Monday, March 21, 2005

Things That 'Terror Night' Taught Me. . .

Credible and renowned actors from the '20s star in films titled 'Lancelot of the Lake', 'Jungle Heat' and 'El Gaucho.'

Mansions that have been abandoned for several years by 1920's Celebrities are watched over by security guards. Though, they don't necessarily catch intruders.

Having your head severed from your body does not stop you from screaming.

'80s Bikers sound a lot like surfers.

Said '80s bikers tend to not notice large mansions until mentioned on the radio.

Don't lock your doors because it'll trap you in your house when undead '20's Actors want to kiss you to death.

Undead '20s Actors always forget there is a 3rd person in the house after being ready for the first 2.

Cake is the comfort food after 4 of your friends get murdered.

Hobos win Oscars.

Oscars make great ash trays despite being trophies rather then trays.

Wearing a white hat is great for keeping hidden at night time.

Police men who are on survelliance will allow killers who are walking dogs to sneak into homes.

Detectives are very concerned about how quickly two people move in together rather then murder cases.

In order to live forever, you need to say that you want to.

If you're a complete stranger but want to hang out with a group of people then make sure your name is Chip.

This movie will never have a special edition.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Chip Meet Shoulder, Shoulder Meet Chip

Before I start today's little rant, I want to do a quick shout out to the man known as Purple Terry. After my post, that basically called the man out, Terry has been rather consistent on bringing the blog action. All of the new blogs by Purple Terry have been absolutely entertaining. I enjoy his stuff and you all should give him a gander. He's a friend, that alone should speak volumes for his entertainment value. Check out my blog links and he is under 'This Guy Updates!!!'

Now, back to our regular scheduled bloggging. The last two groups that have come in, have been a rather interesting bunch. Both are almost exact opposites yet have one major similarity. The one group was about 63 cadets that aged from 12 years old to about 18 years old. Most of the older kids where highly ranked such as Sargent. The other group that just came in this weekend, got mention in yesterday's blog, was about 32 youth from the Scarborough area. The cadets seemed to be mostly middle to uppr middle class kids. While the youth groups, was mainly kids from lower income families that only came through the kind sponsorship of church elders.

It's obvious that they are very opposite groups. Both these groups are not typical patrons of Medeba. I would love to have more 'uncommon' groups into Medeba but our clientele just seems to be more middle to upper class youth groups. Anyway, I'm not going to rant about the type of people that Medeba attracts. I'm here to mention the one common factor I noticed from both groups.

Several of the kids from both groups seemed to have very large chips on their shoulders.

For the cadet group, many of the Sargents who were probably close to 18 years old seemed to be on a power trip. They liked to be in authority. They were sure to show they were in authority with every chance they got. They yelled and screamed. They got the cadets to do everything possible for them. I don't understand the culture but I know that may be part of the culture. Then, they started to try to power trip with me. They started to tell me that they don't have to do certian things because they have a high rank. Unfortunately for them. in the Medeba Dish Room, I am the ultmate authority. Those punks weren't going to tell me or my staff how things are run. They would do whatever it was that I asked of them. It was quite interesting to see how much they valued their rank. How much they thrived off the power. They needed to let everyone know how important they were. To me, that is sign they've gone a large chip hanging out on shoulder right.

I'll admit, I'm pretty oblivous to that culture. My impression was that it could be that very culture that instilled that attitude. At the same time, you would think such a program would be about respect. It didn't seem these leaders had respect for other authority figures that were outside of the cadets. To me, that isn't the sign of a very good leader. A leader needs to respect all people. Especially the people that are under them and these Sargents, definitely didn't treat the 'lower ranked' cadets very well at all.

Now let's move on to the youth group from this weekend. As I said before, there was a lot of lower income kids in this group. The majority of the guests in this group would be considered minorities here in Canada. Definitely major minorities in good ol' West G but I won't dwell on that topic. Once again, we had a lot of kids that seemed to be out to prove something. They didn't like to be asked to do a certian job. They didn't seem to believe that they needed to work or clean. I got the impression, they felt that the 'world' or whoever owed them something. The biggest thing I noticed, they didn't want to show any respect to authority. They didn't want to be pushed around. They defnitely didn't want to make it look like they were weak. I'd say that earns them a rather large chip on their shoulder.

You know what? I don't blame them one bit. I can't relate to the life that they have. I can't understand fully the battle they face day to day. From day one, they were probably born with a chip on their shoulder. They were probably taught that they had been wronged and that the world did owe them something. I can imagine that most days, it probably felt like that something good must be due to them. The simple truth, those kids need to feel a lot of love. They need to know that someone gives a damn about them. Deep down, every one of those kids seems to be really good. They just had a rough edge. A rough edge that was covering up a lot of truly amazing stuff.

Of course, I also didn't let them push me around. I didn't let them get away with talking badly to the cook's daughter. They hit a hot button of mine. A few of the guys found themselves making the dish room spotless. I wasn't going to take crap and they learned that pretty quick. Showing love to somebody doesn't mean you get pushed around. Sometimes, you have to be a little tough yourself.

It was quite an experience. It was an eye opening time. I really did enjoy this weekend's group. It has really reaffirmed how much I would love to get involved with 'inner-city' type missions. Maybe one day, I can help start knocking off a little bit of that chip. Allow the true greatness to shine through the person.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

The Internet Is A Meanie. . .

You ever have that really big kid that runs over to you and kicks sand into your balogna & cheese sandwich?

Or how about that dog that growls in your direction and makes you pee your pants thus ruining your suave attire for your hot date?

Or how about squirrels that dart towards your bare feet in attempt to feast on them thus making you cower in a corner never being able to look at the world innocently again?

Or a witch doctor that puts a hex on you forcing you to squack like a chicken and thus, ruining your chances at winning the local Speeches For Skittle contest at your armoury?

