Friday, July 21, 2006

Fire Lake

One thing I must admit: I have no idea what Bob Seger's "Fire Lake" is all about. I have always loved that song, but what in Sam Hill does it mean? Why was uncle Joe afraid to cut the cake? Why would Aunt Sarah be mad he went to Fire Lake? I just don't get it. Add it to New Moon on Monday as a puzzle... and nobody still has answered me about what it means when Burton Cummings sings "gotta roll it to my grandma, gotta roll the old lady" - wtf?
Oh, and I can't stand anything by Burton and company as well.
That's the thought of the day.
Well, I gotta run. We are heading off the the lake. Not Fire Lake, but Candle Lake.
Who wants to go to Candle Lake....
Head out... head out... head out........

there ain't no uncle Joe there though... pity.

disjointed post about all the songs i hate

Yet again, Roxanne stole my thunder in posting how much she hates Old Time Rock and Roll. That song has been annoying the living shit out of me lately to no end. It's too bad, because I love the album it's from, Stranger in Town. It's sandwiched between Hollywood Nights and Still the Same, if I remember correctly (I probably am wrong, but whatever), and I love those two songs. But Old Time Rock and Roll is putrid.
I also hate most Bryan Adams songs, especially "Everything I do i do it for you". I just find it vile. It's hideous. Crap. Pure crappola. I'd rather listen to Courtney Love vomit. I dislike most of his stuff, but I do have a thing for some of the songs on the Into the Fire album, which didn't sell much - it was when he was trying to be "introspective" and when that didn't fly, he hired Shania's hubby again and did some more crap. Anyway, I can't tell you how much I can't stand him, but when he named an album 18 until I die or whatever it was, he will indeed be that, at least from the scars on his pocky face. Yes, that is mean. Yes, I regret typing it. But I will not backspace. I will NOT, because he's just so bad. But I do now have a soft spot for the Cuts Like a Knife album, for purely sentimental reasons. That's it.
I also hate the Escape Club, Kylie Minogue's Locomotion, Stacy Q's Two of Hearts, Georgia Satelites' Keep Your Hands to Yourself, the unplugged version of Layla, most of the Travelling Wilbury's songs, George Harrison's Got my mind set on you, Right Now by Van Halen, most renditions of Dancing in the Streets, She's Like the Wind, All I Need, any DOn Johnson song, and most everything from the 90s. Add to the list the final countdown by Europe, Twisted Sister (because I have horrible memories of me pumping my fist, yelling "We're not gonna take it!" at school dances in grade 9), pretty much everything by Huey Lewis (oh he's so grossly sickening, I could puke), and while I like some of their songs, I hate The Look and Dressed for Success by Roxette. Stupidass songs. Oh, and I always HATED Part Time Lover by Stevie Wonder but now it sort of grows on me but I still hate I just Called to say I love you. But you know Billy Ocean is allright - I really dig Love Zone.
Oh, and "Contact" and "Fire" by Platinum Blonde.... oh how the mightly fell.
Well, that's all I can think of for tonight.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

