I heart DINOSAURS

Wow, never before have I so appreciated what my parents did for me as a child. The past two days have been a real ‘eye-opener’ to my own past and just how very boring it was. People have told me ‘you can never go back’ which I always thought would be true because I was banned from a few places, but it turns out that they meant something more along the lines that you CAN go back, but it won’t be the same as you remember it. My super-adventure type trip was just that. I tried to go back, but it wasn’t the same. On the upside I did learn a valuable lesson about boys.

I was able to score two days off in a row. For me, this is a huge accomplishment as between both jobs I have no time off. Provided, both a generous, giving me at least two or up to five days off in a row, but combined… um, some forces of evil stuff happens and I have no time off. I think that it’s best this way as if I’m busy, I don’t have time to think, which is not only good for my own mental health, but the betterment of society as well (no time to plot global domination… scratch that, I want the galaxy). So these two days off, was in fact, a big deal. I packed up the Civic and headed out into the great wide yonder. Did you ever stop to think about what a stupid word – YONDER is?

Deciding that I wanted to find dinosaurs, I headed to Drumheller. After a shorter then it should be journey, I arrived at the Tyrell museum, paid my ten bucks, and strode inside. Wow… it was tiny. I mean it, really small. There were only about a dozen full skeletons, and while holding a tarantula was pretty cool, the rest was boring, and old. I remember going there with family, the place seemed huge, everyone was happy… and now it wasn’t so much. The busiest part was in front of a few computer terminals they had set up with some kind of dinosaur game, I guess it just goes to show what kids are like now. I probably shouldn’t complain too much seeing as how I’m sitting in front of a computer now – but at least I went outside. I did all of the nature hikes around the area and – gasp – found dino poo. Did you ever get that speech that if everyone took a rock, there would be no rocks left? I took a bit. It’s pretty awesome. And I was all sneaky like.

I then went around town and became steadily depressed by the fact that this town had nothing more to offer then a bunch of dilapidated paper mache dinosaurs around town. Everything was disgustingly cliché and filled with dino-crapobilia. It was then that I realized what I had put my parents through. I can’t imagine spending more then a few hours there, let alone a few days. Being the tacky tourist that I am, I decided to hit up all the excitement that the town had to offer, including Canada’s largest Reptile Zoo. This was, actually, pretty cool. They had everything from your common garter snake, to black mambas (one of the most deadly, I never really got the term ‘most deadly’ – how can you be MORE deadly?, snakes in the world), alligators, crocodiles, frogs, turtles, and lots of lizards. The entire place is in an old Saan store, but they have some really exotic animals. It was weird. But I kinda smiled at the guy who worked there, who then asked me if I wanted to see his snake. Somewhat scared, I clutched one of my many knives, but agreed. He took me into the back area. There I got to meet, um, everyone (?) up close. I got to pet a caiman, and hold a few snakes and lizards, and learned the history behind all of the animals. It was the best five bucks I spent on the whole trip. The best twenty dollars I spent was on an old Nintendo and TV. I didn’t think that either would work… but now I have Duck Hunt. It’s at least three and a half levels of awesome.

I also went for ice cream – yes, it was the most boring town ever. My half-scoop cone turned into a double as I chatted with the guy working there. And it was bubblegum.

Oh, and next time you go out, avoid hotels, and stick to bed and breakfasts. You can check out my pad at www.rosebudalberta.blogspot.com. It’s called the ‘Angel Room’. He he. The lady who runs it wasn’t there, um, at all, and I actually had the whole place to myself, although I think that she was sure I had a significant other with me, as there was two of everything laid out for breakfast, and extra towels. It was really nice, though.

The next day I headed to Calgary, only to be rained out and I found out that parking for the ‘Eau Clair’ market was 17.00$ a day. Yup. So I did some shopping elsewhere and headed home.

That’s about it, I mean it’s not as exciting as some other people’s vacations… COUGH kim COUGH… but it was enough adventure for me.

ENTER VELOCERAPTOR… (everything should be ended with a veloceraptor.)

