I guess it is that time again...

I know that my posts have been few and far between lately, but I really have to be in the mood to write. And boy am I in the mood today!

On November 7 there was a news story in the Telegraph journal about a proposed strip club which will be located on the Miramichi city limits. Apparently the "city", or "bunch of sh*%ty a$$ towns strung together by a moron politician who hails from one of said towns" as I like to call it, is up in arms about the proposal.

When I heard about this "controversy", I had to laugh. I grew up in Chatham (the same sh*%ty a$$ town as the moron politician came from) and having lived there for many years of my life, I think I have a pretty good grasp of life on the "mystical, magical, Miramichi".

So here we go... I just have to discuss why I HATE the people opposing the Miramichi strip club!!!

The first thing I have to ask is... What the hell is wrong with a strip club?

One resident stated

"I wouldn't want men going there eyeballing any family member of mine."

OK, I have to admit that this is a valid concern. I've seen the big-haired, jeans painted on, camel toed women on the Miramichi and I for one would not want to eyeball them either! I think I can, however, reassure this resident that the owner of the club will in all likelyhood bring in talent from outside the city. I am sure that there are some lovely non-residents currently attending NBCC, who would dance to pay for college (isn't that what all good strippers are trying to do?).

So now that I have put one resident's fear to rest, I have to wonder why people are so afraid of strippers? Do they think that a motley gang of roughian strippers is going to converge on the city and force all of the good, church-going gentlemen to become sex-craved, drug using junkies with their hypnotic nipple tassles? This is simply not a justified fear. I would be far more concerned about the bars in Miramichi (Choo-Choos - formerly the Whooper, for instance) where there are, or at least were when I lived there, regular fights and stabbings. Many of these places have little to no security and if patrons are drinking and getting out of hand, nothing is done until it is too late. Most strip clubs have more than ample security, so the girls can be protected.

Another resident was quoted as saying

"I don't think God wants women to strip off their clothes and I don't think it's right for men to go there"

Here we go again! Another bible beater who thinks he knows what God wants. Weren't Adam and Eve naked in Eden before the Devil intervened and convinced them to eat the forbidden fruit? COrrect me if I am wrong, but wasn't it after the sin that Adam and Eve began wearing clothing? Maybe the strippers are doing what God wants by promoting the beauty of the human body rather than being ashamed of it! Ok, so maybe I am going a bit far, but who the f%^k is this guy to preach about what God wants!?!

"There's concern about unacceptable activity and whether there would be more demand on the police in the city."

So, there is a concern that the police are actually going to have to do their jobs!?! They don't seem to concerned about the liquor and drugs being consumed by minors on a nightly basis in Ben's parking lot (if you're from the Miramichi, you know what I am talking about). How about the craziness that happens at the field parties? Everyone knows about them, but very little is done to stop the illegal activities. But I guess this guy is right. Finding a place to put the loonies in the g-string can be very demanding for those overworked police officers!

Apparently local clergy have been going out to the site to pray. Now that is just hillarious! They're probably going to the site to see if it is open! Maybe they can catch a glimpse! I just love it when church groups try to push their "morals" on others. Does the bible really actually say anything about strip clubs? Is there a commandment that states...

THOU SHALT NOT LOOKETH AT STRIPPERS WHILE THOU DRINKETH THY MEAD

The point is, if you don't want to go to the club, then don't go.

Why is it that some people think that it is their God given right to smoke wherever they please?

Man do I ever HATE ignorant smokers!

Don't get me wrong, not all smokers are ignorant. If you are in your home or outside and you wish to smoke, I really have no problem with that.

When our province banned smoking in public buildings, there was an uproar! Many smokers complained that it was their right to smoke and if people didn't like it, they did not have to go to any restaurants, bars or other public places where the smokers had to get their nic fix. This really pissed me off.

Let's look at the situation objectively...

If a smoker goes into a public building and does not smoke, who does it affect? Clearly, only one person is affected. And how are they affected? They don't get their "fix".

On the other hand, who is affected if the smoker blazes up in a public building? Everyone around the smoker. Even if you wanted to argue that second hand smoke has not been proven to cause anything (which is a stupid argument), everyone around the smoker is made to feel uncomfortable. Shouldn't that be a good enough reason not to smoke in public buildings?

Hell, I am sure that lots of healthy people love to masturbate. Even if it wasn't illegal to run around masturbating in public buildings, I sure that it wouldn't happen (at least it wouldn't happen often) because everyone around the masturbator would be uncomfortable. Maybe masturbators are just more thoughtful and respectful of other people's feeling than some smokers.

The reason I bring up this topic today is because I went to a Tragically Hip concert the other day and there was so much smoke in the arena, I could barely breathe. Most of the smoke was actually pot, but it is still smoke. As stated above, I have no problem with people doing this in their own home or outside, just not inside public buildings! The funny thing is, there were tons of security guards and cops at the event and they didn't even try to curb this illegal activity. I guarantee that if they started kicking out the people who were smoking (cigarettes or dope), you'd see others butt out for fear of missing the concert. It is pretty bad when I can never take my children to a concert because they would be stoned by the end of it!

The worst part is, they do it because they can. They know that no-one is going to do anything about it, so f#$k everyone who doesn’t like it!

I think the next time I am in a public building, and I see someone blazing up, I'll just whip it out, give it a good tug and tell them that I don't mind if they smoke as long as they don't mind if I masturbate!

Wait a minute... Maybe that isn't the best idea... What if they DON'T mind!?! This is Fredericton after all!

Wireless technology is a wonderful thing. One of the newest gadgets on the market today is the Bluetooth headset. I, for one, like high tech gadgets as much as the next guy, but one thing that really pisses me off is the number of people that are running around wearing their Bluetooth headset like it is jewelery!

I HATE MORONS WHO WEAR BLUETOOTH HEADSETS AS JEWELERY!!!

Although it might be nice to be able to chat on your cell phone hands free, is it really necessary to run around town wearing them like earings?!?

I have been in Washington DC for a few days now and it is surprising how many people have Bluetooth headsets for their cell phones. For those of you who do not know what a Bluetooth headset is, let me explain...

A Bluetooth headset is an earpiece with a microphone extending from it that wirelessly connects to your cell phone and allows the user to talk on the phone hands free. It really is a neat little device... but it has some drawbacks.

First of all, when you are talking on the phone, people that are standing on the wrong side of you think you are talking to yourself. While in the airport, a guy behind me was talking on his "earing" and I could've sworn he was trying to have a weird conversation with me.

Secondly, you have to have your phone handy. dialing and answering seem to be handled exclusively by the phone. I don't have one, so correct me if I am wrong, but if you have to dial and answer through your cell phone, wouldn't you also have time to put the queer earpiece in your ear at that time?

OK, now I can see where someone who is constantly on the phone and doing alot of business woud want one of these things (that still doesn't excuse wearing it all of the time), but when cabbies, bus drivers, teenagers and janitors are wearing them, I have to say that it is UNNECESSARY!!!!

Get a F%$king life!!!

Can there really be a janitorial emergency so important that a call must be answered more quickly than the time it would take to put a phone to your ear?!? And those bus driving emergencies.... I don't know why they don't have a phone booth on the bus so that the bus driver has a place to change into their tights so they can answer the heroic call! Holy emergency bus problem Busman! The bluetooth symbol is going off... It is time to ROLL!

I guess the janitor can change in the janitorial closet. Maybe they'd have a big red J on their chest and they'd wear a plunger on their head (and a bluetooth headset in their ear). They could thwart the evil litterbugs and killer dustbunnies of the world!

