WTF Is Up With Adults And Halloween?

You know - I don't mind Halloween. I really don't. I think it's fun for kids, and I enjoy eating all the candy leftovers. Hell - I even enjoy carving pumpkins, when you get right down to it. But what blows my fucking mind is when adults decide that they're going to get dressed up in costumes. It's just so goddamned weird.

But there are levels to this. I mean, I'd rather jam something in my eye than go to a Halloween party, but at least it's a party. When you show up looking like an idiot, you can just drink yourself into oblivion (and make yourself look like more of an idiot.) But what about the peeps who decide to wear costumes to WORK? Holy. Fucking. Shit.

On the subway this morning, I was standing across the platform from a dude, dressed like a pirate, reading a newspaper. What on earth is going through that guy's head when he's kissing the wife and kids goodbye and taking one last look in the mirror?
"Should have gone with the live parrot"?
"Wonder if I'm going to get that promotion"?
"Holy shit - I'm dressed like a pirate"?

It got more interesting once I got downtown. There were quite a few peeps who were in costumes. My favourite though is the people who I can't tell if they're dressed up or not. I mean - you're either walking around your workplace in a costume, or you can't dress yourself properly. Either way, I think it's likely time to take a good, long look in the mirror. Unless you're dressed like a pirate.

Arrrrrrrrrrrr....

More Band Names

It's been a while since we've posted anything - sorry about that. What better way to get things going again, than some good, old-fashioned band names? Here you go:

“Just The People With Butlers!”
“MS Outlook Acumen”
"Hep A Booster"
"Breast Obsession"
"Lavender Jelly"
“David O's Homemade Treats”
"The Slums Of Calcutta"
"Literary Equivalent of Masturbation"
“The Obese Felines”
"Ditch The Kids"
“Sweet Booze”
“Yeast Infection Chicks”
“Fucking Fat Farm”
“Drunk Art Appreciation”
“Cakes and Crutches”

Anybody can write the music...it's the band name that's key.

Iraq Me, Dave Petraeus

For anyone who though yesterday's post was a little nuts, I'll have you know it was good enough for the writer's at the Daily Show, who did the same thing in last night's show (the Amadeus take on "Iraq Me, Dave Petraeus" - produced and aired AFTER mine was published).

I was totally not smoking anything

This weird day dream I had is inspired by the classic Simpson's musical, and the recent meeting of the Armed Services Committee of the United States Senate.

The part of 'apes' was played by the United States Senators, the 'lone female nurse ape' by Hilary Clinton, the part of 'Troy McClure' by America's ambassador to Iraq, Ryan Crocker, and the part of Dr. Zaius by General David Howell Petraeus of the United States Army, whom you might recognize from battles such as Operation Iraqi Freedom, Operation Restore Democracy and Operation Desert Spring.

Senators: Help us, we're spending $1 trillion and losing thousands of American lives to create a new al-Qaeda base in Iraq!
Crocker: Get your paws off me, you dirty apes.
Senators: [gasping] He can talk!

Senators: [in unison, rythmed] He can talk
He can talk
He can talk
He can talk
He can talk
He can talk

Crocker: [singing] I can siiiiiing!

[funky beat of "Rock Me Amadeus" starts playing]

Clinton: Ooh, help me General Petreaus!
Senators: [in unison] General Petreaus, General Petreaus
General Petreaus, General Petreaus
General Petreaus, General Petreaus
Oh... General Petreaus

Crocker: What's wrong with me?
Petreaus: I think you're crazy.
Crocker: Want a second opinion.
Petreaus: You're also lazy.

Senators: [in unison] General Petreaus, General Petreaus
General Petreaus, General Petreaus
General Petreaus, General Petreaus

[one Senator starts breakdancing]

Oh... General Petreaus

Band Names, Volume II

As previously reported, during the discourse of JTC board meetings and/or emails, a phrase is sometimes used that would qualify and someone comments “Hey, that would make a great band name!”. Again, if for purposes of record only, please find the following catalogue of band names since our last update:

Dogs and Trains
Shoot Up The Fucking Cat
Grinning and the Exposed Ankles
Proxy Recipient
Flight opportunity
Mama MFP
Junkie Cat
Breastmilk White Russian
The Milk Machine
Slut Dressing
Colon baggies
One Trick Pony
Thinly Veiled Sexual References
Women's Emergent Needs
Horny for Summerhill
No pillow fights, no operas
CASTLE FRANK IS NEXT!
Zese baby pools
Allegations of polygamy
Being Overly Ornery
Breaking Out The Ark
Stay For The Booze
Latent Homosexual Tendencies
Tee Freaks At The Y

The chronicle of the traveling pants

The saga has come to an end, with Coco coming out on top and with a brand new pair of pants. I probably could've taken Gehan to task with the horrendous spelling in the last email, but I opted to end it quietly instead.

