice of sports that were used in the last episode of The Amazing Race 8 – Family Edition. Being Canadian, I take great pride in our sporting heritage. I assumed they would use our national sports.

In May 1994, the Government of Canada passed the National Sports of Canada Act. In this Act, it was declared that ice hockey and lacrosse would be known as the official sports, winter and summer respectively, of Canada. Before that time, the only recognized national sport of Canada was lacrosse. Ice Hockey was just our passion.

Phil Keoghan described the impending Detour as a choice of tasks between two sports that are popular in Canada. Quoting from the Episode recap online:

… Teams had to choose between Slide It and Roll It. In Slide It, Teams would travel 22 miles to the McGill Arena and engage in the sport of curling. Each Team member needed to glide a granite stone 120-feet down the ice into a target known as the house. In Roll It, Teams had to travel 23 miles to an arboretum and use traditional lumberjack tools to roll four logs along a 100-foot course

I don’t know about other Canadians, but these two sports are not all that popular. I’ll give you that, of the two, Curling is on the Canadian radar. It has been reported that close to 1 million Canadians participate in curling events in the year. I had to take curling as part of a leisure course in College (yes, a LEISURE course. IN COLLEGE). Does that count me as one of the million participants each year?

Canadians watch curling, but I don’t think many of them can actually tell you who is winning. Curling is generally stereotyped as a sport that any person can play, and often involves heavy drinking and partying afterwards. As for curling and me: I’ve played it. I enjoyed it. I ordered Diet Pepsi in the bar. Over all, I’d say curling is an activity, not a sport.

The other “sport” popular in Canada was this log-rolling event. Before Tuesday night, I had never seen this sport. I’ve even watched the lumberjack championships. Lots of log cutting, not so much with the log rolling. I can’t begin to describe my head shaking experience with this one. Let’s roll a log up and down a hill made out of other logs very fast and call it a sport! This “sports” sounds like something a group of drunken lumberjacks would invent to pass time.

Why not have the teams score hockey goals of stop lacrosse shots? That would have been cool, watching some of these whiners take an Indian-rubber ball in the gonads. That would be good television. It works for AFV (AKA America’s Funniest Home Videos).

The only connection between these two popular sports is the heavy drinking. And the way these shows portray Canada is enough to drive one to drink.

Next time they come to Canada, maybe they can go to Nunavet and club a seal or build an igloo? That would show Canada in a good light, wouldn’t it? Forget it... Just be a good sport and meet in a bar to go drinking with some lumberjack curlers.

It'll be AMAZING.

AMAZING RACE FINALE

2005-12-13T23:11:00.000-05:00

I just finished watching The Amazing Race 8 – Family Edition.

Here’s what I found amazing: Does anyone outside of Canada know ANYTHING about Canada?

In what had to be the worst version of The Amazing Race, the families competing came to Canada. This is not the first time the show has come to Canada, but it certainly is the longest it has spent up here..

Was it because it was a “Family Edition” that the producers did not go to any exotic locales? For whatever reason this was, I figure this was the deciding factor in spending so much time in Montreal, Quebec. Notice how I say Montreal, Quebec, not Montreal, Canada? That would be like saying, “I’m going to Baltimore, USA.”

Quebec is a distinct society up here, and is the main proponent to our bilingualism. I’m all for the bilingualism in Canada. I think it is a very endearing trait. I don’t like how it is over played though. Most, if not all, Montrealers know some English. It’s just that their main language is French. And its not Parisian French, like you would find in Paris, Europe. In France, the vernacular has evolved within their language. Canadian French was once described to me as “Peasant French” by a Parisian. She visited Quebec and thought she was always talking to farmers. Then again, that is hearsay now, and I could be subjecting my provincial neighbours to further stereotyping.

Who am I to judge? I only learned our French. Ce n'est pas aussi mauvais.

I did get to see a few local spots, as the Race moved into Toronto, and other parts of Ontario. They traveled that QEW highway that is my plague. Must have been off rush-hour, since they didn’t run into any of the traffic problems I hear about on the radio each day. The part that annoyed me about Toronto was the clue. They were looking for La Tour CN. That’s French. Toronto is one of the most culturally diverse cities in North America. One thing I don’t think of when I think of Toronto is French.

Fortunately, if you asked anyone in Toronto about La Tour CN, they may not know La Tour means The Tower, but the only thing called CN is the CN Tower. Well, that and a train company. Ironically, the train station is accessible from the CN Tower. It’s a bit of a walk (5 minutes) but it can all be done indoors.

Why, in Toronto, are the families given clues in French? This would be the same as asking someone to go to La Maison Blanche in Washington, USA. Have fun, and tell George I say, "Bonjour!"

Enough of my French rant. I’ll comment on the AMAZING sport perceptions tomorrow!

FUN SIZED M&M'S

2005-12-12T23:11:00.000-05:00

I got a gift from the Martini when he returned from his trip to Connecticut. No, it wasn’t a Manhandler from VIP of Orange. Thank goodness for that! It was something far less sexual, and much more manly.

It was a water bottle shaped as the head of Darth Vader. I’d take a picture of that, but it was what was inside that appealed to me. Inside the head of a Empirical Sith Lord of the Dark Side, I found M&M’s. Fun-sized M&M’s.

When it says fun size, what do they mean? I think of fun with M&M’s, I think of filling an entire swimming pool and jumping through. I think of jugglers, with flaming torches, raining candy goodness. That would be FUN!

Fun-sized is just a nice way to say, small package. To me, less M&M’s means less fun.

I asked Martini what they could possibly mean by fun sized. Where is the fun with these M&M’s? Moments later, he created this little picture. If anyone knows how to have fun with candy, Martini knows. When it comes to eating candy, or any food really, you turn to me. Want a wacky way of displaying candy? Call Martini. I just don’t think out of the box the way this guy does. Maybe I do think out of the box, and he is the one thinking inside the box? Maybe I’m just going to confuse myself more.

Instead, I’ll just have fun eating this flower. It’s more fun to eat them than to smell them.

INTRODUCING

2005-12-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

I’ve been doing some updates to the templates here. I’ve scratched The Blog Whisperer from the list. No updates in a very long time. Maybe he uses some sort of voice recognition software for keyboard inputting, and he is whispering so low, no one, not even his computer, can hear him. Or not…

I don’t want you to fret. In his place, I have added two new bloggers to the Alternate Universe menu beside you. Right there ================================I>

The first is Andrew of The Never Updated Blog. Perhaps his title was inspired by the work of The Blog Whisperer, but at least you have no perceived expectations of a daily post or anything.

The other is a friend that has the gift for lengthy prose. Jon may not be short of words, but he is smooth. With the ladies, that is. He has no real effect on me. Then again, I’m not a lady. Not that the blog has anything to do with the ladies. I guess my rambling shows why he is J-Smooth, and I’m just Useless. In The Words of J-Smooth, “Enough said.”

If you have time this weekend, feel free to check them out. I’m sure they’d love the visit.

PANTS ON FIRE

2005-12-08T23:11:00.000-05:00

I cannot tell a lie. I lied.

Recently, Martini invited me to a Television Preview seminar. There was an official looking letter and tickets supplied.

I made the plans to get there. I headed over to the Martini homestead, traveling to the parking garage in one car to conserve energy, and parking fees. We arrived just early of right on time, but were still about half way back of the crowded lobby.

The fellow in charge made some announcements about the evenings events. Sounded interesting. I like television, and thinking that I had the chance to influence the television viewing for you, my fellow television watchers, I was taking my prospective job seriously.

Then came the lie. There was an “industry” question. “Do you work in one of these industries?” of which advertising was included. I know that as someone working in advertising I can get out of certain focus groups and polls because as someone in advertising, I would skew the polls.

What this had to do with watching a 10-year-old sitcom pilot, I’ll never know. What I later recognized was that in addition to a few short questions about the TV shows, I would be asked pages upon pages of opinions on certain commercials and packaged products.

Ah ha. There it was. The rub. The catch. This may have been called a night of TV previews, but it would seem that in all reality, it was more of a product and person data collection night. We’ll see what comes in the mail over the next few months.

I still tried to be honest with my results, noting that my secret answers were mostly the same as the non-industry person sitting to my left and right. I felt bad about telling the fib, and wanted to come clean at the end of the night (mostly so they would throw my test results away, including my name and address) but in the end, I didn’t.

Here is where they went wrong:

IF YOU ARE going to host an event that would cause you to deny access to someone at the entrance to the event, it would be in your best interest to notify said parties in your INVITATION LETTER! Some sort of disclaimer, or warning would save me the time and the effort. There is not even a warning on their web page FAQ. (I'd add a link to prove it, but I'm afraid of their legal disclaimer page...)

After spending the better part of an hour getting ready and getting there, after re-arranging my schedule to make the night available, I’m not about to stand in line for 40 minutes to have them say, “Sorry, you can’t stay.”

In my mind, they lied first. I was just playing along….

ART IMITATES LIFE

2005-12-07T23:11:00.000-05:00

When I visited my animation friend years later, he was excited about an update on the project I worked on with him. I can’t remember the reasoning, but he had pulled it out of the bottom of the files and was re-working some of the story.

He was also re-working the characters. Like mine, who, like me, had put on a few pounds since college.

Was this some sort of joke? Why does my character have to be fat? Why can’t he just have cooler hair and a flashy wardrobe? It’s only my voice. “Rodney” didn’t have to LOOK like me at ALL! He could have looked like Brad Pitt. An animated Brad Pitt, but Brad Pitt nonetheless!

Instead, he took my slowly enlarging girth and exaggerated it. It was like looking into a mirror of the future. But why THIS look? What is it that made him want to update my character so drastically?

Does my voice look fat? Can a voice sound fat? I’ve heard of heavy breathing, but I think this was just abuse. Is it wrong to hope it never makes it on-air…?

I guess I should be happy that he decided to give me legs...

MY LIFE IN PICTURES

2005-12-06T23:11:00.000-05:00

Ever feel like your life is a cartoon? I do sometimes.

Then again, at one point, I was a cartoon. Briefly. Very briefly.

You may have seen it, if you saw a private screening of my friends’ personal animation reel. If you are in the market of hiring animators, then perhaps you will recognize my voice talent.

The story was of a creature that lives in your brain, flipping the switches to make the memory connections come alive. I was the voice of the man whose brain gweeble isn’t working properly. I stammer, stutter and say umm and ahhh. A lot. Six minutes a lot. That took over an hour to record, if memory serves correctly.

There is a lot of work that goes into animation. I don’t have the patience, or the skill, to work at this. The closest I ever came was making flipbooks of stick figures doing crazy things. I think that was in the seventh grade!

The picture was a representation of me. At least, that’s how I coloured it. Same hair, and eyes. In fact, the suit is coloured after the only suit I owned at the time!

It was fun. In the end, I hand-painted the animation cel of myself, and had the artist sign it. One day, he’ll be tremendously famous, and I’ll have a one of a kind.

M.V.P. ME

2005-12-05T23:11:00.000-05:00

I liked to participate in all sorts of intramural competitions at college. Every month there was a new activity. Volleyball, Ultimate Frisbee, Floor Hockey, turkey bowling… you get the idea.

