Random Thinkings

I've decided to add another installment of the now infamous random thoughts floating around inside this mullet of mine. As I like to announce to my friends "It's Friday night and my mullet is TIGHT!". As always, buckle your seatbelt while the ride is in motion:

1. According to a new survey, single people "hook up" twice as much as they date. Judging from my experiences over the past 9 months in the dating world I am inclined to support this theory. It seems like the bootycall reigns supreme these days. I don't know whether to take this as a compliment to my mojo or to be insulted I am not dateable. Perhaps that is the way of the single world now, people are just too busy to go through the complexities and ridiculousness of dating but they still meet their needs somehow. Really, I just want to be loved and not just for my body :)

2. The other day at Walmart I saw a Snuggie for a dog. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the Snuggie it is a revolutionary garment specifically designed for people who have all sorts of trouble with their arms getting tangled in blankets. In other words, if you are a complete ra-tard that cannot handle the simple task of not getting tangled in a blanket, the Snuggie is right up your alley. By all means, if you own one, please wear it outside to sporting events like they show in the commercial. I prefer to be able to judge someone's IQ simply by looking at them and the Snuggie is a wonderful tool for showing which people out there lose the battle of wits with a normal blanket. Now they have these wonderful inventions of modern science available for dogs. I can actually understand it more for a dog than for a person. Dogs struggle with blankets. I used to throw a blanket over my dog and watch him fight his way out of it for 15 minutes and genuinely be entertained from it. Theoretically you could not do this with an adult, but the Snuggie makes me believe some people out there might take a while to fight their way out of the blanket. This makes me smile.

3. I distinctly remember most of my childhood summers being spent outside. My parents always used to tell us to get outside to "blow the stink off". The point of this little reminiscing trip is that I'd spend entire days outside on 30 degree sunny days without even the slightest dabbing of sunscreen. Outside for 8 hours and all I would do is tan. If you sent your kid outside without sunscreen now you'd get charged with child abuse or there is a good chance they might burst into flames.

4. Another tidbit of my childhood for you is that my mom used to think that "Bactine" was the miracle cure for everything. We discovered this antibacterial spray while shopping across the border and it quickly became the cure-all of choice in our house. I can remember flipping my bike and having a huge crater of a wound on my kneecap. I can't exaggerate how bad this cut was (20+ years later I still have a big scar from it). So I limped home with my leg soaked in blood and my mom looked at my knee. Did she throw me in the car to and take me to the clinic for stitches? No. She just sprayed some Bactine on it and covered it in gauze. Did I die from it? Obviously not. Did it take 4 months to heal? Yes it did. One time I got poked in the eye (my eye was very bloodshot) and I swear she reached for the Bactine to "clear it right up". Luckily I convinced her it was a bad idea and to let it clear up on its own. There were a few times in my early life that I should have had stitches for cuts, but thanks to Bactine and gauze I now have rather impressive scars. It reminds me of Chris Rock telling the story of how when he was young his mom used Robitussin cough syrup to fix everything. "You got a broken leg? Just pour some 'tussin on it, good to go!".

And that will wrap up this edition of random thinkings. Stay tuned for your local news and by all means be safe out there.

Quite simply: SCARRED for LIFE

Yeah, yeah I know it has been a long time between blog posts and in response to that I will only say you are getting exactly what you're paying for here in the "Universe". Go to the front counter and request your refund if you like. Anyways, without further adieu a real-life taxicab confession (100% true as always)...

Back in my University days we hit the bars a lot, usually either the Friday or Saturday night of every weekend that I did not go home to visit. It was a small university town, there just wasn't that much else to do. Anyways, I kept running into this tall girl that played volleyball. We would have these drunken conversations while slow dancing (if you are a regular reader you know by now how I like to get my dance on). This continued for months until one night while dancing she informed me that her roomates were having a house party and she'd be thrilled if I would accompany her to said party. Not being the type to shy away from a good party, I was all over that invite "like stink on a monkey" (as my boss says). It made the decision even easier when she told me the address and it was literally 300 meters up the road from my apartment building, making it easier to bail if the party was lame.