All these things are mean. They ruin your day. They spit on your glorious moment. They hide your sunshine. You want to know who is the ultimate meanie?

You already know because I decided to give it away in the subject header. How anitclimatic. But for the last few days, my internet has decided to 'disconnect' at the most inconvenient of time. Like when I'm sending an e-mail. Or typing up a really killer blog. So yeah, I wrote a really deep and insightful blog yesterday. You'll never be able to read it. Because the meanie we know as the internet decided it cannot be shared with the public.

Jerk.

Ignore the fact that I could always retype it if I really wanted to. I won't. Because the moment was then and now is not then. Catch that? I hope to confuse you so you won't bother me about posting it again.

On a totally unrelated note, the church that is up this weekend has done something that is very not mean. Many of the kids up this weekend are from low income homes. They usually wouldn't be able to afford to come here. The elders of the church have decided to sponsor many of these teenagers. So now, they are able to have an experience they would never normally have. Now that is a very unmean thing. I am very impressed.

Internet is still a punk.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

This one is for D Tone. . .

It's the day a whole bunch of people remember they have Irish Ancestory so that they can get plastered. Usually, plastered on really awful and tacky green beer. It also used to be the time that McDonald's offered up those green, shamrock shakes. Though, in all my years I don't think I ever enjoyed a McD's green shake. It's also the time of year we all throw rocks at small people in green suits. We will get their gold. That is right, it is St. Patrick's Day!!!

To my dear friend Dave Nelson, I wish you an extra special St. Patrick's Day. This is your day, buddy. All the rest of us are in it for the pot of gold and 4 leaf clovers. Though in West G, there isn't any signs of the colour green except maybe the snot running from our noses. With that thought, everyone enjoy this day which is good enough to get loads of people sloshed but not enough of a special day to warrant me getting a Stat holiday. Rats! So, much for the luck of the Irish. I knew, I should have kidnapped Dave and stored him in my closet. Then I'd have his luck and his gold. Instead, I had to work and uh, not have gold??? Next year, I'll set a trap and catch me a small, Irish man (aka Dave). I hear, Lucky Charms is a great lure.

Hmmm, wasn't this post supposed to be a well wish to Dave? Maybe you should all ignore the whole thing about kidnapping. Let's try this again, Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone but especially to the true Irish Icon Dave 'The D Tone' Nelson.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

No Pity. . .

The world of television is full of crap. It's basically a big toilet for media. Thus it being full of crap. Oh boy, this blog already is showing signs of lack of wit and creativity. Hm, lack of creativity -- it's fitting that I'm talking about television shows. Did I mention how television has a lot of awful shows? We've got a slew of reality television plaguing the airwaves. I'm sure most of you already know my lack of love for all that is reality television. I will always prefer my television entertainment in scripted form. Exceptions being sporting events, news telecasts or nature shows (especially ones about meerkats, right Tim). Unfortunately, the word on the street is most scripted television isn't doing much better then reality television when it comes to bringing the good. So, television is becoming a big heaping pile of yuck. Which is the reason why I don't even bother having cable anymore. Okay, I actually don't have cable because I live in the boonies and cable isn't even offered up here. Don't let the facts get in the way of my blog, okay?

There is one good thing about television and all it's glorious garbage. It makes for some really good bashing. I'm always up for a good jab at things that are begging for it. There happens to be a website that I stumbled upon a few years ago whose mission is to heave insults on lousy television. Basically, they give reviews on several different shows but pepper in a lot of sarcastice comments and point out all the glaring plot holes. They usually do a fairly decent job of making really lousy shows into a fairly entertaining read. Then again, I have no life so this might not be your thing.

They all started with the purpose to jab and abuse Darolyn's all time favourite show. Since it's now over, they have moved on to unrelentlessly beat on other unworthy programming. If this sort thing butters your bagel then be sure to head over to Television Without Pity. It does a good job of living up to it's name.

Monday, March 14, 2005

No Academy Awards Here. . .

A hobby amongst some of my friends, is watching really awful, low budget, B-movies. Through my years, I've endured a lot of crap. Personally, I'd rather watch a Wes Anderson film or someting from Guy Ritchie. I have to admit that a really bad movie has a certian charm. On this magnificent universe called the internet, there is one site for all your bad movie reviews. That site appropriately enough is title Bad Movies. Read thrilling reviews for such classics as 'Santa Claus Conquers the Martians' and 'The Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death.' I can promise you there is no Oscar candidates here. Unless 'Super Mario Bros.' or 'Master of the Universe' weren't the complete disasters that my memory seems to want to tell me.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Useless Link of the Day. . .

Ever heard of Adventure games?

King's Quest? Monkey Island? Space Quest? Full Throttle?

If you haven't heard of any of those titles then you are slowly proving how little of a computer geek you are. If you have heard of them, then there is a chance you would be a fan of computer Adventure games. If you are then I've got a link to a website that is entirely dedicated to adventures games. I was totally addicted to these games back in high school. While most video games involved who could push button B faster, these games revolved around how quick your mind worked. The premise was trying to solve several puzzles while watching an in-depth story unfold. Man, I really did a poor job of describing that. Anyway, check out the site that is all about games that really aren't considered of much worth in the mainstream market but I think, are a 100 times more fun then the latest version of 'Shoot'em Up Shooter Shoots'. So yeah, click here!

And yes, this is a notorious cop out blog where I resort to giving you a link rather then come up with something worth reading. Live with it.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Exorcist: The Beginning - A Movie Review

The fact that I've watched this movie might ruffle a few feathers of some of my readers. It is a movie about demon possession. I know, that some of you would choose to never watch this film or any film that resembles this. I respect that. I did watch this movie and I also watched the original. Yes, I am a Christian. I absolutely love God and want to follow Him for every day of my life. I don't think that watching movies like this changes that in anyway. But this blog isn't about my need to defend my faith, beliefs or morals. It's about a movie. I'll save the ongoing Conservative Christian v. Liberal Christian debate for another very spirited and feather ruffling blog (though be warned, I will hold off from doing that blog as long as I'm possibly allowed since it'll actually take thought and work).