Every month I went out, and we were randomly selected on teams. At the end of the year, the Intramural co-ordinators would hold a champions lunch for all the players that were on teams that won during the year.

After three years at college, I had been on ZERO winning teams. What are those odds? The variables of different teams, different activities over diiferent months for three years, I was never on the team that won. I sat in the intramural office moping about it.

One week later, I was invited to the luncheon. I was so happy.

At the end of the presentations, the co-ordinator called me up to the front. I figured I ws going to get some sort of booby prize for moping or something. I would have deserved it.

Instead, I received the MVP award. Most Valuable Participant.

It would seem that my dogged perseverance to continue coming back month after month, with a smile on my face, hope in my heart, and a bounce in my step paid off. Or at leadst this was the first step to repairing the damage to my dented ego.

My only condolence was that on every team I was ever on, we had that one really bad guy that kept us from going from good to GREAT.

I wonder who that guy was?

BEATING A CAVE-MAN

2005-12-02T23:11:00.000-05:00

I guess I’m sensitive to losing. For three years in college, I played ping pong at least seven times a day. Most of those games were against the Cave-Man.

I don’t know if Cave-Man turned out to become a world record ping-pong champion of the World, but he certainly helped me improve my game by soundly beating me daily. I haven’t done the math, which is not like me, and I don’t feel like getting depressed, but he must have beat me thousands of times.

Cave-Man was playing lazy as he was apt to do. He’d fall behind by ten points then rally back to get them all and then it would be game over. He could turn it on and off like a faucet. This day, his faucet sprang a little leak.

I was creeping up the score. He wasn’t playing his best, letting me think I could win. Like Charlie Brown and his football, I had that deep down thought that I would, of course, lose.

15 – 5 for me.

17 – 6 in my favour.

18 – 12 still a chance.

20 – 19 ...

It wasn’t that he couldn’t beat me. It was that, on this day, he left it just a little too late, and I got one good point in. It was a clean win, 21 –19. No overtime. No extra balls. No fluke shot in sudden death. Just one point, in the clutch that sealed my fate. Sure, he let me get a few of those early points that I didn't deserve, but in the end, I made the one shot that mattered.

I took the Cave-Man’s ping-pong ball, writing the date and score on it. I'll have to treasure that one game ball. After that lose, I never beat him again.

I QUEENED KEVIN

2005-12-01T23:11:00.000-05:00

It was a battle to end all battles.

The winner would continue blogging. The loser would unplug. Forever.

That would have been a really cool story about my checkers game with Kev of The Archies. However, it was just a friendly challenge, and I was most happy to play.

I was happy until the game started. I haven’t played checkers in a very long time. I know that it has been at least 20 years. Maybe even more. Perhaps Kev has some sort of checkers game on his ultimate PDAiPodGPS thingy stuck to his belt. If he doesn’t, then he is just very good.

As if being beaten soundly isn’t punishment enough, isn’t it great to have spectators watching over the game commenting on your poor strategy, and asking out loud, “Why did you do THAT?”

Here’s why: Because I suck and I didn’t know what I was doing. If you would just stay quiet long enough for him to annihilate me, you can have YOUR chance to beat him! I certainly don’t want to go through it again.

Do I sound like a sore loser? I am a sore loser. Maybe it’s because I’m very good at losing. If there was a prize for best loser, maybe I could win that.

Actually, the game ended in a draw when we ran out of time before Kev could corner me. I should really take solace in that.

MY EYES WERE OPENED IN A LADIES ROOM

2005-11-30T23:11:00.000-05:00

At this weekend, there were only men. However, the building was equipped for co-ed occupancy. There was both a men’s room and a ladies room.

The men’s room was rather inadequate for the 80 or so men in attendance. There was two urinals and only one stall. One stall. Not a good thing since men generally like to spend 20 minutes or so gathering their thoughts.

There was one such man gathering his thoughts that day after lunch. It wasn’t me, although I did have much to think about. I waited patiently, trying not to draw attention to my little “Please Don’t Poop My Pants” dance.

Then it dawned on me. WHY am I waiting to use the one stall, when clearly there would be unused stalls in the ladies room, and exactly zero chance of an actual lady happening across me there?

Off I danced into the ladies room.

I haven’t spent much time in a ladies room before. Actually, I can’t think of any time I’ve really spent in a ladies room before. I got duped once at a leadersip retreat, where some guys switched the door signs before I went in, then switched them back before I came out. No harm, no foul, just me feeling foolish as always… (stupid, Governor Simcoe students... I still had a BLAST)

The ladies room is night and day different then a men’s room.

1) It’s clean.
2) There were flowers. Fake flowers, but flowers none the less.
3) There was this cool mailbox-type thing in the stall that was perfect for holding your newspaper.

I think they should put those mailboxes in the men’ room. Of course, once they do that, it will only be a matter of time before some lunkhead tries to see if he has enough pee to fill it.

They better put it up high. Really high.

TURNING THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN

2005-11-29T23:11:00.000-05:00

Spending time in the Bible will turn your world upside down. Spending a weekend away, with free time, and a group men acting like boys will turn a lot of other things upside down.

I don’t know who pulled the prank, but it was very effective. This is the extent of the harmless, childish fun that these generally good Christian boys get into. Hey, they can’t ALL be angels. Especially when their mothers aren’t around.

Every one of the pictures that adorned the hallways of this little retreat hideaway had been turned upside down. There could have been much worse things, like turning furniture upside down, but we (by we, I mean those that did the pranks) had been forewarned about the bedding. Our group is billed by the number of beds we use. If you lounge on a bed enough to mess it up, the staff will think someone slept in it, and charge it to our group. Overpaying for beds would not sit well with those in charge.

That’s where our little angels, with their halos slightly askew, know when enough is enough.

PREVIOUSLY.. ON WEEKENDS AWAY

2005-11-28T23:11:00.000-05:00

Since I don’t have any pictures from the weekend yet, I’ll tell you about another weekend I went to last month.

The men in our church have a weekend retreat each October. We get together to study the Bible through group discussions and ministries. It is a wonderfully uplifting time of fellowship.

There is also a lot of free time. Despite the biblical overtones, boys will still be boys.

Consider the sign at the entrance of the facility. Changed from it’s original message, Aaron now has a new business interest. Which is better than poor Andy G, who should really see a doctor about his lice. At least go to a pharmacy and get some medicated whatnots to fix it. And pick up a little something for Dave who is allegedly “pooey”. I don’t know if he needs wipes or diapers. If it’s immodium, I think Z had a coupon for that.

All these people getting picked on with love. Aaron, Dave, Andy G. Each one having a silly joke posted about them. Everyone except Cam. He really is flatulent. That’s no joke.

It’s a warning.

A RAINY HOLIDAY WEEKEND

2005-11-25T23:11:00.000-05:00

I'm heading up north for the weekend with the Rainy family. This should be a fun little time. Two Useless Men, in the woods, with satellite TV and a pool table is cause for great celebration.

Or tremendous evaluation. Recuperation, perhaps?

All in all, the Useless blog has taken on a new life since it was listed on the MSN Site of the Day. I need to take some time away after the 24 hours of fame (alas, no fortune). Hard to believe really. Well, hard to believe that 4000 people had nothing better to do... Shouldn't they be doing something useful? Like reading YOUR blog! Your blog is less useless and more informative and better written with nicer pictures.

Unless you don't post pictures. Or you only post pictures but no words. Nevermind...

I was just trying to be polite.

I think I REALLY need some R&R.

WOW! MSN SITE OF THE DAY

2005-11-24T23:11:00.000-05:00

Well, not MY site, per se…

Useless Advice from Useless Men, the blog that Happy & Blue 2 and I created last April has been steadily growing. A fun site, with 6 current and former alumni submitters, answers questions from readers in a very useless fashion. Many of you readers here have likely popped over to Useless Advice at one time or another.

So far today, over 800 people have already popped over to the Useless Men blog. Most of them directed there by MSN’s Site Of The Day. I knew something was up when our stat tracker at SiteMeter started averaging 1.3 readers per minute. When we usually see about 40 readers a day, this seemed a bit extreme. In fact, just hours after the workday began, our weekly average had been eclipsed in one fell swoop.

Then on it grew. And grew. AND GREW.

Somewhat overwhelmed by the attention, and the impending explosion of comments, questions and requests, I’ve cancelled all plans for the weekend to focus entirely on the administration of the email and web site for these new readers.

Except, when I checked our email, there was no new mail. No new comments. No new questions. Not yet at least. We will be featured on the main Site Of The Day page for a week, and in the archive for a month. There is still time to hope. Just as we hope to one day turn that into a book deal or something.

If you have nothing better to do on this American Thanksgiving, between football games and turkey trimmings, why don’t you pop on by yourself and fill yourself with Useless Advice from Useless Men. But mostly, drop us a line. It’s your questions that really make us feel affirmed.

Without questions, we really would be useless.

---------------------
Update: After 24 hours, total hits went from an average of 40 per day, to 1200. Talk about a hiccup! The sad news? Not one extra question in that same 24 hours period... C'mon people....I'm the Useless one, not YOU!

TO CRUMPLE OR NOT TO CRUMPLE: A RECYCLING QUESTION

2005-11-23T23:11:00.000-05:00

I’ve been trying to get fit for the better part of this year. Trying is the best way to describe it. I have felt rather discouraged about the whole ordeal, but I can see a slight weight loss benefit and some reshuffling of stomach fat to chest muscle, so I can’t be completely disappointed.

When I see something in the paper or online about easy fitness tips, I try to take note. I read somewhere a trick about crumpling paper before putting it in your recycle bin as a form of exercise and stress relief. I can’t find that story any more to quote, but a Google search came up with 100 Ways To Get Fit:

11. Crumple newspapers after reading and prerecycling - works the muscles of the fingers and wrists, and helps prevent carpal tunnel syndrome - nerve pressure between hand and wrist.

Not the exact quote from before but close enough.

I get confused with this issue. My city wants my newspapers sorted and my boxes broken down flat. In order to get fit, I should be crumpling my papers. Crumple. Flat. Crumple. Flat.

Who is right?

Maybe the exercise comes in crushing sheets of paper into the little balls, thus exercising my arms, wrists and hands. Tossing the paper into the bin improves my dexterity and hand-eye co-ordination. Then add deep knee bends to retrieve the balled-up paper before laying it out on the floor and flattening it out again with my feet in a sliding shuffle motion to work my thighs, hips and buttocks..

I don’t know about you, but the constant barrage of one opinion vs. another opinion is really stressing me out. I need something to crumple… NOW!

SAVE TIME AND MONEY

2005-11-22T23:11:00.000-05:00

With the nice fall weather recently, I thought it would be a good time to get the Christmas lights up on the old homefront. I have a rather pathetic display of multi-coloured bulbs strung across my railing and out into some sort of ornamental tree that came with the house. I still have a dozen or so bulbs to replace since pulling out the ball of wire this year.