THANK GOD FOR THE BLUETOOTH HEADSET!!!!

I know it has been a long time since my last post, but fear not... My hatred for people has not diminished.

While vacationing in Toronto, I went with my family to Canada's Wonderland. I was excited to go there for a day of fun and excitment. While the trip was certainly fun and exciting, It was also pretty god damned annoying. The main conclusion I came to on this day was...

I HATE TEENAGERS!!!!

I cannot f#$king believe that I have 2 children that are going to eventually become teenagers! Am I going to want to strangle them as much as I wanted to strangle every teenager at Wonderland? Is it even possible to want to strangle them more than I do already? I guess these questions will be answered in a couple of years.

What is the deal with teenagers feeling entitled? On several occasions that day, whilst standing in line gleefully awaiting my opportunity to enjoy the merriment and exuberance that my fellow patrons were experiencing as they "Watched out for the waterfall" (you really had to be there to understand), a group of a half dozen teenaged girls walked past our group as we patiently waited in the mile-long lineup and jumped the fence to place themselves in front of our group. The most amazing thing about this was I actually called out, in a very annoyed tone, to these muther f#%king disrespectful impolite discourteous in-bred low-class little w#0re bags (can you tell I was a little upset?) that some of us had been waiting for quite some time to get on the ride and that the line does not start there. To my utter amazement, these lovely young teenage girls completely ignored me and jumped into the line. One kind of gave me a scared little look while she was in line, but she was far enough ahead that I couldn't "reach out and touch someone"... and boy would I have liked to. It really must be nice to go to a park and never have to stand in the lines.

The worst part about it is that it happenned all day! Almost every time someone jumped into a line, it was a teenager. What the hell are we teaching our children. The problem in my opinion is all this crap about "gentle teaching". When I was a teenager, I would NEVER even think of jumping in front of people in line. I am sure that as a teenager, I felt this way because I can empathize with the people who have been waiting in line prior to me getting there, but part of it was fear. When I was younger, I can remember that there were many things that a person just wouldn't do because if they did, someone was gonna put a foot in their a$$! The problem today is there aren't enough feet being put in enough a$$es.

Teenagers have no fear these days. What is their worst punishment? They get sent to their room. Boo f#%king Hoo! The poor little teenager sent to their room with their TV, DVD player, stereo, Playstation/X-box/Nintendo, MP3 players, etc... Hell some of these kids have computers with the internet in their room! That's some punishment. I wish I could be punished like that.

Later in the day, yet another group of teenagers decided to jump in line, this time directly in front of our group. I never noticed that they had not been there as I was taking in the sites (I may hate people, but I LOVE bikinis!). These teenage boys proceeded to have Wrestlemania XXVI right in front of us (and our 2 children)! They were throwing each other around like rag dolls. We gave them a wide birth and ignored them as much as possible, but they almost ran into at least a dozen people while we were standing there. Talk about having no consideration for anyone! If these boys wanted to play their homoerotic little games, they should do so in the privacy of their own homes and use protection.

Another thing I noticed about Toronto teenagers is the fact that many of them are running around wearing hats with straight peaks at all sorts of angles and clothes that are 3 sizes too big for them. I'd like to know when the gangsta look became popular? And most of these little gangstas were running aroung with beautiful girls. How does such a ridiculous looking teenage boy end up with a really good looking girl? Seems to me that both the gangsa teen and the girl need a good foot in the a$$. I just wanted to take the hats right off these kids and put a curve in the peak!

I could probably go on, and maybe sometime I'll make a list about why I hate teenagers. Then again, maybe I shouldn't do that because some people might think the list is about them when they were younger (or them right now... I am sure that many teenagers read my blog) and I'll end up having mean emails sent to me and my family.

It has been a while since my last post and I am sure people have lost interest, but I thought do a post on the 10 STUPIDEST arguements that I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing.

I HATE STUPID ARGUEMENTS!!!

10. "I don't remember coming here this way"

This turned out to be a huge fight. I made the above statement to my (now ex) girlfriend and she went off on me. Apparently I always have to be right (which I always am) and she's always wrong. What a stupid thing to fight over.

9. "That guy is such a sweet guy"

My ex-girlfriend and I had an arguement about the "sweetness" of a man she knew. She was speaking about a guy who constantly sexually harassed her (begging her to give him sexual favours and get naked for him). The guy was a complete jerk... but he was in a wheelchair, so in her eyes, he was a "sweetie".

Here is your lesson for today boys and girls... An a$$hole in a wheelchair is still an a$$hole!

8. "That man is prejudiced! He shouldn't blame anything on someone who is mentally challenged! He doesn't have to check the work that a mentally challenged person does! They are very capable!"

This is an arguement that I had with an ex-girlfriend. I should begin by explaining the context of the arguement. We were sitting on a city bus waiting to leave the bus station, when a elderly lady sat in a big puddle of water on her seat. The bus driver proceded to explain to the lady that a young mentally challenged boy cleans the seats and appologised to the woman that he (the bus driver) did not check the seats after the boy was done.

My (now ex) girlfriend was fuming. She couldn't believe how prejudiced the bus driver was being.

I pointed out that clearly, the bus driver does have to check the work, or someone might end up sitting in a puddle. Besides, this girl uses some of the most politically incorrect terms for the mentally and physically handicapped that I have ever heard (she says she has a right because she works with them)!

7. "Why are you asking me so many questions?!?"

My wife's first night home after the birth of our lovely daughter was an eventful one. I made the mistake of asking her if she knew where the bottle sterilizer was and she had a fit! She started screaming at me and crying about how I was not at all supportive and even went so far as to call her mother and get her to yell at me! Yes, her horemones were doing some crazy things, but that doesn't make the arguement any less stupid!

6. "It is easier to be popular at a big high school than a little one"

Hmmm... how is that so? I would say that popularity is measured as the degree to which an individual is favoured by a particular group of people. Therefore, to be popular at a large school, an individual would have to garner the favour of many more people than someone at a smaller school. It is only logical that one would more easily gain a reputation (good or bad) in a smaller group than a larger group.

The stupidest thing about the arguement is that it happened in the first place!

5. "Spam Wars"

A few years back, my wife and I had an email box that was being filled every day with useless FW:FW:FW: emails that we simply deleted because there were far to many of them to read. I emailed everyone on our mailing list and asked them if they would stop sending these emails. I made up a special email for one individual that was very light and breezy and overly nice (because this person tends to overreact to things). Anyhoo, that is what started the spam wars. This person went ballistic and called me every name in the book! Apparently I needed to get a life and I was an *expletive* this and *expletive* that! Of course, I fueled the fire by responding sarcasticly. That really was a funny day!

4. "My car is a sports car too!"

This was an arguement between 2 ladies about their respective vehicles. One of these ladies owned a Ford Focus Sport Edition and one owned an ugly pink Mustang. The Focus was brand new and it's owner claimed it was a sports car (due to the word SPORT in the title). The other argued back that the 4 door Focus was not a sports car, but her Mustang was (bear in mind the Mustang was an old, inexpensive sedan model -- the back seats leave you with little room).

While both cars could be considered "sporty", I wouldn't call either a sports car.

But that really isn't the point now is it? It is the stupidity of the arguement that is.

3. "You are my boyfriend, should support me and my decisions"

Here is a really stupid arguement. Another one of my ex-girlfriends kept asking me if I thought these other guys were interested in her. She was always flirting with other guys when we went out. So one day I had enough and we had a big fight. The above quote was her rationale for being angry at me. She couldn't understand that, as her boyfriend, I had every right to be mad at her for wanting to be with other guys! Man was I stupid to date that piece of work.