We grabbed our coats and jumped in a cab. We got back to her apartment and the party was booming. People were everywhere. I walked into the kitchen and I saw this guy sitting on the floor leaning up against the sink. I'll never forget the look on his face. It was a cross between being totally spaced out and a look of complete and utter disbelief. I imagine it is what people look like after they have seen a ghost. The look haunts me to this day and I fear I will never forget it. I asked the guy if he was ok, but he did not respond. He just stared off into space. A few other people came into the kitchen and they all tried to get him to talk, he was apparently usually the life of the party. Nobody could figure out what had happened to him and he refused to talk about it. Finally the guy's best friend was retrieved and came into the kitchen and knelt down beside him. He asked him a few times what had happened and the guy just kept saying he did not want to talk about it. The best friend slapped him across the face a little harder than a joking fashion and it seemed like it snapped the guy out of his trance a bit. By this time a large group of people had gathered around this spectacle in the kitchen.

Picture this if you will, upwards of 30 people gathered around this guy sitting on a kitchen floor. Slowly he started recounting the events of what reduced the life of the party to this stuttering mess...The friend urged him on by starting the story "What happened man? The last I saw you was at the club, you were feeling great and you were kissing a hot girl. What happened next?". The poor guy was obviously uncomfortable reliving the events in his mind, but surprisingly he replied "She was hot right? It wasn't that I imagined it? She was HOT RIGHT??". His friend reassured him that indeed the girl was very pretty and quite possibly out of his league. He goes on and talks about how aggressively the girl pursued him in the club and how she quickly became touchy-feely with him. At this point I had a horrible realization where this might be going. He went on to tell about how she kept telling him that she wanted to get out of the club and go somewhere else. Being the typical horny guy he only put up a small fight to that request, they left the club and got a cab. Things turned up a notch in the cab and the kissing turned to groping. At this point he mentioned that the girl was wearing a skirt. What happened next would normally be something that makes a guy go "SCORE!", but in this case it was anything but...She took his hand and guided it ever so confidently to her downtown bonanza.

At this point he stopped the story and looked as if he may vomit. He took a deep breath and continued "She had JUNK man, she had JUNK! She had JUNK and she put my f**king hand RIGHT ON IT!". The funniest part about this is that he was quite drunk when this took place so it would have at least been a bit of a delay for his brain to compute what indeed his hand was grabbing. Then BANG the lightbulb would have gone on and as he described it, he ripped his hand away from that disaster like it was a vat of acid. He said that for the next 10 seconds or so he kept looking at the person in the cab and trying to register that the same person indeed owned both the top part and the bottom part. From there he basically jumped out of the moving cab, landed in the street, picked himself up and started walking the rest of the way back to his place. He eventually made it home and washed his hands in the kitchen. That was when he realized he could never scrub his memory clean of this experience and he basically collapsed on the floor in shock. And that was when I happened to walk in and spot him...

Just a fun night out at the bar turned horribly wrong. His life might never be the same. That incident would flash before his eyes anytime he was with someone new wouldn't it? I am just super thankful I have never had an experience even remotely like that. The closest I have had was some amazon woman smiling at me at the bar one night. She was literally 6'2 and 180lbs. As C&C Music Factory would say "Things that make you go hmmmm...". Needless to say when I saw her walking in my direction smiling, I walked in the other direction immediately and got the heck out of there. Mama didn't raise no fool!

This weekend I am heading off to Montreal for a bachelor party, I'm sure I will have some inspiration for a blog entry as a result. Have a great Easter weekend and be safe whether it is in your travels or making out in cabs with trannies...

Put Your Clothes On Please, This is Not the Mandarin

2010 is in full swing and with that I have a renewed dedication to physical fitness. I take the stairs two at a time, I try not remain on a first name basis with the employees at fast food places, and I've been going to the gym more frequently than normal. I'm getting absolutely huge (ie. if I stand in one place for a long time people no longer try to hang their coats on me). I am also reasonably certain I could successfully wrestle a grizzly bear for a salmon if it came down to it.

