So what's the deal with the way people set to hit in slo-pitch? You'd think we were 7 million dollar a year outfielders for the Chicago Cubs. I'm sitting on the bench and I'm watching our opponents toe into the batter's box like Barry Bonds on a steroid bender.

Exactly what do these people think they are accomplishing when they grind into the dirt like that? Its the first inning and the diamond is groomed, and nice looking. Unlike what has become our usual field, this one we were on tonight looks unspoiled and flat. Then Joe Slo-Pitch digs into the batter's box and suddenly the shale is flying like we're on a mine site. I watch in horror as this (as it turns out) weak hitter, digs into the batter's box like he's strip mining for coal. I hope he found some because that tepid grounder he hit to third base isn't gonna win him any guaranteed contracts with the Cardinals.

By the time I get to hit in the third inning, the hole on the right side of the home plate is yawning open like a crater after a meteor strike. It dismays me that in three short innings, we've taken a well groomed batter's box, and turned into an ecological disaster typically reserved for strip mines of the 1950's. I go up to bat and the strike zone is the ground to my shoulders, because of the hole my knees are flush with the plate.

Why can't we all just go up there, step into the box, and take a cut at the ball? No one is going to the major's from the D League of Saskatoon slo-pitch.

I forgot to mention something about Arby's.

Of the staff who's feet I could see, 2/3 of them had on flip-flops.

I strongly recommend the new Pecan Chicken Salad Sandwich from Arby's. Its a little pricey at $5.49. But it was fresh, on real bread, with lots of flavor, including some distinct one's that I couldn't immediately place. Actually, the chicken in the sandwich was at best 50% of the bulk, and maybe less as there was crunchy vegetables and what I have to assume were the pecans. It bought it as an experiment and I found myself feeling delightfully impressed.

What was not impressive was the Arby's store from which I bought the sandwich. If you can at all help it, do NOT frequent the Arby's on Circle Drive. It was horrible. I don't want to go into a long narrative on why I was unimpressed so here are some bullet points about what went wrong:

- they had one cashier, she didn't seem to know what she was doing, and of the three orders I witnessed, she got them all wrong
- there was 5 employees, all girls, and none of them seemed capable of getting along with on another
- the manager was on the drive-thru window, and she appeared to be about 5 seconds away from apoplectic rage that would cause her to quit completely. I thought she might strike the cashier when she couldn't process my chicken salad sandwich properly
- the cashier told the man ahead of me that sour cream was extra but the person who brought it gave it to him for free. Not such a bad thing but you gotta hate the inconsistency
- I'm not sure they successfully processed a drive-thru order while I was in the store for 20 minutes. When the manager went to deliver a late drive-thru order, she dumped all the drinks on the floor trying to negotiate the door. When 5 groups in line she just left the mess on the floor and kept on going.

After watching tonight's hockey game I have come to realize that Sidney Crosby is a bit of a douche.

Remember how much we ALL hated that Scotiabank commercial with the nook? It started out in the same park as that Scotiabank commercial and now the repetition of it has made the DAMN Kia commercial with Flashdance theme exactly the same.

Get that dreck off my TV during playoffs!!!

As of today, I am a brachiosaurus.

Blog Song Of The Day:

Rehab - Sittin' At A Bar

For the life of me I do not get it.

Can someone, please, explain to me, why I would want to give even two squirts of piss for American goddamn Idol!?!

Has anyone else ever noticed that those awareness ribbons (red for AIDS, pink for breast cancer, etc) look an awful lot like the Jesus fish symbol turned sideways?

What would possess you to think that putting neon license plate illumination on a 1990's era Mercury Villager would be a good idea!?!

Would I want a rhinoceros as a pet?

Blog Question Of The Day:

Would you ever consider going parachuting?

I would just like to take this opportunity to AGAIN point out how much of a big stick in the ass Windows Vista is.

My resolve to switch to a Mac grows even further.

Ladies:

You can NOT get tattoos on your breasts. I really can't stress this enough. It always looks trashy.

I gotta lay off the WEED!!!

For the record . . .

Radio stations that put their advertising station identifier, into the middle of a song, are a bunch of ASSHOLES!!!

The cost of everything just keeps going up. The escalation never seems to end. However, I think I've found a way for the cost of something to actually go down. It came to me as I drove to work this morning. We could bring the cost of vehicles down if we just removed the signal lights. You wouldn't need the lights themselves, the controls for them on the steering wheel, or any of the wiring that goe along with making them operation.

We might as well dispense with signal lights. No one is using them anyway.

Commanda is clearly the best Arnold Schwarzenegger movie of all time.

Blog Question Of The Day:

Are there any girls that want to play on my soccer team? We're starting the outdoor season (even though we play indoors - weird) and apparently we could use a few more girls on the roster.

Hello world!

I'd like to introduce you to someone.

This little guy that you see here in my blog is my new nephew. His name is Grayson Gunnar Bigoraj. That's an awful lot of name for such a small little person but I suspect that he'll grow into it. His feet are already on their way there. Consensus is that Grayson's feet are already bigger than his mom's.

Grayson is not a name that you hear very often. And for that I am glad. A little guy like Grayson needs a way to stand out from the crowd. But don't pick on him too much when his dad explains how he got the name. Some people are named for presidents, while others are named for quarterbacks or cowboys. Grayson was named for a cat, and I'm alright with that.

For those of you that are into statistics, I can tell you the little guy was born at 7 pounds and 4 ounces. That doesn't explain a whole lot to me, because I don't know what a baby is supposed to weigh when its born. I've heard more than Grayson and I've heard less, so I'm going to assume that he's right in the middle.

I've been told he was born at 22 inches long. What I don't understand is why a baby is measured in length, while all the rest of us get measured in height. Perhaps someday one of you can explain to me the rules on measuring people. At what point do you stop being long and start being tall?

I'm kind of late in announcing the little guy's arrival. Grayson was born at 4:24 AM on Tuesday April 8th, 2008. I wanted to post a picture of the guy, to go along with his announcement, but neither the baby, nor his mom, came home until Friday. When you throw in some time for getting the pictures off the camera, we find ourselves on Sunday night.

Grayson and I met for the first time on Saturday. I suspect that he won't remember the encounter. But I am sure that there will be able time for us to get to know each other. As I'm sure there will be a chance for all of you to meet him.

Hey world, say hello to Grayson!!