Every year, I go through the activity of stepping out into the cold to plug the lights in, and then go back out side late at night to unplug the lights. Not too much work, but a bit of an inconvenience.

I thought a timer would be a great addition to the display. Save time and money it suggested on the box. Here is where I disagree.

Certainly, each day I save a moment of time that I have to go outside to plug in or out the lights. Now I just plug the lights into the timer and let it run all day, clicking the lights on, then off as preset by me.

Whereas the lights used to sit unplugged all day, with no energy cost as they sat idle, the timer now runs all day long, plugged into the wall to make the dial turn and set off the little clicks at 5 and 10 PM.

Isn’t this costing me money? Doesn’t the timer itself use energy, where the lights, in and of themselves, did not? The lights themselves aren’t costing me any more or less than before. They are still on for the same amount of time as I always have them on. Except on those days that I’m away and they didn’t go on at all. Now they go on every single day, for 5 hours.

Now that is costing me more money again! The timer is using energy, and the lights are on 100% of the days the timer is on. Before they would only be on about 85% of the possible days.

Plus, I had to PAY for the timer. The timer cost $14.95 plus applicable taxes. If I figure the time it took me to plug and unplug the lights at 1 minute, and the length of time over the holiday season to be 9 weeks, and an efficiency rate of 85%, then that works out to 54 minutes of my time saved over the holidays with this timer. At a decent rate of $10.00 an hour, I am saving the equivalent of $8.99 in relative labour. So now the timer has cost me ANOTHER $5.96 (plus taxes on the initial $14.95) to save me time!

Liars. I didn’t save time or money on this little product. I’ll just plug and unplug the whole timer. That timer has now become my most expensive, and shortest length of, outdoor extension cord.

BLOG @ WORK

2005-11-21T23:11:00.000-05:00

There are people at my work that know of my exploits online. I try not to involve my work in this arena since I don’t want to lose my job. But wouldn’t it be cool if you could be a work blogger?

I was reading on AdRants about how IBM is allowing their workers to maintain a blog. I know someone that reads this blog AND works at IBM! Maybe she would be jumping into the wonderful world of blogging. I thought I would write her:

JPTH: Is this true? When are you starting a blog?

SIL: Yes, I heard this a few weeks ago, but alas - the blog has to be work related. :P

I don't do enough of interest to the outside world to bother. For example, today's entry would be:

Woke up a little late. Worked at home in the morning - answered some emails. Will prep for a few meetings and then deal with some defects later on. Go IBM!

Somehow, I'm not sure how fascinating that'd be. I will keep up with your blog though and see if I can watch and learn. :)

Watch and learn indeed. Except that I don’t blog about work either. What would that look like?

I guess my work blog would be very much the same:

"Got to work late as usual for a Monday. No one seemed to notice, or care.

Replied to emails and then wrote this. I hope my day doesn't get any worse..."

Maybe I should blog about working in general? As SIL said in her email, “I think your...slightly offbeat...take on the corporate world would be fairly amusing. :)” I think slightly offbeat is complementary, don't you?

Then again, the guys over at the 5th Circle of Cubic Hell (Rated AA) really have that cornered though. Why compete with genius? I can't find the time to complete the 10 blogs already on my roster!

I’ll just have to be happy staying Useless.

BANK ROLLED AGAIN

2005-11-18T23:11:00.000-05:00

If I wasn’t sick of my bank before, I really should be by now. They keep nickel and dime-ing until there are no pennies to rub together.

My credit card, a TD GM Visa, collects points for the purchase of a new vehicle. This was terrific in 1998 when I saved over $2000.00 on the purchase of my new vehicle. Sadly, I’m still driving that vehicle. Even sadder is that I still think of it as new…

My bank rant was all about how, as a loyal customer, I was upset that I wasn’t being offered a giveaway deal for new customers. As the most loyal of customers, I couldn’t do anything to make myself eligible for the iPod Shuffle giveaway.

As a great customer, I also have the credit card to go with everything else. Like many of these point collecting cards, this one takes a percentage of your purchase and applies it towards points for the purchase of a new GM vehicle. And nothing else.

Not oil changes. Not service. Not accessories. Nothing but a car. A new car.

I’m in no position to buy a car right now, but I’m getting close to $3000.00 in points. But as I have curbed my spending, the points have been harder to earn. And my bank, in their helpful manner, has found a way to make it even more difficult. They are expiring my points.

I understand, on the one hand, if there was NO limit, I could eventually buy a car on credit. But there is a limit. $3500.00 is the limit. Then, as if a dollar limit wasn’t good enough, there is a TIME limit. Seven years. I’ve reached that point. And the points are disappearing.

Despite spending $650.00 this month on my credit card, my total point earnings are -$16.30. That’s a negative figure. Not only do they give you a tiny percentage of the purchase price towards these stupid points, but now I’m working from a deficit. In this case, at a measly 3% earnings, I would have to spend an additional $544.00 to break even. Actually, $544.00 would have earned me $16.32. I’d be up $0.02.

And that’s my 2 cents on that.

LOAFING AROUND

2005-11-17T23:11:00.000-05:00

Recently, Martini posted a story about the secret location of construction vehicles in New York State. I wouldn’t want to follow them. I don’t need any concrete shoes, thank you.

My kind of truck is the one that I followed the other day. An old pickup truck filled to the brim in bread. Not a bread truck. Not a delivery truck. Just an open pickup, carrying a dumping of bread in the back.

From a distance it looked like there was a load of loose wood in the back of the truck. Something just didn’t look right. It wasn’t a cord of wood for a fireplace. And it was odd shapes to be a load of usable lumber.

The best part was the wafting bakery smell coming through my air intake. I was driving to a happy place. So inviting. So delicious.

So long as the smell of bread didn’t turn into the smell of burnt toast…

But I digress. It was great to have such a nice smell following a truck. It was making me hungry though. It was getting close to lunch, and I was feeling famished.

The more I looked, the more I questioned why there is a load of UNCOVERED bread in a pick-up truck? For the life of me, I couldn’t think of why or where someone would be hauling exposed bread around town? The best I could figure is a pig farm. I don’t remember any pig farms in the area.

Which made me think I should follow him. Maybe I would find another truck with the sweet wafting smell of bacon…

CHESTNUTS KEEP FALLING ON MY HEAD

2005-11-16T23:11:00.000-05:00

I thought I would get this posted before the snow fell, but it looks like I may be pushing it.

When I used to live at the old house, there was a large chestnut tree on the corner of my neighbours yard. Because of the height of it, when the chestnuts fell, wrapped in their prickly outer burr coating, they would hit with a considerable velocity. My car shows some significant pings from these rocks of nature.

Now consider if you were outside clearing them off. There were so many of them that I used to get a snow shovel out to scoop them all together and put them in the trash. Then one fell and pierced me in the back. That was the end of that. The next time I went out I had on my hard hat.

Not that I really needed to protect my head. Can’t hurt what you haven’t got, but I seemed to feel safer.

I also seemed to look sillier as I found out from my neighbour across the street. She thought I looked so funny that she snapped this picture. And I hadn’t noticed, of course. Couldn’t stop at the risk of being hit by a sharpened chestnut pointer.

We would have strangers stop by to collect some of these chestnuts. They would often comment, recalling something to do with childhood memories or chestnuts roasting over an open fire.

Not me. When I think of chestnuts, I think of iodine and band-aids. Then again, that sounds like a lot of my childhood…

THE PROOF WAS IN THE MAIL

2005-11-15T11:11:00.000-05:00

The way I found out that I was not to be insulted by my weight loss encouraging bank balance coupon was through the mail.

On my way home from work, as always, I stopped to pick up the mail. This is such a habit, that even on days I KNOW there is no mail delivery, I can’t seem to steer myself a different, and direct, route home. I still have to stop and check the mailbox. I miss door-to-door mail delivery.

I pulled out a letter addressed to Z. It was from Shoppers Drug Mart, and was a promotional piece associated with her Optimum points card. Written in bold face type, Exclusive offer inside from Shoppers Optimum. I was SOOO excited…

When we opened it, I had a laugh. At this point, I realized that the promotions were directed at Z. But the choice of product for this direct mail piece made my laugh.

Present the coupon below to receive
$6 off your next purchase of
QUICK-DISSOLVE or IMODIUM Advance!

Diarrhea relief? First weight loss, and now diarrhea relief? Which got me to thinking, don’t most weight loss products warn against some sort of anal leakage? If I started some sort of diet / weight loss product that may or may not cause anal leakage, the people at Shoppers figured I would need diarrhea relief! These people think of everything!

I’ll tell you what I think. I think it’s all crap. How do I save my $6 to make it stop?

PERSONAL ADVERTISING INSULTS

2005-11-14T11:11:00.000-05:00

There is an inherent problem with direct advertising. Sometimes, I don’t want to hear about it.

For example, I went to a local Shoppers Drug Mart and used a bank machine within the store to withdraw funds for my upcoming lunch at McDonald’s. Interestingly, the machine asked for the store honoured Optimum card number in order to issue me some discounts and specials. Always wanting to save a coin or two, I entered my number and waited for the machine to spit out my coupons.

The very first thing I read was:

500 BONUS POINTS
when you buy any weight / diet product

Let’s stop right here.

Weight / diet product? This is supposed to be a personalized coupon, picked especially for me. Why is the first choice weight loss? Is it possible this is some sort of joke? Is this Candid Camera? What could this possibly imply?

Maybe I’m being overly sensitive, but I don’t recall there being any weight-related questions on the Optimum card application. It’s not like I’ve purchased any weight / diet products that the card history would assume I would use. In fact, I checked that the mat in front of the ATM wasn’t a hidden scale.

As I cashed out my purchase, (pain medication (I picked the brand with the extra optimum points)), I complained to the cashier who readily stared right through me in an apparent glazed over, drugged out state. Is this what happens when you have easy access to pharmaceuticals?

The problem with “personal” advertising is in the assumptions it makes. Sure, I need to lose a few pounds. Don’t we all? However, I don’t need my bank machine mocking my weight as well! It already mocks my balance, which they kindly print in red to keep me from having to work out the math, (that dash isn’t a pointer to the balance. Apparently, it’s a minus sign.)

It was when I got home that I discovered that the discount wasn’t meant to insult me. In fact, I was wrong all along. The card is actually in my wife’s name.

Let them try telling HER she could lose a few pounds…

REBUILT METROSEXUAL

2005-11-11T11:11:00.000-05:00

My car is a piece of junk. I hope it doesn’t read this. I know if I insult my car, it will start acting up.

I don’t know why men think of their cars as girls. “She gets 55 miles to the gallon.” I think of my car in an androgynous sort of way. It is sexless. It’s a three-cylinder Metro. It has “no balls”, so it’s not a man. If it were a woman, it would have the body of a carpenter’s daughter. If you don’t know that reference, please don’t ask me to explain. Perhaps someone could elaborate in comments. (Where is a Useless Man when you need one?)

The lights on my dashboard started to go haywire the other day. Driving on the highway, I was alarmed to see the air bag light on. You may be concerned about seeing the Service Engine light on. Not me. That Service Engine light has been the bane of this car’s existence. When I finally figured it was time to get the Service Engine light addressed, I ended up spending more than $2000.00 and having the entire top half of the engine re-built, only to have it light up 72 hours after I got it back. It was then that I gave up on the light. I just hope the bulb will wear out soon.