Drumheller trip 

Everyone sucks but me

Checking out your blogs lately, I became very depressed. No one updates anymore! Where is the magic? I felt terrible about missing a few days and not checking my email or your lives when I found out - gasp - that no one else has decided to write anything. For the most part they are boring, but there is that rare gem that demands attention. Look at the infinite monkeys... I mean all you have to do is start stealing them from local zoos now, and in a few days I'm sure that they'll produce something on par with your work. Now one with today's top story... Today I'm complaining about line-ups. I really have nothing against the orderly fashion in which people remain in lines until the sun shines down upon them and it's their blessed turn to return that pair of shoes that they bought at Walmart, but the fact that people are involved usually mutilates this seemingly simple ritual. As I was, as before stated, standing in line to return a pair of shoes, I couldn't help but notice that the woman behind me was pulling a 'thong'. That is she had unsuspectingly wedged herself far up my rear end. She was, in fact, touching my back with most of her, um, ample side. Alright, so it's a line up and there are people in it, what should I expect? But when I glanced behind her, I didn't find the hordes of people eager to return a plethora of items to the confused and upset girl working behind the counter. In fact, the two of us composed the entire line up. That was it. There were no crowds pushing her into me or forcing us into a space of less then four square feet. To test my theory that she was an idiot, I took a step forward, as if to progress in the line, quickly she gathered up her grey plastic bags of crapobilia and held her real estate on my backside.

Why would she do this? I may never know. Well I suppose that after many nights of hard drinking and putting my head through china shops and bulls I could eventually degrade my IQ to somewhat the same level, but I think by that point I wouldn't remember what I was trying to answer and instead start speaking with a southern accent and spend all my time reading People magazine. Oh, and maybe the National Enquirer.

Standing there with my mystery Walmart shopper trying to exchange protein strains with me or something, I began to think about how often this happens. Think of parking, for example. You just washed your car, or parent's, and in order to keep it safe you park at the far end of the parking lot so that no one parks next to you. Yup, you guessed it, some behemoth of a Buick driven by the smallest little man you've ever seen wearing the largest cataract glasses that you've ever seen wedges up beside you. You put up a poster on the wall for say... um, a presidential campaign, and BANG, the next minute you see it surrounded by the posters of other would-be jerk-faced politicians on a large empty wall.

The point is that this kind of activity happens a lot. Why? Now comes the part of the show where I answer this age old question that I came up with earlier this afternoon...

PEOPLE ARE MINDLESS IDIOTS.

The only way that they know not to keep running is when they hit a wall. They require others to point out the boundaries so they don't go jumping off of cliffs. This is why lemmings don't work. You need at least one individual with an IQ of more then 20 to stop, wait, and show others where the cliff ends or they'll just keep on going. Look at the opera and mosh pits. (For the record I do not think that all punks/rockers are complete idiots, nor opera'ers' any smarter, but it's a great example). Let's say that rockers/punks are idiots, and those that attend the opera a smart and not just trying to shmooze to get ahead in society, the operaiens sit quietly in the seats that they paid for, realizing the stopping point, and appreciating the show unfolding in front of them, rocker/punkers on the other hand all rush the stage, moving into a frenzied mosh pitting flurry of activity, trampling the weak and exposing the bra... all because the only thing stopping them is a wall. Actually on the plus side this is a fantastic demonstration of survival of the fittest… more importantly, people are dumb.

That’s about it. I guess I could give you some super fun mission like psyching out idiots by running towards cliffs and stopping at the last moment, but I’m not sure all of who reads this, so my lawyer has advised against it. Oh, and I’m disappearing for a few days, so if you check this site faithfully to get your horoscope, um, the Magic 8 Ball says things look cloudy for a few days… try back later.

Hey hey hey, it's a game!