One Freaky-ass Post about the Tidization of the World

It's really late. I've drank some wine before bed. I am typing in bed. The combination of these things does not a good post make. However, Roxy lit a fire under my flat feet when she said she a) bought Cheer detergent and b) is mad at stupid Superstore and will ban it because they do not carry sweet fuck all for products, and she'd rather be dead, or red, or in bed, or something like that before she'd buy Superstore brand detergent. Well, honey, let me say I am with you 100%. I actually have notes for a post I will get around to writing someday about this very thing, but I'll give a condensed version right now.
I am a product whore. Yes, you heard me, a product whore. Wave some new product in front of me, and I will be orgasmic. I am also fiercely loyal to some products. It's been this way since my earliest childhood, and I don't rightly know why. As a lil' gaffer, I paid way too much attention to what products where in people's carts, and what products they used in their homes, and I still can recite some oddities that would make you question my sanity. For example, I can tell you the kind of bar soap in my neighbor's bathroom when I was 7 years old (Zest), what kind of deoderant my best friend's dad used (Right Guard in a can), etc. I also remember what brand of cigarettes all of my parents' friends smoked when I was a kid. Why did I process all of this information like it meant anything? I have no clue. But I knew what brands I wanted to use, that's for damn sure. I would spend way too much time imagining how great it would be when I was a grown up and could furnish my house with products of my choosing. I'd proudly saunter through Super Valu (where I was going to shop because it smelled like fresh bread in there) and would greet friends in passing, proudly displaying all of the Ivory and Pears soap, Campbell's Tomato soup, and Oxydol in my cart. I'd be the coolest guy shopping, confident with my hip brands, gleefully pushing my cart in my platform heels and satin jacket (this WAS the 70's).
Perhaps I was this complete mental retard because my parents were bargain hunters. I guess with 4 kids, you had to be, but I was always embarassed by the stuff we bought. Why, I don't know, because to my knowledge, the cool kids from school never broke into our house, riffled through our cupboards, and saw that we bought Splendor Macaroni instead of the estetically pleasing box of Creamettes I just had to have. But, alas, I was always ashamed. First off, we shopped at this store called "Prairie Market" which was a bare-bones warehouse looking place where you not only bagged your own stuff, but you PRICED it as well. You wrote the price with a grease pen on the products, so instead of the nice type-written tag, you got a gross, greasy scrawl on all your canned vegetables. As I said, I wanted to shop at Super Valu, with their bread-smelling bakery and automatic rotating counters at the check out.
But we filled our house with things such as 4 quart bottles of watery Egg Shampoo and Creme Rinse, Freshie (not Kool Aid like everyone else, but FRESHIE, for shit sake), strange brands of canned veggies (never green giant), and the whole gamut of "Western Family" products. True, some things we bought name brand, and never budged on, but I wanted it all.
Now, to make me seem even more strange, I had this huge laundry obsession, and always wanted to buy Oxydol, because the shit smelled dope. But no, we always bought ABC or worse, Surf, and the shit was so gross it wouldn't disolve and cake on your clothes. Never Downy, either, just Bounce. Sometimes I would buy my own Oxydol - but I don't want to admit this, because that just makes me seem crazier than Augusten as a child, God love you my homeboy.
So, I will comment more on that shit later, when I write this post completely, and I will tell you all of the products I had to have back then. But for now, let's get back to Chunks, and what she lamented about Superstore not having the products you need. They NEVER do, and half the time they really DO have it, but don't put it out. My nephew used to work there, and he said they'd sit on piles of stuff in the back and would be ordered not to put it out, and why, I don't know, probably to get people to buy their store brand shit. And it is true, their selection sucks. I am glad that people like Chunks didn't give in and buy their brand of detergent but instead went for the Cheer. But one trend that is happening down the laundry aisle that is symptomatic of all products is what I call the Tidization of the marketplace. What I mean is, one brand dominates, and all other selection goes down the toilet. Again, I am using laundry detergent to illustrate my point. Think back 30 years, or even 20: You went to the market to buy some detergent for your clothes, and you had these to choose from: Tide, Cheer, Oxydol, Bold, ABC, Surf, Whisk, Era, Sunlight, Arctic Power, Ivory Snow, Dreft, plus a whole lot more I am forgetting at the moment. Then came along Tide with Bleach, which really was Oxydol with less scent, but still, competition is good. Then, suddenly, the other brands disappear, and Tide just makes a bunch of different scents and formulas. Tide with Bleach, Lemon Tide, Mountain Spring Tide, Clean Breeze Tide, Tide Free, All of these available in ultra or original, and Tide with Febreze, and Tide with a Touch of Downy.... on and on. And then all the liquid Tides. And the U.S. has even MORE kinds of Tide. Well, whoopdee doo you are saying. But then look at the shelves. It's all Tide products, with a little Cheer thrown in, and just a little bit of other shit. All the old brands are gone. Same thing with Fabric Softeners. There used to be Downy, Fleecy, Fluff, the pink shit, Rain Barrel... now it's a bunch of different Downy products. I know that Proctor and Gamble owned most of the brands anyway, but it bothers me that there is no choices left. And this TIDIZATION is all over places like Superstore. Look at canned veggies. It used to be lots of choices. Now it's generic or Green Giant. Or soup. I have to have Aylmer's Tomato Soup, but because most places just have Campbells or the store brand, it's hard to find. It's crazy. It's bigger stores, more shelf space, but no fucking choices. True, in the states, there is a lot of choice, and I almost get something akin to sexual pleasure being in an American supermarket or Walmart, just becauee of the product choices. But here, we don't have any of that. It's just generic, the main brand, and nothing else. And it's just not right.
Blame free trade, blame the market economy, blame your parents.... the truth is, Tidazation has ruined shopping for whores like us. So when you reject President's Choice detergent, or wax beans, or dental floss, you are flipping the bird to the man. God love ya.
Long may you run, you rebels, you.
Seacrest out.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