I had never seen that air bag light before. Actually, I see it flash as the car starts up, and the air bag is getting checked, I guess. But driving in the midst of highway traffic, with a ~bing~, on it pops, I was a little perplexed.

Not perplexed enough to do anything about it. I wasn’t about to pull over to check anything out. I also wasn’t going to start banging on the air bag compartment to see if the light would go out.

I only reasoned that now would not be a good time to engage in head-on collisions, fearing that the air bag may misfire. Then again, I don’t regularly plan on having head-on collisions in my little roller skate.

In the end, or I guess the beginning of the trip home, the light had reset and stayed off the whole way home. I haven’t seen it since. I’m going to miss that little red alert. I’m glad I got a picture of it when it was there.

I’m also glad I got a picture of the car doing more than 120 km/hr! There may be more than 170,000 kilometres, and a completely rebuilt engine, but it still has pep.

That’s my girl. Or guy. Maybe it’s a Metro-sexual?

TORNADO? I HAVE MY OWN PROBLEMS...

2005-11-10T11:11:00.000-05:00

There was a tornado in these parts this week. Big news around here too. I can’t say I’ve ever known of a tornado, which occurred only a few blocks away, ever hitting my fair city. Who am I kidding? The best thing that could happen to our downtown is a tornado to clear it out for a fresh rebuild (as long as everyone was safe, and no one got hurt.)

The tornado was just a symptom of my problem that day. Traffic was going to be a mess, and I knew that everyone at home was safe, so now it all came back to me. I’m so selfish…

Out to my car in the pouring rain to find that I hadn’t properly secured my seatbelt inside the vehicle when I left it eight hours previously. Now it was a soaking, sopping mess that was going to sit on my lap for the next 20 minutes barring any traffic hold-ups (which would be plenty).

I know what you are thinking, “What a nincompoop!” Stop thinking that. I want you to think this, “Just don’t wear it home.”

Now that you are thinking that, SHAME ON YOU. Seatbelts are the law. I am a law-abiding citizen... Except for the occasional lead-foot, which is the OTHER reason I should be wearing a seatbelt.

I don’t have any point here. I was just feeling whiney about having to wear a wet seat belt for half an hour.

Sorry for wasting your time…

I STOPPED BUGGING HIM TODAY

2005-11-09T11:11:00.000-05:00

They don’t call him No Show for nothing.

That’s exactly what happened a few weeks ago when I wrangled a pair of tickets to the George Jones concert for my Dad. I received the tickets the day before the show and quickly made arrangements to get there, find parking and arrive just in time…

Just in time for the usher to stop me at the door to tell me that there would be NO Show. Turns out, the 74 year-old singer had taken ill. I’ll be honest… I thought about what the ticket would be worth for the last show he should have played before he met his Maker. Turns out, it was just a flu bug or something like that.

Mr. Jones (one should respect their elders) added the rescheduled date to the end of his Canadian concert tour, and put on a fabulous show.

I’m not a country music fan. Sure Shania is hot, but then, so is Z. You’ve heard about that before.

My Dad is a huge George Jones fan. In fact, as we sat through the 2-hour show, I was surprised at how many songs I recognized. Not well enough to sing along, but certainly recognized. How could you not?

Mr. Jones is a man completing his 5th decade in music. Before the show, my Dad, like a groupie, spent $60 right off the bat, purchasing a T-shirt (with a free autographed picture), and the new 3-CD set of 50 hits in 50 years. 50 hits are a lot. Try thinking of other artists that could compile a 50 hit list, and you’ll be looking at an elite level of artist.

Considering that Mr. Jones had more than 160 hits since 1955, it must have been hard to narrow it down to just one hit for each year.

The show ended one song after my favourite, “He Stopped Loving Her Today.” A tear-jerker at any time, this song just eats me up. Maybe I was due to this tender state that I just had to have a heart-to-heart with my Dad on the way home.

I’ve picked on Dad so many times in this forum. Picking on him is like fishing in a barrel. There is so much to go with, I could keep another blog just about HIM. But I have enough blogs as it is.

My Dad was so very thankful to go to the show. I looked at him, and saw a different smile. I’d seen the smile of pride in his son before. I’ve seen the smile of laughter with us before. But this time, it was a smile like satisfaction. Maybe, it was a smile of contentment.

“Thanks, Jo, for this. I really appreciate you coming out with me.”

“Dad,” I said, “You’ve gone to many events over the years that I’m sure you’d have rather been somewhere else. But you did it to support me. Tonight, I didn’t care to see George Jones. But I know how much you would like to, and I wanted to spend time with you, doing something I know YOU would enjoy.”

That’s when I saw that smile.

And I’ll never forget it.

NOW ON DVD

2005-11-08T11:11:00.000-05:00

I guess the NOW is a little circumspect. It’s not like The Good Shepherd was ever in theatres. After a smattering of viewings at film festivals, no distributors were lining any pockets with greenbacks to buy the flick. My big screen debut has been relegated to the boob tube. I had such high hopes when they were filming. You can read more about that here.

Have your pause buttons ready.

Somewhere near the 15:17 mark of The Good Shepherd, my co-star, if I can call her that, Molly Parker receives a phone call. She stands to see the man, Christian Slater, at the reception to her work.

All the while, I’m working away at my computer terminal, writing a silly little dialogue, stream of conscious crap. Stuff like:

“The camera is now moving towards me and I have to make sure NOT to look right at it. I think I’ll just keep typing and try to wipe this stupid goofy grin off my face, but I don’t think I can. I’m in a freakin’ MOVIE. This is pretty cool even if they only paid me a dollar. The road to Hollywood is paved in single dollar coins…”

Anyway, after 5 hours of set-up and shooting the whole scene lasts barely 32 seconds on film. In fact, I may be exaggerating at that. It is more like 25 seconds. I guess that would be less like 25 seconds.

Oh well. My 15 minutes of fame will last longer if I only get it a few seconds at a time.

ENG SUX

2005-11-07T11:11:00.000-05:00

Every Fall, it’s the same thing. The local university Engineering students go about defacing one open piece of lawn next to the highway. I was gonna say grass, but with university students, that could mean something different.

This year, they weren’t as up to task as in the past. Painted in big red letters was ENG. Usually there is much more written on the lawn. ENG? This could have been the work of English majors, but I’ve driven this path way too many times to be fooled. Besides, there was no use of punctuation. Couldn’t be English majors.

What had me fooled was what appeared two days later. In big black capitals, the letters SUX appeared below the ENG. If it wasn’t bad enough that each year the Engineer's engineer a graffitti moment, but now some hater has to deface it?

Who could possibly hate Engineers this much? The guys in the Caboose? And why are all these kids learning about trains when we all know trucking is the future of transportation?

Big wheel keep on turnin’,
Proud mary keep on burnin’,
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river.

I also learned that trying to take a picture into the sun while driving 110km/hr at a bend in the highway is not a good thing.

KIDS PLAY HERE

2005-11-04T11:11:00.000-05:00

Amidst the signs for safety is this gem. It cracks me up.

KIDS PLAY HERE.

Sure, there are kids that play in the neighbourhood. Putting that sign in front of the new construction just seemed a little out of place.

I feel for the homebuyers in this area. I really do. But I also think that when you go into these situations, you have to look at the consequences. If you move into a house on a main street, you will get traffic. If you don’t want traffic, you will pay more for your house.

If you live on a street with heavy traffic, maybe you should have your kids play in the back yard, instead of between parked cars, in the fog, on a rainy evening. Just a thought. I shouldn’t try to argue responsibility though. No one listens, and it will somehow become MY fault.

I don’t want to see harm come to anyone in the neighbourhood. Maybe I just don’t understand the problem well enough. I drive the limit or less. I come to a complete stop, often to the chagrin of the driver behind me. I signal my turns, in advance, and follow the rules of the road, both as law and courtesy. I am a minority driver.

I just can’t understand why we can’t go back to the courteous old days of driving, where everyone shared the road, and flashing your lights meant a cop was up ahead, not get out of my way. The good old days, when you would wave to a passing driver. The good old days, when we drove in the right hand lane and passed only on the left.

Of course, when it was the good old days, I was just a kid. If that’s the case, I’m going to go play at a construction site.

WARNING WARNING WARNING

2005-11-03T11:11:00.000-05:00

There is a street that is having problems with traffic. In the neighbourhood in which it is located, it is one of only two access roads that get you out straight of the suburb. It was a blessing to have it.

Due to developments, more and more housing has been constructed around this through road. Due to the increased traffic, and naughty speeders, the city installed a stop sign. As with most stop signs, bad drivers just slowed and rolled on through.

The city, in their infinite wisdom, put up another stop sign. Then another. The long straight undeveloped access road, that used to be so easy to get out of the neighbourhood, now has three stop signs within 500 yards. And they do little to actually stop traffic.

What stops the traffic is the constant barrage of cars parked on the road instead of in the two or four car driveways, causing the drivers to share one center lane to pass each other. Oddly, this makes people speed madly to try to get to the opening lane before the guy coming the other way.

People have started putting up signs, reminding drivers of the speed limits, and to stop. They have signs asking for the city to close the access road, but until then, traffic will only get worse as a new Wal-Mart is to open nearby in the new year.

There are threats and questions of Police checks. I think this would be a good deterrence. How many tickets do you need to get before you start to police yourself? Me? The threat of one is more than enough.

The problem is policing cost money. Closing the road will cause complete turmoil. In the meantime, I found a better solution to the speeding problem. Sink holes.

The road has always been poorly maintained, mostly due to the underground springs that run through the area and cause the asphalt to sink. It also causes the bottom of a car to get ripped off if you go through it too quickly.

Then, with the collection of broken auto parts, the community could afford their own police officer.

JPTH BLOG-IVERSARY

2005-11-02T11:11:00.000-05:00

You'll find your gift at the end of this post!

It was a year ago that this silly, little blog started with this silly, little post:

WELCOME TO JPTH INTERNATIONAL
This is the official Blog Spot for JPTH International.

The first question you may have is "What EXACTLY does the JPTH acronym mean?"
Well, to be Frank (I like Frank...), it's none of your business.

BUT if you send me a little comment, I'll be happy to consider sending you an answer. Email me at JPTH@hotmail.com. (Do you see the theme here?)

And then you may wonder, "Are you REALLY International?"

At one time I was. Well, JPTH was. Currently, the JPTH focus is on the Canadian market, with occasional dalliances into the US. Is this cryptic enough for you?

Maybe a future blog will clear things up. Please stay and read more.

I have had no emails, and only one comment for that post:

At 3:15 PM, Kev And Charlotte said...
I am so confused, I'm going to cut my own head off.

I’m glad to learn that Kev and/or Charlotte did not, in fact, cut off any heads, or other appendages. But it is time to reveal the truth.

Truth is, JPTH started as a mixed tape title. A friend of mine, having just graduated high school, was moving out of her parents place, and into her own apartment with her sister. I’ll call them the Door sisters.