Why am I filling you in on my health habits you ask? Well going to the gym means going to the locker room. It's easily one of my least favourite places in the world. There are just way too many nasty sights to behold in there. One fat, hairy, naked body is more than enough to endure seeing, but you are lucky if it is not more than 5 at a time. I'm all about being confident about your body, but don't be walking around for 5 minutes in a room full of other guys with your nasty junk hanging out. Please refrain from walking the dog. If I see a Smurf house in Santa's beard once more I may vomit.

For the most part the patrons refrain from excessive nudity for prolonged periods of time and I am thankful for that. Last week I went to the gym, changed, did my workout and went back into the locker room to change back into my street clothes. When I re-entered the locker room I saw this fat old naked guy at the lockers across from my locker. He was just chilling out and seemed in no hurry to get dressed. A bit strange on its own, but nothing compared to what he did next. To my surprise, he reached into his gym bag (I figured he was done resting up and was reaching for clothing, but I could not have been more wrong). He pulled out a banana. Yes, a banana. Keep in mind this is a fat old naked man in a room full of other men. Who the heck eats ANYTHING in a locker room? I could see a Powerbar maybe, but fresh fruit? I've never had to replenish my potassium levels THAT bad. I don't think there is enough hand sanitizer in the world to make this seem like a good idea. It took me roughly 10 minutes to change and this guy was still there naked and eating his banana. It was truly bizarre. That would have been odd enough if that was all that happened, but I assure you that was not the end.

The next day I went back to the gym and followed my same routine. I changed, worked out, then changed back into my street clothes. The same fat old naked guy was there again. You may be asking yourself "Was he eating a banana again?" and the answer to that would be no. This time around he decided to go with celery sticks and Cheez Whiz! For a moment I was legitimately wondering if I was on Candid Camera, Just For Laughs or something. Let's look past the fact that this snack provides little nutritional value. Celery sticks and Cheez Whiz takes some preparation time. Did he prepare his snack knowing that he would be naked while eating it? I don't get it and perhaps I am better off not knowing. The point is that this old bugger has single-handedly made me change my workout schedule to avoid him. I wanted to go up to him and say "What the hell man, do you think this is a nude restaurant?? The only restaurant this is is Pho-King PUTYOURPANTSON!", but alas I did not. He is likely there even today eating carrots, baguettes and cream cheese for all I know.

Stupid fat old naked people ruining my world.

Speak (like the Devil) and Spell (like a fiend)

Recently, while engaged in a nostalgic conversation about my childhood, I remembered my favourite childhood toy. They were simpler times then, I was but a wee little boy (approximately 7 years old) with a thirst for knowledge. The only gaming system was Atari. We actually played outside. You could play outside all day without sunscreen and just get a gradual tan. We had 3 channels on TV. Getting cable and the movie channel were monumental events in my life. From the time I was about 3 to 7, I WAS the remote control for the TV. That was how I learned my numbers (the TV had a rotary dial that went from 2-13). We finally got a TV that had a remote control when I was 7 or so. There was a monthly magazine that served as a guide for the movies playing that month on the movie channel and I always memorized it. I went Rain Man on that thing. My family just asked me what movies were on and I could tell them the title, storyline and if it had scenes of violence, coarse language, or nudity (I always giggled if it did).

This Christmas toy may very well have changed my life. Considering that I am now a writer by trade, it likely played an important part in making this a reality. The toy was a Speak and Spell. For those unfamiliar with this wonderful invention, it basically spoke to you in an evil robot voice and said "SPELL ______!!". I couldn't get enough of it. I went through batteries like they were going out of style, to the point where my parents had to buy me a plug in for it. I cannot stress enough how completely psychedelic the voice on that thing was. I'm lucky I didn't grow up talking like a demon child with a speech impediment. Click on the link, and see for yourself. Now picture the easily moulded mind of a child spending hours a day listening to that voice. It's a miracle in itself I didn't go up to other kids and say "SPELL DODECAHEDRON!!...INCORRECT!". My spelling skills were enhanced beyond belief and I was able to excel on spelling tests in school, quietly accumulating an awe-inspiring collection of "scratch and sniff" stickers. Later on in high school we had a gym teacher that scratched his crotch a lot and he was nicknamed "Scratch and Sniff", that irreparably tainted my affectionate recollection of my sticker collection. I can specifically remember my mom making me spell "carbohydrate" in front of almost anyone that came to the house when I was 7 years old ("Michael come show Thelma what a good speller you are!") and I did my little spelling show like a trained monkey. I was a decent proofreader by the time I was 10 years old. To this day I tend to notice spelling mistakes like a hawk (one of my friends unjustly calls me a "spelling nazi"). I owe this all to a $70 toy bought back in 1984. Thank you Speak and Spell, you've changed my life...

