Sick On My Birthday: You Didn’t Have To Patient Zero

Well, it’s finally happened. I’m sick on my birthday! It took nearly half of my calculated life expectancy based on the national average life expectancy. I thought it could never happen to me. I’d never be sick on my birthday! Seriously, what kind of loser catches a cold in July? It’s hot, the human body isn’t wasting energy trying to keep warm and people are outside. How could anyone, anyone, be sick right now? It’s summer for the love of ghawd!

Granted this has been the slowest rolling summer ever. Mile long trains have been known to get moving faster than this season has. Sunburn one day. In a hoodie and jeans the next, albeit while still getting sunburned. Then rain for days. Which, the rain isn’t bad at all, it’s just odd that it’s happening.

I started feeling bad three days ago. Patient zero admitted he was sick three days prior to that. To that end, this could is just about over. I’ve probably already given it to people before I even knew what was happening. Luckily, it’s nothing like the cold I had a few months ago. My nose is just really snotty and I feel lazy. Sadly, I can only taste about forty percent of what eat and drink. Which is going to put a damper on the celebratory consumption.

I need to go party as much as I can. Here are some misquotes about being sick on my birthday. I made them up. Please, don’t sue me.

Tyler Durden said it:

“On a long enough timeline, everyone will be sick on their birthday.”

Bon Jovi said better:

“I’m a cowboy. On transit I ride. I’m si-ick!”


“On my birthday,  on my birthday-yay, on my birthday.”

Has anyone drawn comparisons between the video for “Blaze of Glory” and Fallout 3?



It’s been a long winter here in the Pacific Northwest. There was way more snow than usual. The kind of snow that screws up traffic and ruins New Year’s Eve. There were several noteworthy snowstorms this year. After the snow hightailed it, there was the rain, there is still the rain and it looks like it will start the raining anytime now. This is what we’ve been conditioned for. The rain is in our blood.

This time of year, there’s a never ending supply of rain. In spring, it can rain for a month. Sure there are breaks, this isn’t some biblical deluge. Yet, having cloudy, rainy skies every day can weigh on people. This year seems to be worse than usual as every five days or so, there is one really beautiful day. Hearts begin to thaw and dry. Hoodies come off, shorts come on or at least the hope is there. The next day, rain.

That’s what the last two days have been like. Yesterday was spectacular! I wore shorts for the first time this year. There was a breeze so I didn’t shed the hoodie, but having the sun out was wonderful. My wife, Bleu and I went to the local farmers market. Just in time too as it was the last one for the year. We picked up some beer, bread, and cheese. With our staples in tow, we headed to one of our favorite parks and had a little picnic of bread and cheese.

Have I mentioned that I’m fair-skinned? I’m not quite as bad as a stereotypical red head, but I am close. So after just a little bit of time in the sun, I start to cook. My saving grace is, I do tan after a while. Of course, that’s after many hours in the sun and several little stingy sessions. I know I could put on sunscreen, but it usually isn’t that bad. I’m also pretty good about realizing that I’m burning alive.

Yesterday however, I was unaware. There were some clouds. It was cool in the shade. For the love of all that is holy, I had a hoodie on! Then I got home. That’s when I realized that I was matching my red shirt quite well. At first glance, I wondered if I was just flushed. Did I just exert myself? Am I holding my breath? Am I crop dusting? No! To all of them. Hell nah! To some of them. I was sunburned!

This morning there was no sun. Only rain heavy clouds. Ready to spread their disgusting life giving moisture everywhere. I put on jeans, a flannel shirt and a hoodie. When I took the dogs out at lunch, I was still cold.

The good news is climate change isn’t real. I have it on high authority that it’s just a hoax. Even if it turns out to be true, still suits* are super cool. I mean, aside from drinking your own filtered moisture, having a tube shoved up your nose and being perpetually prepared for a BDSM party, the body will be covered up so, no sunburn. Yays!


Time for more aloe vera gel.

*Dune in the house!

Back In Your Ass With The Resurrection

Where the hell have I been? That weekly post sure didn’t come out last week. Nor was there any sort of little post saying what the hell was going on. Well, let me say that I’m sorry about that. I’ve been sick for days for damn near weeks. Yesterday was the first day that I actually felt and looked better. For days prior, yes, I was getting better, but I didn’t look it or sound it.

Sleazy chills, snotty nose and a cough that sometimes came with prizes and at other times, just wanted me to break a rib. In other words, I was gross. No one should have had to witness me. I probably would have been wet to the touch if my sweatpants hadn’t been “wicking” it away. My mind wasn’t in the game. I’d tried to do some writing and I barely got through the first three sentences of this post. Later I would have to rewrite it anyway and change the tense.

So I stopped and played World of Warcraft instead. Yeah. This is actually what I was going to write about. Two fridays ago, I resurrected my WoW account. I should say, I created a free account. I resurrected my account about five days later and have already let it slip into a state of disuse.

Anyway, as I created that free account, it felt like I was drunk. Like I wasn’t in control of my own actions. As if I were watching through my eyes as someone else controlled me and was doing some seriously squirrelly and out of character shit. That moment that I clicked okay and I was the proud owner of free account. I dismissed it, thought I probably wouldn’t really play. Told my wife and we both laughed it off.