I had had a crush on the older Door sister since the ninth grade, since she was in my homeroom. She also didn’t have the time of day for me. But, like a leech, or a foul smell, I just hung around until she could appreciate me more. That took the better part of four and half years. By that point we had become very good friends.

I think we tried dating briefly, but realized we were too good of friends to make that step. It was certainly more of a brother/sister feel. I could be wrong. She was shy, I once learned from the Putz.

As any very good friend would do, I helped her and her sister move. When moving them in, I noticed the little stereo, with very few tapes to play.

Since Older Door sister wanted to be a writer, I suspected she would need some inspiration, so I turned to my little pathetic hobby of disc jockeying and created up a mixed tape from the thousands of songs I had in my collection. It gave me a chance to practice mixing songs, and creating a theme or sound to certain volumes. Over the course of the next 2 years, there were over 20 Volumes crunched out, each one labeled Jodster Picks The Hits Volume X.

Some had subtitles. Some had hidden tracks at the end. Some had songs covered in tape until the Door sisters listened to them, to surprise them with a rare track find. Some had hidden messages in them. All of them came from my heart and not one of them was thrown together for nothing.

Later, I used to make these same tapes for friends, each one unique and individual to the recipient. Some were sent to France, England, the United States and across Canada. That is where the International came into play. And since the tape labels weren’t big enough to hold a title like "Jodster Picks The Hits" and "International Volume 21: European Tour Edition", the name was shortened to JPTH International. And it has stuck ever since.

To think of the lawsuits I could have faced, I only say that I no longer take part in this sort of activity. That and talk to my lawyer.

If any of you readers know the whereabouts of the one-day-to-be-a-famous-author Door sister, send her a link. She promised me an autographed copy of her first novel!

My sincerest thanks to each of the thousands of visitors to cross these pages. On this blog-iversary, I offer my loyal readers, those that have suffered through with me for the past 12 months, the gift of Word Verification! I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed sharing with you.

THE SAGA IS COMPLETE

2005-11-01T11:11:00.000-05:00

Today is the day that my obsession should end.

Today is the day that Star Wars Episode III Revenge Of The Sith came out on DVD. The final installment of the Star Wars saga has been released and purchased, and all going well, I should be able to resist any further Star Wars purchases. Unless the Force is strong in something new…

The Force is strong in another area. If Rainy Pete and I hadn’t known each other before, the Force would have drawn us together. For each of the releases of Star Wars DVD’s, planned or unplanned, Rainy and I inexplicably found each other at the same store at the same time.

It started with Episode I, when we were two of the eleven people that showed up at midnight to pickup our pre-ordered copies of the movie. I hadn’t seen Rainy with any regularity before that date. But with this common bond reuniting us, it was clear the Force was strong.

It happened again for Episode II. Then when the original trilogy came out, we actually tried to co-ordinate to go together. All our plans failed, and I chose to go after work to some obscure store that had just opened, when upon my exit, I ran into Rainy Pete as he was arriving at this same, little out of the way location.

Coincidence? It was like something in our midi-clorians, or our Jedi training, was forcing us together. Maybe I’m the Luke to his Yoda? Or he’s the Boba Fett to my Darth Vader? Perhaps he’s the Leia to my Han Solo? I mean, he’s the Chewbacca to my Han Solo... The R2 Unit to my C-3PO?

Whichever way it goes, no one wants to be that snotty Anakin kid. I guess I’m glad it’s all over. Only the die-hards are still interested in this stuff, and I’m no Die Hard. (I’m more Hudson Hawk, if I had to pick a Bruce Willis simile.)

The Saga is complete. May The Force Be With You.

FREAKIN’ SWEET

2005-10-31T11:11:00.000-05:00

There are a number of people who enjoy Halloween to an extreme. I enjoy the candy part, but not the scary, pagan aspects. That’s just me, I’m sure.

There are those that go above and beyond. These are the same type of people that go over the top with the Christmas lights and decorations. I seriously doubt they are the SAME people, but more of the same type.

Either way, there was one house I had to see this year. It simply made me say WOW.

Actually, it made me say, “I’m carrying hot coffee for everyone. It wouldn’t be smart to scare a guy carrying a lot of hot coffee.”

This is FBI. A former reader of the month, I had to give him his due. I remember when I first visited the home of FBI. I was a little surprised by the many skeletons and the coffin in the basement. I knew he was a Halloween fan, and this was just part of the show.

When I opened the storage closet though, I may have pooped my pants. It wasn’t the shelves upon shelves, row upon row, of masks, hands, and severed heads that took me by surprise. It was the full size replica of Mike Meyers or horror flick fame that was standing just off to the side with knife in hand in mid lunge.

I think I actually screamed. Like a little girl. For about 12 seconds straight. There is no looking cool after that.

Now, I just bring coffee instead. And I won’t hang my coat up in any closets.

Boo.

DUELING MUSICIANS

2005-10-28T11:11:00.000-04:00

My final “rant”, if you will, about the summer weddings… Unless I come across some cool pictures later.

At my friends wedding, the couple walked down the aisle of the outdoor ceremony accompanying the light pluckings of a harpist in the garden. After the ceremony, the harpist moved to a covered area, where some light refreshments, snacks and such were being served while the wedding party went off to have pictures taken.

The wonderful harp sound lasted about two minutes until a second wedding in the park began. To lead them in, out stepped a bagpiper, in full regalia. By regalia, I mean skirt. By skirt, I mean kilt.

I love a good bagpipe tune as much as the next guy. However, the bagpipe and the harp do not make a good duet. This is mostly because you can’t hear the harp.

The young lady tried. She played away on the harp, but the bag-piper was only a hundred yards or so away, and he was cranking out the old wind bag tunes.

My friends, having gone to the trouble and expense of hiring this musician for the purpose of light entertainment, adding a touch of class to the reception, certainly did not get their money’s worth when the blaring of the bagpipes not only swamped the light sounds of harp music, but also the low volume chatter of guests which had to be cranked up a notch.

Two weddings, same park, same pavilion. Two distinctly different choices in music.

If you are planning an event in the future, and you’re not sure what kind of music you should hire, remember the new adage, Bagpipes trump Harp. Any day.

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Speaking of comedy, I have entered the Comic Genius Audition pool again this week. Your support would be appreciated. Look for the man with the Potatohead moustache. Or click here. Voting Ends Sunday.

PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR PAGERS, CELL PHONES AND DIGITAL CAMERAS

2005-10-27T11:11:00.000-04:00

I was quite surprised (annoyed, really) during the last couple of weddings I’ve attended. I thought everyone was starting to get the message that it is polite to turn off your cell phone and pager (does anyone still use a pager?) when you go to an event, or a movie, or something public like that. Everyone except that guy at the Star Wars premiere who forgot to turn his cell phone off, then tried to ignore it, pretending it wasn’t his, to the chagrin of the caller who tried calling back and let it ring more than 15 times. I was yelling “ANSWER IT OR TURN IT OFF, YOU PUTZ!” from the balcony.

Well, I was yelling it in my head….

It seems everyone and their grandmother has a digital camera these days. In the past, you had a good film camera and you could here the click, click, click of the shutter. The worst you could run into is running out of film and having that inevitable auto-rewind feature crank the film back into the canister for 30 or 40 seconds.

Not with digital cameras. The sound problem should be mostly gone. Except people don’t think. It is a help to people to hear that shutter click. But when it is a sound, just like a ring tone, it can and should be turned off.

These last three weddings I’ve attended this summer have all been punctuated with the re-echoing sounds of beeps, bips, clicks and shutters, in a constant hum of digital photography. TURN IT OFF FOLKS!

If you can’t turn off the sound, turn off the camera. Seems like a good rule. I couldn’t hear the vows at one wedding because of the interrupting sound of the cameras snapping. I was swapping notes with the videographer at the last wedding I attended, and he was saying much of the footage was marred with the overwhelming digital sounds. The quiet, solemn vows of a young couple dedicating their lives to one another has been reduced to an outtake from a Star Wars space battle sound reel.

What happened to the days of weddings where the guests cameras were used at the beginning and the end and nowhere in-between?

If the digital camera has become the new cell phone annoyance, what does that make cell phones with digital cameras?

Beep, Beep, Beep.. Whirrr, click, click.

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Speaking of comedy, I have entered the Comic Genius Audition pool again this week. Your support would be appreciated. Look for the man with the Potatohead moustache. Or click here.

BACK TO THE FUTURE ... SHOP

2005-10-26T11:11:00.000-04:00

After I had tested the wedding video at the reception hall to be sure sound and video were working, Kev of The Archies and I headed over to the Future Shop to pick up some extra video tapes, should he need them during the reception.

That’s where I found the calling card from the previous post.

The fancy part of the trip was climbing into the Kev-mobile and seeing his array of gadgets. The one that got my fancy was the GPS locator thingy. You could punch in an address or location and it would advise you on how to return to it. That’s what we did for the reception hall.

Off we went to the Future Shop. The first problem with the GPS was that despite 7 satellites tracking our location, speed and estimated arrival time, it was unable to locate a large, rather new, expressway through the city.

This Future Shop location, marked with the red star, was at the corner of this expressway. And since there were multiple plazas in the same location, it was difficult to know where the entrance to the plaza was. We turned onto the expressway, and quickly realized there was no entrance to the parking lot from there. Of course, the GPS now thinks we, the green dot, are driving aimlessly off road.

After turning around, and getting back to the location, we made our purchase and left. Now, the return was so much better. It was somewhat disturbing though to think that at any time five to seven satellites are watching us at any given time.

It made me think of Steven Wright, so I leaned my head out the car window and looked up into the sky and smiled… for a satellite picture.

CHEESE!

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Speaking of comedy, I have entered the Comic Genius Audition pool again this week. Your support would be appreciated. Look for the man with the Potatohead moustache. Or click here.

“SOMETHING FUNNY”, ON VIDEO

2005-10-25T11:11:00.000-04:00

As mentioned yesterday, here is the story of the wedding reception.

As part of this wedding reception, a number of family and friends were presenting songs, slideshows and speeches. I had been asked about a month or so earlier if I could put together “something funny” for the reception.

No pressure. Only a hundred guests, and I, a stranger to many, or just strange to those that know me, was being asked to be “funny”. Why not just ask me to be fishy?

It’s not that what I do isn’t funny. I am always being funny. But when you are asked to do "something funny", my mind goes blank. As Darren Frost might say, “Dance, Monkey. Dance!”

Knowing this is for a wedding, and that the couple would want something to keep, I decided on a video of best wishes. I would find people going to the wedding and tape them giving best wishes and silly stuff before the wedding, surprising the bride and groom with all the silliness of family and friends. After about 5 days of trying to do this, I had only one person on tape (from the wedding party).

To make matters worse, I didn’t have access to a guest list or anything, so some friends that I asked weren’t even going to the reception, and had only been invited to the ceremony. This could get awkward.

Time was running out, so I went on a mission to collect best wishes and congratulations. Not knowing who would be at the wedding, I changed my strategy to collect these from complete strangers.

