I gotta get something off my chest.

What's with these idiots who bring $100 bills to a hockey game? Who carries around $100 bills anyway? Okay, I could understand if you were going to Future Shop to buy a big screen TV. Having hundreds would be the most expedient way to pay for the purchase in cash. But to a hockey game!?! What's the typical cost for something you might want? $4 or $5 for a drink, or some food and a drink. Even if you buy a round of beers for you and your 3 friends, that's still not even $20, and you're going to get back $80+ in return.

It pisses me off. What, are you trying to show off? What practical purpose could their be to having a wallet full of $100 bills? Sooner or later you have to spend them, and the likelihood is, whatever you want to buy is not going to consume $100. You're going to drain somebody's cash drawer. Isn't it kinda rude then, to expect that someone can make change for your flashy $100 bill?

I don't understand it. If someone knows the answer, please enlighten me. Otherwise, I'll be over the corner muttering curses.

And it continues . . .

2-1/2 hours more spent with the demon that haunts me. I've been to battle. I've seen war. It never ceases, never ends, never slackens or gives any quarter. Just brutal, unrelenting punishment.

And the result? A solution that makes no one happy, but similarly makes no one angry. I hate conclusions that don't result in some amount of contentment.

For all of you who have wondered about Boris, and who he is, I snapped a quick picture of him the last time I was on site.



Boris

Here is an update to yesterday's battery troubles. I know you all love this so . . . WE HAVE PICTURES!!!


Picture #1


Picture #2



There will be further pictures from my life, at a later date.

Toodles!

I have whacked a penguin 323.5 feet with my baseball bat. Two other times I made a penguin fly 323.4 feet.

I am mean to penguins.

Blog Question Of The Day:

What's the optimum height at which to smack the penguin?

Has anyone else ever noticed that the only difference between 'Hitler' and 'Hustler' is Hitler has an 'I' and Hustler has 'us'?

When everything works the way its supposed to, when the remote start turns the engine over, and the battery has the juice to start in the frigid climate, its a beautiful thing.

Update to the earlier post about my battery.

Again, the service department is still populated by idiots. I finally got to speak to a representative. He seemed far less than concerned about my problem. As I correctly predicted, their answer was for ME to have it hauled into their shop, so they could look at it at their convenience. As I'm in WATSON and not SASKATOON, this is not really an option.

And why isn't it an option? Well friends, as any right thinking, logical person would have concluded, my battery was completely wrecked, and needed to be replaced. Boosting it and driving to Sherwood in Saskatoon is not an option. I know the suspense is killing you so I'll explain why its not an option.

I blew up my battery! That's right, exploded it. Okay, that might be a little overboard, but I did destroy it. One of our service guys got it into the car wash this afternoon, and took things apart. Once it was apart it was easy to see why it wouldn't start, hold a charge, worked some times and didn't work other times.

The plastic housing that encompasses the chemical cells that make a battery, a battery, was burst. The plastic ripped almost completely around. It actually folds out like a convenient door right now. This is not by design. I guess the liquid inside must have froze, expanded, and stressed the plastic until it broke. I have pictures and any one that wants to see is welcome. I'm going to be creating a place for me to upload pictures, to link to in this blog, but its not set up yet tonight. Just ask if you wanna see the pics.

And so ended my day. New battery, installed for me, which I greatly appreciated, and all is back to right in my world. This does not absolve Sherwood of their lack of interest, and I'm still peeved at them. But, I'm back in the driving game, so that much makes me glad.

Toodles all, and be well.

It is time. I can hold back the sense of outrage no longer.

My truck, the new truck, the bend over and take it like a man payment truck, does not work. That part I could be okay with, I think, if it made sense why it didn't work. Instead, it chooses to be mysterious, which is confounding me to great heights.

First of all, who ordered this god damn weather!?! I mean, this is freakin' retarded! I have a fair sense of outrage about that too. What's with this, all of a sudden being -40 crap? I mean, its -40 C air temperature out there! Its bloody retarded! And why, as humans, are we still trying to have a normal existence? Shouldn't we be bundled up in our respective igloos?

Back to the truck, that vile perpetrator. Its a brick. There's no more descriptive noun for what its been turned into. To the point, it doesn't do a damn thing. There are times when it won't supply enough electricity to power the remote door locks. When it sits outside, it is a total brick. But then again, its not. The headlights will flash, but the radio will have lost power and be reset to 12:00. Sometimes it seems fine, cold but fine, but won't start. Check that, it never starts when its outside, but sometimes it does everything else but start.

All that I could manage. What I can no abide is the complete lack of sense to be made from things. Okay, its a brick. Sitting in the parking lot outside, a battery charger could not but a charge to the battery. Move it into the car wash for 10 minutes and it acts like its a summer day. What the hell is going on?

Now, to compound all of that, the sons of bitches at Sherwood service will not call me back. What if I wasn't in Watson, but instead parked at Muskowekwan First Nation, which is in the middle of piss all? What then? Oh, so sorry. Bring it in for service in two weeks and we'll look at it. Look at it! Its broke now! I need it back, NOW! And I can't even get someone on the phone.

If you need me, I'll be over here in the corner, beating my monkey severely.

Blog Question Of The Day:

Would it be a bad idea to put a hand on each terminal of one's car battery?

Whack The Penuin

Bloq Question Of The Day:

Why do my fingernails grow with bumps on the end?

I have some advice for the writers and producers of the Star Trek franchise.

You don't have the wreck the ship every time you make a movie!!!