Over the course of the next three days I took a character to the threshold of level 20 – for free. It was fantastic, I met other players. We LOL’ed, we killed stuff, we danced in some town. It was everything I remembered and yet better. I hadn’t played in ten years and that last bit was more dabbling that anything, but this seemed significantly different. I could solo like crazy. There wasn’t any wasted time. Tons of quests whose goals were in the same area. Go get this thing and kill ten of these things while you’re there, oh and grab five of these as well. Dopamine, anytime, all the time.

I liked it! That’s why I resurrected my old account and they gave me seven free days. Then, I realized how shitty my old characters were. I played for hours and didn’t run into anyone. So I made a new character on the server my free character* was on and leveled him to eighteen in one day. Not a full day mind you, just a normal sick day with some reading and acknowledgment of my wife’s existence.

It was still fun, I was into it. However, I was starting to feel better and WoW demands attention. It’s a thing that requires upkeep and time. Just like other important things in my life do. That’s why I had to let it go. Sorry, I can’t keep up with you, but you sure are fun.

*They can’t mingle for some reason

Time Change and The Election (Fall Back and Go Stuff Yo’self!)

I ’d like to think that I speak for all of the Pacific Northwest* when I say, “Screw the time change!”

What a bunch seagull crap! As if it weren’t dark enough already! Now I get to work an hour after the sun rises and then get to look out the window as the light fades from existence by 3:30 p.m. The last part of that sentence is kind of dependent on whether or not it’s been raining all day. Spoiler alert, it has been raining all day! It’s always been raining all day! So, it’s extra, unholy, end of days, black as midnight on a moonless night, dark by 3:30 p.m. in the afternoon.

What are we, a bunch fucking time travelers? No, nothing that cool. We aren’t even “The Butterfly Effect time traveling cool.” We’re a bunch of chumps that screw with our clocks and deal with the issues. Which there seems to be plenty of.

According to internet data, for about a week after each of the space-time continuum anomalies, auto accidents spike and people are just constantly tired and hungry. Productivity takes a dip. Binge watching goes through the roof and so does pizza consumption. Why? Because no one cares!

Why do we do this? Beats the shit out of me! There are plenty of thoughts as to why we keep this antiquated practice going. One of them seems to be about saving money on electricity. First, why the hell would the electric company not want my money? Are they trying to sell excess electricity to the states for more money and counting it as a “loss” on their taxes? Second, I’ve been writing this since 4 a.m. with the lights on. That’s two and half hours earlier than normal. So jokes on you mother-stuffers!

Worse yet, the U.S. presidential election is tomorrow! Not only are the lazy and jaded people – who probably weren’t going to vote in the first place – going to be even more duck facey than usual, they will also have the extra excuse of having their internal clocks thrown off. Terrific! Finally,  a good portion of people will be disappointed Tuesday night. Hell, maybe we all will be! So, get over it! Pile on exhaustion, hunger, and constipation onto that disappointment and yell “Fall back and go stuff yo’self!”

Finally,  a good portion of people will be disappointed Tuesday night. Hell, maybe we all will be! So, get over it! Pile on exhaustion, hunger, and constipation onto that disappointment and yell “Fall back and go stuff yo’self!”

So, do you like the time change? Love when the sun ceases to exist? Let me know below!
*Pacific Southwest in Canada!


Please share, comment, and go to bed at decent hour

Expanding A Bit On Fat Shaming with A Dash of Fit Shaming (I Guess?)

About a week ago – unless you are reading this two or more weeks from now – I wrote a post about that atrocious woman and her fat shaming video. I mostly wanted to breakdown some parts of her video and vent. She really ticked me off. It wasn’t that she was hurting my feelings. It was that she was hurting other people’s feelings with ignorant and incendiary commentary. All in the name of stroking her juggernaut of an ego.

Although, her opinions shouldn’t really hurt anyones feelings. Unless that family on the plane, if they truly exist, realizes who was sitting on the plane in the adjacent seat. Otherwise she is basically a fictional character who is tactless, tasteless, and has no idea what she is talking about or who she is speaking to. Of course ignoring her comments is easier said than done.

All of that said, I have had a few comments about my previous post and stance. Some thought that I may be lowering the bar. Saying “Hey, it is fine to be unhealthy. Just feed your kids McDonald’s.” That wasn’t necessarily what I meant. In fact, I think people should take care of themselves. Everyday they should attempt to be their very best. That is a real amorphous concept. My best is different from everyone else’s best and everyone else’s best is different from everyone else’s best.

What I am really trying to say and how I truly feel about the situation is that people should love themselves and their bodies the way they are. At the same time, we should all be trying to improve. What is the end goal? To be healthier than we were before. Does that mean that everyone is going to be ripped and skinny? Nope. That ain’t going to happen.

Here is one thing I want to make absolutely clear. People’s bodies vary. Metabolisms are different. If you got a fast one and need to work out minimally other than to hone your rusty pipes or bangin’ ass, good for you. I am so fucking happy for you! I am beside myself with joy! If you are like me, you can eat well enough and still gain weight. Exercising like crazy has helped me, but I am not anywhere near ready for the cover of Men’s Fitness. Besides, I don’t think I want to be.