-----Original Message-----
From: Bernice Heard
Sent: Wednesday, August 22, 2007 4:35 AM
To: Monkey, Coco T.
Subject: RE: Missing Laundry

Ok you win! Can’t have you destroying the planet due to my liking for fine Canadian tailoring! The issue will be resolved today.

(please note that the banter is not of my usual high customer relations standards;-) )

Have yourself a lovely evening.

Bernice Heard
Customer Relations Manager

Please consider the environment - do you really need to print this email?

-----Original Message-----
From: Gehan Eriyagama
Sent: Wednesday, August 22, 2007 11:52 AM
To: Monkey, Coco T.
Cc: Bernice Heard
Subject: Laundry

Dear Mr Monkey,

Please firstly let me apologise for the inconvenience you have suffered regarding the wait for your pants. I can promise you this is not the service we usually offer to our guests. I am committed to resolving this situation as fast as possible. Could you please confirm some details with me to help speed up the process.

What colour were the pants?
What make were the pants?
Who collected the pants from your room?

Thank you for your assistance and patience Mr Monkey. I will endeavour to put a close to this matter ASAP.

Kind Regards Gehan

-----Original Message-----
From: Monkey, Coco T.
Sent: Wednesday, August 22, 2007 3:47 PM
To: Gehan Eriyagama
Cc: Bernice Heard
Subject: RE: Laundry

Dear Gehan,

I’ve come to realize that the subject garment is definitely not a pair of “pants”, per your regional dialect, but is rather a pair of ‘trousers’. They are a green colour – I’d put the shade somewhere in between “I can’t believe you lost my pants olive” and “I wonder how often you guys screw up like this forest”.

They are made by Banana Republic, which is a subsidiary of Gap Inc., not a Latin American country that is politically unstable, dependent on limited agriculture, and ruled by a small, self-elected, wealthy and corrupt clique.

Due to the urgency in which I needed the pantaloons returned, I was instructed to drop them off at the front desk in a hotel-provided garment bag (which might as well have been a body bag for trousers, evidently). I’m assuming they were put out with the trash.

After reading your questions, I’d rate myself as “concerned”, “frustrated”, and “ruggedly handsome”.

If the hotel doesn’t know where the trousers are, why would the hotel wait weeks to respond to my calls and emails? We were hoping the problem, ie. the owner of said trousers, would just go away?

I can assure you, Ms. Gehan, this is definitely not the case.

Coco

-----Original Message-----
From: Gehan Eriyagama
Sent: Friday, August 24, 2007 6:54 AM
To: Monkey, Coco T.
Cc: Bernice Heard
Subject: RE: Laundry

Hi Coco,

Unfortunately I can not find your trousers, I hold my hands up as we are at fault. I would like to pay for a replacement pair. Could you buy a new pair and either scan the receipt and email it to me or post it to me on the below address.

The Paramount Carlton Hotel
North Bridge
Edinburgh
Scotland
EH1 1 SD

If you pass your credit card details to me I will have the amount refunded to your card. Thanks Coco for your patients and understanding. I apologise for any inconvenience and will try and resolve this from my end as fast as possible,

Thanks again Gehan

Caught with my pants down

As previously reported, The Carlton hotel in Edinburgh lost a valued pair of pants. My follow up activities with the hotel are getting interesting, so I thought I'd share my progress. Below is the thread to date, unedited (save names and email addresses). I've put the thread in chronological order. More updates will be posted as they become available.

-----Original Message-----
From: Monkey, Coco T.
Sent: Tuesday, August 14, 2007 5:30 PM
To: 'Carlton Reservations'
Cc: 'stay@paramount-hotels.co.uk'
Subject: Missing Laundry
Importance: High

To Whom It May Concern:

I stayed at the Paramount Carlton in Edinburgh for the nights of July 30th and 31st (room 235). I put a pair of pants in the laundry service on arrival, and found the next day that they had not come back from the service and I wouldn't have them before flying out of Edinburgh on the 1st. I was not happy with this given I called the front desk multiple times on the 31st to confirm they were going to be back in time. I was told they would be sent by mail.