"Your last blog kind of sucked a little. Step it up a notch"

Over the weekend I was talking to a friend of mine that reads the blog and she casually informed me that my "last blog sucked a little and to step it up a notch". I won't lie, my initial reaction was to tell her I hoped her crotch was infected with termites and her arms too short to scratch. Then I realized she had just expected more from me and I had let her down. Then I felt bad. I went back and read it and yeah it did suck. There's nothing like a good old fashioned call out to make me go all Die Hard with a Vengeance up in here...I was just thinking how I haven't had any good inspiration for a blog lately, well colour me inspired. I'm seeing red. I'll have you know that my blog has been shown to cure cancer in lab rats, granted the clinical trials are still in the early stages and it is unknown if the rats actually had cancer to begin with. It is the preferred blog for 4 out of 5 dentists (those Sensodyne dentists are sooooo damn sensitive...).

So here it is for your reading amusement, another tale of dating from the long, sordid story of dating known as "The Dickie Memoirs". I'm still waiting for the book deal to come through, you might want to hold off on checking Amazon.com or Chapters anytime soon. I'm holding out for a million dollars and they're currently offering $5. Negotiations have stalled but I am confident they are just playing hardball. Actually they have never returned my emails or calls, but it is just a matter of time...

I was out at a pub with my roomate Teeder and we were having a few drinks just enjoying the Irish atmosphere and happy to be out of the apartment. The band was good and the night just had a great feel to it. We were telling each other jokes and laughing in our typical fashion when I registered some eyes on me. I don't usually trust my spider senses but this was unmistakable. I did a quick survey around the room and spotted the culprit. It was an attractive girl of slightly below average height with golden blonde hair. Her hair seemed to glow and had these really cute curls. I was intrigued. So I employed my unique and unfailing rules of engagement. In other words, I just looked in her direction once in a while and did my best to not look creepy. And by unfailing, I mean it works about 10% of the time. We generally looked at each other and smiled for about an hour. I'm quite shy around strangers and approaching girls in a bar is not my style, but for whatever reason I was inspired to go up to talk to her and her friend. You miss 100% of the shots you don't take right? You gotta be in it to win it? Pick a cliche and it likely passed through my mind.

I walked up, surprisingly cool, and I introduced myself. We chatted and kind of hit it off. It was close to closing time and I asked for her number, she gave it. I called her and was going to ask her out but she had to work. She invited me to come by the pool hall she worked at. I called my friend Awall and asked if he was up for some pool. He accepted the offer. We went to the pool hall and she set us up with a table. I noticed this woman at the bar that looked as if she is just killing time between bingo games. I tend to make a note of all the patrons in a public place just in case I need to get out in a hurry and I like to have mental notes about anyone that may cause trouble. She was noted. Not because she would cause trouble mind you, but in the case of a fire she may slow people down because she forgot her lucky bingo dabbers. These are the things I notice.

We played pool and the girl came back once in a while to check on us, we flirted a little. I suck at interpreting flirting, so maybe she just had something in her eye. On a side note, Awall is one of my best friends and we always have a some good laughs. He once picked me up and when I got in the car he was really excited so I asked him why. He explained that he just went to the bank machine and that it gave him some brand new $5 bills. He then told me that he thought he would put them away and keep them cause they might be worth something some day. I looked at him in total disbelief and said "Yeah they will, $5". He gave me a look like a kid that just found out there was no such thing as Santa Claus. Another time my mom was taking us both out for dinner and the waiter took our orders and he told Awall the choices of potato available with his meal: baked potato, mashed potatoes, and fries. Awall just replies in a quiet voice "potatoes". I nearly spit out my water. These events are so infamous now that when he does something stupid I just say "$5" or "potatoes" and we both laugh hysterically. Maybe this is a geography joke and you just needed to be there. I find it imperative to point out at this time that Awall did not drink or do drugs like you may assume. Interestingly enough he was along for a lot of my failed dating "adventures". But I digress, that is another blog entry...