In closing: love your body and love yourself. Take good care of yourself. Try to be better with each passing day. And for all that is good in the world, eat a goddamn donut! Especially when people bring them into the office. Don’t bitch about how it is going to make you fat or how you are going to have to go the gym after. Just, fucking, eat it. Your soul will thank you!

Fat Beach

 There my wife and I were, watching the sun slowly sink behind the trees while standing in Lost Lake. My stones skipping mere millimeters away from the mountain chilled water and instead choosing the arid sanctuary of my brand new electric blue swimming trunks. Tadpoles danced around our legs. Kids frolicked and dared one another to do cannonballs off the dock. Good looking people were sure to do yoga and try to walk across a multipurpose tight rope and dolly strap. Everything was right with the world except for one thing.

 We had taken the extended and mostly uphill way to Lost Lake. It was hot. As my hands slowly slid down to the hem of my navy blue American Apparel 50/50, some tanned bro, sans shirt, would come wizzing by us and I would lose all enthusiasm to pull that shirt over my head.

  Due to duress or perhaps the toxic sea urchin – whom was also vacation at Lost Lake –  I was standing on, I had a vision. Albeit, not a very attractive one. Fat Beach or for you Vancouver folk, Train Wreck Beach. Regardless of the name, it will be a sandy solace segregating socially scorned souls from the young good looking people. A place where all the pudgy, hairy, pale, scrawny people of the world can go. A place where the taut, waxed, tanned, muscled people cannot.

  A place where lanky wooden fences covered in climb deterring splinters separate us from those good lookin’ bastards. George Castanza like lifeguards will shoo away any Brangelinas and ensure that none of us get cramps after eating at the pizza buffet. Instead of weights, we will have video games. In addition to showers, there will be a slime pit that goops the occupier with SPF 30+ sunscreen. Can you imagine? No taut bodies running to and fro, just the out of shape milling about. No tan people getting even more tan, just the human salamanders lying there while burning alive. That isn’t yoga, that person is trying to stand up or maybe sit down – honestly it is a little difficult to tell if they are coming or going. Regardless, they are accepted and loved at Fat Beach, just like the red heads.

Dr. Pepper: The Champagne of the Pop World

  Forget about the market share war that Coke and Pepsi have been diligently waging for so long that it has been reduced to semi-annual flippant vollies of superfluous references to a once glorious and holy war.  Forget about caffeine addled dipshits flippin’ cars over elephant riding grandmothers, while they tip back cans of Mountain Dew.  Forget about every pop that is orange or purple, I have nothing to say about them, just forget them.  But don’t you ever forget about Dr. Pepper. If you aren’t drinking Dr. Pepper, you are missing out on something special, that you will never be able to get back.

  Dr. Pepper.  Twenty-three flavors, I don’t know what they are.  I doubt I could pronounce them all, but those twenty three flavors provide a rich full bodied flavor that Pepsi’s one note bittersweet flavor and Coke’s even more bitter and less sweet taste cannot compete with.  Eat steak while drinking Pepsi or Coke and each bite will be contrasted with mediocre flavor that bad touches your tongue and the high acidity of Coke that assaults your taste buds, knocking them senseless.  Drink Dr. Pepper while eating steak and you will be pleased with the complementary full body flavors of vanilla and cherry with a caramel after taste.  Your taste buds will become super powered like a nerd getting bit by a radioactive spider!  Bouquets and textures that were imperceptible before now stand before you, naked wanting to lock in a lasting and meaningful embrace.

  Even better, Dr. Pepper doesn’t just go well with steak, Dr. Pepper can be paired with anything!   That is a feat that wine had to make two all encompassing genres to do.  But after it still wasn’t enough and wine had to make rose, ice, and dessert wines.  When Dr. Pepper made a second type, it wasn’t because people were having problems guzzling down cans of it while eating three course meals of mozzarella sticks, fillet mignon, and a big ole slutty piece of chocolate cake.  The second type was Diet Dr. Pepper, and the reason was people were getting fat from drinking so much Dr. Pepper.

 Go to a fast food taco joint, if you order Mt. Dew, you are eating Neil deGrasse Tyson knows what in a GMO shell.  If you order the same meal, but with Dr. Pepper you will feel like you are eating free range god knows what in an organic grass fed corn shell.  You will request that the head chef, Kevin, comes out to your table and show you his GED.  You will have an intervention for Kevin which puts him in culinary school and on the road to having no less than three TV shows where he berates people for their inferior cooking skills.

  So who is craving a soul refreshingly cold Dr. Pepper in a frosty glass, I know I am.  I am sure it will go great with my bran and bananas and everything else I eat today.  It goes great with everything and can do no wrong.  Alright fine, Dr. Pepper makes Kevin an asshole, but his life is better than it would have been.  And as long as he drinks Dr. Pepper he will be fine.   Remember this, you can clean the corrosion off a car battery with Coke, you can clean the corrosion off a soul with Dr. Pepper.