That’s when the mission began. I stopped at McDonald’s and had them congratulate the soon-to-be-married couple through the drive-thru order box. I stopped at a Tim Horton’s, and later asked two strangers in the parking lot, having their coffee while showing off their classic cars, to participate. Sure they said “Mary and Kate” instead of Barry and Kate, but that didn’t matter. I just needed footage.

There was a synchronized skating team, other fast food joints, inside a pizza oven, a golf foursome, a Zamboni driver, a car dealership, my gym, a fire fighter, Martini in the bathroom (twice), plus a random assortment of kids, adults, neighbours, friends, and a pharmacist in the family-planning aisle (Why is it called family planning? Shouldn’t it be called family prevention?). Even my local Quiznos made a special Barry and Kate Real Deal Sub with BBQ sauce writing on a loaf of bread, run through the toaster, and wrapped with a Best Wishes sticker (at no charge to me!)

I’ve said it before. People are good sports.

All told, I collected close to nine minutes worth of strangers and such wishing congratulations to the couple.

When I arrived at the reception and found out what everyone else was doing, my piece was clearly over the top, and I was terribly nervous it would be inappropriate. I’ve been known to cross the line with some of these people. I didn’t want to embarrass myself, but more over, I didn’t want to embarrass Z who was with me at the wedding.

It was with a great sigh of relief as the video started after dinner, and the laughs started to roll. Someone told me they almost wet their pants laughing so hard. Making people pee is always a good sign. In fact, I was a little overwhelmed with the response throughout the night. What I thought was a silly little joke became the focus of many conversations. Sure, it took 3 and a half weeks to put it all together, but I was almost disappointed I hadn’t had more time to get some REALLY funny ones from some of my better placed contacts. But I was satisfied with the final result.

In the end, so were Barry and Kate. If no one else laughed, or commented, knowing that they had appreciated the work put into it was more than enough thanks.

Like you haven't heard it enough, "Congratulations, Barry and Kate."

WE NOW RETURN TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOGGING

2005-10-24T23:11:00.000-04:00

I have been neglecting the blog for the last week or so. Between the hundreds of emails I have sent out for this Comic Genius contest, of which I did not make the semi-finals (yet... new routine to be posted this week!), I was also preparing a video that was to be presented as part of a wedding reception. More on that tomorrow.

Today's story is about the business card that I found at the counter of Future Shop as we cashed out a purchase.

“If you have more than two remotes, you’re hired.”

This frightens me. First off, if that were the case, I’d have a job. In fact, I read the card, looked at the cashier and asked, “When do I start? I just want part-time.”

I have 7 remotes in my house. Actually, I have five now, after paring down the stereo from three remotes to one. For the one entertainment set up, I have four different ones that I need to use, but would prefer to have one super remote. This being the case, I’d be more apt to hire someone who in today’s tech-age actually has only one remote. For the life of me, that is a real skill. Anyone can use the remote that comes with a product. A real pro knows how to take a name-brand stereo, and a bunch of no-name TV’s, DVD’s and VCR’s and make one user-friendly remote.

I can imagine that kid on Donald Trump’s “The Apprentice.”

[cut to the boardroom]

Donald Trump: Kid 1, it seems your team failed at the Tech demonstration for the old folks home. What went wrong?

KID 1: I couldn’t get the TV to work initially,…

Donald Trump: [interrupts Kid 1, turning to Kid 2] What do you think your team did right that made you excel at this particular task?

KID 2: My presentation was improved when I was able to purge all the remotes and create one super remote that controlled the whole affair.

Donald Trump: You used one remote.

Kid 1: Yes.

Donald Trump: [Turning to Kid 2] And you used how many remotes?

Kid 2: … errr… I’m not sure.. We had .. well there was 7 for sure.

Donald Trump: I use seven remotes just to control my hair. If you can get that down to one remote, then Kid 1, you’re HIRED!”

I can hear the words of John Lennon’s Imagine as I picture that ONE remote… A world united. Cats and dogs living together. Utopia…

If you are looking for work, try applying. I might do that, if this Comic Genius thing doesn’t work out. Besides, if nothing else, I’ll have something to blog about in future (pun intended)…

TOP TEN? WOW!

2005-10-17T11:11:00.000-04:00

Can you believe it? Thanks to the loyal readers of JPTH that have made this possible. I don’t know how many of you have registered and voted for the Comic Genius contest, but out of the 53 or so auditions last week, my routine qualified for the Top 10. I am now officially a contestant.

I have come to recognize that one of the Top 3 rated routines in the contestants is a professional comedian. Nice company to be with considering this is my first attempt at stand-up. The Top 2 contestants based in part on ratings and comments, will move on to be a semi-finalist. It would seem, in this round, I'm on the bubble.

Many people say, “Hey Jodster, you’re funny. You should be doing comedy.” Being “funny” doesn’t always translate into stand-up. A friend of mine, who I think is terrifically funny, described himself as reactionary funny. That is true. He has the fastest, funniest reactions to anything said or done in any situation. He is unstoppable. But in this contest, you need to be funny all on your own. No set up, no straight man. And that is harder than I thought.

One of the criteria for judging this week is ratings and comments. If you haven’t already registered for the Comic genius contest, please take a moment to do so. My latest foray is only available until Saturday, and I could use all the help I can get.

I promise that I will take more time to blog this week, and get this whole site up to date. I never realized just how much work goes on to make a funny. And no matter how hard you try, you simply can’t please everyone.

As for me, right now, I am pleased. Thanks again everyone!

THE END OF SUMMER IS NIGH

2005-10-13T11:11:00.000-04:00

Summer is almost over. The temperatures are already dropping like, well, a fat guy doing a belly flop.

I like the end of summer. Not because it is ending. Who wants shorter days? I like that the worst of the humidity is gone, and the temperatures are comfortable. I have no qualms about putting a sweater on in the evening, if it means only wearing one fresh T-shirt each day.

In a few weeks, the colourful trees will shed their leaves, leaving behind the skeletons of branches that will be our cue in the spring as we patiently wait for blossoms.

I love to drive in this weather. I’d put on my coat and take the t-tops out of the old 82 Camero, driving the country roads between towns instead of the highways to enjoy the fall foliage and crisp air.

Is it just me, or is Hallowe’en the sign of the start of winter? There may not be snow on the ground, but once Hallowe’en passes, it’s an all out, batten-down-the-hatches prep time for winter. Get out the shovels and salt, the warm coats, hats mitts and boots, and be ready. One crisp morning will find itself covered with the light dusting of frozen silver linings of winter.

I can assure you, that day I will be won’t be jumping in any swimming pools.

ABOUT THAT FEEDBACK…

2005-10-12T11:11:00.000-04:00

Be careful what you wish for. Maybe feedback isn’t what I really wanted.

Ok, I take that back. Today on the remarks at my Comic Genius audition, I received this comment:

hmmm let's see Jodster can you say "I copied Harland Williams from the movie There's Something About Mary"? You just replaced 7 minute abs with 7 minute frozen dinners. BULLCRAP. Did you honestly think nobody would notice. that's awful man!!!!! - slappster, 10/12/2005

Let me begin by saying that he is mostly incorrect. What is correct is that a joke about time also appeared in the movie noted above. In order for his comment to be true, he would have to know that I had seen Something About Mary. There are people who haven’t, you know.

Additionally, my joke was intended to illustrate the craziness of time in our society. The fact that I chose a 7-minute pasta meal because the other was 8 minutes, is true. In fact, the full context of my reasoning was previously posted on this blog last November (and clearly not from any movie).

I do appreciate criticism. Constructive criticism. To make a broad, arrogant proclamation like this, hidden behind a nickname is weak. But there is an ounce of truth. The line about who has time, was added off the cuff as I recorded the audio. It is not what I had written, but seemed to add to the routine.

If you watch enough comedy, you would see that rarely is there something new. It’s like magic to me. A good magician isn’t showing me new tricks. He’s showing me the same old tricks but in a new way, with greater flair than anyone else. Sometimes, it’s the delivery, not the punchline.

Don’t worry about me. I can take the criticism. Besides, there is still an additional 1:47 of material there. In the meantime, if anyone is looking for me, I’ll be in the men’s room stall, weeping to console my ego.

FIRST COMIC AUDITION POSTED

2005-10-11T11:11:00.000-04:00

I finally got one posted, taken directly from the pages of JPTH International.

I previously mentioned the online comedy contest called Comic Genius. Now is your time to help out. Visit the Corner Gas website, register and rate my performance as it appears under the auditions tab. If I’m selected to the top ten this week, I’ll be begging you for even more ratings. Not sure which one is the Jodster? Look for this picture.

This week’s contest ends Saturday. Hurry over and rate it soon, before it’s all GONE! Your comments would be appreciated. I can use the feedback!

A GENERATIONAL THANKSGIVING

2005-10-10T11:11:00.000-04:00

Today is Thanksgiving in Canada. I don’t know why we are thankful sooner than our American neighbours, but I’m guessing it has something to do with harvest and our heavy winters.

I have this story I want to tell, and it’s not like me to repeat this sort of thing, so please forgive me up front. However, it did make me shoot potatoes out my nose, and really showed the generation differences between my grandparents and I.

Actually, it wasn’t even my grandparent that did it. It was my Grandmother’s “Friend”. I refuse to use the word boyfriend in this context. Besides, she’s never called him that either.

We had a few banquet tables set up at my Mom’s for the family (about 19 of us in total that year). Sitting down to enjoy the meal, we were interrupted a few short minutes into it. My Mom takes care of a community hall near her home, and a man was scheduled to stop by that day to pick up the key for an even t he was planning.

Grandma’s friend saw the man coming to the door. He politely stood up and let Mom know that there was a “coloured fella” coming to the door.

I had not heard two words from Grandma’s friend before he spoke up here. I was surprised that he felt the need to let my Mom know that the man was coloured. What would he have said if he was Asian? In my nervous embarrassment of this, I did snicker a little at the ridiculousness of the situation, clearly seeing the difference between my world and that of a man that grew-up during segregation.

I wasn’t the only one that snickered at what was clearly an innocent mistake. Grandma quickly picked up on the giggles, and admonished her friend with a slap on his shoulder.

I was still in mild disbelief of what had happened when Grandma’s friend turned the stun gun up to shock. Dropping the N-Bomb, her friend questioned, “What’s wrong? I didn’t say n****r.”

That’s when the potatoes came out of my nose. They were mashed, but they still hurt.

I can’t think of a time I had ever heard that word used in real life, in this context. Sure there were guys in high school that would use the term in some sort of greeting. To me, it is still taboo to use. I can’t think of a time being so embarrassed over a single word.

Therein lies the generation gap. There was a time when using that word would have been perfectly acceptable. Grandma’s friend recognized that the word is not proper anymore. That’s why he politely used “coloured fella” originally.

I guess in his mind, he was cleaning up his language in front of his girlfriend’s family.

