How I Vaccuum The Effin’ Car

My wife and I recently went on vacation with the dogs. Five nights in a cabin at the end of the continent, in a little town called Ucluelet. For the few of you who haven’t heard of it yet have been to Tofino, just turn left instead of right at the ocean.

Five nights means six days. Six days of wet, salty dogs. Ocean water. Sand. Mud. Not only were they covered in all of that, they ingested it as well. So of course they puked and all that. Sure we quickly bathed them each and everyday with shampoo and the cold water from the hose while they danced and spun at the end of their leashes like a schizophrenic bouncy balloon things. Remember those? Then they would run in and lay by the fire all night.

No matter what, they were just never fully clean. Rain would fall from the sky everyday and make sure they would get a little bit of tacky dirt or sand stuck to them. There was a seemingly never ending supply of new and gross things to eat or lick.

By the end they smelled and had to spend five hours in the car on the way back. Once we had gotten home and I had taken the seat cover out, I realized how dirty the car was. It smelled like wet dog. There was sand, fur, and slobber everywhere. “I looked to the sky and screamed why do I even bother with the cover!”

I had no other choice. I took that filthy car to the car wash. I was fully prepared. I had a pocket full of toonies. I backed into that stall and made sure that vacuum cleaner was fully functioning. I opted for the automated mat wash. Every little scrap of litter had been picked up. It was go time!

Instant action as the coins hit the bottom. I flew into the car! Scrambling, inhaling crap from every crack and crevice of the not so offensive front seat. Then it was time for the back seat. I was taken aback for a moment. Some may have thought we had scooped sand into the car. Others may have thought we had shaved a dog in the back seat. It looked and smelled horrible. Then I remembered my precious time ticking lower and lower.

I started out hunched over and ended up eventually crawling to the other side. Moving as quickly as I could. All that precious time and money. Ticking away. Evaporating. In the heat of that moment I felt like I was in one of those Daniel Craig James Bond fight scenes. Two people scrambling so violently that the viewer can’t tell if they are both really good at fighting or have no idea what they are doing.

I am apparently more of the latter. The hose was stuck on something and I yanked. At this time I realized the hose was underneath me. Not pinned underneath me, but loose underneath me. Painfully it arced up right into my crotch and delivered a light tap. Through squinted eyes and pinched lips I kept vaccuuming. Time was money.

Once the worst of the back seat was over with I started doing the shampooing and adding the scents. That part was pretty uneventful. Lots of shampoo and a mixture of new car and vanilla scents. I only really wanted to talk about the part where I felt like James Bond and got cracked in the no-no’s.

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Bike Nuts, The Gun Nuts of the West Coast!

There seems to be three kinds of people in this world: people who love guns, people who love cycling, and people who don’t give a flip about either. At the moment I belong to the third group. However, I have been teetering around the border of the cycling enthusiast group for a while now. What is it that has been holding me back from taking the plunge? Dressing like an aerodynamic dork for one. Followed by my lack of a sense of superior ownership of the road. A sense that apparently needs to be ten times greater than the one possessed by motorists. I love the smell of burning rubber!

I live in British Columbia. In the part that is pretty much always warm. At least warm enough to don some full legged and armed tights and hit the road. Perhaps there are four days a year that are too snowy to exercise outdoors. Look, we can pretty much get out and do whatever we want, whenever we want.

For this reason we have a lot of cyclists. A lot a lot! Sure there are some that are really good. Those who follow the rules, come to complete stops, and use proper hand signals. I have probably driven passed one and simply ignored them because they were so good. However, for every one of those cyclists there seemingly has to be a zillion terrible cyclists. I mean how could there not be. It rains in Vancouver all the freakin’ time. And Much like a mogwai, when good cyclists get wet, other cyclists start shooting off their backs. Then all it takes is the one with the douchebag haircut (I know, like there will be only one, right?) to get them to eat after midnight.

Ta-da, bad cyclists! Hot rodding on sidewalks, popping wheelies through crosswalks, and using Idaho stops even though we don’t live in the great state of Idaho or have the procedure legalized – although we should. In other words, being a vehicle yet behaving like a pedestrian. Either they are uneducated or, worse yet, educated and simply do not care.

To add to the hot mess, no one else knows what the hell cyclists are supposed to do either. Pedestrians and cars just roll the dice and scream “Evasive manoeuvres!” every time they have an encounter with cyclists. Cyclists do the same. Although they shouldn’t when it comes to pedestrians. I don’t care about crushing records or maintaining momentum. Pedestrians get the right of way!

