Bashtard's weblog

Done work, nothing to do but go out for some 'drinks'.

Wouldn't you know, I run into an old friend (The Dancers) that I saw at the Kid Rock concert earlier this month.

I briefly mention that I saw her on stage. We shared some banter along with another lovely lady. Later I saw her on stage again.

Conclusion... Riley is fucking HOT!!

what's up with that?

I finally got a service call here for the yo-yo of an Internet connection that I've had lately. Turns out, there's water in the planar.

My signal went from a rating of 4db with a signal of 24 to 10db with a signal of 34. Anything 25 and below causes the modem to randomly lose connection. This time with a grill rather than a planar, I should be good for a long time ahead. Unless the water can somehow get into the steel??

I say, thank you Mr. On-Site Service Guy.

Now I know the pride others feel of me when I'm on-site and get the job done the right way the first time.

After a quick modification to the Bayesian Filtering, my mail server, that I never talk about, has correctly tagged every SPAM message that has arrived.

Enlightenment can be attained through meditation, self-contemplation, and intuition rather than through faith and devotion.

I woke up with morning with a sore throat because my window was opened all night long and it got fuckin' cold overnight.

Man my throat is killing me.

Four months ago, Roy Jones was knocked out for the first time in his 20 someodd year career.
Watching the fight tonight, Roy Jones went down for the second time in a row, losing in the 9th round to Light-Heavyweight Champ, Glen Johnson.

Normally I'd be saying I hate his cocky attitude, but it's sad that the best pound-for-pound boxer of his era can fall so far, so fast.

This blog, in memory of the great career of Roy Jones Jr.

what's up with that?

I would like to cast my vote to have the term "Sunday drivers" changed to be "Saturday drivers".
It was incredible the stupidity that was taking place on our lovely 400 / 401 / 403 / QEW highways this afternoon.

There were the typical cases of cars driving parallel to each other and not aknowledging the fact that they are causing a traffic jam, but today's stupidity was even more special.

Example 1:
Driving on the 400 south.
A truck on the very far right lane loses its cargo into the same lane.
There is neither a car in front, nor a car behind this truck, yet I, and everyone else in the 5 other lanes had to slam on the brakes as to avoid smashing into the morons ahead. 5 lanes when the trouble was in the far right (6th lane).

Example 2:
Driving on the 401 west.
In the area where the 401 west becomes 5 or 6 lanes after the 427, I met up with some complete retard in a black mustang. I needed to take the 403 - QEW Hamilton exit so I'm flying (140km/h) in the far right lane and have this retard tailing me the whole time. He then makes the effort of passing and cutting me off. Then he slows down to around 90km/h for no reason at all. I notice him looking at me in the rear-view to show how cool he is. I motion for him to speed up, which he doesn't, so I go around him and assume my dealings with this retard are over. Oh no... once he sees that I am coming up fast on a van, he takes off and tries to block me in the lane. I'm not shy when it comes to cutting people off, so I cut his ass off hardcore. I look back and he's just grinning like a fool. He chose me of all people to play driving games with. Too bad he didn't know that I can piss farther than he can.

Example 3:
Driving on the QEW - Hamilton.
The 'Third Line' exit is closed off for construction. It is signed well in advance so everyone is aware. There is no current road work and no lane reductions or restrictions. The entire crowd of cars has to slam on the brakes and go from 130km/h to stop and go traffic. Once we pass the exit we are back to full speed traffic again. One day I might get an understanding of what people are thinking in situations like this.

Example 4:
Driving on the 403 east.
This drive was the least stressful of all the trips I made today. The only issue I had were people who have no idea how to drive aggressive, driving aggressive. Rather than zig-zagging, everyone made the effort not to let the other in at any chance. Those people driving in the middle lane with km's between them and the next car but nobody can merge into the lane because they keep adjusting their speed to stop you.

So, when its your turn to vote to rename "Sunday drivers" to be "Saturday drivers", make sure you vote Yes on 24.

Imagine having known someone since you were in elementary school. Being friends with their brothers and basically growing up around the other, though indirectly.

Also imagine having played hockey with this 'someone' for close to 10 years, always on the same team.

Then imagine when this same 'someone' doesn't have the integrity to automatically consider you as part of the team that you have been apart of for all of those years.

-> insert 'go fuck yourself'

Those words are extremely harsh but extremely warranted in this case. After all these years of willingly taking my money to be on the team, only to treat me like a complete unknown this season is just an insult of a magnitude that I can't calculate. This being the same person whom I got to come out for a team that I was part of, figuring he would like to play as well.

His defence is that he wasn't the person organizing the team this year, but he sure as hell was the guy who put down the $5,000 in league fees just so the team could play another season. Apparently being $5,000 in dept gives him no control over the selection of the team.