I called last Friday having still not received the pants here in Canada. I was told they did not know if they had been posted, but that they would call housekeeping and call me back by Monday. I did not hear anything.

I am not willing to spend more money on transatlantic calls to collect on a pair of pants. Can you please get the appropriate people to figure this out in short order and give me a status and expected arrival. I'm not pleased with how this situation has been handled to date.

I need someone with accountability to close this issue.

Coco

-----Original Message-----
From: Monkey, Coco T.
Sent: 17 August 2007 19:58
To: 'Carlton Reservations'
Cc: 'stay@paramount-hotels.co.uk'
Subject: RE: Missing Laundry

To Whom It May Concern:

I am incredibly frustrated in that I have still not received a response to this inquiry. Please respond and find resolution to my issue as soon as possible.

Coco

-----Original Message-----
From: Bernice Heard
Sent: Monday, August 20, 2007 7:01 AM
To: Monkey, Coco T.
Subject: RE: Missing Laundry

Dear Mr. Monkey,

I am writing to acknowledge receipt of your email today and I thank you for bringing your comments to our attention. Please accept my apologies for any disappointment caused.

I have requested the hotel to investigate and respond directly to you. I will closely monitor the actions taken and the outcome of the situation.

You should receive a formal response from the hotel very shortly, which I trust will resolve any queries and answer your concerns. Should you require any further assistance in the meantime or in the future, then please do not hesitate to contact me.

Yours sincerely

Bernice Heard
Customer Relations Manager

Please consider the environment - do you really need to print this email?

-----Original Message-----
From: Monkey, Coco T.
Sent: 21 August 2007 22:04
To: Bernice Heard
Subject: RE: Missing Laundry

Bernice,

To clarify, I've learned that by 'pants', for you Scots, I should actually be saying 'trousers'.

Coco

-----Original Message-----
From: Bernice Heard
Sent: Tuesday, August 21, 2007 5:15 PM
To: Monkey, Coco T.
Subject: RE: Missing Laundry

Dear Coco,

I hope you don't mind me saying, a few had a giggle, but we knew we were looking for trousers.

I will get back to you as soon as I can.

Best wishes,

Bernice Heard
Customer Relations Manager

Please consider the environment - do you really need to print this email?

-----Original Message-----
From: Monkey, Coco T.
Sent: 21 August 2007 22:39
To: Bernice Heard
Subject: RE: Missing Laundry

Dearest Bernice,

Fair enough, but instead of giggling about my confusing underpants with slacks, perhaps you guys could, you know, actually find my trousers, and return them to me as soon as possible?!

Not to get my pants in a knot, but if you lost said knickers (which I'm assuming you did since you still have no response on the matter), I'd appreciate you coming clean on it.

At this point, I think it's fair the Carlton refund me the value of the missing britches ($100 CAD, about 50 quid) by way of cash reversal on my visa.

At the risk of lodging legging-related threats, without any remuneration for what is ultimately the Carlton's inability to clean and return a pair of longies, I will have to resort to exercising my only avenue of retaliation and post an unfavorable review of your hotel on widely-used tourist websites.

My legs and I are not looking forward to a Canadian winter without my pantaloons.

Regards,
Coco

----- Original Message -----
From: Bernice Heard
To: Monkey, Coco T.
Sent: Tue Aug 21 17:39:32 2007
Subject: RE: Missing Laundry

Dear Coco,

No disrespected intended, I have been out of the office for a couple of days, but will be back on Thursday. I am not based at the Carlton, for if I was this would have been sorted out ages ago.

I will look into finding your pantaloons in the morning again or as suggested that we get you a new pair for those legs we don't want getting cold.

Have a lovely day,

Bernice Heard
Customer Relations Manager

Please consider the environment - do you really need to print this email?

----- Original Message -----
From: Monkey, Coco T.
To: Bernice Heard
Sent: Tue Aug 21 19:31:54 2007
Subject: Re: Missing Laundry

Bernice, you cunning adversary,

Not basing yourself at the Carlton and taking the hostage longjohns away from the scene of the crime was a brilliant move, but you have no idea what you are up against. Never bet against a Canadian when pants (REAL pants) are on the line.