I loved the first Exorcist. It is possibly one of the scariest horror movies I've ever seen. Probably because demon possesion is something that is real. It wasn't about giant, toxic ants or mutants from planet Zombinia. It was about a little girl that was possesesed by a demon and a priest's battle to exorcise the demon in the poor child. It was absolutely chilling. One of my all time favourite movies though I usually go to bed with a night light on after watching it.

Unfortunately, Exorcist had two sequels that where absolutely horrid. The plot was inane and unbelievable. The films were a chore to sit through. Worst of all, they weren't even in the ball park of scary. Basically, the sequels took a big fart in the face of the franchise.

So, I went into watching this film with lowered expectations. I wasn't expecting anything very good. I definitely didn't give it a chance to measure up to the amazing orignal. Now that I've spent my 2 hours watching the film, I would say it definitely didn't blow any stinky wind but it also couldn't find the ballpark. The prequel to Exorcist, still just isn't able to compare to the true film of scary.

This movie is based before the orignal film. It is about a priest turned archeologist who is sent to a country in Africa to examine a dig. Since the movie is called Exorcist, the dig seems to have some unwanted possesssion thrown in. The former priest, finds himself needing to turn back to God to combat this problem. During the priest's journey, he uncovers many dark secrets about this particular ground.

The film is pretty busy. A lot seems to be happening. It tries to have a fair share of twists and turns. Some of the twist, like many movies, are fairly illogical. If you step back for one minute, you realize what just happend contradicts the story. The movie tries to be a scary film that keeps your brain busy. I find it keep your brain so busy that you don't really have time to ever be scared. It has has so many useless sub plots that never really pay off. Though, I did enjoy the sub plot of how the protagnist lost his faith in God during his time in Nazi Germany. Then, during this evil time the priest needs to reexamine his faith and try to get right with God.

The just mentioned subplot, reminds me of another point. The power of God is shown in this film. The film does show God as the almighty. If you trust Him, then you will be able to prevail. Say what you will about this movie, it does paint God in a positive light. Though, if you hate horror movies or especially R rated movies then I still don't recommmend you watch it.

Back to my analysis, this film has a lot happening througout it's 2 hours. The problem is, despite all the busyness it is still a fairly basic film. The main theme is the priest battling the exorcism. I think the movie wants to make you think there is more. It wants to be more then a simple horror film. In reality it isn't. I think, it's attempt makes it weaker. I didn't find much of a point for most of the sub plots. I just felt it congested the film and messed up the pacing of the movie.

When it comes down to it, it really isn't a very scary movie. A proof of that, I didn't even have any nightmares from the film. Instead, I had a dream about my friend Tim honking at KFCs and yelling 'Honk for Bueller!' Don't ask. While your at it, don't bother renting this movie. Save your cash, go treat yourself to the truly superior orignal. Though, for the conservative, you have been warned.

Friday, March 11, 2005

You Do It. . .

Delegation. I once thought it was a sign of weakness or laziness. Why get someone else to do something that I can do? Even if it takes 45 straight hours to plan the 'St. Monica Pretty Boy Bedazzler Ball', I will do it by myself because I am fully capable. Why ask for help? Why get other people to do parts of the job? They will only mess it up. Then I'll have to do the whole things anyway. Ha, delegation is for the simple minded weaklings of this world.

I was an idiot. One of the major things I have learned over these last several years is that a true leader is able to delegate. That doesn't mean he gets Pancho to mow his lawn while he sips on Strawberry Malties (not that I even know what a Maltie is). There is times that getting everyone to do your work is a rather big sign that your lazy. If Lady Patricia gets here boyfriend Ollie to move her from room to room by piggy back then I will designate her the Queen of the lazies. But if Mitchum B. Mitchner gets his secretary to file some papers so that he can finish the 'Mitchner Monthly' then he is being a smart man.

I wouldn't have been able to be alive today if I didn't delegate as program director. My current job, I'm learning it is okay to get someone to take on a few jobs for you. I actually don't need to have 47 jobs on the go at the same time. People are willing to take the load. What a concept!

I blogged about pride last spring. It looks like it is a little monster I still battle. I still think I can do it all on my own. Then I work myself sick. Which doesn't really sound like the most productive business strategy. Once again, I concede and admit my plans are flawed. And yes, sometimes it s a good plan to delegate off some tasks.

If I am willing to help others with their tasks then I must be willing to have them help me. It's a two way street of job passing. Besides, when will I have the chance to help other if I'm so busy doing my 47 jobs of vile and wretchedness. Yes Virginia, Chris knows you got to delegate in order to get things done. He also doesn't believe in Santa Clause so he isn't going to help you out there.

Just for the record, I refuse to be delegated on clipping your toe nails duty just so you can put full attention into the latest issue of ' Hermit Bowl Challenge.'

Thursday, March 10, 2005

The Man, The Myth, The Absent. . .

Purple isn't my favourite colour; by far, red is my favourite of all the colours. Today, I mourn of the incredible lack of purple. It's not so much the colour that I miss. It's the man. The man who gave purple it's fame. The man who is famous for his ranting. His campaign against the mainstream infestation of Sheryl Crow is absolutely legendary. Who can forget the outstanding commentary on the aging we will all suffer. I don't use the words 'life changing' often and I will not use them here. I still think the man had some good ranting. Now, I sit before this computer and realize this legendary ranter hasn't done a single blog since the 24th of June. Of course, I am talking about the man known as Purple Terry. Oh Terry, you are missed. How we all need another bashing of Sheryl Crow or your unique views of the world we live in. He's a man. A BBQ stained shirt wearing, coffee creamer drinking, hairling receding man. One heck of a good friend. Maybe not so good at keeping on the blogging.

