Flashlights

Last week I bought some flashlight from Home Depot.

$12.99 for six LED small flashlights and two 3-light headlamps, that's eight flashlights.
I had to buy them. The urge to phone Dad and boast about my amazing find was overwhelming, if only because I knew he would want to call me too and let me know just how awesome he was for finding them first. I now have these treasures scattered around the house.

Miss you Dad, and I miss sharing these little moments with you.

Are you reliable and hardworking?

Are you reliable and hardworking? Well pretty soon you will not have to have those two qualities when applying for work.

In the U.K. a person wanted to post an ad for a cleaner and was told by the online job posting website company that the ad could be seen as discriminatory because it asked for reliable and hardworking individuals and thus could not be posted. Check this out.

Just a couple of thoughts about this story. First, has the world become so PC that we have to fear the wrath of the lazy and untrustworthy working stiff. Second, for the same reasons we don't want to work with them are the same reasons they wouldn't be able to file a discrimination law suit. So really very little to worry about anyway.

Politically correctness has permeated our lives. I love it though. Gives me good laughs.

Ode to Bacon

O sweet bacon,
how I love thee.

'enough said!

Z, A, B, Z, +, +, -, -, Z, A, B, Z

Honda...SOLD...to the neighbors. There is no longer a dead vehicle littering my yard. My handy neighbor promptly restored it to running order and now appears to be driving it to work everyday.

That is the biggest piece of news in the last few weeks that I can offer up.

Noah and I have been playing a lot of WII Mario Kart. I can't get Dry Bowser to save my life. 150CC races are hard to do. Unfortunately my video game road rage is coming out. Melissa can attest to that. If only there was a way for me to get Donkey Kong to flip Toad the bird. Some special button combination. That would be so cool, huh? I think so, I'd give 'em all the finger. Stupid Yoshi, thinks he so cute with that big green nose.

But back to reality. Sometimes I give people the finger on my drives to work in the morning to occupy myself on my drive from Borden. They can't see me, it's dark. Sometimes I even do two middle fingers at once, bobbing them up and down. I may need a new CD or a book on CD.

Now with that being said; don't tailgate me at night with your brights on and then when you finally pass me throw little stones on my windshield because you didn't leave enough room behind you. I will give you the finger, probably two at once. You've been forewarned travelers of Highway #16 West or East, whichever way I happen to be traveling.

I also really love playing Balderdash online. A big thanks to Carrie for getting that ball rolling. Sheer genius on her part, really.

The Hen Party and the Downstairs Lost Boys

My house is inundated with women. All us boys, and I mean myself, Noah, Ben, and Sam are sticking to the downstairs. Less chance of being afflicted with nagaitus; highly contagious. Down here we stick to a variety of fast cars, towers built of blocks, and imaginary guys driving fast cars. However, the Epicure food is delicious and Melissa is a terrific cook and hostess (brownie points, wink-wink). I do sneak up to eat and help with the other darling girl in my life, Abigail.

Had to turn the furnace down; this hen party is heating the house up. And I am drinking coffee from a coffee press, which is the next best way to make coffee. The best way is any coffee made at the lake, over the fire in a pot, or on a campstove. Ahhhhh coffee is wonderful, just not at 8:00pm when it will keep me up peeing until 3:00am. Every year older I get I have to wake up just a little sooner to pee, but I digress. But I digress from what? Nothing really.

That's all for now folks.

Shopping Cart Dollar

Have you ever done this before?

After unloading all the children and groceries from the shopping cart at Safeway I needed to put the cart away. These carts require the twenty-five cent deposit to use the cart. Well, with no cart corral in sight Melissa suggested I just attach my cart to a nearby cart thereby getting my meager deposit back. A quarter is a quarter after all. To my surprise and satisfaction the stranded cart that I attached mine to also had a quarter in it. I just had to have that quarter. A quick glance around the parking lot revealed two other carts. Now, sometimes these carts don't have quarters in them, but believe it or not it was my lucky day. Each of the two carts had a quarter in it. Now I have freed 3 of 4 quarters. That equals seventy-five cents folks. I had to have that last quarter to make it an even dollar, I didn't just want it I needed it.

Now I know that people were looking at me, especially the wife. She laughed at me and probably used words under her breath like 'genius', which also means 'idiot'; oh I know. See if I buy you anything with my dollar.

But lo and behold I spotted one of those little old person carts (I only say that because I have really only seen old people use them). Who knew a stigma could be attached to a shopping cart.
I grabbed it and then couldn't immediately figure out how I was going to attach this teeny cart to the larger 'young person cart'. Here's where the genius kicked in. I had to back it up to the front, larger cart and free the last quarter with the small 'old person cart'. I had a whole dollar. Wow, it took ages to accumulate that much money when I was twelve years old. You'd find a couple dimes along the edges of Dad's recliner. That chair always coughed up a little. A kid might also nip a nickle or quarter from his jacket. Lets not forgot the washer and dryer, you always had to check there. Once I found twenty dollars in the dryer; finders keepers. The rest had to come from empty pop bottles. Kids today could clean house in a mall parking lot if it weren't for rap music and video games. I didn't see one kid scoping carts.

Their loss my gain. I think I'll save it for the candy machine at work, get a bag of Cheezies.

Kostko

Costco. Is this the place you love to hate or the place you hate to love? I hate to love it. Costco just makes me so angry when I have to go there. Except for some reason I always choose to go. In fact I have even suggested it. I hate having to show a card for the privilege of shopping there. I hate how they funnel you in and then funnel you out; like cows to slaughter. I hate how you have to check your groceries/supplies with the power hungry, yellow highlighting, one step below cashier employee.

But this is what I love and reason why it is hard to stay away:

1. I'm cheap, ergo I love Costco (but you have to watch or they'll sneak in something you could get cheaper somewhere else...the sneaky buggers).
2. I really like to eat the free samples of food that they have. I'll always try to hit them all. Sobeys used to be good for some free samples but I hardly ever see them there anymore.
3. I really, really like to have a hotdog and a Pepsi after shopping, while Melissa takes our items through the line.
4. Cheap gas.

Recently our local Costco has installed a set of fuel pumps with what turns out to be much cheaper gas than anywhere else. Ten whole pennies cheaper. Melissa and I decide to take our Costco card there and get some. As we pull into the parking lot we are confronted by a toque wearing, skinny, scowling security guard who is directing traffic, rather poorly I should add. As he directs us into yet a longer line of traffic I resist the urge to raise my middle finger in protest. We finally make it to the pumps and are directed by signs to enter the the refueling area in a certain direction. Already I'm going bonkers. Who really cares what direction you go into the pumps. But the best, the absolute best part are the painted lines on the asphalt that precede the pumps and direct you in; they look like little roads. All I could think of was that I forgot my passport at home. It reminded me of a border crossing. As I pull into a set of pumps I keep thinking that a smirking gas jockey is going to sidle up to my car, knock on my window, and instead of asking me if I would like a fill, ask me for my papers. I can hear the commie saying it "Papers please" with a rifle slung over one shoulder, and a fur hat sunk deep on his brow.

But I got my cheap gas. And you know what, it better be really cheap all the time. This is a completely self service gas station. You have to pump your own gas, and you don't get to go into a nice warm store to pay. You have to pay at the pump. Where-oh-where has the service gone. I figure five cents for pumping my own gas and five cents for having to pay without the pimply faced teenager assisting from behind the counter.

Next time I might just pull in the wrong direction. I did this once at SuperStore on 8th Street and they wouldn't turn the pump on for me. The insanity!