If I do not receive a picture of the poor legwarmers shown with a copy of today's Scotsman (so I know there isn't any funny business going on) within 30 minutes, I will be forced to disregard your wishes and hastily destroy the environment by printing a copy of this email, and will remain doing so every half hour until the situation changes, or until deforestation's ugly son, Global Warming, forces sea level rise to do my dirty work, making Arthur's seat but an island.

Check, and mate.

Coco

Instructions for snapping

Not ours, from a friend's facebook post, but I felt it was so good it warranted posting. The first two comments on the page are fucking fantastic.

We Like To TIA. Don't Like It? WTF? GFY!

We here at JTC (Jump To Conclusions) have a habit of doing a lot of TIA (talking in acronyms). For that reason, I felt it would be good to explain to you - our loyal reader(s) - what some of our favourite acronyms mean, so that you too can exchange "HFS" e-mail flurries with your friends and family. Here you go:

CHP - Co-Habitational Partner

You live together. You get to see each other naked. Perfect.

GFY - Go Fuck Yourself

Usually used in response to a "Why am I the only one posting on the blog?" e-mail. Frequently used as an e-mail sign-off - e.g. "GFY, JohnnyM"

GTH - Gun To Head

Used when discussing an upcoming meeting or task that will likely be excruciating - e.g. "I have an all day meeting booked with those technology guys. GTH." Frequently used in association with the following clipart:

GYEA - Greater Yonge and Eglinton Area

Prior to us all working downtown, a common meeting area for the JTC Board of Directors. Location where many of our most brilliant ideas (Human Style, anyone?) were created. Spending too much time in this area can frequently result in raging hangovers.

HFS - Holy Fucking Shit

Used to express surprise. Usually, it's not good news.

SIUYA - Shove It Up Your Ass

Used to express irritation. Can be used in conjunction with GFY.

WTF? - What The Fuck?

Used when one is feeling incredulous towards a situation - e.g. "WTF? Is someone having sex in that car?"

*F* - (First initial) Fucking (Last Initial)

Used as a code to describe hated co-workers. For example - you work with an asshole named John Smith? No you don't - you work with JFS. Considered unbreakable by most modern cryptologists.

Please feel free to start using these acronyms liberally, and leave us some comments if you see any glaring omissions. Of course, we'll probably tell you to SIUYA.

Sex in a Car

Step #1: Open the car door
Step #2: Get in the car
Step#3: Start having sex

For you JTC aficionados out there, I would like to consider this post a sequel of sorts to Co-Co's classic "Condom Conundrum" post.

As many (both) of you know, each August, the area of Toronto in which I live hosts a quiet little festival called "Taste of the Danforth". Here's a picture of a few of the festival goers to give you an idea of what's going on:


Alright - so in reality, it's fucking teeming with peeps. Overflowing. And when you get that many people in a small area, there's bound to be some weird shit going down. Like last year, when someone stole a car, realized you couldn't drive through a million people, so turned onto my street, and hit my neighbour's house.

This year, me and the CHP decided that we were going to leave town for the weekend, to escape the madness, but because we're whores for Greek food, return on Sunday evening to catch the end of the event. When we returned to Toronto, we naturally couldn't find a parking spot in front of our house, so parked a couple of blocks away. As I was walking around the side of our house, unloading the car, my CHP suddenly started urgently calling my name. When I asked her what was up, she responded:

"There's someone having sex in their car directly in front of our house!"

This is not a sentence I hear every day. So I walked out to the porch, and sure enough - there were two peeps going at it in their Civic approximately 2 feet from the edge of my front lawn. I honestly didn't know how to react. Should I be outraged? Angry? In reality, I was fairly amused, and quite entertained. Similar emotions seemed to be felt by my 80 year old Greek lady neighbour, who was out on her porch enjoying the hot action.

OPA!

I have misplaced my pants

So a few weeks ago I arrived in Edinburgh with the CHP after several days of hiking in the Scottish highlands, which, when travelling with a limited wardrobe, can really bring home the stink. As a result, I was looking forward to abusing the laundry service at the snazzy hotel I scored on Priceline with my rancid unmentionables.