I create this post today in hopes to inspire Purple Terry to come out of hiding. Grace us all with another magnificent rant. If you want to find out who I am talking about then be sure to click right. . . (wait for it). . . (it's coming). . . (be patient). . . here. Enjoy the man we all know as Purple Terry.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Not Making A Bundle Of Money. . .

Medeba has another group in. A group of 2 people. That is not a typo. We only have 2 guests in. I also don't plan on charging them the $99.00 per guest plus 10% tax. Yes, this sounds like a horrible business move. I also understand that 2 people is way under the 25 group minimum that we have. 23 people to be exact. I don't care. I'm a rebel. Plus they just so happen to be 2 really good friends of mine. They are visiting me. Just for the record, I am not planning on continuing to book youth groups of 2 people. Nor do I think that a youth group of 2 should really plan a lot of spiritual retreats. I do encourage you all, to find a way to come and visit me.

To Tim & Dave, thank you for a really amazing visit. I look forward to a Thursday of playing and laughing!!! You are the greatest friends a guy could ask for. I'm truly blessed to know you both.

Enough sappy stuff. I'm going to stop this blogging and go back to the playing!

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Telemarketers: Soceity's Bum Zit. . .

Here is the actual dictionary definition of telemarketer.

tel'e'mar'ket'er n. 1. The single most annoying people on the face of the Earth which includes Pauly Shore and Roseanne 2. The symbolic zit on society's symbolic bum 3. The reason people have unregistered/private phone numbers.

I understand that a job is a job. You need to make money in order to heat your trailer or buy your package of spam. Telemarketers must be the least liked people of any profession. I would probably rather have dinner with Carrot Top with all his lame props then ever be interrupted by another vile telemarketer. I don't think I'll ever resort to having that as my profession. If I do then please feel free to throw baseball bats with nails inserted directly at my face.

Here are some real conversations I have had with the people known as the bane of my existence.

'Is Mr. Christopher David Spicer there?'

'Speaking'

'Are you interested in getting a really expensive insurance package that will not benefit you in anyway?

'No"

'Would you like to hear about it?'

'I'm going to hang up now.'

'Great! I will now drone on for 20 minutes about something you have no desire to purchase with no regards to the fact you have been busy doing something or have to go somewhere in the next hour! Sound like a great idea?

'No."

'Awesome!. What is your name?'

"Uh, you already know it?'

'What is your birthdate? Your address? IQ level? Favourite soft drink of choice? Do you prefer walks or cuddling? If you have to lose any finger which one would it be?'

'Uh?'

'Thank you! I'm now going to put you on hold for 10 minutes and transfer you to someone you don't want to talk to!'

'Please don't.'

"You are on hold! Ten minutes of your life has now been wasted!'

"Ugh.'

'Hi there, you are interested in our 30 day trial for our useless but expensive insurance! I'm going to put you on it right now! Remember, it is free for 30 days! Then, after 30 days we will start to charge you an arm and a leg! We will be sure to not notify you when your trial period is off! We hope to trick you into giving us all your money!'

"I never even said I wanted this. You just started taking my personal info. I demand you take me off this or I'll leave your bank.'

'But its completely useless and really expensive! We've already wasted your entire evening, wouldn't you like to also lose all your money?'

'When you put it that way, absolutely not.'

'Fantastic! Now, I need. . . '

---dial tone-----

Want more proof of the crappiness of the crappy?

'Hello, is [insert boss here]'

"Sorry, he is out for the day. Can I transfer you to his voice mail?'

'Are you an employer at this place of business?'

'Do you even know what this place is?'

'Of course not, but I hope to trick you into buying a really lousy and high interest cost Business Credit Card? Do you work here?'

'No, I just answer phones at random places of business because it's a deep passion of mine. Of course, I work here.'

'Lucky you, then you qualify for this really amazing Business Credit Card!'

'I really couldn't be less interested.'

"Awesome! I just need your name, address, phone number, monthly income, and your soul!'

'Uh, I'm sort of working here. I really need to go and you know, work.'

'This will only waste your entire morning! I mean, it will take about 5 minutes! Then we can start sucking you for all you are worth!'

'Wow, serious! I'm convinced! Let's start the long and torturous process now!'

'Okay, so first I need your name. . . '

----dial tone-------

I'm sorry if this offended any telemarketers. Truth is, you are pure evil. Have a great day!

Monday, March 07, 2005

I Couldn't Even Get A Whole Week. . .

I don't remember the exact date. I definitely don't recall the year. I know it was February. It was either on Valentine's Day or it was the day before. In the end, that doesn't really affect the story. It definitely doesn't change the outcome. I was on a blind date. I wasn't told it was a blind date but it started to come very clear that this is what it was. My friend had been dating a young lady for a few months now and it seemed pretty serious. I got along with her fairly well. She seemed to think I was a prety swell guy. As luck would have it, I usually found myself as the third wheel. I started to not really want to hang out with them. Especially since they tended to be a rather 'touchy' couple. I've never been a big fan of watching two people make baby talk and lie on top of each other. Actually, it's making me sick to my stomach just reminiscing.

Anyway, my friend's girlfriend asked if it was okay if a friend of hers hung out one weekend. Since I sort of got tired sitting in a corner while they made out, I thought it would be an outstanding idea. I encouraged her try to bring this friend along. It should be fun to have someone to talk to. I was promised that she was a cool girl and that I would really like her. That was enough evidence for me to give the go ahead.