The One About the Dog in the Store

Ok, I am still trying to back up to our trip to Edmonton, but I guess there isn't much to say - well, there is, as in that I took notes of many things I want to write about (but tonight isn't going to be then) and so I have a WEALTH of material that will come out from then. Three major posts, but not tonight. LOL, I took notes - I am such a loser. But anyway, we had a blast, spent money we didn't have, the kids loved Galaxyland and the waterpark, and of course we spend many hours in IKEA and came home with the Bjorna table and six Kaustby chairs, one which was broken, so we are still dealing with them.
After that, we went to the lake and I drove into town each day for a week for work and my family stayed there. But the one story I want to share from then occured on the last day. I went to work one morning and Rachel was staying at the lake and then catching a ride into town later in the day with her folks. So they are all in the truck, and our dog, who is a Houdini in her kennel, is in the back of the truck, with some rope around the door, AND a bag of potatoes in front for good measure. So, they head home, and the lake is about a 45 minute drive from town. They stop halfway at Meath Park, the only town in between (or Meth Park, as it's now called by locals because of the fine Meth they produce in the area, God love them), and the dog is fine. So they come into town, and are heading to our house, and they are stopped at a light (Margo, since you know this town, they were at the corner of River Street and Central, right by the Museum - the old Fire Hall) and Rachel looks over and comments, "oh, that dog looks like Lady. I wonder what it's doing downtown.... IT IS LADY". Somehow, she got loose and broke out of her kennel, hopped out at the lights and by the grace of God, Rachel spots her. So, they quickly pull over and Rachel hops out. Of course, she runs like she's being murdered when you call her, so the dog takes off, crosses the busy street and takes off down the sidewalk (Margo, she crosses Central and is flying along). Then, Rachel is trying to catch up to her and suddenly sees the fucking AUTOMATIC DOORS of the Co-op open.... and in walks the fucking dog. So, she boots it to the Co-op and goes in and doesn't know if she went down the stairs or into the supermarket part, so she walks in and goes "um, did you see a dog come in here" to which the lady at the pharmacy says "oh yes, she just ran in here. She went that way!" so Rachel is trying to be nonchalant, whispering "Lady.... Lady!", and she doesnt want every lady in the store staring at her either. So, finally she sees her down good old aisle eleven, and then a customer in line yells "I GOT HER" and then starts asking Rach a million questions about how cute she is and what kind of dog she is, and she just wants to catch her breath and then curl up and die.
So, our dog has even been to the grocery store.... God love her.
And that, is the REST of the story.
I am typed out from doing three posts, so the Golden Globes are now over y'all!

Wasting Away Again in JTville.....