Alright, as you may have noticed, there are pictures below this. For super fun, try matching the description with the picture:

A) In the middle of Churchill Square
B) Dave in 30 years
C) At the Muttart Conservatory
D) Hildalgo gets thirsty
E) My Dad, going 120 kph on HWY 16
F) In front of SUB
G) In front of Kim's old apartment
H) At the Legislature
I) In a closed park, stupid 11:00
J) At Budget, with my brother and his fiance

Match-o-rama game! Match the description with the picture: 

This one's for you, Pops

With father's day upon us in 1 hour and 3 minutes, I've decided to write this blog about my Dad, may he never actually read it...

As I look back at the years I've spent alive- um, let me start again... that kinda sounds dumb...

As I reflect on my past experiences- no, still not quite right, um oooh childhood, that's a good one... alright, I got it this time

Looking back at my childhood- or maybe upbringing... hey here's an idea! This could be a super fun project for you and your Dad. Since I just can't seem to make any kind of coherent statements tonight (give me a break, I've been up since five this morning and I went to bed at one last night... Yup, I'm dumb) I'm going to make this an 'adlibs' style blog, you can copy and paste it into word, pick the terms that you feel best suit your father, and then print it, oh, of course then you can glue on the sequins, pompoms, pipecleaners, and macaroni covered in gold spray paint and present it to your Dad this Father's Day! Wow, that's awesome, Carly, but what can we expect to pay for this radical idea of yours? Well this can all be yours for the low low price of one more hit on my webcounter... mostly because I don't have paypal set up yet, and seeing the numbers get bigger makes me happy. Refresh lots.

(Dearest Father/Hi Dad/Yo Pops!)

Even though another year has come and gone, I know that you will always be (my father/in jail/heartless). You were always (there for me/supportive of everything I did/sleeping with the neighbor’s wife) and I will never forget it. Days like today give me a good chance to sit and recall all of the (amazing/terrific/horrific) times that we shared, and how they helped me become who I am today.

A smile comes to my lips as I think about the first time you (took me to the ballgame/walked me to school/beat me in a burlap sack). We've certainly made our share of memories together, and it's memories like these that I'll (always treasure/turn into a bestseller/pay a psychiatrist to help me deal with). I now realize and have come to appreciate the time we spent together as (childhood is short/you’ve been taken away/Mom won’t let me talk to you).

Remember when you (took me fishing/set your arm on fire when trying to light the bar-b-que/backed up over Mittens)? That’s something that I still think about today. At the time I (hated you/laughed at you/filed for adoption) but I now realize that (it was a bonding moment/we got to spend time together as you recovered/I was right). How can I ever (thank you/make you suffer as I have/get back the money I lost in Vegas)? It’s something I cannot even imagine accomplishing in my lifetime. You mean so (much/little) that it’s hard to express in (words/random sounds).

Mom told me that when she was rushed to the hospital when I was about to be born you (were the first one there/passed out/fled the country) and it was that moment that you (truly became a father/demonstrated what would become a life of wimpiness/wrote yourself out of my will). (Thank/curse) you, Dad.

I hope that today we can (recount memories of the past/settle our differences outside of court/finally bury the body in my trunk), as I know together there is (nothing we can’t do/nothing we can do/nowhere we can go that we haven’t been suspended from).

With (love, the advice of my lawyer), your (son/daughter/baby ‘it’ as you raised me in some kind of bizarre genderless experiment of the ‘80’s)

(insert your name here)

PS: (I love you/I know where you live).
Hey, that WAS fun. Now remember kids… run with scissors and eat the glue, it’s high in vitamin ER.

WHY CAN'T YOU SHUT UP?!?!

Ah, work, the source and provision of so many of my rants. Tonight it isn't work itself that lends it self to my lack of satisfaction with the world around me, but instead simply provided the environment in which dumbness could be found.

What am I talking about? As per usual I figure my ramblings are might cryptic, better call the Sherriff. Alright, this blog is to point out the retardedness of the Queen of Seven 'o' clock, and numero dos on my list of celebrities that I would rid the world of if given the chance, the one, the only... Delilah.

At work, the candle place, not BRAC, I am forced to listen to the local soft rock station, I love how they call it 'rock', I mean no self respecting biker or um, well anyone who appreciates the music known as 'rock' would ever claim to listen to anything that flows from a stereo tuned to 104.9 Mega Hertz.