2. "I can't beleive you ate so many mussels!"

This was an arguement between a friend and her husband. She, being allergic to shellfish and very horny for her husband, didn't want him to eat too many mussels because she wouldn't be able to kiss him if he did.

Haha... sorry, it's just funny... for someone who is allergic to shellfish, kissing someone who eats one mussel is the same as kissing someone who eats 2 lbs of mussels. I still laugh about that one, man was she mad!

And the #1 arguement I have ever witnessed or been part of is.....

1. "I'm not gonna smile until you buy me a McDonald's cheeseburger"

Edit: The above has to be tied with one other arguement that I forgot about (I don't know how I could have)

1. "Why does it have to rain on the day I go to the beach? Everyone else gets to go on sunny days... why did you have to make it rain?"

Apparently I did a rain dance before going to the beach. I told her it was going to rain... but I guess it is because I made it so.

Now that quote just stands on its own.

In the past 2 weekends, I have spent some time with people who let their (in)significant others control their lives. I can see someone trying to work out their differences with a person they care about, but how can you truly care about someone who treats you like a doormat? That lead me to my next post...

I HATE DOORMATS!!!

Most people have been doormats at some time in their life. For whatever insane reason, we let ourselves be ruled by a person who clearly cares for us much less than we care for them. This is all well and good, but at some point you've got to say enough is e-f@#king-nough!

This morning I found out that a person I know (let's call him Ricky as I wouldn't want to give up his identity) went back to his girlfriend. Sounds like good news doesn't it?

"The estranged couple, once again finding love." (Birds sing while flute music plays in the background)

It's such a sweet thought. He loves her and can't live without her.

That is the romantic version of the story. The real version reads much like an episode of the Trailer Park Boys! Michael er... I mean Ricky, has been in Alberta working while his girlfriend (let's call her Lucy -- maybe I should spell it Loosey) has been at home tending to the household. While Ricky was away, Loosey had several "weak" moments and ended up in the Carribean with another man (could have been more than one man I suppose. Hell, she was probably doing Corey, Trever, J-Roc, Randy, Officer Green, Sam Loscow and Sh#tty Bill -- she'd probably do Steve French too, if she had the chance!). The worst thing about it is that she used HIS money to pay for it. Ricky worked for months and came home to find that the $12,000 that he had saved was spent on Loosey's trips with these other men. She immediately told him pack his stuff and leave, 'cause he wasn't going to live with her (in the house that he paid the downpayment on, but is not on the deed).

The sad part about this situation is that this is not the first time she has done something like this. She sticks around him while he has the money to pay for what she wants (all the time cheating on him), and when the money runs out, so does she! Ricky was injured last year and she kicked him out because she did not want to take care of him. So he slept on a friend's couch until he was healed and working again and she "took him back".

Last weekend, I went out with Ricky and some of the boys. Ricky went on and on about this being a new start for him and how happy he was to be away from that "slut". One week later, he is crying in her kitchen after his sister beats Loosey up and they are "in love again"!?!

This guy really is a load that should've been swallowed! He's so stupid, makes me wonder if he's the product of cousin love!

I can hear the piano music now... doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo... (Trailer Park Boys Theme)

I was reading a CNN article the other day about female teachers abusing male students (they described it as having sex with the students, but sex with a minor is abuse any way you look at it). What I found really disturbing about this article is that the story has been turned into a racial debate.

I HATE RACISTS!!!

Because the 2 teachers were white and the 6 alleged victims were black (which accounts for 1/4 of that county's population), the racial debate has reared it's ugly head. The women in question were released on bail and this has stirred racial tensions. There are black people quoted in the story saying that

"If this had been black teachers, they would not be out of jail right now"

Really?!? seems like a rather racist view to me. To assume that the only reason that the teachers were released on bail is because they are white or because they are accused of crimes against blacks is utterly ridiculous. Could it be that they are not considered a flight risk and are unlikely to re-offend while they await trial? The point is, I would expect that a black woman abusing white boys would be treated in the same was. Maybe I am just nieve.

There was another quote from the state NAACP president...

"I can assure you if it were an African American male who committed such an offense against a white female, history shows us that the charges, the punishment and the sentencing would be totally different"

I have news for you buddy... If it was ANY male committing these crimes against ANY female, things would be different. To me, that is more of a sexism issue than a race issue.

I mean, how would the Aferican American public feel if the Caucasians began preaching that the only reason OJ (who was as guilty is sin) was aquitted was because he is black? Had he been white, he whould have been locked up and they would have thrown away the key!

I really am tired of the victim attitude that so many in our world seem to have. This goes for all races, creeds and colours. You cannot see racism in everything! I am not saying that there is race equality around the world, but for christ's sake, there are alot of things that have nothing to do with race. In my opinion, to be called a racist, you have to have malicious intent. I remember Oprah pointing out that she found makeup at the pharmacy whose colour was "Skin Colour". Oprah pointed out that this was racist (although it didn't bother her) because her skin wasn't that colour. Well, I know alot of rather pale skinned people that have a different shade skin than the shade of the makeup. Does this mean that they too should take offense?

I HATE PEOPLE WHO ARE OVERLY POLITICALLY CORRECT!!!

I am probably the least politically correct around. This is not because I am racist, sexist or any of the other "ists" that you can think of. I am just tired of worrying about which group of people I might offend next.

Being a person who has worked in the mental health field, I have had political correctness thrust down my throat for a long time. I can remember when it was OK to use the word retarded. Now before any of you jump down my throat, I want you to think about the facts...

Retarded means - Occurring or developing later than desired or expected; delayed.

Really doesn't seem so bad now does it? People, however have given the word a derogatory connotation which really wasn't intended when the word was coined. The next politically correct (PC) term that was used to describe people with mental disabilities was mentally handicapped.

Handicapped means - A physical or mental disability making participation in certain of the usual activities of daily living more difficult.

Seems spot on to me. But to some, this too was offensive. From there, the PC term was changed to mentally disabled. Once again, the excessively thin skinned among us thought that this was also offensive. The term then went to mentally challenged, developmentally challenged, then to mentally delayed and finally to developmentally delayed. While I agree that some people have made the word retarded a rather ugly word, I wonder why we let it become so. As for the rest of the terms, have we become such a sensitive culture that is necessary to censor any word that might, in some minute way make someone feel bad? By censoring the words, doesn't that give them more power, not less? Besides, pretty soon we're going to run out of words that we are allowed to say.

This brings us to the "N" word. Now this is a word that EVERYONE (including me) finds offensive. New York City council recently backed a motion that would ban the use of the "N" word in the city. Do they really think this will make people less racist? It is just a word, after all. What ever happened to

"Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me"

Maybe we should change it to

"Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me unless they are particularly foul and politically incorrect"

What does this teach our children?

What about Michael Richards' tirade. Was it uncalled for? Absolutely! But we have people out there who are calling for the guy's throat. Now Richards is known as the biggest racist in Hollywood. His career is probably over and he will forever be apologising for saying those words. Don't get me wrong, Richards said some very racist things. Does that mean he is a racist? Not necessarily. He was very angry and hurt and tried to hurt the audience members by saying the most profane things he could think of. I am not excusing Richards' actions, but I don't think it is right for him to be stuck apologising for what he said for the rest of his life. Maybe we should just paint a big scarlet red R (for RACIST) on him so that he can carry his shame forever. It is funny that we can forgive our stars for assault, drug use, theft, drunk driving, even murder.... but saying that "N" word, now that is really bad! What about Mel Gibson's anti Semitic statements? Seems to me that APOCALYPTO got pretty good reviews and Mel seems to have been forgiven by his fans. Is Richards' "N" word so much worse?

