Ya, it’s childish.
This ones for you Juggs
Arnie’s Pizza Shop

A British company is developing computer chips that store music in women’s breast implants.

This is a major breakthrough — women are always complaining about men staring at their breasts and not listening to them.

Once upon a time there were two brothers. One brother was very mischievous, always getting into trouble. The other brother, however, was very good. He was always kind to animals, helped elderly neighbors, and led an exemplary life.

As time went on, the brothers stayed in touch but were never close. The evil brother became a heavy drinker and a womanizer. The other brother was a devoted husband and father and supported many charities.

One day the evil brother died.

Then, after a few years, the good brother passed away.

He went to heaven and was rewarded with a happy afterlife. One day he went to God and asked, “Where is my brother? He died before me, but I have not seen him here in heaven.”

God replied, “As you know, your brother led an evil life, so he is not spending eternity here in heaven. He has been sent elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that”, the good brother replied. “But I do miss him and wish I could see him again.”

“You can see him if you wish”, God said. “I will give you the power to gaze into hell.”

So the power was granted and the good brother gazed into hell. Before long he saw his brother sitting on a bench. In one arm he held a keg of beer, and in the other he cradled a gorgeous young blonde.

The good brother turned to God and said, “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I have found my brother, and he has a keg of beer in one arm and a beautiful woman in the other. Surely, hell cannot be that bad.”

God explained. “Things are not always as they seem. The keg has a hole in it.
The blonde doesn’t.”

Recently, my mom (who is diabetic) raved about this new store that opened in Langley called the Diabetic Station — a store providing no/low-sugar alternatives for people suffering from Diabetes.

The Diabetic Station provides a lot of the wonderous treats you and I take for granted when we habituously purchase junk food. Diabetics can’t (or at the very least, shoudn’t!) eat the same as we do because of their body’s lack of ability to properly handle both artificial and naturally occuring sugars within the body.

Anyway, mom’s rave got me thinking about checking the place out. After several drive-bys when I didn’t have the time to stop in, I finally did. 20 mins later and a bag full of no/low-sugar Reese Peanut Butter Cups, Jelly Belly Sours, Red Vine Red Licorice, Peanut Butter covered cookie dough balls, Chocolate Whipped Meringues and a sizeable chocolate bar (all for TESTING of course), I was on my way.

Over the next hour or so, I dipped into everything short of the choco bar. In fact, I abused the Reese PBCs, Meringues, cookie dough balls and Jelly Bellys to the point there was nothing left (ok, my girlfriend was with me on this day and she contributed to all the gluttoness activity). We couldn’t get over how good it tasted, and yet how low in sugar (if any) and calories this stuff was — damnit, new treats for camping season!

Ok, fast forward 2 hours and I am literally poo’ing in Stanley Park for about 1.5hrs. I took three trips back and forth from the vehicle over that span, just to get feeling back in my legs from all the throne-sitting! Some date with ma’lady huh? Not that she was immune to the events, but she just didn’t consume like I did - or else she had Superman’s colon!

Nevertheless we had a concert to hit so off we went after feeling somewhat normal again. An hour or so later (and about 40 mins into the show), I had a major pressure pushing on the inner walls of my bum bum (any visualizers out there???). So, I made my way to the men’s room and listened to most of the opening band’s set from stall #2. Surprisingly the acoustics in the ol’ loo weren’t that bad.

Total time spent in the washroom as a result of ignoring WARNING labels (sigh, see below) and eating myself into a shit stew? 2hrs, 11 minutes!

Good times.

Jug

P.S. Yes, the warning says: Excess consumption may have a laxative effect.

A man and a woman were asleep like two innocent babies. Suddenly, at 3 O’clock in the morning, a resounding noise came form outside…

The woman, sort of bewildered, jumps up from the bed and yells at the man, “Shit!, that must be my husband!!”

So the guy quickly got out of bed, scared, and naked. Jumps out the window like a crazy man, smashing himself on the ground through a thorn bush. Then he stood up and started to run to his car.

Just a few minutes later he returns and tells the woman, “I’m your husband, you slut!!!”

So the woman answers “Oh, yeah?!! And why were you fucking running?!! You son of a bitch!”