So what's the big deal with Delilah? Who is this 'Delilah'? And more importantly... why do I wish her to end up on the front page of many newspapers and in the trunk of a rather large 'fatty-mobile'? Well, at precisely 7:00 on weekdays (you can always tell when the dreaded time is upon us as EZRock plays the crappy lyricless elavator music so as a smooth transistion to her show may be made) her show comes onto the radio. Yes, she begins with words that hold such wisdom... "maybe you've had a long day, well now you can curl up next to the radio and spend some time with me - Delilah - (insert crappy voice over promo) on EZRock 104.9..." Ah yes, it is these words that send me into a dizzying array of anger, knowing that only the purest of drivel shall ooze from the speakers of the store stereo.

Following her inital song of pity and lost love that usually places me in a state of self-pity and constantly forces me to contemplate suicide, she'll have her first 'caller'. Why is this in quotes? Well that's because it's screened to the point that only the sappiest love stories with happy endings are put onto the radio and pre-recorded to a degree that makes me wonder if they are all professional actors paid to tell a re-written sob story that was once emailed to her highness. Gah. The best one so far... oh, I'll try to write this like a screen play... go!

Dude: Delilah?
PsychoCow: Yes, Hun, who's on your heart tonight?
Dude: Well, it's my wife... (dramatic pause) You see we're having some problems and I just want her to know that I'm sorry and that I love her.
Queen Pry-pry: Hmm, so what did you do that landed you in the doghouse? (giggle to ease the mood)
Dude: I don't know if I'm comfortable talking about it on air... um, well-
DemonSpawn: Well on a scale of one to ten, let's say one being you forgot to pick up milk on the way home and ten being you cheated on her with her best friend and sister?...
Dude: Well, I guess that this would be about an eleven...

-Carly's thoughts: Seriously what the crap did you do? I mean did you include the dog in on this one? How do you think that requesting a song on the radio will make a difference. Seriously, if she loves you after however you combined all of the deadly sins and stabbed her in the back a few times (quite literally), what kind of fencepost did you marry?-

Ms. Lovie-dovie: Well, I'll see what I can do. But you need to promise me something-
Dude: What's that, Delilah?
Happy-go-pukie: Go to your wife, right now, and tell her how much you love her, and I'm sure - I'm sure, that you two can work this out.
Dude: Thanks, Delilah.
Baby Killer: You're welcome, Hun, have a good night.

Yup, that's almost it, word for word - not joking. Although he had a thick southern accent.

Next, every second call is either an adopted child who cannot seem to get it through their head that the parent that gave them up is not coming back to claim them no matter how long they relentlessly pursue a relationship that does not exist, or some wife with seven kids and a husband in the army/navy/airforcy... and she misses him but realizes that he's out saving the country by squashing those evil enemy types, when actually it's just to escape his possessive wife and seven hyperactive kids... gah.

How can people be so dumb? And worse yet are the people who listen to this of their own free will!

Oh, and then she talks with her sexy-voiced producer who complains that her five year old is sick at home, and then Delilah has to one up her with her usual "I have fifty kids, all of whom are adopted because I'm holier then thou, but still have a messy divorce to contend with and all men are pigs..." Thanks, Delilah, I realize your life must be pretty hard, just attending charity functions, radio promotions, meeting other famous rich people, and having two dozen servants to cater to your every need and raise your kids for you. Allow me to work for the next five months to save up and buy a violin, learn to play it, break into your house, and clobber you with it... and you thought I was going to say play the saddest song... bwa ha ha ha.

Still unconvinced of her purely evil nature in exploiting the pain of others to promote her own show... then visit www.radiodelilah.com for more fun! AUGH why won't your head just fall off?!?! I mean that's like me, kicking puppies and then starting a foundation against the kicking of puppies where people pay me and keep me busy, thereby preventing the kicking of puppies... actually that's a pretty sweet deal... hmm.

Well, that's all for me, on to kicking puppies. If you are against this cruel cruel act still practiced in many countries around the world, send me money... now... and it will stop. Goodnight all!

