Barbara Anne

Typing away here and the old Beach Boys song came on the radio. Reminded me of when I was 16 and went to a party. The two girls hosting it were non-identical twins. Both incredibly hot but my favourite (yep, U) was Karen. Divorced dad was away for the evening so as you expect, all the teens gathered at their house. Lots of beer later, we all got asked to leave before the dad returned. Me being so polite, I headed off down the driveway until I realised I was alone. My buddies were lining up to kiss the girls goodnight. Naturally, I did a military style about face (approximately 1440 degrees) and headed back.

By the time I got to the door I was passing my buddies in the driveway. But I was on a mission! I kept walking. My timing was imperfect. I reached the door in time for it to be closed in my face by the laughing girls. Ha! As if that would stop me! The door was plate glass. I walked straight into and through it. With a huge crunch I found myself in the kitchen demanding a kiss from each of the twins. Oh dear.

There was much yelling and threatening of life and naturally the imminent return of the father did not help. Suffice to say, I got my kiss from both of them before I left, punching the air and to cheers from my waiting buddies. I walked home on air that night. And returned the next day to apologise to the father and take the hit for the broken door.

Smokin’ Buddha

Ate out tonight. Company starred the edible Nikki, Mike and Melinda, her parents and several new friends. Mike on guitar, with Tommy P and Sam switch hitting on vocals and guitar. Bottom line, food was awesome, company too and the music on the patio signed the deal. We’re going back. Really, if you’re in the area, stop by. Do your tummy a favour. Yes, there’s a ‘U’ in there. I bravely tried another shrimp tonight. First one in many years, and the last. Shrimp? Not for me, I fear. Korean beef? Oooh yes. I am not sure what those Koreans do to those cows, but it really tenderises the meat. Yes, there’s an ‘S’ in there.

Brother Lee Love

BrothersAfter our recent Friday 13th trip to Port Dover, the edible Nikki and I went to London to visit my family. This was the first time they had met Nikki, and as we had not showered for two days (camping!) we were not at our best, sore, sleepy and sunburned as we were. Nonetheless, the welcome we received from Andy and Jean (brother and sister-in-law) was warm and wonderful. I haven’t seen the family for around three years so there was some catch up to be done. Odd, really. I moved 3.5 thousand miles to Ontario to be near them. Bro Tony couldn’t make it over which was a shame but we can do it another time. T’other bro Vyvyan joined us later for beers and the night was spent giggling like schoolkids by/in/around the pool. Next morning, bacon and egg sandwich courtesy of Jean before heading back home, changing and unpacking, then heading out again to Niagara for the Grand Cirque. That’s another story. Nutshell: go see it.

Just wanted to say it was great seeing the guys after so long. Must do it again soon, and Andy, I found the soap.

Hats? Don’t get me started about hats…

I have been a driver for many years, in various vehicles and countries. Much of that was commercial deliveries or sales. Starting in my home town 20 years ago, I worked up to regional, then national coverage, finally spending three years as the sales manager for a national distribution company. During that time I spent 10-16 hours per day, 5 days per week on the road, sleeping in hotels and covering around 1000 miles (1600km) per week from one end of the UK to the other (I got paid to listen to the radio! Yippee!). This was small vehicle, of course, under the radar of the Ministry which governs how many hours you can drive per day by putting a nice machine in the cab which tells your boss where to stick his overtime. Anyhoo, as a time served veteran of the UK/Europe/Canada highway system I hereby claim my right to An Opinion and here it is: People that wear hats while driving are a danger to themselves and others. They should be taken outside and have their keys hidden in the body cavity of your choice and told to walk home without removing them.

I noticed early on that the majority of stupid things I saw on the road during those 10 hour+ days involved drivers with hats. Tall, short, young, old, male or female. The common factor was then and always has been since, a hat. I started thinking about this, having nothing better to do, and came to a simple conclusion. It was this. People that wear hats while driving have a lower I.Q. than the average simian, which explains their inablity to drive in a straight line or follow the same rules of the road as the rest of the world. Simply put, drivers-in-hats are so dumb they bend low over the wheel while driving, just so they don’t have to take off their hats. I have seen drivers with their noses pressed to the wheel so close they couldn’t possibly see the road ahead (or anything unlucky enough to be crossing it at the time), drivers with unbuttoned ear flaps covering their eyes, drivers that release the wheel to catch the hat when wind flips it off their head and even, once, a driver that actually switched hats while driving. These same people are always en-route to an accident. They are the ones that will routinely indicate right then turn left, stop for no obvious reason in the middle of the highway, overtake stationary school buses and drive so close to my tailpipe I want a cigarette when they pull out.

I have made a habit of watching for hats. I told the edible Nikki about this and she now routinely watches for the Hatted Ones too. When we see one, we call it out. And usually, 30 seconds or so later, something stoopid happens. I love wedding parties: I have a theory the bride is traditionally late to church because the chauffeur driver just keeps turning left. Let my experience be a lesson to all. It could save your life someday. Beware the Hatted Ones! And if you are one, take the bugger off. You look silly.

Oil be buggered

One specially for my friend Mike M. Now the fuss is dying down I can vent this. Debate the following:

Environmental issues aside, the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico was not all bad. Between the insurance payouts, the law suits, the documentaries and the residual fees from the TV networks, those affected will probably never need to work again. So I don’t want to hear anyone moaning about the loss of their livelihood. Suck it up, buttercup!

I remember when finding a million barrels of crude in your back yard was the American dream. If it was good enough for the Beverly Hillbillies, it’s good enough for me. Discuss.

Friday the 13th in Port Dover

hug that skull, weirdoI just spent two nights under canvas with the edible Nikki in the sleepy town of Port Dover. For that weekend it was turned inside out and upside down by thousands upon thousands of hairy, sweaty, middle aged bikers. Oh, their husbands and boyfriends were there too, but these kind of things are always about the ladies. One resident in particular sticks in my mind. He worked at one of the few stores on the high street actually open that weekend and he spent the whole day standing in the doorway almost buried under plastic, yelling “Beads for boobs!” He wasn’t interested in seeing my respectable C cups but was kind enough to help Nikki up the step and into the store with a well placed hand. Sumbeech.

Today at work

I provide IT tech support for an unnamed Fortune 500 company. Don’t ask who, I won’t say. If you know me then you already know and if you don’t it doesn’t matter. More important are confidentiality and professionalism and all that good stuff, plus weird as it may seem I kinda like working there: I can only comment obliquely about work matters. I’m going to showcase actual events in here under the “Today at work” heading as they arrive, with the above considerations. Irregularly, but frequently, every one the honest truth so help me Santa. Just to vent and highlight the often ridiculous. It may get a little geeky so if you see the above tag line you can choose to skip it. Or not, if you’re a geek too.

Sample one:

Client:     This go$^%mm mother*$&ki#g sonofabi*@ is a total piece of shit! Why the hell did I buy it?

Me:           I have no idea sir, and by the way, Good morning.

Blog ergo sum

This is a multilingual society. I speak two languages fluently. English and BS. When asked if I speak French, I reply with a smile, “Oui, je suis un lapin de onze ans”. Based on the expression on the face of my questioner, the conversation goes one of two ways from this point. I know I’m bullshitting. The question is, does he?

And so it begins…

Well, I’ve been putting this off for some time now but OK, I give. I’m going to start using this blog for the purpose I created it: Venting. First vent? I apparently have a small following of readers that visit this site regularly to check on progress and see what’s going on. This surprises me since I have not actually blogged yet. Friends and relatives alike ask “When are you going to start on that blog of yours?” The answer is now. So stop bugging me! 🙂