*On to the next douchebag*

The next douchebag was the one who was going to 'set me straight' about the team because HE was apparently organizing it this year. (Organization with no fiscal responsibility sounds to me like not much of an organizer at all.)

Anyhoo...

The main reason why said douchebag didn't want me on the team was because I was too critical of his brother (first year hockey goalie). I gave a simple suggestion of how to place his arms as to not let every puck thrown at him go between his arm and his body.

Picture this... elbows out, goal stick not on the ice... where do you shoot on him?? EVERYWHERE

->insert 'go fuck yourself' and 'go to hell'

After that I went directly to the league convenor and asked to be promptly removed from the roster and placed as a spare player. One who will play on whatever team needs a player at the time.

On one hand, I'm insulted.
On the other, I'm happy I finally have an excuse to stop playing with these same people. The ones who only pass to their friends and haven't grown as players since they were 4 years of age.

I do have one warning however...
If I somehow play against douchebag #2, I hope he is keeping his head up, because he will get a rude awakening if his head drops to look at the puck for even a second. His ass will be tasting the ice.

[addendum]

I found out afterwards that douchebag #1 felt like shit for what happened. I care not. That bit of information was followed up with a further warning that I will never play on a team with any of my former teammates again. I don't care how short of players they are, how nice they act, or even how many years after the fact. Never again will my hard earned cash end up in their pockets for anything hockey related.

[addendum]

Ramrob, who is on the team, cut himself for several stitches today (Sept 25th) and shared a good joke with me. "I can't play so you wanna take my spot for next week".
We had a good chuckle at that one.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the team played the game one player short after I left.
They had to rotate two centres. Remember, they had too many players already!! :)

what's up with that?

Today was trip #2 to London for my work, and if all goes well, the very last.

I get to work and find out there's only 1 install scheduled (YAY), but its in London (BOO). I can't say the drive there was of any issue... at least to the Hwy exit that is. Post exit 189 let the comedy begin.

I follow the directions I got from Map Quest which took me to the right exit, but told me to go south off the 401. I do that but very quickly I end up in the butt of 'Fuck Nowhere'. I needed some petrol anyway, so I stop to fill up. The station was from a different world. Strange pumps and all cars waiting to use 6 pumps but leaving others free for some strange reason. I used one of the 'strange reason' ones and didn't find anything wrong, aside from having to point my car the opposite direction. Maybe people that far West are directionally challenged?

After being sufficiently filled I go ask for directions like any normal man would :) ... and its as if I'm in the southern US. "You got them directions off the computer, didn't cha". They were such bloody hicks. Eventually I end up going the right direction, but get lost on their version of Loser St. N vs. Loser St. S. I take a road that says 'To Loser St. S' but I somehow end up on the north side?? I stop at the address I had and it was some rundown house with a chicken carcass on the patio (so ghetto). Again forced to ask the Yokals... err... I mean Locals. Nah... I mean Yokals!! I ask, "What is this road considered? Loser St. N or Loser St. S ?" to which I get a reply of... (pointing south) "Well that way is south" and I have to cut in with, "I'm aware the direction, but what is this road considered... Loser St. N or Loser St. S?". Luckily another yokal was there to answer the question or I might have been there for hours.

Anyhoo... I get there, install it, its not working, yada yada, go through the bullshit of nobody at work answering the phone cuz they are assholes... but I eventually get through and I leave.

Now the real fun begins...

There are absolutely no signs in this fucking area, so trying to get back to the Hwy was a 10 min joy ride in itself. One which included a biker cop stopping from giving a ticket just to radar me and see if I was speeding, then going right back to giving that person a ticket. To get to the location I went down one way roads and other joys of this yeehaw ville. Obviously can't take those ways back. Finally though, I find the 401. Sweet sweet 401.. you won't do me wrong.

How wrong I was!!

That far west, once you pass the Kitchener/Waterloo area the hwy goes down to 2 lanes in both directions. It was the duty of every fucking idiot driver to make sure they were driving beside every freight truck and going the same speed. I was GOING INSANE trying to drive home. The whole ride there was spent in cruise control but the whole ride back was gas, break, signal, gas, break, etc.... It was so bad at one point that some fucking lady, who's tires I would have shot out if I had a gun, decided that I wasn't gonna be passing her on the right side. She, totally on purpose, went faster and blocked my pass attempt. Then even had the nerve to wave her finger at me in the tsk tsk motion. I returned the wave with the middle finger tsk tsk.

All of this has made me realize that the threat I made to the sales staff about selling to customers this far away will come to reality. One more sale to an area in butt fuck nowhere and I start taking lives. Will Angelina Jolie be there and take her top of for me, not likely.

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..but that's a matter between him and Leslie.