On labeling people and rap stars

I know, my title sounds bad, but I'm sure it got your attention. To begin, the two thoughts have nothing in common but instead are two random ideas that came to me at work today.

I figured that I needed to write a short blog, thus recapturing your attention and beefing up your self-confidence as you will surely possess the ability to quickly skim in in much less time then the last one, thereby increasing the number of times you visit my site and ultimately making me look good. I have also decided that I've not had an impersonal rant for a while and sometimes I amuse myself when I point out what's wrong with society, and who knows, I may just be able to entertain you as well.

To begin, my first thought will be on labeling people. I've always wondered how to successfully pull it off and now a T-shirt store in a mall has shown me the way. It's great. You see they specialize in custom T-shirts, you know, the kind that you can embroider a logo or print a picture on. All in all, it wasn't overly exciting, until they set out some new T-shirt designs hoping to attract attention and stir the imagination of passer-bys. My new favorite shirt:

I'm a great Dad, just ask _____

That's right. For Father's day you can go out and get a shirt for dear old Dad with, you guessed it, your name on it. I mean it's bad enough those shirts that have a picture of the person who it's for on it, in case you in some bizarre circumstance constantly forget what you look like and need reassurement when not near a mirror, but to actually put YOUR OWN NAME on the shirt? Wow. I mean how bad would that be? You are labeling people, or branding them. I mean next thing you know there will be shirts with:

I'm whipped, just ask my girl/boyfriend _____

- or -

I'm a mindless drone, just ask my owner _____

Of course you'd have to be to wear one of those shirts in the first place. ... Hmm, I think I just figured out something, hey- who is having their birthday soon?

And now on to my next thought - rappers. I mean they parade around with gold teeth, more metal chains around their neck then you'd find on a John Deere 9600 Series combine, and driving around in bullet-proof-land-mine-resistant Bentleys. They get shot in the face, have moltov cocktails thrown at their 'homies' and are at war with competing factions. Many are involved in drugs/prostitution/murder/rape... and they sing and dance. It just seems very odd. I mean you take everything dangerous, deadly, and illlegal in society and combine it with song and dance. It's like Fight Club meets Barney.

I'm not quite sure if my point got across, but think about it for a bit. The dangerous criminals in society that threaten peace and prosperity fund everything and gain popularity by singing. I do that in the car, Andrew Lloyd Webber probably does it all the time, and Barney made millions off of it and now rappers? It seems funny to me.

So that's it, see, I promised it would be short. Um... I suppose I could do some kind of 'rap' to conclude this blog but it really wouldn't be the same since you wouldn't be able to hear me/see me dressed up in parachute pants (they are still cool, right?). Hmm, well I'm hungry, I suppose that can sum up things, and I think I'm going to make pancakes from scratch, which really means I'm adding milk to powder out of a box, burning it all for a bit and then having my father take over when he can't stand the smell any longer.

I'll show you...

Most of my blogs are long, very long, but this one especially so, but it’s for a good cause. In fact I’ve strung it together to prove someone who shall remain nameless wrong, since I was bored, and instead of emailing to, um, my depressingly short list of email addresses, I figured I would just post my responses to some SUPER FUN QUESTIONS, mostly so that you can learn a little about me. Oh, and there’s a test at the end, once again I’ll be handing out coupons to live if you pass.

1. First Name? Full or short? I’ve been called everything from my proper name of Carlene, to Carly, CarCar, and Carl. Woohoo.

2. Are you named after anyone? My Uncle Karl. Yup, named after a boy.

3. Do you wish on stars? Yes, and I also buy lottery tickets… so no.

4. Which finger is your favorite? Butter.

5. When did you last cry? Hey, now I can’t say two or three years ago… it was actually on Mother’s day.

6. Do you like your handwriting? I don’t handwrite, I am ubergeek with a palmpilot, and it knows what I’m trying to say, so I guess it’s alright.