I got my Professional Engineer paraphenalia in the mail, just before I went to Mexico. I brought it to work last week but was continually distracted and never got around to putting all the stuff away. I did that this afternoon. I feel kinda proud of what I've accomplished. Despite all the handicaps, and hardship I went through, I made it to the other side, with this designation now affixed to my name. I feel a sense of accomplishment. However, I am a little dim on how to continue. Once you're reached the summit of the mountain, what do you do next?

Should I seal my next rent cheque? LMAO

Toodles.

Have you ever wondered how many trees are wasted, in the name of Christmas?

Across the street from my house is one of the Christmas tree dumps. Its in the parking lot for the mall. I had occasion to go to the mall today and this question struck me. There are hundreds of trees piled up over there. And this is only one dump, of several, for a city of only modest size, globally speaking. How many trees do we cut down, sell, and then throw away, having a useful Christmas purpose of maybe a month? Two at the most? Isn't that just a little too wasteful, in a time in history where we are taxing our resources?

Just a thought.

Toodles!

I think people's stupidity can be summed up by one example. And this example involves parking lots.

Why is it that people lose their ability to think rationally in a parking lot? I'm trying to park at the arena tonight, and I'm driving up and down the aisles looking for a spot. When its summer, and you can see the lines painted on the asphalt, no one has any trouble parking neatly in rows and columns. Throw a little snow on the lot, and everyone seems to lose their mind.

For example, lets take the idiot that, despite having more or less dilineated pair of vehicle facing each other, to form a row, takes it upon himself to park across the space that would normally be filled by two cars. As well, he places his beat up, crap ass truck slightly skewed, thus taking up even more room that he does not need.

Then there are the geniuses that can't grasp the concept of an exit lane. The break in the curbing that CLEARLY exists to allow exit from the parking lot. The first three rows of cars all notice and allow for the exit lane. But then there is that winner that figures, there's an empty space here, I'll just park. Or the next couple hundred people that follow Swiftey's maneuver, and turn the whole parking lot into one of those hedge mazes.

Let us not forget the buffoon that swings his car into the parking lot and leaves about 5 feet between him and the car next to him. Its well more than plenty for exiting the vehicle, but is too small to allow for another vehicle to park in between. And somehow these twits know just how much room to make the spot tantalizing, but just small enough to not allow an attempt. So you have that elation at finding a spot, and the subsequent crushing defeat of it being too small. Which is inevitably chased by raging thunder as you curse the simple minded fool.

I swear, my blood pressure would go down 15% if I didn't have to drive anywhere. Other people seem to give me a rash.

Toodles!

I like monkeys.

The pet store was selling them for 5¢ each. I thought that was odd since
they were normally a couple thousand dollars each. I decided not to look a
gift horse in the mouth.

I bought 200.
I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home.
I have a big car.

I let one of them drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded.
In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in
their genitals.

I laughed.
Then they punched my genitals.
I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my apartment.
They didn't adapt very well to their new environment.
They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam
into the wall.
Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its
third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they
all died.
No apparent reason.
They all just sort of dropped dead.

Kind of like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later.
Damn cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do.
There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my apartment.
On the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase.
It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.

I tried to flush one down the toilet.
It didn't work. It got stuck.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.

I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals.
That worked for a while.
That is until they began to decompose.
Then it started to smell real bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to
call the plumber.
I was embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them.
Unfortunately, there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time, so I
had to change them every 30 seconds.
I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.

I tried burning them.
Little did I know my bed was flammable.
I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my
freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed.
The odor wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys or use the
bathroom.

I severely beat one of my monkeys.
I felt better.

I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't
allowed to dispose of charred primates.
I told him that I had a wet one.
He couldn't take that one either.
I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution.
I gave them out as Christmas gifts.
My friends didn't know quite what to say.
They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying.
Ingrates.

So I punched them in the genitals.

I like monkeys.

This is an episode of Newlyweds I'd never seen!

We open with a moment so hilarious it should be illegal. Nick and Jessica are making out in the pool. (why do they get a pool and I don't!?!) Nick asks for a 'hummer'. Just hearing him say it made me spit. Its a shame they were talking about the Humvee. I have a feeling Nick wasn't 'necessarily' talking about the vehicle. :-P

The trip to Home Depot was amusing. Jessica doesn't do suburban chic very well. She is not hip to Home Depot.

Moving on its all about Jessica. It is her Mad Hatter 23rd Un-Birthday. WTF!?! Can't they stupid chicks do anything normal? Jessica invites all her friends, and as this is a TV show about normal life, we have to have the obligatory friends from grade school jet in for that all important 23rd birthday. It must be nice to have a budget. Jessica acts like 23 is old. She also manages to point out her lack of mental agility by saying that 25 is 'almost' mid twenties.

Shift to the night of the party. In a poorly chosen decision, Jessica goes in costume in what appears to be, vampish call girl. Its either that, or she's a time travelling Ronelle. Mucho drinking in the limo. a) why are we doing a limo to a birthday party and b) these people drink a lot.

Scenes from the party? BOR-ing. The dance, or some semblance of what passes for dancing. There is, of course, lots of alcohol. Jessica auditions for the part of drunk stripper. She pulls it off in convincing style. As you'd expect, this being a show about celebrities, that there would have to be celebrities at the party. We cap with, Jessica stumbling into the limo, and as they go to sleep in their bed, Nick again asks for that mysterious 'hummer'. ROTFLMFAO!!!!!!

The morning after, Jessica gets Louis Vitton accessories. Yawn. On the upside, Nick's plan to kill the bees is a success.

Summation? Yes, Jessica is a ditz. But we love her for it. What a great show. :-D

Blog Question Of The Day:

Why isn't my life more like a Kevin Smith film?