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Today's blog post is brought to you by:

Xanax, the perfect palindrome.

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Happy St. Patrick's Day

Well folks, it's St. Patrick's Day. This day brings to mind phrases like "The luck of the Irish", "Top o' the mornin' to ye" and "Boy would I like to smash you in the face with my shillelagh."

In honour of this day dedicated to drinking your face off, I've come up with some St. Patty's Day pickup lines:

This may just be the green beer talking, but your ass sure is lookin' cute.

Yes that's my thick Irish brogue, and yes I'm happy to see you.

Hey baby. Ever make it with a leprechaun before?

Everyone should have a little Irish in them. Would you like a little Irish in you?

For those of you going out to celebrate. Have a blast, and stay away from the green beer. That shit is for tourists.

I'm ready for my closeup. 

You can take away our pants, but you can't take away our freedom!! 

Missing DVDs and Dripping faucets

The last few days I had been eagerly waiting for The Incredibles to be released on DVD. I hadn't seen this animated feature yet, but had heard many good things about it. So, yesterday I went over to a nearby video store at lunch and bought a copy to watch that night.

The time finally came where I had a chance to sit down and watch the video. I removed the umpteen layers of packaging they wrap these things in, opened the case and...where's disc one of two? Disc one, which contained the actual feature, was conspicuously absent. Not happy.

For the past week, the kitchen faucet has developed a drip that has grown steadily worse. The most likely cause would be a worn out washer. Since I was going to go out anyways to exchange my movie, I thought I'd get a replacement washer. Before leaving, I went under the sink to shut the water supply off, only to discover there wasn't a shut-off valve. Looking in the bathroom, I saw there were shut-off valves for both the bathroom faucet and toilet. Why not in the kitchen? I went into my storage closet where the main water pipe enters my apartment, and found there wasn't a shut-off valve for the main water supply either. Really not happy.

Now I'm going to have to ask the building manager to send one of the superintendents up just to change a freaking washer. This presents a few problems. The building manager is a fat, lazy cow who I know won't give me even a rough idea of when this might be done. If the super comes in while I'm not there, my dog will FREAK OUT. The super won't be in any physical danger from Scout, but he will bark loudly and continuously at him while he is there, making it an unpleasant session for both. On top of this, I have a countertop dishwasher. According to the terms of my lease, we're not supposed to have dishwashers. This means I'll have to hide the bugger every day when I leave the apartment from the moment I make the call until the time the job is done, which could be a lengthy time. Well, I didn't need an excuse to drink last night, but thanks for giving me one!

You look just like...

A couple of weekends ago, I got a call that a bunch of my friends were going to go out to an upscale club in Ottawa called "18". I hadn't been to 18, but was curious about it so I said I'd join them. A little later, I got a call saying 18 was reserved for a private function and they were going somewhere else. Somewhere else turned out to be Maxwells. For those of you not familiar with the Ottawa bar scene, Maxwells is a cougar bar on Elgin St. While not thrilled with the venue, I decided what was important was that I'd be with friends, so out I went.

After being there about an hour, I noticed an attractive non-cougar checking me out. This cutie saw I was also looking at her, so she walked over. She smiled, opened those full, pouty lips of hers and said, "Has anyone ever told you you look just like Rick Mercer?"

This scenario had played out quite differently in my head. "Uh, no. And I'm not quite sure how I feel about that," I answered.

"It's not a bad thing," she reasoned. "He's an intelligent guy, and it's probably not going to be the last time you hear that comparison." With that, she went back to her group.

Now don't get me wrong. I realize there are celebraties out there who would be far worse to be compared to. Ones who immediately come to mind are Steve Buscemi, Michael Jackson, John Goodman, Keith Richards and post-bender Nick Nolte. I like Rick Mercer. I agree he's an intelligent guy, and very funny too. I can even say he's not bad looking, but he's not what women would refer to as a hottie. I'm fairly certain women who make this observation will never follow this up with, "My roommate Candi and I have always had this fantasy involving Rick Mercer. Why don't you come back to our place for some hot, sweaty monkey love?" Not. Gonna. Happen.

"All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusions is called a philosopher." - Ambrose Bierce

Testing

Starting next Monday, I'll be out of town on business alternating between Trenton and Montreal for the next month and a half. While I'm away, my web access may be limited, so I've set up the feature that allows me to e-mail my blog posts to my site. This is a test to make sure this feature is working properly.