7. What is your favorite lunchmeat? That one with the macaroni in it. It’s quite terrible but fun to look at.

8. Any bad habits? I drive.

9. What is your most embarrassing CD on the shelf? Hmm, so many… I guess probably Hanson or Aqua, although I’m sure all of North America is in the possession of those two cds.

10. If you were another person, would you be friends with YOU? Nope. Never. I’d kill me, and then kill another me, and then I’d be the most powerful me in all of the alternate universes.

11. Are you a daredevil? Yes.

12. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? It depends on how much was promised in return.

13. Do looks matter? What the crap does this mean? Is it me? My significant other? My car? ‘Looks’ as in people staring at me as if I had thirty wombats strapped to my chest and I’m trying to convince the bank manager that I’m a suicide bomber kind of looks? Then no.

14. Do you think there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? I thought I found it when I was six, but then I found out that Dad was just throwing his change in the grass for me to find.

15. Do fish have feelings? Most definitely. Well, I guess that’s the magic bestowed upon them when you name them, the kind I find raw and on rice had no feelings whatsoever, well, unless they are part of the Finding Nemo cast.

16. Are you trendy? I shop at Value Village, so generally I’m at least a year behind.

17. How do you release anger? I drive.

18. Where are your second homes? Civic, and um, kinda a free spirit actually.

19. Do you trust others easily? Nope, but rarely do they know it.

20. What was your favorite toy as a child? The toy cars I stole from my brother.

21. What class in school do you think is totally useless? CALM. I mean, what the crap was that?

22. Do you have a Diary? Kinda, it’s the thing you’re reading now, if you got to this point, and can read.

23. Do you use sarcasm a lot? I’d say about every 15/20 comments I make contain some degree of sarcasm.

24. Have you ever been in a mosh pit? Yep. And I crowd surfed, I don’t suggest it as many hands touch you, it’s kinda creepy and squishy.

25. What do you look for in a boy/girl? I suppose this is the deep dark secret that I’m looking for someone that can really understand me and my deep dark secrets, a turmoiled past and an uncertain future, but actually someone that is able to put up with me in general would be nice.

26. What are your nicknames? Carly, and other things I don’t respond to.

27. Would you ever bungee jump? My head would explode, but definitely if I could.

28. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? I really only wear slip-ons and sandals.

29. Do you think that you are strong? I pretend to be. Physically I’m way more so then the wussies I work with at Budget… can’t even change a tire…

30. What's your favorite Ice Cream Flavor? Bubble gum.

31. What's your favorite color? Silver, I don’t care if it’s not a ‘real’ color, it is the greatest.

32. What is your least favorite food? Hmm, I’ll really eat anything, I guess I’m not very fond of curry.

33. How many wisdom teeth do you have? Nada, niltch, nipo.

34. Are you in love with anyone? I love others, but not IN love at the moment.

35. How many people have a crush on you right now? I’m guessing none, I’m pretty hard to like, or at least tolerate.

36. Who do you miss most right now? Who? Oh crap, I haven’t driven my car yet today and thought I could use that, um, who… I don’t know, if I miss someone I usually try to see them or at least talk to them, I guess Cel, though.

37. Do you want everyone you send this to, to send this back? Oh, crap no. Actually if you want to comment with a response, pick a handful or at least one question, not all of them. I mean, I just won’t read it.

38. What color pants are you wearing? Oh crap. I wearing a skirt. It’s for work, I swear… but it’s black. I really hate skirts.

39. What are you listening to right now? Remy Zero, and my computer making angry mashing sounds.

40. What are the last 4 digits of your home phone number? Seriously, this is the best question you can come up with?

41. What was the last thing you ate? A pita pizza.

42. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? What is this some kind of psychological questionnaire now? (In kiddie voice “I’d be a broken crayon that’s black”) But really who wants to know this? You know, from now on I’m changing the crappy questions to something more exciting.

43. How is the weather right now? (Changed to… um, what’s the greatest animal? The platypus, and only the platypus, everyone else is wrong.)