It is upsetting to me that I have to choose my words so carefully these days as to not offend anyone. The biggest problem I have is knowing what is PC (I guess in reality, my biggest problem is not caring what is PC). If I was to say that someone was Native, would that be PC? Maybe I should have said first nations, native Canadian, I am pretty sure that the term Indian isn't OK unless you are speaking of East Indians (people from India). How about my African Canadian friends? What if they have never been to Africa? Is calling someone black or coloured OK, or should I say dark skinned? If I say dark skinned, however, that gives me the mental picture of a white guy with a tan. Is it even OK to call a white guy a white guy? Maybe I should be using the term Caucasian.

Now that I am good and riled up, I better stop before I say something that is REALLY politically incorrect and get everyone calling for MY throat.

All definitions taken from dictionary.com

Dearest Sister-In-Law,

After reading through the reasons why I love you, I was inspired to write my next blog. In case you are wondering... yes, this blog IS partially about you, but even you cannot take credit for the entire blog entry. This one describes why...

I HATE BAD HOUSEGUESTS!!!

At the back door of my home, I have a door mat that says "How Can We Miss You If You Won't Go Away". This is certainly the feeling behind this blog entry. Since it is so close to Easter, I thought I'd list some houseguest commandments. Don't worry, Jesus died for your sins, so God will forgive you (your host/hostess may not, but at least you have God)

1. Thou shalt not leave thy dirty clothing all over the house. While staying at someone's house, it is common courtesy to keep your s#%t tidy.

2. Thou shalt not covet thy host/hostess' liquor. Even if they offer you a drink, to drink the entire liquor cabinet is not the best of ideas (besides, blowing chunks all over thy host's yard, house, dog (sorry, I guess it was me that puked on the dog) is not the best way to make a good impression).

3. Put on thy boots and get the hell out before thou overstayeth thy welcome. Some guests are a pleasure to have, but even the best of guests has to know when to leave. Remember the door mat... I can remember having a house guest that just wouldn't leave. He was like Chester and I was Spike (Remember the big bulldog from The Bugs Bunny show and the little terrier that followed him around and constantly made foolish suggestions and comments about what they were going to do -- Spike is a burly, grey bulldog who wears a red sweater, a brown bowler hat, and a perpetual scowl. Chester is just the opposite, small and jumpy with yellow fur and brown, perky ears. They always seem to be going after Sylvester). I can remember when he first started coming to my apartment, I used to have to lead him to the door and tell him I was going to bed. All the while, he would be saying "wanna have another drink? How bout a smoke? wanna do something?". Eventually I started telling him that I was going to bed and I'd leave him in the living room, usually with my roommate (I know, I wasn't being a very good roommate. But in my defence, he was friends with the guy too. I will have to discuss bad roommates later.)

4. Keep an eye on thy children. It ain't the host/hostess' job to chase your dirty little bas#@^ds! Keep them out of s#$t!

5. Clean up after thy self/thy children. Why should it be up to someone else to clean up after you and your rug-rats?

6. Thou shalt not Smoke cigarettes, cigars, dope, etc. in thy host/hostess' home unless they art doing it first. These days, even asking to smoke in the house is rather ignorant.

7. Thy toiletries should stay with thy luggage. Spreading thy toiletries all over the bathroom is a definite no-no.

8. Thou shalt not berate thy host/hostess. Calling thy host an a$$hole and thy hostess a slut is not a good way to be invited back (even if you are family).

9. Picking large pieces of skin off of thy disgusting feet and putting it on the kitchen table shalt NOT be done. I would have made this the first commandment, but it really should go without saying. Apparently, however, it does not.

10. Thou shalt not take control of the TV remote, especially if thy host/hostess are watching a show and they leave the room for a short time (to the bathroom, kitchen, etc.).

11. F#$king thy boyfriend/girlfriend on thy host/hostess' couch, guest bed or even in thy host/hostess' own bed (yes... it has happened) is right out.

12. Inviting thy self and thy boyfriend to stay the night by drinking too much to drive home and telling them that thou art too drunk to move thy car into the driveway and asking thy hosts to move it for thou ...(breathe...) shalt not be done. Call a f#$king cab and get thy car the next morning.

13. Thou shalt not rummage through thy host/hostess' fridge/cupboards unless thou art told to by thy host/hostess.

14. Thou shalt not complain about the state of thy host/hostess' house, about the food thou art being fed or about anything related to thy host/hosess while thou art sleeping under thy host/hostess' roof for free.

15. Whilst staying for a prolonged period of time thou shalt offer to help with dishes and/or preparation of meals.

16. Thou shalt not expect to be entertained by thy host/hostess every second of the day whilst staying for a prolonged period (more than a couple of days).

17. Thou shalt not expect thy host/hostsess' vehicle to become thy vehicle or thy host/hostess to become thy own personal chauffeur.

18. Thou shalt sayeth goodbye to thy host/hostess and thanketh them for their hospitality even if thou bear witness to thy host's unattractive roommate's girlfriend prancing about the house naked in the middle of the night.

19. Thou shalt closeth and locketh the bathroom door when thou taketh a piss (and washeth thy hands when thou art finished).

20. Thou shalt not suggest ordering out for food unless thou art willing and able to payeth thy share of the food bill.

21. Thou shalt not drool into thy hostess' mouth whilst playing "The Simpson's -- Loser Takes All"

That is all for today. When I find the next stone tablet containing more houseguest commandments, I will post them forth with.

--I've said it before and I'll say it again... I am not discussing people who have legitimate needs here. I am talking about people who can help themselves but choose not to--

In a previous post, I discussed my hatred for enablers. I think I now have to expand on that a little and give the reasons why I HATE THE PATHETIC, LAZY, DIM WITTED, WORTHLESS, SQUALID, SCHLUBS THAT PREY ON THE "ENABLERS" AND WASTE TAX-PAYER MONEY.

Just to be clear, a person can be down and out, but that doesn't mean they have to be lazy or that they should live off the system. I am not talking about people who legitimately need help and are willing to help themselves.

Why should we, as tax payers have to pay indefinitely for these mouth breathers while they take from the system and give nothing back? What really boils me is that these simpletons will spend hours working at not working. I think it is time for a change!

The other week when I was listening to this young guy beg the local churches for money, it just made me want to scream! It is one thing for this schlep to walk in to a federal government building and use a phone that is meant for job searching to beg for what I can only assume is drug money, It is quite another for this fellow to feel that not only is he entitled to use this phone for whatever he wishes (and it seems like there are many people who also feel this entitlement), he also feels like he is entitled to money from these churches! When the church ineptly offered the guy $80, he asked for more. When he was refused more, he asked to speak to someone else! When that request was refused, he begged the person from the church he was talking to, to bring the money to him because he didn't have a car and was too god damned lazy to walk there to pick up his ill gotten gains. When he was told to get off the phone because it is for job hunting purposes only, he proceeded to say that he is job hunting. As if everyone in the room could not hear the idiot begging for money from these churches (because his welfare cheque got lost in the mail -- nice to know our tax dollars are supporting him as well). I felt like clapping as this moron was told to leave.