Little did I know, I had just agreed to a blind date. No, this didn't mean I had to spend the whole evening with a rag wrapped around my eyes. I wouldn't have done so well with that because I don't like not seeing for an extended period of time. Unless I'm sleeping because I tend to do that just fine with my eyes closed. But this isn't supposed to be about my sleeping patterns but rather a mistake made in my storied life. I agree, at 27 years old calling my life 'storied' does come off a little vain. This is my blog and here, I say what goes. Yes, that came off even more vain. Ahem, I've got a story to finish here.

I met the girl. Girl is pretty. Next thing I know, I'm in the backseat of the car and being driven to some zany resturaunt. Well, 'zany' might make you think we went to a Chucky Cheese or a Pirate Themed Establishment. Those would have actually been really fun. Instead, we went to a place called Callahan's and I think I got chicken wings. I realize that chicken wings is one of the worst of all first date foods. I didn't even know I was on a date yet. I thought, I was just hanging out with a girl. I think, I ended up paying for her dinner but that was probably because I didn't feel like splitting a 20.

Then things started getting fishy. My friend and his girlfriend disappeared a lot. Somehow, I always ended up sitting right next to this girl. I was being pushed to ask questions and get to know this girl. It started to feel like a date. It couldn't be a date? Right? My friends wouldn't put me on a blind date. That's for people in sitcoms and they never turn out good. Besides, my friend knew that I had a really big crush on a girl back at school.

Little did I know, my friend decided it was time for me to move on. He didn't like that I had a really big crush on this girl from high school. He knew what I didn't. She wasn't ever going to date me. I seemed to have missed the signs like when she said, 'We will only ever be friends' or 'We will never ever date.' They were a little too subtle as you can see.

Here I was, liking another girl and oblivious that I was on a date. Next thing I knew, we were in a park. How romantic. Except it wasn't romantic at all because I was still in the land of oblivious. I do realize I am a permanent resident there but I do take occasional visits to reality. I had bought her a small gift because my friend thought it would be nice. It was Valentine's Day or close to it, I thought she would appreciate it. I gave her gift and I wish I remember what it was. It wasn't wrestling or Transformers related so I've since forgotten.

While I was giving the gift, my friends seemed to have vanished. Which was odd because I thought they only did their affection in public. I thought maybe a vulture carried them off or something. But like a bad cough, I knew they would be back. They had left me alone with this girl once again. So, we talked and talked and talked. To be honest, I started to get a little bored. To amuse myself, I slipped the ring off her finger and did a mock proposal to her. I know it sounds very random and odd but either my memory really stinks or it was just really odd. 10 years hasn't left me with the most vivid of memories of the night. Yet I continue to blabber on, isn't it amazing?

Somehow, this lead to her asking me question. It wasn't a question I had ever been asked in my 17 years of existence at the time. She wasn't asking me my favourite colour or who had just farted. Those where questions I knew how to respond to - which would both be me farting again and then laughing at my genius. No, instead she asked me, 'Aren't you going to kiss me?' I was shocked. A girl? Wants to kiss me? Did I want to kiss her? Did I even like her? Well, I didn't have much time to process it all because next thing I knew, she was kissing me. Thus I had my very first kiss. This hang out, had now become a date.

I had many more kisses that night. I remember becoming really cuddly. Basically, I would have made myself sick on any other day. This wasn't any other day. This was the day I was on a date that I didn't think was a date. A proof that I truly am an oblivious man. She left that night and I was left wondering what had happend. I was later told, I was now dating her and a good boyfriend would call her the next day. Since, this was my first time being a boyfriend then I really didn't want to start things off on a bad note. I called her. I proceeded to realize we had a whole lot not in common. I got bored. I was a good boyfriend and thus stayed on the phone for close to an hour.

We had decided that we would have another date on the next Friday. I wasn't particurally pumped but it would give me something to do. We met up at the mall which is the mandatory hook up spot for all high schoolers. We then ended up going to the concert of a band that I knew the members. It was fun and jolly and wild and stuff. Definitely stuff considering I was a high school student. I had the lingo down. Anyway, at some point we decided to explore the basement of the church we were in. Apparently, during all exploring sessions you need to kiss the person you are with. Since we were really exploring then I really kissed her a lot.

Then she stopped talking to me. Which was odd because she usually would never stop. Talking was sort of her hobby. She would go on and on and on and on -- don't you hate that about people? Um, anyway. I asked her what was wrong and to the best of my recollection, this was the dialogue.

'I think I shouldn't have kissed you, Chris.'

'Uh, why?

'Because, I really think we work best as friends.'

'Okay.'

'I'm really sorry.'

'Okay.'

'I didn't want to break your heart. I didn't want to hurt you.'

'Okay'

'Are you going to be okay?'

'Yeah.'

'Be honest, Chris.'

'I'll be fine.'

'We can still be friends, right?'

"Were we friends?'

'Oh Chris, don't be mad at me.'

"I'm not. This is cool. Honest.'

'Don't hide your feelings. Everything is going to be fine. I really want to remain your friend.'

'Cool. Um, I think I am going to go home.'

'I don't think you should be alone tonight. I think you need a friend. I know your hurting.'

'Um, I think I'll manage.'

'Don't forget me, okay?'

'I won't. Can I go?'

"Call me, okay?'

'It's long distance and I can't really afford it.'

'Will you visit?'

'I don't have a car.'

'Will you miss me?'

'Not if you never let me leave.'

Thus ended, my one week relationship with the girl I didn't know I had a blind date with. Thus the reason I detest blind dates. This has always been the little relationship I would like to white out. Pretend it never happend. It did happend. I dated a girl for less then a week. I can honestly say, I didn't really ever like her. I just was sort of confused as to how I was supposed to act. Thus I gave another proof to why men are a stupid, stupid, stupid gender. I don't know whatever happend to her. I actually only saw her once after this. It was one of the shortest conversations known to man. I went on to have a crush on the girl my friend didn't want me to have a crush on. That probably lasted until my high school career ended. I did high school for 6 years so that was a long crush. I'll save my ineptness at high school story for another day.