With all of this in mind – and the fact that the city needs money – it is no wonder that the city council is proposing bike licenses. Although, educating may be simpler and all that is truly required. Education on everyone’s part. Pedestrians, cyclists, and drivers should all know the rules. Hell why not throw in some motor vehicle rules as well. Like how a freaking four way stop works!

On the other hand, licensing could open the way for insurance, which I do believe cyclists should have. There are a lot of them and they are all uninsured. If an accident happens it is up to the other persons insurance or pocket to fix it.

I don’t know if there should be a difference between athletes, commuters, and casual cyclists. I don’t even know how to enforce it. I also don’t know how six year olds who are learning to ride are going to be licensed. I don’t even know if kids ride bikes anymore or just hang out inside for five minutes between piano lessons, soccer, karate, art, hockey, and school. Honestly, it sounds like a logistical money pit!

What I do know is that when news of licensing got out, the arguments sounded similar to those of gun enthusiasts. “You can’t take my bike!” “Good luck licensing me!” “You’ll never take me alive coppers!” Were all yelled at the top of the gluten free, physically fit warriors lungs as they stormed city hall with rolled up yoga mats. Prepared for glorious battle. Prepared to ride the bike lanes of the afterlife.

National (Insert Bullshit Thing That Doesn’t Really Need To Be Celebrated or Revered) Day

I have written a few posts recently about those national and international days where everyone celebrates or does something silly and superflous. Most of them seem to revolve around food or activities. My posts revolve around cats, dogs, and running.

Today is apparently National Dessert Day. A week or so ago there was National Burger Day. I thought we had National Pizza Day recently followed by National Cheese Pizza Day. If we did, the former was a far superior and less restricting holiday. A few years back there was a National Donut Day that happened to coincide with D-day. I guess it was going to fall on a weekend and some genius figured that it should be moved to a day that also starts with “D.” A clever marketing ploy and highly insulting.

I have to admit, it is fun to cut loose and order a pizza or wear a towel on your head. Heck, it is even fun to talk like a pirate. However, am I alone in thinking that there may just be too many of these damn holidays? Are we having too much fun and letting ourselves off the hook too often?

For instance, perhaps we need, “You still have racism in your country day.” No need to leave anything in the comment section, Ann Coulter, I already know where you coming from. Maybe we need, “Remember the homeless in your neighborhood day.” Help an old lady cross the street day. Let someone cut in front of you in traffic day. Don’t drive like an asshole day. Buy someone you don’t know a cup of coffee day. Don’t be such a stressed out prick day. Pay attention to your family day. Be a better person day.

Columbus Day: A Celebration of Wrong!

Christopher Columbus was a lame ass and is a shining example of what is wrong with western society. Wonder why the Kardashians are popular? Questioning Hasselhoff’s existence? Wondering how some celeb who was all cute and cool turned into a hot mess? People, it is nothing new! In fact, Christopher Columbus may be one of the first losers to climb to the top of the heap.

If memory serves me correct – which it probably doesn’t because after second grade people quit caring about Columbus because he was – I reiterate – a lame ass – he was down on his luck and on the out with the powers that be. I believe he had to practically beg for the money for one last voyage or his set of voyages. One that would lead him through a shortcut to the spice islands or at least to the other side of the continent. Proving that the world was not flat and increasing supplies of cardamom and taco seasoning.

Regardless, he got his funding and had a total of four voyages in the same general direction. Over these voyages he left colonists behind. Did a bit of trading. Killed people. Became the governor and subsequently a tyrant. Faced rebellion from his colonists who thought life sucked. Killed people. Went to jail and was freed. Convinced a fleet of thirty plus ships to follow him for one more go. Lost all but one of those thirty ships. Killed people. Was stranded for over a year. Until someone came to rescue him, against the better judgement of the powers that be. I am sure during that time, he killed people.

Allow me to relate this to the modern era. Men no longer ask for directions to the bowling alley they are trying to get to. They simply drive in the wrong direction for hours on end, much to their wife’s chagrin. When they arrive at the bowling alley, they aren’t the first ones to show up. Yet everyone celebrates how they have found the alley. “See, I told you I knew where we I was going!” Men will say as they read the sign and realize that it isn’t the correct bowling alley at all. To finish off the analogy, they kill people and take over the bowling alley. Done!

So why do we celebrate a man, who wasn’t the first to discover America? Why is there the glossing over that it was America as an entire supercontinent and just areas around modern day Cuba, Central and South America; not any part of the United States of America? Why does the U.S. celebrate him when the rest of the continent – from my quick google searches – does not? I am not suggesting that society erase this guy. Just maybe the U.S. and Europe should quit celebrating him so damn much! Indigenous Peoples day is actually a thing now. Celebrate that!