So we finished playing pool and we were walking up towards the bar to pay for the game and to say goodbye. Awall was watching intently to see how I was going to mess up the goodbye like I have a tendency to do. Out of the blue the Bingo woman speaks up and calls me over. At this point it becomes obvious to me that the Bingo woman knows the girl and they have talked about me a little. Something was amiss and I could sense it. As I walked over to the woman I got the feeling it was a bad idea. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak my suspicions were confirmed. She knew I was trying to impress the girl and had it in her mind to use me for her enjoyment. Normally I would have declined what she said, but I was feeling a bit surly that evening. There was a group of 8 people (half guys, half girls) that were sitting on couches around the fireplace discussing sex and she was listening to what they were saying. She had a few objections to what the guys were saying and she wanted to voice her opinion. She would never do this but since I was approximately the same age as the group, she thought it would be great to have me voice it for her. She laid out the plan by saying "If you go over to that group and tell them you've heard what they were saying and just have to give your opinion that it's all about the girl, nothing else matters, it's just about the girl" I'll buy you and your friend a beer". She said it that way but what I actually heard was "Do this if you want to not seem like a total dork in front of this girl you're trying to impress". This request doesn't seem like a terribly big deal, but for someone decently shy like I can be, it was a big undertaking.

At this point I will say that women make men do stupid things all the time. I assume that is how the Olympics began way back when, it was originally just two guys trying to outdo each other over a woman.

In a moment of extreme bravery or total stupidity, I walked over to this group and they noticed me approaching. They were obviously wondering what the hell I was doing. Awall sat there at the bar laughing his ass off because he knew I was totally out of my element. With all eyes on me I opened my mouth and surprisingly the words came out fairly clear and confidently "Excuse me, but I couldn't help but overhear the conversation you're having and I just have to say, it's all about the woman for me, if she's not happy I'm not happy either". The guys looked at me like they wanted to kill me and the girls looked like they were quite interested in whatever else I had to say at this point. One of the girls said "All guys say that, but few of them know what the hell they are doing" and I replied "I was a boy scout, I never go into the woods unless I am familiar with the territory or have a good map. I've never gotten lost in the woods, and one time I tamed a wild cougar...". The guys stared at me with dirtier looks and the girls' smiles got a little bigger. I took that as my cue to exit stage left and I thanked them for their time and walked back to the bar. Bingo woman was smiling ear to ear like she just got an O-69 to complete the dreaded 4 corners game, the girl was smiling sheepishly at me and Awall was laughing and called me an idiot. The Bingo woman tried to order me a beer but I told her it was not necessary because I didn't do it for the beer while I smiled at the girl behind the bar.

I didn't end up dating the girl from the pool hall, but this helped me in overcoming my fears of looking foolish in front of people and likely spurred on a few blog worthy events down the road. It seems like a small blip on the radar, but it was the beginning of a new improved Dickie. Stay tuned...

Love it...

What!?
Posted by Matthew Good on January 27, 2010
I hope she’s not talking about her breasts…

…because I care. Unless, that is, they cost the Province $6 billion smackeroos.

-From matthewgood.org

I mean anytime you have the opportunity to spend $6 billion dollars to probably lose a few billion in return, don't you make that investment every time??

In unrelated news I am finally rid of my VW Jetta. I no longer have to internally debate the morals of leaving it unlocked in Scarborough overnight. I honestly think the real reason I didn't do this is that it would have been suspicious with me laughing so hard while reporting it stolen. Let the Acura Era begin, the bar has been set low.

A Plethora of Bad Ideas

Many blogs ago I took some quotes from the movie Cocktail and wrote about them. I've decided to bring that back and see how it goes, I welcome feedback whether it be positive or negative. By now I assume you have all seen the Hangover. What I propose to do is talk about current events and to tie it somehow to a quote from the movie. Bare with me as it will be a work in progress and could totally suck. I do guarantee you your money's worth...