What did we learn about today kids? 1)There is a reason to why Chris hates blind dates. 2)Chris has dated a girl for less then a week. 3)The incorrest answer to the question 'are you going to kiss me', is to kiss them if you actually weren't planning on doing it. Just say no. It will save you a week of your life.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Don't Date & Wrestle: Dangerous to Your Health. . .

You're Buff Macho Studd. Destined to be the next great World Heaveyweight Wrestling champion. Life is going just fine and dandy. You get the adoration of wrestling geeks everywhere and you get paid to throw people on their heads. Nothing can be sweeter. Well, except for your beautiful girlfriend, Sweet Sassy Molassy. She is a wonderful girl. You love her. One day, you are going to marry her. Brief aside, if you happen to be a girl reading this, though I'm assuming the mention of wrestling caused you to flee to the bathrooms for retreat, you can just reverse the two roles rather then have to be a guy with a retarded name. Everyone catch the 'brief aside' and the fact that I actually made something short and not drone on and on and on and . . . aw crap. Back from aside, you are the famous wrestling machine and great wrestling fame is your destiny (wrestling fame is about a quater of the value of real fame -- though you get a token appearance on Conan O'Brien). Then you decide, I've got my wrestling and I've got my beautiful girlfriend. I love them both so much. Why don't I combine them? Get her a job and she can be my wrestling manager. It'll be great!

Big mistake! Relationships and wrestling do not mix well. It would be like pouring an ounce of bleach into your fruit punch and thinking that it would not make you sick. Don't do it. The guests hate the after taste of bleach. Having your real life girlfriend/boyfriend become your wrestling storyline girlfriend/boyfriend will be the kiss of death of your relationship.

Do you want the proof? No? Too bad, it's my blog. I will bore you with my useless findings. Or you will just push the back button. Either way, I'm entertaining myself with my rambling of words that turn into sentences.

Macho Man Randy Savage and the lovely Miss Elizabeth. The two had been married before 1985 which was the year Savage entered WWF. In 1991, the two got married in wrestling storyline. A storyline that was complete Shakespeare by wrestling standards (which basically means, it had a plot you could understand). In 1992, they ran a storyline that Ric Flair would claim that Elizabeth was his girl before she was the Macho Man's. This naturally would lead to the men rolling around in their underwear in front thousands of wrestling fans. As far as underwear rolling went, it was really entertaining. Anyway, in storyline terms it was found out that Flair was a dirty rotten liar. In real life terms, Savage and Elizabeth filed for divorce when the two claimed the other for being unfaithful. Not quite a happily ever after.

Taskmaster Kevin Sullivan and Nancy Sullivan (whose wrestling name was Woman just in case, you didn't know her gender). Woman, or Nancy, was married to Kevin Sullivan in real life for many and many a years. It was never acknowledged in any wrestling storylines and actually, the two never interacted on television. Until 1996, where they ran a storyline that Sullivan was jealous that a wrestled named the Canadian Crippler Chris Beniot was hanging out with Woman a lot. It was revealed in storylines that Sullivan was married to Woman and Beniot was now seeing his wife. The storyline ran for over a year and at no point, did it ever really make a lot of sense. In the end, Sullivan was 'retired' from wrestling and Beniot had his wife. The storyline was an example of a wrestling promotion trying to trick you to believe it was all really happening even though it was just really badly scripted instead. The reality check is, in order to make the Beniot and Woman relationship seem real it was Kevin Sullivan who wanted them to hang out in public during this time. Guess what happend? Next thing Sullivan knew, he was a single man and Beniot had himself a new wife. Yikes!

Diamond Dallas Page & Kimberly. Once again, they were married in real life. For a long time, it was never actually acknowledged in storylines. In '97 and beyond, they started to play a lot of storylines where DDP had to defend the honor of his wife. It was then very clear they were married and DDP was her white knight. In 2000, a storlyine happend where Kimberly turned on her husband. She revealed she believed she was too good for him and thus, wanted to file for a divorce. The wreslting storyline actually didn't go anywhere and ended up being really awful. Two years later, DDP is no longer married to the lovely Kimberly.

Chris Adam & Tori Adams. They were married. I'm sure you saw that coming. In 1991, they ran a storyline where Chris Adams would be mentoring a young wrestling rookie by the name, Steve Austin. Then Steve Austin turned on his teacher and claimed he will be better then Adams in every way. Just because Austin was an evil wrestler, he stole Adams' wife. A storyline that Adams had asked for because he thought it would add heat to the feud. But only a few months later, it was discovered Austin and Tori were really having an affair. Reality once again imitates the world of wrestling

You know what, I've got about 3 more of these. Debra/Steve Mongo McMichael, Matt Hardy/Lita & David Flair/Stacy Kielber. All three couples were very much in love. Destined to be together but all of sudden, decided to make their real relationship into a storyline. Somewhere in said storyline, they start to have problems and they break apart. Next thing they know, they have a very real broken relationship. Same drill. Same mess.

There is your proof. Buff Macho Studd should not pull his lovely girlfriend, Sweet Sassy Molassy, into a wrestling storyline. He should keep her far away from wrestling. He should wrestle in Podunk and she should be shooting photos in Tokyo. Not even let her watch wrestling on television. Maybe then they can have their happily ever after. He should also get a new name. It's sort of lame.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Things I learned this week. . .

Writer's block can span for several months but it is all a matter of disguising it from the reader. For example, making posts that are lists - remember anyone making lots of those this week?

When it comes to guys, I am abnormal. Maybe I more resemble brocolli?