Another guy who drives me nuts stands on a divider in the middle of the busiest intersection in town. Luckily for him, he doesn't have to walk far from here to the liquor store, or he would have to find another curb to stand on. This guy has been doing this for years. He stands out there and begs for money with a sign that says he's homeless. Hopeless is more like it. This is a young guy that is more than physically able to do work, but chooses to beg for people to give him money instead. Hell, I'm pretty sure that the shoes he wears are both newer and more expensive than my shoes. I guess the begging/welfare bum business pays well (note: a person on welfare is not necessarily a welfare bum... they can also be called bag lady, bindle, derelict, drifter, floater, gutterpup, guttersnipe, hobo, homeless person, stiff, tramp, transient, vagabond, vagrant (thanks dictionary.com) -- God! It's a joke... I HATE PEOPLE WITH NO SENSE OF HUMOUR).

What about those people who kind of want a job, but they don't want to work to get it (and probably don't want to work after they get it either). They expect a good paying job to simply fall in their lap. After all, everyone should be clamouring around to procure the services of such ultra talented people. Then again, there are those people who won't accept a job that they feel is "below" them. Guess what... when EI has run out, no job should be below you.

I also know people who have more children because they know that it will net them a bigger welfare cheque. More money means they can stay at home, have more babies, get more money, stay at home... see the pattern here? If we keep giving the people who abuse the system more money to support their additional children, pretty soon the human gene pool is going to be so diluted with lazy, mouth-breather DNA that we are going to see a de-evolution of the species! Maybe that is taking things a bit far, but f%#k! Do we really need to support generations of system abusers?

There are a few simple little "tweaks" to the current system that, in my opinion, could help people to help themselves. First off, I think that people who are able should work for their money. Why not get people to help keep the cities and towns clean in exchange for their cheque? Even if it is treated as a part-time job at minimum wage, at least people could contribute and maybe get some valuable work experience. Also, there is nothing like a long day of garbage picking in sweltering summer heat or blistering winter cold to inspire people to want to find alternative work.

As for people on welfare having more children to increase their cheque... how about giving people with no children MORE welfare money (and lots of birth control) than those with children. I know... it is a radical idea, but just think... If these people truly are abusing the system and having kids so they get more money, we could stop them from popping out more system abusers before they start. It'll cost more in the short term, but our children and our children's children will thank us.

While cleaning the basement this weekend, my wife found a soiled diaper hidden under a chair. This diaper has been in my basement since November when my loving sister-in-law had another one of her crazy bi-polar express moments and apparently decided to hide s#&tty diapers in my basement. This is the straw that prompted the latest blog...

I loooove my sister-in-law part troissss

In part one and 2 of this series, I discussed 31 reasons why I love my sister-in-law. So lets start with 32...

32. I love her because there is not a vindictive bone in her body. She would never attempt to seek revenge against someone who she believes wronged her (except for a situation like #39). She certainly wouldn't hide used diapers around the house because she feels like she is being forced to live up to her family obligations which she selfishly wants to shirk, only to have those diapers found months later.

33. I lover her because she doesn't let the the happiness of her ex-husband get in the way of her happiness. Just because he has had his second child doesn't mean she has to get knocked up to prove a point to him. I am sure the reason she got herself pregnant again was out of pure love.

34. I love her because she would never apologise for anything that she does because she is always right. She would never go on a tirade about the terrible parenting skills of her siblings, about how disappointed her deceased mother was in her siblings, questioning the parentage of her siblings' children; and then offer a half assed apology for questioning the parentage of her siblings' children (which is the most ludicrous thing she could have said, yet it is definitely something she truly believes as she has raised the question many times before).

35. I love her because she is such a nice person. She is really wonderfully kind to everyone... Until they "screw" her.

36. I love her because she is not a paranoid schizophrenic. The symptoms of Schizophrenia include (according to healthsquare.com):

Confusion
Inability to make decisions
Hallucinations
Changes in eating or sleeping habits, energy level, or weight
Delusions
Nervousness
Strange statements or behaviour
Withdrawal from friends, work, or school
Neglect of personal hygiene
Anger
Indifference to the opinions of others
A tendency to argue
A conviction that you are better than others, or that people are out to get you

And since she clearly doesn't exhibit any of these symptoms, she is NOT schizophrenic.

37. I love her because she deals with her problems head on. She doesn't send out nasty notes to which no-one can directly respond. She deals with things in person and calmly tries to talk things out.

38. I love her because her because although her boyfriend's family cannot stand her, she makes a daily effort to find some common ground with them and mend her relationships. What she doesn't do is use her child (and soon to be children) as a weapon and tell her boyfriend's family that they can never see her child (I guess the same could be said for her own family as well). She wouldn't do this because her child would suffer the loss of these relatives. She knows that a child needs all the love it can get and she is selfless enough to put her child's needs ahead of her petty squabbles.

39. I love her because she KNOWS when someone is trying to screw her and she'll seek revenge for that, but she only seeks revenge against those who truly screw her. After all, they have little black hearts and deserve what they get. They are all a$$holes and should burn!

40. I love her because I know she is going to read this and be so overwhelmed by my love for her that she will immediately call anyone who will listen to her and let them know how much she appreciates me.

I had a friend recently ask me to blog about my vasectomy (after he read about the horror that is the Barium Enema). So here goes...

I HATE PEOPLE INVOLVED IN VASECTOMIES!!!

When I first went to the doctor to speak about getting a vasectomy, he strongly recommended against it. You see, I was 26 years old and he thought I was too young to make that decision. At the time I was married with 2 children and I DID NOT want any more! Just because he's catholic and believes that every sperm is sacred and he has 15 children, that doesn't mean we all want to be in that same boat. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids (most of the time). I just don't want any more. My doctor went as far as saying "What if one of your children dies?". My kids aren't fish! Getting a new one does not replace the one that is lost. So finally he agrees to set up an appointment with a specialist that will perform the butchery.

My first (and only) consultation with the doctor before the surgery was certainly not the most fun I've ever had. If I was turned on by old men with sandpaper hands, I might have needed a cigarette after the meeting. I figured that he would explain the procedure, give me some pamphlets and send me on my way... WRONGO! The doctor tells me upon entering his office to drop my pants and sit on the examination table.

Well... maybe I should've expected it, but I didn't. The doctor very nonchalantly, moves my penis out of the way and starts going to town. He was pulling on my tool bag like he was trying to start a stubborn lawnmower. It was like my sac was filled with McDonald's cheeseburgers and he was the Hamburgler. He stretched my nut sac out and squeezed it with his sandpaper-like hands (it felt like I was doing "Satin Nut-Sac"--for those of you who use Mary-Kay Satin Hands, imagine using the Satin Smoothie Hand Scrub -- used to be called buffing cream -- on your most sensitive areas... not good!) until he found the tubes that he planned on cutting. I really wasn't paying any attention to the doctor as he explained what the vasectomy procedure entailed as I was feeling a little like I was visiting with Karl Toft (Google him if you don't know who he is).

When the molestation finally ended, I went home with the pamphlets.

After a few weeks, I received the appointment date for the surgery. Oh Joy, Oh Bliss! I was having a vasectomy on my 27 birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEE!!!!

When V-Day arrived, I went to the hospital with my wife and was greeted by the sight of about a dozen pale faced, terrified men waiting to be scarred for life. I guess they were going to set up an assembly line and put us through.

After filling out the paper-work, I stripped, put on the ever-so-fashionable Johnny Shirt, I took my place in line and waited... A while later, a nurse came over and offered me some valium, which I gratefully accepted. Shortly after taking the Valium, I began feeling really good. It was like floating on air. I was no longer nervous and the stress of V-Day seemed to fade into the clouds... That is, until they came to wheel me to the OR.