Montreal should be interesting to visit, but I'm less
than thrilled about the nightlife prospects of Trenton. My Mom has
graciously offered to look after my dog while I'm away, otherwise it would have been fairly expensive to board him. Thanks Mom.

The one advantage Trailerparkville has going for it, is that it's close to Toronto. This means it'll be easy for me to visit my family and friends in the GTA on weekends. I haven't been down to visit since the Christmas holidays, so it will be nice to spend time with my folks, my brother and sister-in-law, and my best bud John.

I was the Best Man at John's wedding a few years ago. John moved to Canada from Scotland when he was about ten. As part of his heritage, John decided he and his Best Man should wear kilts at the wedding. Not being Scottish myself, this was a unique opportunity to dress in highland regalia. Since this was most likely the only time I'd ever be wearing this, I decided to dress in the traditional manner and go "regimental". There were a few things I needed to keep in mind that night. Things such as don't run, be careful when sitting down, and don't spin around too fast on the dance floor. All in all, the wedding and reception was a fun time.

Today's Topic? Things that are smoked.

Thanks go out to my brother for introducing me to Mitchell's Thick-Sliced Bacon. Goddamn, but that's some good salted pork product! No more paper thin strips of bacon that shrink to a third of their size by the time they're done. If this bacon was a professional tennis player, it would be Serena Williams. Thick and meaty. If you love bacon, and I know you do, pick up a pack of this the next time you're at the grocery store. If there is a heaven, I'd like to think they serve Mitchell's Thick-Sliced Bacon at St. Pete's Breakfast Buffet.

This morning, I was walking Scout in -30 degree weather, which meant he peed as fast as he could into a snow bank and was ready to come in after about two minutes. I took him in between the two sets of doors of my apartment building, where there are forced air heaters in the walls. The plan was to stay in there about a minute to let him warm up and then go back out one more time to make sure he was done. As soon as I entered, a man followed me in and proceeded to call someone on his cellphone. I was immediately assaulted by the reek of stale cigarette smoke emanating off of this man and his clothes. By "reek", I'm not referring to how we all used to smell after spending the entire night in a bar before the smoking ban. That was a smell which, while not pleasant, was at least tolerable. This guy smelled like a Legion Hall in Gatineau on Remembrance Day after a smokeathon. I actually felt my gorge rising and had to leave to avoid projectile vomiting. My question to the smokers who read my blog is this. Does smoking deaden your sense of smell similar to how it apparently affects your sense of taste, making this guy unaware that he stank? Or do long term smokers simply develop a high tolerance to the smell of stale cigarette smoke, similar to sewer workers developing a high tolerance to the stench of city sewer lines? Do tell.

Cunning Linguists

Mad props to my homey, T-Dog, for sending me this e-mail of interesting word definitions. Now I'm sharing it with all of you.

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are this year's winners:

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly

3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

5. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly. e.g. the State Of The Union Address.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:

18. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an a$$hole.

Back in Black!

Hello, my Renaissance Runnettes. It's good to be back. It warms my heart to see in the comments section that my absence was noted and that I was missed. I'm sure the question in all of your minds right now is, "Where was RR all this time that he couldn't keep us enthralled with the minutiae of his life?" There are a few possibilities:

1. I was away in distant and exotic lands having mind-blowing adventures, which I can't elaborate on due to matters of national security.

2. As a tribute to the passing of Hunter S. Thompson, I went on a massive drug and alcohol fueled mad roller coaster ride through the American Southwest in a 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible. The finer details of which are a little hazy right now. Especially the part about where I went to a piercing shop and got a Prince Albert.

3. I was abducted by aliens and subjected to painful and humiliating tests. Speaking of which, why do aliens always give their abductees an anal probe? What's up with that? Personally, I don't think it has any scientific merit to it and they just do it for shits and giggles. I find it strangely comforting that a race of beings advanced enough to have developed interstellar travel, still finds sticking a probe in someone's rectum uproariously funny.

4. I have the winter blahs, I've been busy at work, and frankly been just too damn lazy to blog.

Which one is it? I'll leave it up to you to decide which one you like best. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to prep for Mr. Johnson's colostomy.