Today was my eighth wedding anniversary. Happy anniversary baby if you ever are reading this - love ya lots!
I can't believe it's been 8 years since we got married. We've been together 16 years, lived together for 14, married for eight, parents for five.... that's a lot of numbers, folks. Our wedding was so much fun. I have to say it really was the best day of my life. And we partied until the bitter end, and everone had so much fun, people stayed forever. At this time, right about now, Margo and I were dancing away and she was yelling at the DJ because he cut off the song she requested - but it was Meatloaf, so he's forgiven. Although I am sure she holds a grudge still.
So, we had a really good day today. Well, let me recap the weekend. We went to the lake on Friday night and came back Sunday night, since the weather looked funny on Sunday, and then of course woke up to a stiffling hot Monday. But Kristen broke out in this rash on Sunday so we took her to the walk-in clinic on Sunday night and the doctor said it looked like an allergic reaction or "the itch", which is, I dunno what, but usually appears at the lake on the August long weekend when the weather is hot. But, it wasn't itchy so we thought it really was because we bought different laundry detergent, which made me feel guilty (sorry Tide, we'll never stray again - we bought Cheer, powder, and the stuff has a dogshit scent to it, underlying). But, it looked more pronounced on Monday, and then suddenly her feet were all sore and swollen and hot, so we took her to a different walk-in, and THIS one said it was either an allergic reaction or a fungus, and gave us fungus stuff, and an antihistimine that came in this huge bottle (might as well have had three x's on it), and her feet are fine but the rash is still there, so tomorrow, we go to a REAL doctor (sorry, I still have my prejudices against walk-in clinics) - well, actually, our doctor is on holidays, but we are seeing his brother, who used to be my doctor years ago, so it's all good....
So, in the midst of this yesterday, Kelly's filling fell out on her front tooth, which made her hysterical, so we got her to the dentist today, and then took the kids to Melfort, a town an hour's drive away, because they have this really awesome wave pool complex. So, we spent the afternoon there, and then our daughter announced that she was taking us to Bonanza (lol, yes, BONANZA) for our anniversary. We just sort of chuckled but then she said in the pool "this is really a special day, because we get to go to Melfort in the day and Bonanza tonight!" so how could we not take her? I am on holidays the rest of the week, and I don't know what we'll do - I think we might go to a different lake tomorrow after the doctor if it's nice, and then head back up to the lake on Thursday or Friday - I wanted to take my family to this little lake (as in the size of a swamp) that I spent time at each summer when I was a kid. It's a two hour drive, but my wife is a good sport and said why not, so we'll see. As long as there is water and sand, they should like it. So maybe we can do that on Thursday and then OUR lake on Friday until Monday. We'll see.
We've been sleeping in, but two days now, the doorbell has woken us up because our paperwoman collects every week on Mondays. She's slow in the head, and loves to visit Rachel, so we now feel funny about sending money in and paying the year like every other person in this town..... It's kind of like when Seinfeld felt like he was cheating on his barber....but damn, since it's been so hot, she stunk the living hell out of our house last week when she collected. Rachel almost vomited from the long lasting BO, I kid you not.
So that's this week. I'll keep you posted on the exciting updates here in JTville.

Tuesday Night T.V. Review (Sounds Like a Sheryl Crow Album, doesn't it?)

First off, I have to get this off of my chest: Kaysar is the biggest fucking idiot this side of George W. Bush, I kid you not. I thought Chicken George would take the cake, but no, Kaysar, on his THIRD, count them, THIRD chance, buggers it up. So there goes my Season Six dreamteam yet again. What a frigging idiot. IDIOT. I am mad beyond words.
And as for Rock Star, I really can't stand that arrogant Canadian guy, but I am totally cheering for Dilyana or whatever the hell her name is - I call her Diludid as a pet name. And that frigging Sheeba or whatever the fuck she is, Zaraya or whatever, well, she completely freaks me out. And I suppose I should google Gilby Clark, because, dude, I have no clue who you are. I missed introductions the first week. And finally, Dave Navaro - could there be a more annoying person on the planet? And he looks so... strange. I think he's really just Prince whitened up with some of Michael Jackson's Jolene skin bleach and some tats. The resemblance is frightening!
Oh, and while I love the show and I admit, there is something sort of human deep down about Tommy Lee that would make him fun to have a drink or two with, but dude, you look so old! Now I know, I too am long in the tooth at 36, but just to see this Crue dude, who 23 years ago was all in the makeup during the Shout at the Devil era (I admit I had that album, but I kept it hidden, because it didn't mix well with my Depeche Mode, but I sorta liked them up to that point - Too Young to Fall in Love was so damn good. They lost me with Theater of Pain, though, although I had to listen to it incessantly with Margo, God love that crazy bitch) - but anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, Tommy is middle aged and beneath the tats, he sort of has this Richard Dawson vibe about him. But it's all good. The Metallica dude is the only one who is like normalish. But yeah, our Tommy is getting old.... so that means we ain't far behind, peeps......
And finally, I tried to watch The One, and I mean, it completely stinks, and the premise is so cockeyed - the winner gets a recording contract, but first I think the audience votes, and then the bottom three are left, and the judges save one, and the CONTESTANTS vote who goes. So I mean, HELLO, they'll get rid of the good ones. It will be a roomful of Zayada's and Chicken George's left at the end..... And who the judges are, I have no idea (missed the first hour), but the one has a dyed blue goatee and he's 105 years old, so yeah, you're really cool - when you are standing up next to BARNEY MILLER, dumbass.... and the black guy is the mean Simon prototype, but without the fun, and the chick, well, I can't even comment, because she might as well be Carmen Electra, because she seems as intelligent.
And that, my friends, is my review of this week's shows. But I am addicted to Rock Star, I will leave you with that.
Ebert and Roper and whoever else (or to quote a song I secretly love and know all the words to, the Bloodhound Gang's "The Bad Touch" - "Yes I'm Siskel, yes I'm Ebert and you're getting two thumbs up" - bet you'll be singing that song all damn day now :)