One of the foul mentionables I handed over included a pair of pants - pants which I had planned on wearing at my next few stops in Italy. The hotel missed the 24 hour turnaround on the laundry and I had to fly out of Edinburgh without them, but with a promise from the concierge that they would be posted to my address in Canada. I said "thanks a lot, you fucking fannies", flipped him the reverse-peace-sign and kicked in a window on my way out*.

Not having received to date said pants has enraged me to the point of writing the hotel a formal complaint. While the complaint itself is not so comedic, nor is the series of events, I just wanted to share some heckling prose I just received from my CHP, who really has no concern whatsoever for my pants:

Ode to My Pants

Two legs, button,
Zipper runs straight,
Soft brown caresses,
Legs its' mate.

I packed you away,
To join my fun.
Now lost forever,
What have I done?

Oh pants - I miss you.

*Note in Scotland this sequence of events would have closely matched regular custom. In reality, I actually stuck to Canadian custom, which is to pussy out of any confrontation whatsoever and show your dissatisfaction by only being midly polite - oh man, that'll teach them.

Holy shit - I haven't posted in over 2 months

Do you know that I haven't posted in over two months? Of course you do - you check the blog every day looking for your JohnnyM fix. Oh sure, CoCo has posted a few times, but let's face facts - he's trash.

Why haven't I posted in so long? Well, the reasons are numerous, but suffice to say that I've been out of the country. Fighting crime. And saving puppies.

What have I been doing with my summer? Well, let's see...I went to Scotland for two weeks. Partially because I was going to my cousin's wedding, but also to get away from yet another summer of violence on the mean streets of Toronto. In Scotland, I was greeted by peace, serenity, and a blown up terminal building:

One of the people at Glasgow airport who helped to take down one of the would-be terrorists was a baggage handler by the name of John Smeaton, who has turned into a bit of a folk hero. He has several web sites now dedicated to him, including http://www.johnsmeaton.com/. What's funny is that the first time I saw that URL, I thought that it might be a porn site dedicated to yours truly, because I read it as "john's meat on". Note to self - I need to start that porn site dedicated to myself before someone else does.

After I returned to Canada, I really have been doing fuck-all. I went to go and see the new Transformers and Harry Potter movies, because apparently, I'm a 15 year old boy. This past week, I decided that my life really wasn't hard enough, so I signed up to take part in Ironman Lake Placid next July. This will necessitate a steep decrease in my alcohol consumption, which will likely result in a fewer posts that are...you know...funny (not that I've been doing much of that lately), and a corresponding increase in posts about such fascinating topics as wetsuits, tire pressure, tubulars vs. clinchers, race nutrition, body glide, transition times, contents of special needs bagszzzzzzzz....

That said, I can't really miss the offical JTC pub crawls, so for those who have been asking, the next "cornerstone" event on the JTC calendar is happening on Sunday, November 11th, where we honour those who have died in wars protecting our freedom. Our freedom to get hammered.

Quantity - not quality,

JohnnyM

What kind of entendre said I. Double she said, so Double I did.

Given my 'colleagues' aren't really doing any 'work' for our fake 'company', and hence we have no 'posts', I thought of something to fill some space. Quantity, quality - whatever.

A few years back JohnnyM and I were in New York state on a business trip, in the magical town called Binghamton. It was a real shit hole, but oddly enough has a storied history:

• From 1923 to 1927 Binghamton was the Northeast headquarters of the Ku Klux Klan.
• The concentration of the defense industry in the town during the cold war made it the seventh most likely area in the nation for a nuclear attack.
• With 6 historic wooden carousels, Binghamton boasts itself as the carousel capital of the world.
• And finally, Unlike most small American cities, Downtown Binghamton still has a full-sized department store.

Which leads me to the real reason for writing this post. While we were there, drinking in a local watering hole, the band that had been playing the requisite honky tonk shit all night suddenly broke out into this classic song, "I Used to Work in Chicago". It's now one of my favorite songs in the world. It goes like this:

I used to work in Chicago, in a department store.

I used to work in Chicago, but I don't work there anymore.

A woman asked for some gloves, "What kind of gloves, said I",

"Rubber" she said, so rub her I did.

I don't work there anymore.