I have never wanted to run away as much as I did at that moment. I was wheeled into the operating room and saw 10 or 11 people (maybe it was a combination of my fear and the valium, but it seemed that there were 9 or 10 beautiful nurses and my buddy, Sandpaper-Hands), a huge light and lots of equipment.

Most people I know (at least since the now infamous Seinfeld episode) have heard of shrinkage. It is the process of the male genetalia shrinking to a small fraction of its normal size due to cold. What not everyone knows is... this can also happen due to nervousness. Now, on a normal day, I am no Ron Jeremy; So you can only imagine how I felt on that day. This turtle was so frightened that I almost turned female!

So the doctor starts, once again, pulling at my nuggets and the nurses gather around for the show. I have one rather hot nurse telling me how great I am doing. Yeah!!! I feel great! Once the doctor has finished stretching me like pizza dough, he coats me with cold iodine and pulls out the needles. For those of you who have never had a needle stuck in your coin purse, I don't recommend it. IT ISN'T FUN!!

Now I am laying there with my "manhood", as it were, exposed, coated in iodine, a room full of people clamouring around me, waiting for the freezing to take hold. When I dreamed of being in a room full of nurses with my pants down, this is damn sure not how I pictured it happening!

Next came the surgery... I don't know how most people feel about methods of figuring out whether or not the freezing has taken hold, but I am of the opinion that cutting and asking what side of the marble pouch is being cut as you do it is not the best of ways. What if it wasn't fully frozen?!? ... Luckily it was and the old man could complete the procedure. After what seemed like hours of pulling and tugging, the procedure was complete. I now had a date with a frozen bag of peas.

I spent the next couple of days moving as little as possible and hoping my huge, swollen walnuts would shrink back to their normal size. One thing that it seems no-one ever tells guys who get this procedure done is the difference in the way they hang afterward. It takes a while to get used to the boys hanging lower, but eventually you do. The main problem I had with the new feeling had to do with the detachment. I kept feeling like I no longer had a left or right. It felt as though they would switch places periodically (which of course they don't because they are still attached). They aren't just rolling around in the bag willy-nilly. When I finally started to feel like myself again (after about a month), I got to go through the not-at-all embarrassing sperm testing. There is nothing like jerking off in a cup and delivering it to the hospital. The hot nurse could have at least offered to help collect the sample.

You know, as traumatic as the experience was... every time I see someone with a screaming baby or a toddler who is getting into everything and acting up, I thank the Lord I got it done. Let me tell you, the few days of pain and month of awkwardness was certainly worth avoiding the years of pain that another child would bring!

I was in the downtown area yesterday in a federal government building. This information is important because in this building there is a phone that can be used for free for job searching (and only job searching purposes). While visiting this building, a young man (who looked like he hadn't showered in weeks) came in and picked up the phone. He proceeded to phone local churches and beg for money for him and his brother (who he said had different fathers to cover up the fact that they had different last names--he volunteered this information when asked on the phone for their names) to go to Ottawa to see 2 of his relatives who were children in a car accident and had 48 hours to live (convenient eh? Just long enough to beg for $$$ and get there, but not long enough for the church to really consider the request and realize that the guy was full of horse s#*t). He claimed that his WELFARE cheque (more of our tax dollars going to a good cause) was lost in the mail and he was too poor to afford the bus tickets. This, to me seemed like a rather far fetched story. The church on Smythe Street, however must have found it believable because they agreed to give ole' Pig Pen $80 to put toward his "trip" (although I am sure that the only trip he was going to take was when he tripped out on the drugs he planned on buying with the money).

The funny thing about this story is that this guy was not even a member of this church, they were offering him $80 and he kept on saying that it wasn't enough and "can you give us any more?". You might think that after the background I just gave you that I am about to blog about how much I hate beggars (which I do). You'd be wrong...

I HATE ENABLERS!!!

Merriam-Webster's Medical Dictionary defines an enabler as "one that enables another to achieve an end; especially : one who enables another to persist in self-destructive behavior (as substance abuse) by providing excuses or by helping that individual avoid the consequences of such behavior"

In truth the government is the biggest enabler. Unfortunately there are many people who are able to use loopholes in the welfare system to abuse it (or they simply lie to the government in order to get $$$). I suppose the government can't really be faulted for that given the number of people who are on welfare. But this really isn't about the government is it?

I can understand if a church rallies behind a member of their congregation who may have fallen on hard times. Someone they know and trust and isn't just trying to pilfer money from the coffers. But for this church (or any other) to take the word of this trailer park reject and to blindly give the money that the members of the church so kindly donated to a couple of guys who certainly seemed to me to be looking for a drug fix is inconceivable!

I cannot stand these bleeding hearts who believe that there are no throw-away people. Anyone who expects things to be handed to them on a silver platter and never expects to work for anything IS a throw away person. Maybe we should take America's suggestion, but rather than give them our poor, tired and huddled masses yearning to be free, we should give them our lazy, dirty and drugged out welfare f#$kheads yearning to live off the dime of anyone who won't make them work for it. While we are at it, perhaps we can send all those bleeding hearts who want to "save" them south as well.

Don't misunderstand me, I think the welfare system in Canada is very important. We should take care of people when they are down on their luck. But these people who CHOOSE to be down on their luck. These people who CHOOSE to use drugs or CHOOSE to not work or CHOOSE not to get the help they need. These people ARE throw-away people. They lie, cheat and steal their way through life. Sometimes they work harder at keeping up with their lies than they would ever have to work if they had a job.

So lets hook up all their trailers to a big truck and the bleeding hearts can tow them away to a better life. One where they can be drugged out and lazy and their saviours can wait on them like their mother. What a happy, dirty, drugged out, lazy community that would be, except for, of course, the saviours; Who would have to work their asses off to support these morons who are currently living off our tax dollar.

Halleluiah

I HATE SCHOOL (and the idiots who work there)

I Know, we shouldn't paint everyone with the same brush, but Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with these idiots who work in the school system?

I know that there are some good teachers out there and I am sure there might be one or two good people on the Administration staff of a school somewhere in this world... But judging from my experiences at my children's school, these good people are few and far between. Two of my closest friends work in the public school system in this province and I know they are very good at what they do, so for those two people... I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT YOU (well, maybe a little).

From top to bottom, our schools are going to hell. The teachers are unhappy, the children are unhappy and the parents are damn unhappy.

It seems like any control that the teachers once had is long gone. While some of the teachers (the good ones) do try to make things better, many just accept the status quo and let the madness continue.

What is this madness I speak of, you may ask? Well, the rules that the teachers and school staff in general have to follow have made it very difficult for the school to run smoothly. Perhaps I should explain some of these rules...

1. Teachers are not allowed, under any circumstances to enter the school change rooms/locker rooms, unless accompanied by another teacher or staff member. While on the surface, this seems like a good way to protect our children from exploitation, it also cripples the teaching staff's ability to supervise the students. I know of an instance where a child was beat up in the locker room at the school and the teacher could do nothing about it because he/she had to run to get another staff member to supervise his/her entering of the locker room to break up the fight. Because of this, one of the students had to be transported to the hospital. You might think that the school would allow teachers to use their best judgement and if there was a situation where someone was hurt, they could ignore the rule and help the student, but apparently the teachers aren't paid to use their judgement. Have we lost so much trust for our teaching staff that criminal background checks are not enough?