44. Who is the last person you talked to on the phone? (Changed to… I mean who cares who I talked to? Anyway, um, hey, what cars have you owned? Seems good enough. An 86 Honda Civic, a 92 Pontiac Sunbird, and a 02 Honda Civic)

45. First thing you notice about the opposite sex? Probably car, I know, sad, but true.

46. Do you like the person who sent this? After 46 questions? No, not really.

47. How are you today? Holy crap, alright (Changed to… What’s the stupidest thing you’ve been dared to do? I broke my arm while sledding and going over the highest jump in the world, but understand I was short and things seemed a lot bigger then)

48. Favorite drink? Caramel Frappicino blended coffee. I’m a yuppie.

50. Favorite alcohol? Eww.

51. Favorite sports? I like archery, and racing.

52. Hair color? (Gah, changed to… Any weird pets? I had a platyhelmenthes named Dougie.)

53. Do you wear contacts? I’m not responsible enough to clean my room let alone something I’m going to stick on my eyeball, so no.

54. Favorite month? (You’re kidding me right? Changed to… What major change would you make if you ran the world? I’d outlaw SUVs and Sherwood Park)

55. Favorite food? Sushi and sashimi, not maki like most people thing sushi is.

56. Last movies you watched? Longest Yard

57. Are you too shy to ask someone out? No, but it seems to end badly if I do, actually they all kinda end badly… hmm, must be me.

58. Scary movies or happy endings? It’s pretty much the same to me seeing as how I’ll laugh at either and talk the whole way through.

59. Summer or winter? (What drugged up on horse tranquilizers individual wrote this thing? Changed to… actually I like my horse tranquilizer question.)

60. Hugs or kisses? Are we talking the chocolates? Definitely the kisses, I’m not a fan of white chocolate.

61. Relationships or one-night stands? Sigh, I really despise all of the relationship questions. If you know me, you’ll know my answer.

64. Do you want your friends to write back? Well, I guess you can leave a comment.

65. Who is most likely to respond? 65 questions are you kidding me?

66. Who is least likely to respond? Sure showed Kim…

67. What books are you reading? I finished the HGTTG trilogy of five, then I found the Travelling Pants yada yada yada at work, and unfortunately I was bored.

68. Favorite board game? The game of life, if just 'game' then manipulating others. It's great fun and never the same thing twice.

69. What did you watch on TV last night? We have peasant vision, and I really don’t have time.

70. Favorite smell? Lavendar and vanilla, or maybe Jasmine… what?!?! I work in a candle store and have some time to figure this out.

71. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning? I kinda just hiss for a while, and then look at my Civic poster.

What? That’s it? Another job well done, enjoy!

AAAAH!

The first thing that you need to know is that I usually read these blogs outloud as I type them, I think that kinda helps me to sound more informal and interesting, well, unless I decide to read them with a British accent in which case I can be quite pompus and boring. The second thing you need to know, knowing that you are fully aware of the first thing that you need to know, is that AAAAAH... (ad noseum) is actually me screaming, several times actually. The third thing you need to know, although not nearly as important as the first two is that I've always hated using my blog to vent about "me me me, I had the worst day ever... (enter the violins)" and to specifically complain about other people who have access to this site. But, for the time being, let's assume that only articles one and two will count for the duration of this blog (okay, I kinda did that part with an accent).

I love work. Don't get me wrong and label me as a keener, but I like to feel that I've accomplished something, I hate sitting still, doing nothing, or lay in front of the televion working on my collection of cheeto crumbs that have gathered into the folds of my shirt. I just can't do it. I have to be going something, better yet something that I enjoy. I love cars. I really do, I mean I love how they look, sound, feel... I should really devote another whole section to this... but work + cars = supa-love. So needless to say I really do enjoy my job at Budget, and having a bad day there, well it means I've had a REALLY bad day.