Stu: "Am I missing a TOOTH?? I look like a nerdy hillbilly!!" - Dedicated to the Slap Chop/ShamWOW guy. We've all seen this guy on TV. I have to question the idea of having a guy that allegedly slapped and chopped a prostitute in his hotel room as your pitchman for a product called the "SLAP/CHOP". The essence of the story is that he was kissing her and she bit his tongue and wouldn't let go. Read the article for yourself here. Maybe watching Pretty Woman has given me the wrong impression of hookers, I always assumed there was no kissing. In my mind both parties should want to enforce that rule. I want to know more about this, like whether he introduces himself as the "ShamWOW guy" and whether she had a sense of humour about him soliciting her and said "pay within the next 15 minutes and I'll throw in a ____ free! (just pay the extra shipping and 'handling')"? These are the important issues and I am just left wondering...

Stu: "What do Tigers dream of when they take a little Tiger snooze? Do they dream of mauling zebras or Halle Berry in her Cat Woman suit?" and Alan: "Tigers love Pepper. They hate Cinnamon" and Phil: "F*ck, I keep forgetting about the goddamn Tiger!!" - Dedicated to Tiger Woods of course. Now I'm not saying what he did was alright, but Elin should have seen it coming. I don't know Tiger Woods, surprisingly I don't know anyone who has slept with him either (or will admit it, although some of my friends are suspiciously driving brand new expensive cars recently), but I knew all I needed to know about him by typing "Do Tigers mate for life?" into Google and getting the following answer "Some do and some don't". So right there it doesn't sound good. Throw in the fact that he makes like a billion dollars and the odds of him not cheating go down exponentially. Now he has reportedly checked into sex addiction therapy and from the look of some of the women he was allegedly with, I believe it was a cry for help and he wanted to get caught. The best thing about the second quote is that Pepper and Cinnamon sound like really ugly stripper names (and coincidentally most of the women that have talked about him have looked like ugly strippers). I think his entire P.R. team should be fired. If I were Tiger Woods I would have embraced the infamy and made fun of myself. An example of how I would act if I was indeed Tiger Woods (I mean he was caught, at least have some fun with it):

Reporter: "Tiger is it true you have had extramarital relations with upwards of 12 women?"
Me as TW: "Yes, it is. I blame myself for getting caught up in my own name. I believed I was a TIGER. Sometimes I would wake up and I would have to remind myself I was not actually in the JUNGLE man. What's your name? Mike? You have no idea what it's like, you don't have the nickname of a wild jungle cat. Come back to me when you've become the most famous person in the world at anything and you've legally changed your name to Hyena or Panther. Next question?"

Reporter: "Are you worried you will lose half of your wealth because of your infidelities?"
Me as TW: "I'm Tiger Woods, I'm worth a billion dollars. If Elin takes half, I'm not starving, I'm not shopping at Walmart or Giant Tiger. Sure I lost some endorsements, but I am currently in contract negotiations with Trojan (a Tiger striped condom) and Blackberry (a phone that will have fingerprint recognition). And in case you've all forgotten, I'm pretty damn good at golf. I'm Oprah RICH."

Reporter: "What do you regret most about everything that has gone down?"
Me as TW: "Are you kidding me? Did you see some of these women?? I regret the ugliness of the women."

Reporter: "Did you think you'd get caught?"
Me as TW: "No, and I wouldn't have if it weren't for those pesky kids and that dog...Roooby Doooby Doo(Scooby Doo reference). Does anyone know Britney's number??"

Stu: "If anything, we should get a reward" Alan "Yeah...a reward or a trophy!" - Dedicated to the lesbian that left a lesbian party and decided to drive home intoxicated. She called 911 and reported herself. Lesbian: "I'd like to report a drunk driver" 911: "Are you behind them?" Lesbian: " I AM THEM" 911: "Excuse me? You're what? Lesbian: "I AM THEM".

Stu: "You are literally too stupid to insult"
Alan: "Thank you." - Dedicated to the couple in Romania that tried to have a child for 11 years and were unable to. Upon going to a fertility specialist it was discovered they were taking the road less travelled all those years. Robert Frost would have been proud.

Until next time, may fortune smile upon you all...