---

I have officially come up with the reason why I will remain eternally single and cut off from society.

**wait for it**

It's because...

**wait a little more**

...

**drum roll**

I'm a complete idiot.

Here's a prime example why I say such foolish things.
Last night, Grimm and I are out gleaming the cube (on Bloor) when we pass by a cute chick with long brown hair in a green shirt. I yell to Grimm, "Holy cow, I know her".

That's all that happened. That's the end of the story.

The story could have been more interesting had I stopped and said to her, "Holy cow, I know you". The thought didn't even come to my mind. I just gleamed away until I finally clued into what a retard I must have looked like.

We did look at each other a few times and she did recognize me, but I just bladed off to the tune of "meow meow meow meow" playing in my head.

Oh well, you lose some, you lose some.

what's up with that?

What happens when you give a skinny nerd too much power and authority?
'akshun' is his name, but I'm sure that's not what he gives the ladies.

Anyhoo...

1 email and 1 smack on the back later, I have a 'lunch meeting' on Wed to talk strategy and likely about my role going forward. I can't keep doing this same stuff. There has to be more to the job than just this.

I want to progress, not continually move sideways.

...and he'll forever be the Kid Rock

Grimm and I were some of the very few who were willing to pay $55 + Tax to go see Kid Rock last night.

To those who didn't go... you're a bunch of fools I say, cuz the concert fuckin' rocked!!

---

Let's look at the pros of last night:

Seating:
It would have been hard to get your hands on better tickets than we had. Dead centre, 12 rows back. He was directly in front of me the whole time. I could almost get hit by his sweat **so dreamy**

The tail:
There was soooooooo much ass there is wasn't funny.
It was 'look at my clevage' night.. all night. Well, specs-appeal tried hard to make it 'watch my booty shake', but I preferred all the 30 year old cougars in attendance.

The Dancers:
There were dancers on either side of the stage for the majority of the songs. Now the sad part... we recognized them. They are two of the lovely ladies that we see *cough* on occassion *cough* at our favourite watering hole. Whiskey anyone? Riley and 'Nobody Allowed on Stage'. Riley was looking so damn hot. I didn't even mind the extra junk in the trunk. And think of the line we can use on them. "hey, I saw you on stage at the Kid Rock concert, you were looking pretty hot up there". That's gotta get us the free lap dances.

The Talent:
Kid Rock is a talented fuck, lemme tell ya. In one song, he played 3 guitars, scratched, played the keyboard and took over drums. He stayed miles away from the bass. Now THAT would have impressed me... not that I wasn't already that a white trash hick from Detroit could play all those instruments, and do it very well.

---

Let's look at the cons of last night:

The Phone Call:
Lucky me has the distinction of being on-call for work (no extra pay of course). I'm in the process of sending Vinnie an SMS about the Whiskey girls and I get a phone call. Loser me has to answer the phone. I leave the concert just to find out that once the concert is finished, I have to go downtown and reconfigure a router for a 24 hour Internet Cafe. They are DOWN and need to get it UP fast!!

(Concert over)

I took Grimm with me to the Cafe. They likely had fucked around with the damn router and it was screwed. I reconfig the thing from scratch, its working, we leave for Jaks. The rest is history.... or is it??

The Next Phone Call:
This time its 1:45am and I get a call from the over night staff in India because the router at the Cafe is fucked again. This time, I don't give a shit. I tell him to make her wait till Monday and I was finally on my way to meet lady slumber.

---

So in summary, Kid Rock - good, Clevage - good, Strippers - good, Work on your day off - shit.

what's up with that?

Mark it on your calendars... Oct 21st, 2004 will be the second surgery of the year (a new record).

This time, the surgery is on my left wrist. The one that I hurt playing hockey **I think** when I was in the men's league about 2 years ago. All I really remember was getting changed after the game, going to pickup my equipment and my wrist started to kill. I couldn't close my hand or even masturbate :) I tried to play again a few months later but people could just smack the stick out of my hand. There just wasn't the strength in the wrist to hold it firmly (my hockey stick).

I know, you're like "why the hell did he wait 2 years to get it fixed" and that I blame on the medical community. I was willing to fix it when it hurt, not 1.5 years later when it was feeling somewhat fine. Doctors will be Doctors. Obviously they know the severity better than you do.

The doctor gave me no guarantee that it could be completely fixed after all that time, but we'll go for it anyway!! I like his enthusiasm, except the comment of, "if that doesn't work, we can try to shorten the bone"... which I sometimes have to say to the ladies... but shortening the bone in my wrist, that might be a little too over board.

Anyhoo, post-surgery I'll be in a cast for 6 weeks then I plan on pursuing my life-long dream of running out on a baseball field during a game... errr, I mean getting back into hockey and not playing hurt.

We shall see... we shall see