2. Children on the playground are not allowed to touch each other, throw snowballs (even if it is just at trees or throwing them into the woods), or do many of the things that we did when we were children. First of all, how can the children be children if we try to put them in a bubble and not allow them to do anything for fear that they might get hurt? How are the teachers supposed to keep these children from doing the things that children like to do? Maybe we should send a few rolls of duct tape with the kids' school supplies at the start of the year so that the children can be taped to their desks every day and that way they will be safe.

3. We ran into a situation a couple of years ago when our child never arrived home from school. He took the bus to a friend's house and we never knew where he was. The school's response was that it was the responsibility of every child that is in grades 1 to 5 to make sure they get on the right bus and get off at the right stop. So I guess that we have a little Lord of the Flies situation going on at this school (except, of course for at recess when the children aren't allowed to touch each other).

4. Janitors.... where can I start? I guess a janitor does not have to clean anything or do anything that is not specifically mentioned in his/her union contract. This does not apply to every one of them, but it seems like taking pride in your work and going above and beyond is not in the union contract so f#%k it! I guess that picking things they like out of the lost and found, however, is in their contract. I am sure it happens alot and it is not only the janitors who do it, but this year I had an occasion when my son came home without his brand new jacket. He said it wasn't in the lost and found, but he's young and I am sure he just looked at the top of the pile in the lost and found bin when he looked for it (if he looked at all). So I decided to go to the school and look for it myself. It wasn't in the lost and found. I searched the entire school with no luck. Finally, I walked to the end of a hallway that was well away from my son's classroom (not a place he would frequent), and I saw a piece of the sleeve of his jacket sticking out from under the janitor's jacket on a hook that most of the kids in the school would need a ladder to reach. I wonder how it got there?!?

5. Apparently there are some brilliant teachers who think that getting elementary school children to write down their homework is a great idea. So these children come home with a couple of words written in their homework book and the parents are expected to make sure that this homework gets done. I once wrote to a teacher asking for an explanation about homework and the response I received was "I explained the assignment clearly to the class". Hmmm.... I have completed 2 university degrees and I can tell you that a university prof can explain an assignment until they are blue in the face and the student will forget most of the explanation by the time he/she takes a piss; That is if the explanation is not written down. If a university student cannot retain this information, how can an elementary school student be expected to? And how is a parent supposed to help a child with an assignment if they don't have instructions? Maybe we can call JoJo of the Psychic Friends Network to help us read the mind of the teachers. It'll only cost us $4.99 per minute.

6. How about inclusion... Maybe this is not the most popular stance, but I think inclusion in the classroom sets up kids with special needs for many more problems than having special classes ever did. It is also distracting to the rest of the class to have some students with aides in the classroom, doing different work than the rest of the class. Some classes where inclusion is great in my opinion are Phys Ed (I am sure that there are many "non-special-needs" kids who could use an aide in this class), Art and maybe music. I really think that having anyone who is doing a significantly different (easier or harder) schooling program than the rest of the class is being set up to be teased and bullied.

7. Suspensions - I was recently told of a situation where a student in middle school was suspended from school for cutting classes. Who was the Einstein that came up with this idea. Isn't that like punishing a rapist by putting him/her (wouldn't want to be sexist) in a room with a bunch of sexy naked people and saying "you better have sex with those people"! Why don't we just punish a thief by giving him/her all of our bank account numbers and passwords! That'll learn 'em!!!

Seems to me that teaching our children in a clean , safe environment is no longer a priority. As long as the schools give the appearance of being politically correct and they don't get sued, they are content to let our children slip through the cracks.

F#@king Schools!!!

I guess it's time to discuss the fantastic experience that is the barium enema.

And I STILL HATE EVERYONE INVOLVED WITH BOWEL CANCER TESTS!!!

The morning of my test, I awoke bright and early. After sending the kids off to school, all I could think about was what I was going to eat when the test was all over. Although I was tempted to go to the test just as grungy, stinky and gross as I could so I could make those performing the test on me as uncomfortable as I knew I was bound to be; I took a shower and got cleaned up.

When I arrived at the hospital and went to sign in, I saw that I was to give my information to a rather hot receptionist. My first thought was... "Great, with my luck, the nurse that is about to sodomize me will probably be really hot and will ruin every fantasy I have ever had about nurses"! My second thought was "What if the nurse is someone I know? I went to school with alot of people who are now nurses..."

The only luck I had on this day was that neither of these worries came to fruition.

As I said in my previous post, the actual process of getting a barium enema is not at all what I had expected. What I was expecting was a regular enema (which in itself is bad enough... but at least it is quick) to clean things out and some x-rays.

After signing in, I was led to a tiny changing room about 1/4 the size of my bedroom closet. In there I was asked to strip and put on a paper thin johnny-shirt and robe, both of which leave very little to the imagination. Keep in mind that I am not Superman (I know it is hard to believe), and being asked to change in an enclosure smaller than a phone booth with nothing but one tiny hook to hang clothing on was not an easy task. After some manoeuvring, I was ready for action. They, however were not quite ready for me and asked me to take a seat in the hallway.

Sitting in the hallway with a cool breeze blowing up my fashionably short, green johnny-shirt made me wonder how a woman could wear a mini skirt with no under pants. I guess I had to keep my mind busy as I struggled to keep my feet crossed so that I would not give everyone walking in the hallway a free show. After waiting for about 15 minutes, it was time...

When I walked into the x-ray room, I saw a large table with a sheet on it and a pillow. The first thing the nurse asked me on the way in the room was, how did your preparation go? Hmmmmm... I GUESS the word "preparation" can be used to describe having the s#%ts for 2 days straight while going on no food and little sleep. I told her "it was wonderful! Very cleansing! You really should try it. It is like going to a spa". As she began to describe the procedure, all I could hear was Charlie Brown's teacher...

Waa waa waa waaaaa rectum waa waaa colon waa insert. Waa waaa pump waa waa balloon waa waa waaa leakage (maybe you have to be in my head to understand it...)

So now the nurse tells me to lay on the table and she will insert the tube. She tells me she'll try to be gentle because most people are quite sensitive after the "preparation". NO S#%T SHERLOCK!!!

The next thing I know, I've got a tube shoved so far inside me that I figured barium must be a breath freshener, because the tube was in the back of my throat. Next she tried to inflate a balloon at the end of the tube in order to create a tight seal and keep the barium from leaking out (isn't that pleasant). I was clamped down so hard on that little f^@ker that there was no way she was getting any air into that thing. She tried and was unsuccessful.

After the doctor came in and asked if I had any questions (like I am going to ask questions when I have a tube stuck up my a$$ and prolong the process), the procedure began.

I am unsure why they bothered to lay a sheet down on the table, because they had me rolling around on the table like a pig on a spit. The sheet just ended up wrapped around me. As I rolled around on the table while the nurse behind the wall gave me orders on a microphone and a camera circled me I began to feel like a trained dog. Here I am, rolling around on a table with a tube up my a$$, while a woman in another room watches on a camera and gives me orders. This girl should get into the internet porn business!

So finally it was time to actually take the x-rays (apparently all the rolling around was to get the barium everywhere it was supposed to go). Meanwhile, I felt like I was sitting on Old Faithful and it was erupting! After about 10 minutes of enduring "Turn... Hold your breath... Breathe" and being filled with air and liquid, Brad (the lab assistant) ask me "How are you doing?".... HOW AM I DOING?!? How the hell do you think I am doing??? Are you expecting me to light up a cigarette and tell you you're the best I've ever had?!?