Having a full uninterrrupted week in the office actually means you get months of overdue work done. You mean, it is humanly possibly to not be buried in 400 pounds of contracts and phone messages? Egads!

A week long stay in the office does not result into me bursting in a dazzling ball of flame.

Don't ask for an ealier date to leave your job because your boss will mistaken that as you wanting 3 more months added. I thought, he was a math major; shouldn't that have been a subtraction of dates???

Following sports loses it's flair when you're forced to live the big game by reading it from 'Johneez Sportz Syte Of Sporrts, Dood'. You can't quite catch the madness of March through a 13 years old's grammatically incorrect College Basketball Report.

I'm biased!!! I'm more shocked then you!

If a Youth Pastor wants lots of activities and services that require lots of staff that you don't have then he will make sure to give you 3 days notice.

My soul mate is some girl named Tasha. She has a scar. I may or may not have talked to her at some point in my life.

This seemed a lot cooler when Darolyn did this 3 months ago.

Don't rip off other people's blog ideas. You will reveal yourself as the hack that you previously so successfully hid.

Friday, March 04, 2005

I'm The Man!!! or at least, a man. . .

This evening, a group of girls declared that I'm not a typical man. When it comes to guys, I'm an exception to the rule. I didn't quite know how to repsond to that. I'm an abnormal guy? When you think about man, I don't come to mind? The sad thing is, this isn't the first time I've heard such a claim. Many of my girls who are friends (many of them being readers of this blog), will declare that I'm not your usual guy. So, it is now time for my yearly defense of my Man Club Membership Card. Here is a list of things that show without a doubt that I must be truly a man.

If I don't shave after 3 days, people will expect howling noises from me. Even worse, try to take me down with silver bullets.

I'm proud when I have a really loud burp.

The word 'poop' makes me laugh. All jokes with the punchline 'poop' is an instant winner.

I have no sense of fashion.

Watching explosions in a movie is a given.

Oh man, I'm still laughing about the fact I typed 'poop'.

I consider professional wrestling an example of high art.

Setting things on fire makes for a fun afternoon. And a few burnt appendages.

'Poop' - hehehehe

You can't have sports without the full contact

My biggest proof = girls confuse me.

Are you convinced yet? I'm a guy. Most definitely, a 100% full of testosterone, red meat eating, blood & guts male. I have my proof and that is that.

Oh, one more thing. . . poop! Oh man, gets me everytime.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Realism v. Fakeism. . .

Fakeism isn't a word. I know that. No need to alert the authorities. I just couldn't think of the opposite of realism using -ism at the end. Ism is a fun combination of 3 letters and I really wanted you to be able to enjoy it twice. Now you can, of course, one of them isn't a real word but you can ignore that for the sake of enjoyment. In some ways, this word describes itself because it is a fake word thus a 'fakeism'. I created a word. How thrilling. Or maybe I should just get to the point of today's post?

I was sitting at my computer trying to think of what to talk about today. For whatever reason, Darolyn's all time favourite televsion show came to my mind, Dawson's Creek. During it's run, it was an incredibly popular show. I know many teenage girls that enjoyed it week after week. Truth be told, it was an incredibly unrealistic potrayal of high school life. The kids didn't sound like teenagers nor did they really look like them. They more looked like how high school kids wished they looked as in being fully developed and free of acne. Puberty seemed to have long past by these teens. When it came down to it, the dialogue was very far fetched and a little too wordy. The stories? Not very realistic at all. Yet the show was a big ratings grabber. I even have to admit I've seen an episode or two in my day and it didn't completely make me gag. Was it even close to being anything resembling the real world? No. I wouldn't even say it was well written but just the same, it had its following.

I then started thinking about other television shows. How accurate were they to the real world. I've heard many people say how ER isn't even close to correctly protraying a true emergency room. 'Friends' has to be the farthest thing possibly from actual life in New York. Can a struggling actor really live in an apartment of that size? Not real. Very fake. But very popular.

We aren't even talking about just stretching the truth a little bit. I know countless web geeks who would spend paragraphs and paragraphs pointing out the enormous flaws in such shows(like this one). Even the fans of the shows, will openly admit it doesn't resemble their high school or their job or their whatever. It's not real. Yet with all it's inaccuracies people still sit down and watch. The real kicker? They can still relate to the characters. An audience can connect despite this world not being a whole lot like theirs.

There is a downside. The audience can get discontentment from watching these unrealistic shows. They can pine for what they see on television. They can convince themselves this is what reality is and they are somehow missing out. They will wonder where their soul mate is or wonder why they can't talk on a couch in a coffee shop all day. They'll think they are missing out. I can relate, at age 6 I really wished I could have a lightsaber and make thing fly across the room. Then again, I was also 6.

The other side of the tale, how interesting it is how people can connect to something that is so incorrect. There's a difference between outright fantasy and a show about 6 friends. In Star Wars, I don't expect realism because it's not even in my world. In a show about high school, I'd assume it should seem like something I went to. But it isn't. Somehow, a relation is formed between show and audience. Audience chooses to ignore the 'fakeism' of it all.

At some point, I think I lost the purpose in this blog. I'll try to steer it back on track. Starting. . . now. I find it interesting that as long as you can connect with a viewer/reader at some level then they are willing to give you some sort of suspension of disbelief. Because the viewer likes the hapless, roguish, slacker, cute boy then they are willing to ignore he has class with all the same 18 people. Really fiction is all about the characters and the situations the characters are thrown into. You need to care about the character in order to care about the dillema. If you care enough, there is room for inaccuracies and flaws.

Maybe not the biggest encouragement for good writing. It is a lesson on how important it is to make sure you make the people in the fiction seem real. Other things might be off but you can still believe in the people. Maybe not believe they are in high school but their personality and feelings are real. Thus the writer has afforded himself some 'fakeism'.