A senior citizen in Florida bought a brand new Corvette convertible. He took off down the road, flooring it to 80 mph and enjoying the wind blowing through what little hair he had left on his head.

“This is great,” he thought as he roared up I-75. He pushed the pedal to the metal even more.

Then he looked in his rear view mirror and saw a highway patrol trooper behind him, blue lights flashing and siren blaring.

“I can get away from him with no problem” thought the man and he tromped it some more and flew down the road at over 100 mph. Then 110, 120 mph.

Then he thought, “What am I doing? I’m too old for this kind of thing.”

He pulled over to the side of the road and waited for the trooper to catch up with him.

The trooper pulled in behind the Corvette and walked up to the man.

“Sir,” he said, looking at his watch. “My shift ends in 10 minutes and today is Friday. If you can give me a reason why you were speeding that I’ve never heard before, I’ll let you go.”

The man looked at the trooper and said, “Years ago my wife ran off with a Florida State Trooper, and I thought you were bringing her back”

“Have a good day, Sir,” said the Trooper

A 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud man, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with his hair fashionably coifed and shaved perfectly, even though he is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today.

His wife of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, he smiled sweetly when told his room was ready. As he maneuvered his walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of his tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on his window.

“I love it,” he stated with the enthusiasm of an eight year old having just been presented with a new puppy.

“Mr. Jones, you haven’t seen the room; just wait.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he replied. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged… it’s how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It’s a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away. Just for this time in my life. Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw from what you’ve put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot happiness in the bank account of memories! Thank you for your part in filling my memory bank. I am still depositing.”

So…

Remember the five simple rules to being happy:
1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.

An old man and woman were married for many years, even though they hated each other.

When they had a confrontation; screaming and yelling could be heard deep into the night. The old man would shout, “When I die, I will dig my way up and out of the grave and come back and haunt you for the rest of your life!”

Neighbors feared him. They believed he practiced black magic, because of the many strange occurrences that took place in their neighborhood.

The old man liked the fact that he was feared. To everyone’s relief, he died of a heart attack when he was 68.

His wife had a closed casket at the wake. After the burial, she went straight to the local bar and began to party, as if there was no tomorrow.

Her neighbors, concerned for her safety, asked, “Aren’t you afraid that he may indeed be able to dig his way up and out of the grave and come back to haunt you for the rest of your life?”

The wife put down her drink and said, “Let him dig. I had the bastard buried upside down…”

No one calls, texts, or msn’s me anymore. I’m even ignore when I initiate. Whatever.

No one sends me cool emails to post on the blog either.

Bummed out that there is no webcast tonight.

Havin’ trouble sleeping lately. Insomnia problems starting again. Also, I think I have an ulcer.

Always broke. Money is always gone within a few days of payday.

Paul Maurice is Toronto’s new head coach!?! What the !@*#…..

Despite all this, I’m still smiling!

Next Tuesday I have court. Hopefully be able to see Bailey soon.

Hockey season is almost over; Boo Hoo. BBQ & camping season is about to start; Yee Haw!

Go Edmonton!!! Game 6 - Time to wrap it up guys.

New Tool album rocks! Highly recommend to everyone.

Also….

My roommate, Jug, is withdrawn. His health has come into question and I worry about him. I don’t know how to cheer him up, this is totally beyond my realm of expertise. All I can say is smile dude, carry on, don’t worry, God will take care of you. Besides, think about this… The more you worry, the more stressed you’ll be, which is only more detrimental to your health. Things will be ok. All your friends are thinking of you.

Ps. Hugs are free… all you have to do is ask. :)

As parents, the major part of our duty is to prepare our children for successful adulthood. That is not easy. One does not know at what stage of a child’s life they begin to process information that will adhere to their psyche and become part of the foundation that their personalities will be built on.

I decided that you can never begin to guide too early. To be sure, we teach at very early ages that hot water burns and knives cut flesh.

So I was sitting with my eight-year-old daughter, listening to her chatter on and on at about 100 miles per hour, when I decided it was a perfect time for a life lesson.

“Listen, honey,” I said reaching down to hold both her little hands in mine.

“You’re boring the ever-loving fuck outta me with all this talk. How do you ever expect to keep a husband if you talk so damned much?”