Friday, July 14, 2006




Before I forget, I want my peeps to watch Big Brother, Rock Star, and Canadian Idol so we have stuff to discuss..... now I am going to bed.

random memory #547

Margo came up with this clever ditty one day whilst driving around listening to My Boyfriend's Back:
My boyfriend's black and my mama really hates him
Hey-la, hey-la, my boyfriend's black.
Arnold and Willis have no friends,
since they moved to Park avenue.

You know, we thought it was funny, because we would have thought Margo's mom WOULD have hated that. But you know, she ended up being more tolerant that we thought she'd be, and accepts her daughter's life partner, and her Asian daughter in law. However, she still votes conservative. Rome wasn't built in a day.

I heard the original song today and the Margo lyrics came flooding back. God love ya Margo.

Marci's choice

I know, I know, I haven't blogged for like a month. And I will do an update this weekend, I promise. We are going to the lake tomorrow and I am going to bring the laptop so I can write. However, I just was catching up with Chunk's blog, and see her daughter is thinking of having sex with her boyfriend on their 6 month anniversary, and I need to help her stop it. Chunks honey, you have to ask her this:
First, they have been dating 6 months and he's got some rubbers and she doesn't want to go on the pill because of the pelvic exam. Tell her that if she can't handle a doctor sticking a frigging shoehorn or whatever up her hoo-hoo, then she's got a shock coming when, 9 months later, the doctor is cramming a pair of foreseps up her privates to get his big-headed kid removed from her body. Also, Ask her how close they are. Ask her if they fart in front of each other with ease. That is always the comfort barrier in a relationship. If she doesn't want him to hear her fart, ask her if she is ready for him to see her projectile pooping whilst she is straining under a severe contraction when she is pushing out his baby after the condom broke nine months before.
Also, ask her just how comfortable she will feel with him seeing her hoo-hoo looking like hamburger, after said forseps do their trick.... and ask him how he will feel about gettin' with that again....
Sit them both down and then ask HIM what sounds like more fun: Going to a prenatal class together as teenagers in a room full of smug married 30-somethings, and having to tell the class that your baby's room is being set up real nice in your mom's house, while the other parents and the teacher are all chattering behind your back about what a shame it is to see such young people ruining their lives - or masturbating. I bet dollars to donuts he picks the latter. You can then do your sex with Sue imitation and use crude slang and tell him ain't nobody ever died or ruined their lives from beating the ole meat. Do the whole Sue thing and break out some lubes and such. By this point, after having his girlfriend's mother talking to him about jacking off, he will not only not want to sleep with her anymore, he'll never be able to pleasure himself either.
Finally, tell her they don't have to take their clothes off to have a good time. They can dance and party all night, and drink some cherry wine, uh huh... .(kudos if you remember who sang that song).
I never thought I would be like this, but now that I have daughters (and, quite frankly, if I had sons too), ain't no fucking way they are going to be sexxing it up under my watch, no sireee.
Anyway, hope this helps, Chunks. Let's keep these kids free from lust!
Yours in Chastity (as in no sex, not as in Cher's daughter, because, quite frankly, ain't nobody really gettin' IN Chastity Bono, if you know what I am sayin... oh, that was so terrible, slap me Dorothy),