To all my inspiring television writers, you can make a camp worker live in a mansion and drive a porsche thus making it one of the most unbelievable shows around. You may still hook the viewer if you can make them believe in whose driving that porsche.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Never Quite Got Around To It. . .

I don't have the money for lessons.

There is too much snow outside for me to properly learn.

Walking is so much better for my health.

I heard, there is an alien invasion scheduled this weekend.

I always had an excuse. Every year, there was a reason why the next year would be better. There was always some cirsumstance that would make it better to hold off. I never ended up getting one.

I'm now 27 years old and I do not have a driver license. In some circles, that is enough reason to take me behind the shed, grab the shotgun and shoot me. Luckily, I think Ken misplaced his shotgun. Or I'm sure I'd have a splitting head ache at the moment (because I hear lead bullets aren't good for healthy living). As shocking of a revelationg that this could be for some, I am not the owner of a driver's license.

I wanted to get one. I meant, to get one. I even wrote the test back in high school. I had my equivelient of the beginner's and was ready to rock. Next thing I knew, it was five years later and my license decided to expire on me. You forget to compliment it for one day and it decides in a fury to no longer be valid for you. I only ever used it for ID for smokes and alchohol. Two things that I haven't really needed much in the last few years. Though I also hope I don't get mistaken for a 19 year old anymore at 27 years of age thus no need for just ID.

I'll admit I'm a little scared about getting my license and being the driver of a automobile. I've held off for so long that I've built it up in my mind. As some of you know, my mind can be a very dangerous thing. It's already overflowing with ideas about car gremlins and flaming wreckage. It's not like I was always afraid to drive but moreso, of having many years of being a very experience passenger. I'm a good passenger. I clean up after myself and rarely backseat drive -- that may be because my mom took away my Fisher Price steering wheel. I'm a professional passenger who has slight trepidation of upgrading to driver. Besides, I'm not very good at Mario Kart and I'd hate to be bumped off a bridge. Though it'd be cool to be able to fling turtle shells at bad drivers.

This may be the year. No more excuses. This has already been the year that Chris almost acts like an adult. Got a full time job. Invested my money. Got a credit card. Gave to charities. I even dress myself now -- except Thursdays, I just walk around the office naked. I mind as well add to the list of grown up things with a driver's license (even if I got about 30 thousand years until they will actually let me drive by myself).

2005 could be the year Chris starts on the road to learning to drive. Hopefully, my license won't claim my name is Christophe.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Silly Youth Pastors. . .

Youth Pastors have a very integral job in churches and I respect the huge responsibility they have. I know it can be stressful and draining. At one time, I even pondered being a Youth Pastor - to this day, I still give it a lot of thought. Youth Pastors have an amazing ministry and are doing amazing things. Today, I'm not going to mention those.

If there is one thing that makes my job harder yet amazingly comical at the same time, it is the constant dealings with the Pastors of Youth. These fun, zany, hardworkers typically can fall into one evil category - disorganized. Not a little disorganized. We are talking about a heaping pile of Mt. Everest disorganization. They make me appear to be a human filing cabinet. Something that my closer readers will know is quite far from the truth. North Dakota to Japan like far. Yet if there was a competition, I would smoke most of these Youth Pastors. Or maybe it is only the ones I deal with?

Here is a quick list of a few of the fun encounters I'va had with these lovely ministry workers.

1. A Youth Pastor regular, something I've had happen close to 70% of the time, is that they will always misplace the very first contract I send them. Sometimes they will deny ever getting it but most times, they will remember a brief 11 second encounter with it. They then wonder if such a contract is important, while I assure them that it is if they still would like to come. 45% of these Pastors, will lose the second contract I send them. While the other percent will forget to send it out until they are reminded for the 32nd time. Usually most requests for the contract to be returned is greeted by a 'What contract???' Finally, I get half of the contract sent back to me. Apparently, you can pick and choose what parts of a contract you want to send back, nowadays. I won't even bother with the joys of trying to get a deposit. Though, I've had a few tell me the day before they arrive that they just put the deposit in the mail. Yeah, thanks for that.

2. Youth Pastors will make schedules for the weekend retreat. They will also forget them in their office. When I ask them to give me groups of 5 for set up/clean up for meal times, I usually get about 12 kids. It is apparent, Math isn't a major part of most Seminaries.

3. Youth Pastors like to book the camp for 80+ kids. They forget to mention they have about 12 kids in the youth group and 7 of them will be away that weekend. Man, they will get 80 for sure!!! Or they will confirm that they have 55 people coming but then decide it's no big deal to bring 133. Are the rest of these people planning on eating? Ah Youth Pastors, it's a mystery to what numbers will really arrive.

4. True story, I called a church to confirm activities for the weekend that they would be coming up. Youth Pastor wasn't available. I then tried getting in contact for said Youth Pastor for 2 weeks. I finally had my calll returned. Youth Pastor apologized and revealed that he forgot he booked a retreat here. Forgot? Aren't retreats a rather big thing on the youth group calendar? Needless to say, the group didn't come because no one knew they had a retreat here.

5. Want another true story??? Sometimes Youth Pastors procrastinate on sending the contract. The contract that states that it should be sent 6 weeks before the arrival. 6 weeks notice is enough time to make sure Medeba has the staff for the activities that will be wanted. The youth pastor decided to send his contract 3 days before his arrival. Also wanted lots of activities and dining room service. Other words, enough staff that I would have to seek help from outside the camp. Youth Pastors, no concept of time. Thank for the notice, bub.

This is not my bash at Youth Pastors. It's my way of celebrating the disorganizations and care freeness (is this a word?) of the said profession. A profession that is wonderful and meaningful. Just not one that goes well with Guest Group Coordinators. Youth Pastors are menaces to retreat centres everywhere. Beware!!!