It kinda started a few weeks ago, (for reasons unexplained the author has changed the names of the following individuals to protect the stupid): A certain someone was not allowed to talk to me as per his girlfriend's request. Normally this would be fine - but, sigh I really hate to say this, he was fun to talk to. I mean, sure, him analyzing for the millionth time over the economical cost/benefits of me choosing an English toffee over French vanilla could get tiring, or him explaining why he was uber-smart to buy his car over years (and not mere minutes, like me) was a better choice in the long run could get to be a bit much, but he wasn't like everyone else there that simply talk about drinking and getting laid all of the time, or not talking to me at all. This is the reason why I almost burst into tears/ripped his head off in the car the last time we carpooled. His girlfriend, not trusting that we were, in fact, driving to Budget at 6:30 in the morning and not making out in the backseat (as I'm sure you all know I do, all of the time), called him, at 6:30 and the two yakked as he tried (I use this term loosely) to drive stick and get us to work on time. She then went to to yell at him for forgetting that she was going to Walmart. I slammed the door in his face and then we stopped talking.

He asked me, a while ago, if I ever regretted setting them up, I said no at the time (as she was convinced I would say yes, secretly wanting him), but I was happy. They seemed alright together. Then, of course, she cheated on him three times and physically and verbally abused him, and now... well my answer changed. I regret it because it cost me a good friend, kinda two if you consider that she and I hung out before any of this.

Alright, so why am I upset about something that happened two weeks ago? Because today he spent ALL DAY on his cell. And guess with who... I mean wait until after work, there is stuff that needs to be done. The only car he did a good and thourough job preping, was his own. When he did go on a run he took the most expensive vehicle on the lot when the Shuttle is always supposed to be first choice, and then let me get everything ready for tomorrow because "we aren't working tomorrow, why should we care?" He has no work ethic, he sits around and chats, oh and sucks up to people with power. It's sickening to see who he's become.

But wait... there's more. After making a few runs to administration yesterday, one of the people I only met yesterday at head office asked me out. A divorced, with child, man over forty wouldn't give me the keys to a car to get out of there until he pleaded his case to join him for a drink in the evening. Best part: we are alone in the building and he's my only way out. Great. I get hit on a lot, mostly by the old timers who are married, and if you accepted they would probably just pee themselves. I've even had a offer that promised that ''I could drive his golf cart". This harmless joking is fine, but the whole event yesterday really bothered me. I tell my co-workers and with the exception of a few of the old guys and the one girl, they all joked about it, how I should accept and get some free drinks, meanwhile I imaged hitting them with big fat cars. Fortunately my boss took it more seriously and much to my surprise I had a meeting with the head guys in Budget today, for the record, 'Mike wants to see you, go alone, oh and take a dirty cavalier' is not comforting. It's scary, especially since once I got there he did the whole 'clear out, boys, and close the door'.

It all ended well, he said I did the right thing, and with that somehow comforting tone my father sometimes takes, he finished with 'don't worry, he won't bother you again.'

The new president of the U of A is a jerk. She came in yesterday, and pretty much all she did was flip through a rather large wad of bills, oh and looked down to me a few times and scoffed, while her secretary dealt with the car rental. Don't worry though, we gave her an Optra... bwa ha ha ha.

And then I almost hit Georges Laraque. He was bounding out of his Escalade while I was whipping around in the G35. It would have been a shame, I really like the Infinity. He, however, has been a jerk in the past and I wouldn't have felt all too terrible, not like he has to be in peak condition to work now anyway. He did manage to give me a pretty dirty look. I am always amazed by his hair. I think it's different everytime he comes in. I say him yesterday and I thought it was fat and sparse dreads, but today they looked really long and skinny. Amazing.

Oh, and I didn't get lunch until 2:00, it lasted ten minutes and then I got sent to the middle of nowhere, meanwhile my certain coworker went out for lunch and picked up slurpees... and didn't even ask if I wanted anything, and I can guarentee he didn't do it in the shuttle!

On the up side, my boss gave me $25.00. I don't know why, but I assure you that I'm alright with it.

I guess that when it's all said and done, yes - I could do nothing. I could sit around and blab into my phone all day, leave everything until the last possible moment, use old guys for their money, and hit NHL players, but I guess at least this way, no matter how crappy it seems at times, I sleep at night, I sleep very well, and I don't regret a thing.