The reason it's so goddamn funny is the permutations. When the song is sung, and the request word is sung (ie. "Gloves"), you are already laughing waiting for how it will be used. For instance, here is a short list of other permutations I recall:

tools, hammer she wanted, and nailed she got

drinks, liquor she wanted, and lick her I did

hardware, bolts she wanted, and my nuts she got

German airplane, Fokker she wanted, and fokker I did

A quick scan of the net shows some people have taken this to extremes, with some outright classics:

lobster thermidor she wanted, creamed clam she got

German method of coal extraction she wanted, mine shaft she got

translator she wanted, cunning linguist she got

diamond choker she wanted, pearl necklace she got

Some Shakespeare she wanted, Dickens she got!

As you can see it's quite a creative opportunity.

Well, that's really it, just wanted to share that fucking awesome song with you. Also, through writing this post, I've also been able to determine that Wikipedia is probably better than most real encyclopedias, and from the facts available there, I learned a lot about why Binghamton sucked so much ass. Also, I finally got to use Ku Klux Klan in a post. It's been a long time coming.

Tourists: Trapped

In a couple of weeks I am flying in to Pisa, Italy, and promptly taking a train straight out of the city, forgoing the classic Tuscan sites around the field of miracles (such as the leaning tower). My decision is in part due to having been there before, but more importantly, I want to do whatever possible to avoid witnessing this horrendous scene again:

Here's Your Goddamn Post, Co-Co

Last week, I attended a conference for work (my real job - not a conference for hilarious bloggers. Unfortunately.) I sent an e-mail to update my fellow Board of Directors of JTC regarding the conference, which included the following nugget:

"Also going on at the same hotel? The 17th Annual Canadian Breastfeeding conference. I shit you not. Let's just say there are not a lot of males attending that one. And seriously - "17th Annual"?!? "

I then received the following response from a certain "Co-Co The Monkey":

"I am fucking irate. There is material for at least 2-3 outstanding potential blog entries here. I mean, come on - we’re trying to run a fucking fake company here.

'Ok everyone, thanks for coming, and welcome to the first annual Canadian Breastfeeding Conference! I am so excited to be here, it’s been a long road. Finally Canada has a stake in the ground amongst breastfeeding conferences around the world. I’m especially excited about this year’s theme, ‘Tits out!’. We have some tremendous speakers, and I encourage you to consult the program and get your tickets early - they are going quickly. I’d like to point you to page 6 of the program, which briefly outlines Saturday’s closing events, including our keynote speaker, Deloris Abrams, who will be speaking about the challenges of public feeding and will be singing copies of her latest book ‘Booby trapped: public space versus natural needs’. I hope you all have a great weekend at the conference, and don’t forget to stop by our featured sponsor’s booth, Mother’s Milkers, for a free trial breast pump - you’ll never go back to a generic pump again.'

COME ON!"

I'm a posting machine,
JohnnyM

Time for another HR Card

It's been a while, so here you go, suckers:

You know what's funny? The majority of e-Moron and HR cards are inspired by real life events. THAT'S funny.

Our 100th Post!

Well, we've now crossed the mythical barrier that so many other blogs fail to reach by making our 100th posting. To get to 100 posts, you need a certain blend of style, work ethic, humour, alcoholism and rugged good looks. Fortunately, we have all of these in abundance.

In no particular order, we'd like to thank:
- the internet
- God
- Moosehead
- Kilkenny
- The Leafs
- The Raptors (damn you, Nets!)
- our unintentionally hilarious co-workers
- assholes on the TTC
- the makers of Moleskin notebooks
- IKEA
- man made prisons
- Co-Habitational partners (CHPs)
- JTC cornerstone events
- the Y
- the T
- acronyms

By the way reader(s), do you remember back when people used to actually comment on our posts? I do. It was awesome. Please start that shit up again.

Lunch: A Commitment I'm Just Not Comfortable With

About a month ago, I was invited to a work function. As I scanned the names of the people invited, I saw that a guy I went to university with was also included. I had no idea this dude worked at the same company I did (I just love corporations!), and I hadn't talked to him in the 8 years since I graduated.

Feeling much more upbeat and social than usual, I thought I would write the guy an e-mail and ask him if he'd like to go grab a coffee. E-mails were exchanged, and a mutually convenient time was picked. Then, the guy bailed on the coffee the day of, stating that he was ill. Thinking perhaps that he really had no intention of wasting 30 minutes of his life with yours truly, I told him to re-schedule our appointment at a time that was good for him. Shocking as it may be to our reader(s), it appeared that this fellow decided that he didn't want to enjoy the social ecstasy that is experienced by those who get to hang out with me, as he never replied.