THE PERFECT PAIR... GONE HORRIBLY WRONG

2005-10-07T11:11:00.000-04:00

This is a true story. It took place on .. oh, who knows when now…

The fact of the matter is that when something goes wrong when I’m out, it goes horribly wrong. Case in point…

I went out for the last Guys Night, meeting up at a local pub before heading over to a comedy club. We hgad been to this pub before and I had an all around generally appealing time.

This time, Rainy Pete and I were a little early, so we ordered starters. The waitress suggested some specials they were offering including a number of Perfect Pairs. The concept of the Perfect Pair is that you pair a generally appealing appetizer with a less than appealing brew to move product. At least, that was my take on it.

This was a pub of Irish decent. Having heard the “play’ list a number of times, I recognized that there was nothing of my taste. Not unusual since I rarely drink. I thought it would be easier to order one of these pairs to ease the choice of some ho-hum drink. I could choose the food I desired, and wash it down with whatever swill it came with. If I got teased about my choice of drink, I could always blame the Perfect Pairing. Maybe it should be called the Perfect Excuse? Besides, I didn't want someone mad and punching my lights out.

At this point, the drink becomes irrelevant. I ordered the bagel chips and apple slices with a warm cheese dip thinking it was the healthiest of the three choices. Healthy choices have never been my strong suit.

When I was presented with my Perfect Pair, the waitress told me that they had run out of apples, so instead I got extra bagel chips. I wasn’t too put out, but if I had known this sooner, I may have changed my order.

As I toyed away with these dried coasters, adding my cheese dip and listening to my arteries harden, I realized I was being ripped off. The apples slices used less cheese. These bagel chips were using more cheese. They compensated me for no apples, but they didn’t compensate for the extra cheese needed.

I ended up with one bagel chip left, and not a scrape of cheese left. I asked the waitressif it was possible to get a spoonful of cheese to finish this one chip off, using my logical mathematical excellencies to explain the perimeter, diameter, total square footage equation of cheese=chips-apples. I don’t think she cared.

“The chef said no,” she came back after a brief visit to the kitchen. Now before I go any further, allow me to address the food spitting situation. Understand, I was with a group of 8 guys. The way to lessen the chance of getting spit in your meal when copmplaining is to simple order the exact same meal as others at your table. Even if you don’t want it.

I would have dropped it there, but before the waitress left she took another order for a round of drinks. When my wobbly pop was served, it had a hair in it. I’ve never had a hair in my drink before. But there it was, sitting on the foam head as if it was Chrlie Brown’s follically challenged scalp.

I called the waitress back and explained the problem to her, and she quickly replaced the offending drink. Again, no harm, no foul.

Then the manager took an interest. In my mind, I don’t complain to the waitress. Usually the problems that arise are not their fault. They are the missle men, then brokers of my dining experience, getting me the best service from stations to station.

The manager apologized and asked, “Has everything else been okay?” Well, in my mind, he was asking for it!

So I let him have it all: The poor choices in beer, the missing apples from my not-so-perfect pair, the added insult to my injury by being one tablespoon short of cheese. I showed him the wasted bagel chip that I had since turned into a coaster for my drink. Now, a hair in my drink, and I hadn’t yet received my meal.

“I’m afraid, you know...” I explained to him. “Everything I have ordered so far has gone horribly wrong. I don’t even want to eat my meal now. I’m having a truly frightening experience here tonight. These other 7 gentlemen (I used that term loosely), are enjoying a trouble free time, but I am having a heaping helping of hassles.”

He told me the drink would be free. Then he “comp”ed me the Perfect Pair as well.

I’m so shallow, I accepted his offer of goodwill, and didn’t even complain about my stew being a little extra runny.

THE CONTROVERSY OF BREAD

2005-10-06T23:11:00.000-04:00

While eating at East Side Mario’s, I noted clearly that my meal included a salad and a loaf of their bread. I also noted that each of the three meals we were ordering included the same.

I was perplexed when the waitress only brought one loaf of bread to the table to start. Didn’t we each get a loaf of bread? What Mario trying to jip me of a loaf of bread?

I didn’t care if I ate the bread any more. At this point it became my obsession to get three loaves of bread to the table. After we each had a slice of bread, I asked the waitress for another loaf. She looked a little strange at me with half a loaf still sitting there, but after a few minutes another loaf was delivered.

By the middle of the meal, I was beginning to feel full. But I couldn’t get over how Mario fooled me with the loaf of bread included with each meal. Nowhere on the menu does it say I have to SHARE that loaf of bread. Just because I’m breaking bread in an East Side Mario’s shouldn’t mean I have to break MY bread.

When dessert orders were being placed (I had just learned that Dad was picking up the tab (I don’t care how full you are. If someone else is buying, you order dessert! (Are you with me girls?))

To be honest, I was full. But that bread. That single loaf of left out bread. Finally, I snapped. When the waitress brought the cheesecake to the table, I asked her for another loaf of bread. Now, she could see we were a little off. There was that gift wrapped in paper towel after all.

There was no way I could eat ANY bread, but I paid for it (well, Dad was going to) and I thought I deserved it. So I took it home with me. Take out bread.

To Mario, I stick my tongue out at you. Your cheapskate methods of menu sharing won’t pass with me. If you offer me bread, give me the bread!

YOUR GIFT IS A PROMOTION

2005-10-05T11:11:00.000-04:00

The greatest part of any birthday bash at a restaurant is the way they embarrass the guest of honour. I went to a place called Moose Winooski’s where the birthday boy wears a big helmet with moose antlers and has a whipped cream pie thrown in their face while simultaneously have it photographed courtesy of a handy Polaroid.

At our local East Side Mario’s, they have the wheel of birthday prizes. Prizes include Free Lunch, Free Dessert, Free ESM Mug, and Free Coca-Cola products. Then there is the prize my brother spun.

“IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY! Now help us clean the table.”

I love when your server is a lot of fun. She must have known we were a little off when she saw my gift stuffed with paper towel.

“Ha ha ha,” I laughed. I thought that was their polite way of saying, “Thank you, Loser.”

Except, our waitress wouldn’t let it go there. She demanded that my brother help clear dishes. Of course, with me at the table, she had my full backing. He also had my paper towels to help wipe down the table.

My Dad and I mocked my brother, and generously tipped the waitress. Besides, my brother used to be a dishwasher. I thought being a busboy would be a promotion.

THAT WAS AUGUST? WHERE HAS TIME GONE?

2005-10-04T11:11:00.000-04:00

I had a birthday to attend recently (if you count August as recently. (That’s how far behind I am on my blog stories))

I was left to my own devices, so I figured I would put the little gift for my brother in a gift bag. It wasn’t just a gift. I put $25 in the card as well. I hoped he would recognize it as the money I owed him from my share of the Father’s Day gift we went in on. Actually, he bought a Father’s Day gift for Dad, and I talked him into adding my name to the card if I promised to slip him the money. That was June.

Anyway, I love the gift bag. The gift bag is pretty wrap without the hassle of wrapping paper. Or so I thought. When I set the bag down, you could see all the way into the bottom of the bag, revealing the DVD box set of The Dukes of Hazzard I was giving. I bought two copies. I couldn’t resist getting one for myself.

I remembered that most people give gift bags with tissue paper inside. I went down to the craft cellar in my basement (I don’t really have a craft cellar. I have a cold cellar that has 4 square feet of previously received gift bags.). I looked through a few bags a scraped up enough tissue to wrap the DVD boxed set.

Still, the bag looked empty. I was out of white tissue paper, and I wasn’t about to re-wrap the gift to match. Instead, I did what any Useless Man would do. I stuffed the top half of the bag with paper towel.

I thought it was a brilliant idea, since we were meeting for lunch, and, well, my brother is a bit messy. Inevitably, he would spill something, and we would have the perfect gift-wrap for his mess.

The mess ended up being his to clean up anyway. But, more on that tomorrow.

COULD I BE A COMIC GENIUS?

2005-10-03T11:11:00.000-04:00

I have been trying for three days to get into this contest, Comic Genius. It is being held through the folks that bring you Corner Gas.

The first time I submitted my audition, my picture was rejected for having a logo in it. Fair enough.

The second time, I got a response that the audio file was not received.

I’m working with dial up here, folks. A 2MB file takes the equivalent of .. I can’t even think of a simile here. It just takes an awfully long time.

I started the first audition around 10PM Saturday night, and by the time I got that finished it was almost 1AM. I’m not very funny at 1AM.

Turns out, after all these “snags” I’ve missed the first round of contestants. I’m having to wait for approval for round two.

Readers, I’m doing my part, but I’m going to need your help. I am hoping that you could help me determine what material you find funny. The first post I’m putting up for audition comes straight from posts on this blog.

In order to be as funny as you want me to be, could you suggest which posts you found most humourous. When I have collected those comments, I’ll record them and post them for audition # 2.

I’ll let you know when my audition is posted. If nothing happens from this, so be it. The worst case scenario for you, loyal reader, is that you will actually hear me telling my lame jokes. That, and you may feel a little shallow for rating me with 5 stars for something worthy of 2.

Don’t worry, I’ll forgive you…

GIMME A PRISON BREAK

2005-09-29T11:11:00.000-04:00

I recently attended a Canadian football game. I’m used to there being many different distractions as you head into the gates. The usual panhandlers, ticket "agents", program vendors, raffle ticket hawkers and the like. It’s a caravan of “no, thank you”’s all the way in.

Global Television, which has REALLY been pushing this Prison Break TV show, had a number of ladies wandering the sidewalk and streets outside the gates wearing flat-screen panels over their heads with promos of the show playing. I had never seen this promotion used in these parts before.

If you weren’t already sick of the promos for Prison Break (and ReGenesis, which only mildly interested me since it was filmed locally) this promotion wasn’t faring any better. The endless repetition of the same TV promos that are on the station every fifteen to thirty minutes does not make me want to watch this program any more or less. I was more impressed with the technology in a back pack that the girls were sporting.

I tuned in to Prison Break on Monday quite by accident. Nothing worthwhile was on TV (by worthwhile I mean that the Monday Night Football game was already out of reach). Strangely, the show labeled and reiterated the strong warnings of violence, parental guidance, and made for adult viewing messages.

The local football team has been pushing hard to market itself as a family friendly stadium, with appeals to the female fan (both ticket buyer, and permission granter) to increase ticket sales. I’ll tell you it’s working, since crowds have doubled from two years ago in spite of a 2–10 record.

Why the team would affiliate itself with this particular program is curious. Global TV hardly covers the CFL outside of minimal highlights on their sports news. Arguably, Global is part of the greater ownership that includes our local television station (but wouldn’t this promotion be in competition with yourself?)

The only appeal this ad medium had to me was the potential for many women to rid themselves of the manly instinct to stare at breasts. I guess, on this level, this medium has merit.

SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM

2005-09-28T11:11:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I received four spam comments in 7 minutes. I think now is as good a time as any to add my two cents worth regarding the blog spam phenomenon.

I don’t have much to say about it. I’ve had a Hotmail account for almost 10 years now; therefore, I have been inundated with arrays of spam for as long as I can remember. You learn to deal with it.

The blog comment spam is a creature of another sort. It looks good, but turns out to be useless. It makes other “real” readers uneasy about leaving links for fear of being accused of being a spammer.