So... the table and camera moved around as the x-rays were taken. The table even stood straight up a couple of times! I felt like I was on some sick S&M amusement park ride! I figured that behind the wall, the nurse was wearing a skin-tight leather suit and thigh high boots, and there were whips and chains hanging on the wall.

Finally, the table stops moving and I think I am done... The nurse then comes out and says, you are almost done, just lay there and relax while the pictures load up on the screen. YEAH! OK! And if I relax, I am going to fly around the room like a barium propelled rocket. So there I lay... I feel like I have a tent pole stuck up my a$$, I am clenching like I have a lump of coal between my butt cheeks and I am trying to make diamonds. I look up and they have left the door open. I can see into the next room where all sorts of staff are walking around and chatting while I lay there feeling like a Pogo.

Eventually, after they take yet another x-ray, they say I am finished. The nurse tells me to try to hold in the barium while she removes the tube (like she has to tell me to clench). As she tries to pull out the tube she asks me to relax because I am holding on too tight. I told her to pull it harder 'cause I am NOT relaxing! After a short tug-of-war, the tube is finally out and I can go to the washroom and clean up.

But my ordeal is not yet over...

As I enter the bathroom, I know this is going to be a problem. To truly understand my problem, you must understand that I HATE public washrooms. I cannot s#%t while someone else is in the room or if there is no buffer-zone. Yes, it is a foolish little quirk, but that is just the way it is. This washroom was a closet sized toilet room right outside the x-ray room. I can clearly hear every word of what is being said in the other room from my closet, but I have no time to look for a more convenient washroom with a buffer zone, so I have no choice.

The best way to describe what happens next is to attempt to give you a mental picture. Imagine you have a balloon. Not one of those round balloons, but a loooong one that is maybe 3 or 4 metres long when inflated. If before you inflated this balloon, you put in about 2 cups of water, then inflated it fully and let it go, you would have a good idea of what I experienced. The sustained force of the air and liquid nearly lifted me clear off the seat. The worse thing was that this went on for almost half an hour. Boy did they ever pump me up.

Well, that is all for today. I hope you felt my pain!

Well, well...

I had a wonderful experience over the last few days. This experience has led me to the conclusion that I HATE EVERYONE INVOLVED WITH BOWEL CANCER TESTS!!!

In one of my previous posts (about those lovely sausage fingers), I mentioned that my next test involved a barium enema. I really had no idea what to expect when I received the appointment for this LOVELY procedure, but boy did I find out!

It all started on Monday. My appointment sheet from the hospital said that I had to go in 2 days early for a preparation kit. I figured that it would simply contain instructions that I was to fast overnight and tell me the times I needed to arrive at the hospital for my procedure. I guess I was partially right...

Monday after work, I left work on the way to pick up my children from their after-school program and brought them home. I arrived home to find my wife preparing a lovely ham supper, and boy was I happy as the last meal I had consisted of a breakfast bar and water at noon that day. I left the house and rushed to the hospital to pick up the instructions for the test. When I got there, I was given 2 bottles of laxative and I was told that I should not have had anything to eat or drink since 3:00 that day. I was also told that I could not eat anything until Wednesday after the test. Wonderful... My last meal was a dry breakfast bar and a glass of water AND I get to return home to the smell of ham and homemade cheesy potatoes.

When I arrived home, I had to immediately take my first dose of what I now refer to as Colon Blow. Given the choice of drinking the laxative straight or diluting it and prolonging my suffering, I chose to shoot it like alcohol. I figured that if I could drink tequila or scotch from a shot glass, this couldn't possible be worse...

WRONG AGAIN!

On the label, the flavour is described as lemon-ginger... yummy. So, I took the vile liquid in a small glass and choked it back. Mmmmmm... It was definitely the most wonderful flavour I have ever tasted. It had the texture and flavour of a mixture of cooking oil, raw egg whites and lemon Eno tablets to add flavour and fizz. Yes, it was a whole glass of fizzy, thick, slimy, oily fun and I still had another dose to take the next day.

Now, I have had the s#%ts before, but I don't think I have ever experienced the type of s#%ts I was about to experience! Imagine filling a Ketchup bottle with cooking oil. Then poke a hole about twice the size of a darning needle in the bottle. Then for the next 12 hours, pick up the bottle every 20 minutes, turn it upside-down and try to run to the bathroom (using only your legs from the knees down) without spilling the oil. Then, when you get there, squeeze the bottle as hard as you can for as long as you can. I am sure that you can imagine how raw and chaffed you can get when you go through 2 double rolls of TP in one night.

So... I got about an hour of sleep first night due to the fact that I had a terrible cold and, well, the whole s#%tting thing. I actually went to work the next day. After work, I was very excited to get back home and take my next dose of the old Rectum Rumble.

The second night was much like the first, except I was actually able to get a little sleep (I guess I wasn't as full of s#%t the second night as I was the first).

In my next blog, I will discuss the actual barium enema procedure. Once again, it wasn't what I expected... It was much worse!

Here we go again...

You always know there is another federal election on the way when the political attack ads start up.

I f#%king HATE politicians!!!

I'm sure there must have been a time where people went to the ballot to cast their vote and actually voted for the person/people who they thought would best represent them in the government. Now it seems like the politicians want us to vote for the person who is less "scary" or who is perceived as less corrupt.

Thus far only the Conservatives have started to mud sling (although I am quite sure that the Liberals will follow suit), so I have to start with them.

Here are some questions that I would love to ask Stephen "Big Hair" Harper...

1. How long are you going to ride the Sponsorship Scandal bandwagon? This is the 3rd election that it has been brought up in attacks on the Liberals. When can we just move on?

2. How can you be critical of the Liberal's environmental policies when you have none of your own? It is funny that Stephen Harper can go from saying...

"We will oppose ratification of the Kyoto Accord and its targets. We will work with the provinces and others to discourage implementation of those targets. And we will rescind the targets when we have the opportunity to do so." -- Stephen Harper 2002

to

"We do need to work internationally, and we are working through the Kyoto process to try and get international action, to try and get action that will involve all the world's major emitters, ... These are efforts that are important and that we will continue to work on." -- Stephen Harper 2007

Some people would say that this is a flip-flop by the Prime-Minister (something that he has also accused Dion of doing in Conservative attack ads against the Liberals). I say that it is not. If you look at the quote the same way I do, it seems to me that Harper wants the international community to worry about greenhouse gas emissions so Canada doesn't have to worry about them. The old do as I say, not as I do syndrome...

3. On a similar note, I saw an ad in which the Conservative party criticizes the Liberal party for not abolishing the GST. Hmmmm... that's a thinker... How can you criticize a political party for not abolishing a tax that your political party implemented? That really doesn't make a hell of alot of sense does it?

4. Why is it that you look like a corpse wearing lipstick in many of your photos? (maybe good ole' "You can call me Steve" Harper is putting on the lipstick so he is ready to pucker up when Georgie comes to town)

5. Is that a wig or are you and "The Donald" going to the same barber?

Boy, it sure feels good to have those questions off my back.

now I think I'll have to address the Liberals. I am happy to say that I have yet to see a Liberal attack ad (although it may be just a matter of time). What I don't understand is that the Liberals don't seem to be making any effort to promote Dion. I, personally know nothing about the man, and in all of the footage and pictures I have seen of him, he seems very confused or intoxicated/insane.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like an intoxicated/insane person as much as the next guy...but cummon, after 12 years Cretchien, intoxicated/insane/confused French Canadian Prime Minister gets a little old.

Maybe after I get to know more about Dion, I'll have more to say about him and the Liberals... Until then...