I was browsing Foilwoman’s blog recently, and found a notice to her blog spam commenters:

NOTICE TO SPAM COMMENTERS:

Anyone posting a comment here that is not germane to the subject matter and tone of Foilwoman's Diary ("this blog") that is intended to draw visitors to this blog to another blog or website for the purpose of advertising, selling merchandise, or promoting any commercial or political enterprise (an "advertising comment" or an "uninvited and unwanted comment") hereby agrees to pay the author of this blog $100 (US) for the publication of the initial advertising comment or uninvited and unwanted comment with an additional $1 due for every visitor drawn to the sites linked to by the advertising comment or uninvited and unwanted comment from this blog, and an additional $2 due for each day that the advertising comment or uninvited and unwanted comment remains posted on this blog. Whether a comment is an advertising comment or an uninvited and unwanted comment will be determined by the author of this blog, in her discretion. By posting an advertising comment or uninvited and unwanted comment on this blog, you hereby agree to pay these advertising fees and acknowledge that you are aware of this policy.

I hope she’s making a mint. I’m thinking of implementing the same policy. I could be $400 richer today.

Imagine how funny I found it when I was perusing another "Next Blog" button adventure and came across one of these blog spam sites, filled with comments from other anonymous blog spammers.

In the past I’ve mentioned that I do not delete comments. That changed yesterday. If you notice a comment has been deleted on my site, please be assured that is was blog spam. I never delete reader comments, and have no real interest in making the comment box more rigorous. I’ll see where this all goes, and update as necessary.

Now back to our regularly scheduled blog.

WHAT ABOUT EMISSION TESTING?

2005-09-27T11:11:00.000-04:00

There was panic recently at the pumps when hurricane Rita was coming ashore. With the recent price gouge in gas prices already topping one dollar plus in these parts of Canada (unthinkable a summer ago), many people are looking to alternative transportation means.

A bicycle seems like a good idea in the summer. A scooter is smaller and cheaper, and little less work than a bicycle but there are increased costs for insurance and small amounts of gasoline.

Personally, I’ll be looking to our Amish friends for the answer. I’m thinking of going back to horse and buggy. I don’t think you have to insure the horse or buggy. I could be wrong. The buggy doesn’t use any real mechanical parts apart from the obvious axle and rein stuff. Maintaining those parts is easier than even the most basic of automotive tasks, filling the windshield washer receptacle. (Not to be mistaken with the Radiator fluid receptacle… oops.)

The only concern I have is emissions. Up here in Ontario (assuming you readers are from somewhere south of here), we have a program (read: Pro-scam) called Drive Clean that requires all vehicles of a certain age to be tested for the emission output. This is supposed to help with the air pollution, but due to the numerous whatfors, wheretos and other related loopholes, the program hardly effects those drivers that are the worst offenders, while soaking the regular schmoes for $35 a pop to prove their three year old car is fit for the road.

Which leaves me thinking, who is in charge of emission testing, or collection, in the return of the horse and buggy era? I’m out if it’s stoop and scoop.

Either way, I'll be happy once the stations go back to their regular price gouging.

IS THIS THE COOLEST JOB?

2005-09-26T11:11:00.000-04:00

I think the coolest job would have to be character mascot. One of these characters that walks around bringing joy, or fear, to the masses, old, young, and young at heart, like me.

Of course, there are always downfalls with any vocation. I know at my desk job, no one ever kicks me, or tries to pull my tail. But I also don’t do anything to make a young child feel special for a moment in time.

That would be cool though, wouldn’t it? Kids stop to look at my data entry, and they get all excited.

Some, seeing their future, begin to cry endlessly in their parents arms, consoled only with endless repetitions of “Yes, Timmy, you will still be a cardiologist.”

I think the mascot really makes or breaks the act. It’s like Broadway and Off-Broadway. At Marineland, there is King Waldorf. He is a King. A king demands respect, and regality, and big chairs to sit in. That's Broadway!

Not like the bear out front of the nearest donut shop. My friend Rob had that job. He has suggested that there may have been a sexist manifesto implied when, as the only male counter staff, he was relegated to the mascot role. In hindsight, he also was the only one big enough to fit the costume.

Rob would walk to work, already dressed as the bear, occasionally stopping at the nearby car lot to check out the new arrivals, oblivious to the fact that he was dressed as a Coffee Time bear.

The best part of the job was that anonymity. When a mutual acquaintance went into the coffee shop, ordered his coffee and doughnut, Rob was ready for mischief. The friend turned, carry his tray to face the smiley-faced bear waiting a little too close behind him. Friend stepped to the left. The bear followed. Stepping to the right, the bear followed. There was a moment of stoppage. The friend tried to look through the bear at the faceless man behind the head. The bear gave the friend a two-handed shove in his chest.

I wish I had seen that. A mascot picking a fight with a customer whose hands were full holding a tray of treats. Priceless.

GOOD SPORTS

2005-09-23T11:11:00.000-04:00

I don’t know what I had in mind with this picture. I guess it just illustrates how most people are good sports. I find the more ridiculous the request, the more likely someone will be happy to oblige.

When I asked this young man if he would be willing to pose for this picture, he looked at me like I had two heads. I explained it is for a fun little weblog and gave him a calling card with the URL on it. He was game. Doesn't everyone want to be famous?

I knelt down near the edge of the water, and the young volunteer held out the fish. Of course, the fish “juice” started dripping on me. I had to stop. I explained to the young man that the picture would still work if we “cheated a little” and he held the fish over me, but a little in front so the drippings would land on the ground. After that correction, snappy, snap, snap, - we’re gone.

I never push someone to do something they are not comfortable doing. I do like to have fun with my pictures though. My nephew framed this one nicely. In fact, I think I may have it framed nicely in his dorm room. Just call me the fun Uncle. I have to be fun. I’m not rich!

Now, can someone tell me how to get the fish smell out of my lovely pullover, I could be the fun uncle that no longer smells like fish.

OOM-PAH-PAH TRA-LA-LA-LA

2005-09-22T11:11:00.000-04:00

This summer I went to see one of the greatest musicians. He even dedicated a song to Z and I. Where can you see a multiple Grammy award-winning artist on a daily basis? Apparently, at Marineland, every day over the lunch hour.

The Walter Ostanek Band, featuring the harmonies melodies of accordion-playing crooner Walter Ostanek (and backed on drums by my nephew's music teacher), put on a polka show each day over the summer at Marineland, Canada’s largest marine play area (I think). I couldn’t find any claims to this fact in their brochure.

Since it was close to my wedding anniversary that I found myself there, I passed the information on to Walter (and the band), who, in turn, dedicated a polka to Z and I. I didn’t dance or anything, but it was nice to have a song specially dedicated to you from a three-time Grammy-award winner.

Three times folks! Granted those wins were a decade ago (1992,1993, 1994), but he is still being nominated. He’s no Jimmy Sturr, with 14 wins in the Polka category, but he is better than Frank Yankovic’s lone win as the first polka Grammy winner in 1985.

Let’s raise an oom-pah-pah and a tra-la-la-la to Walter (and the band).

JPTH BACKYARD ZOO

2005-09-21T11:11:00.000-04:00

I’ve mentioned the squirrels in my yard before, and my predilection to want to care for them.

Imagine my surprise when I looked out over the breakfast nook and saw this little bunny staring back at me. Go on.. imagine … I can wait…

It was kind of like that. Actually, it also included me jumping up to grab the camera, which caused bunny to jump into hiding. This picture came after that encounter, when I lured the little bunny back with some healthy lettuce.

Actually, there are carrots there too, but the grass seemed a little long. That’s what happens when you have a lawnmower with only three good wheels and no gas owned by a man with no skill and even less ambition. I don’t have a green thumb; I have a dead thumb. I get it from my mother.

Maybe I should just add a grazing sheep to my little backyard zoo.

Bunnies, Sheep and Squirrels, Oh my!

SPELLCHECK WITH SPRAY PAINT

2005-09-20T11:11:00.000-04:00

I came across this piece of senseless vandalism.

In my mind, and that is a strange place, I choose to believe that this should have read, "Save The Planet" but with a typo, conjuring up every stereotype of inner-city youth that may not be interested in school.

I remember the bathroom stalls in college were filled with graffiti. With the cutbacks to our learning centres, I would try my best by correct the spelling and grammer with a fine-point red sharpie.

I think there is some great graffiti out there. I once toyed with the idea of a coffee-table book picturing some terrific artist talent. It’s unfortunate that there are so many wanna-be street cred kids spending their time on this sort of senseless vandalism.

If you're going to make a mark, make it count. Make it stand out. In this over saturated advertising market, I need to know!

Planet or Plant? Earth or Basil? What is the story?

Maybe they should have included an illustration...

ARRRR!!!

2005-09-19T11:11:00.000-04:00

Ahoy there, Matey’s! It’s Talk Like A Pirate Day!

In honour of the scurviest of knaves, I recognize me favourite captain of the high seas, Captain Feathersword, a pirate with a feather for a sword. (insert a "Well, blow me down!" here...)

On this silliest of International holidays, the silliest of all pirates shall be cheered. Cheer or I’ll spear ye' like an endangered whale.

I don’t hear ye’ cheering…

If you weren’t ready this September 19th, check out the official Talk Like A Pirate website, work on your pirattitude, and spread the word.

The word is “Arrrr!”

SAY CHEESE

2005-09-16T11:11:00.000-04:00

The reason I’m so concerned about my choice of dentist is that I still have my baby teeth. They are starting to show their age, too.

A funny little birth defect, I am missing 8 permanent adult teeth. One I had to get pulled since it was regressing back into the gum.

Baby teeth are meant to be pushed out as the adult teeth grow and move u. In my case, the adult never formed in those spots. this is not terribly uncommon for one or two teeth. It is uncommon for eight.

Years of dental care have helped keep these pearly marvels. My very first dentist thought it was best to wait until I was finished growing before he started messing with the teeth and how they grew in. After I finished growing, that same dentist suggested that we should have done some things earlier since it was now too late to make certain corrections.

The cost of those corrections in 1994 would have been $25,000.00, taking more that two years of work. I couldn't tell you what this would cost now.

I had stopped going to my previous dentist when I discovered the hygienist was flossing underneath the baby teeth. One wrong move by either of us and she would have had an oopsie moment, and I’d still look like a hockey player.

My latest hygienist has been terrific. She knows how far she can push the teeth, and I have absolute trust in her ability. My latest problem is that she has been on maternity leave two out of the last three times I’ve gone to visit.

The very first time I was asked to see someone else, since my hygienist was still with someone, running late, I hesitantly said yes. I was even in the chair, strapped in with my drool bib when I panicked and asked if I could wait. A little put out, the new hygienist agreed and left me in the room, alone, to wallow in my shame.

Finally, I had to try a new hygienist. This last time I visited, the young lady who worked with me was tremendously caring, very effective, and down-right wonderful. With a recent increase in maternity leaves in the office, I was assigned this new girl in my regulars absence. She even assured me she had no plans to get pregnant any time soon.

My hygienist better watch out. I may have found her replacement…