Fast forward to earlier this week, when the aforementioned work function actually happened. I bumped into the guy there, and he was all, "Hey! Sorry I never got back to you on the coffee! Actually - screw coffee! Let's do LUNCH!"

Beep, beep, beep - let's back this baby up a second. I was prepared to commit to a 15 - 30 minute coffee where if the conversation lagged, I could pick up my still steaming cup, and head back to work. (And by "work", I mean "surfing the net".) If a lunch goes south, you're completely fucking trapped. I mean, if the appetizers come, and this dude starts breaking out pictures of the wife and kids and droning on about some mundane shit, it's not like I'm going to pick up my bowl of soup, and say, "Let's do this again real soon!" as I'm walking out.

Shit. And the guy actually booked the lunch too. I think it's next week. I'm fucking terrified.

A Foreign Discussion on the Flu

So I woke up this morning feeling like shit, and my co-habitational partner asked if I was staying home.

CHP: “You’re not feeling well? What’s wrong?”
Coco: “Well, I think I’m hot blooded. Here - check it and see,” (passes over thermometer) “I got a fever of a hundred and three.”
CHP: “Come on baby, do you do more than dance?”
Coco: “What?”
CHP: “I’m hot blooded, I’m hot blooded!”
Coco: “Are you making fun of me?”
CHP: “Now it’s up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous.”
Coco: “Where – I don’t really feel like leaving the house.”
CHP: “Just me and you, I’ll show you lovin’ like you never knew.”
Coco: “You don’t understand – I really don’t feel like it. Because I’m hot blooded. Check it and see.”
CHP: “If it feels alright, maybe you can stay all night.”
Coco: “Well, I’m staying home from work today for sure.”
CHP: “Shall I leave you my key?”
Coco: “Sure, but I’ll be upstairs in bed, so when you get home, you’ve got to give me a sign, come on girl, some kind of sign.”
CHP: “Is my timing right? did you save your love for me tonight?”
Coco: “Yeah. I’m hot blooded, check it and see. Feel the fever burning inside of me.”

Update / Crazy Golfers

So, let's face facts - April was not a banner month for the JTC blog. Only 7 posts in the month (including this one), with 5 of those happening in the first 10 days. Things have definitely been a tad quiet over the last few weeks, so we'll see if we can't get the old posting output up a little to satisfy our faithful reader(s). Kudos to Co-Co for sending PChrist and myself scolding e-mails for our lack of posts. (Not really - GFY, Co-Co)

And I mean really - I should have a ton of material...I'm leaving work early (and by "early", I mean "6:15pm") every day to come home and shoot up my parents' diabetic cat. There have been all sorts of jokes about problems finding veins, strapping a belt to his arm, etc., etc. The photos I could set-up alone would be pure gold. Ah well...

In other news, last weekend I played my first round of golf for the year. I could only find two friends who were available to play, which always makes me nervous, because there's always a chance we might be grouped up with a "single" golfer to round out our foursome. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't like other people (actually, that's a lie - I don't), it's just that people who are single golfers invariably turn out to be fucking nut jobs.

They're not the type of nut jobs you would see on the TTC (now, THERE'S an idea for another post), you know - dirty, urine-soaked clothes, etc. They're far more dangerous, because they APPEAR to be normal. They're all, "Hi! You fellas don't mind if I join you, do you?" And while you want to reply, "Actually, I do mind. Why don't you have any friends? Alarm bells are ringing over here, buddy." You instead reply, "Of course not!"

Then, after 2 - 3 holes, you realize that you've committed to spending the next 4 hours with a raging psychopath. The dude we were golfing with last weekend alternated between screaming at his putts ("GET IN THERE, YOU LITTLE PRICK!") and screaming at his drives ("I GOT A HOLD OF THAT ONE!") It was all very relaxing. After the round, we got to enjoy him screaming at the Raptors game on the TV in the clubhouse.

I feel this whole phenomenon of crazy single golfers raises an interesting question: Are single golfers crazy because they golf by themselves? Or are they golfing by themselves because they're crazy? Riddle me THAT. If anyone out there wants to give me about $1 million in research funds, I will commit to getting to the bottom of this mystery.

Pabst Earnings Fall; Lowers Outlook On Weak 'Smear' Sales

SAN ANTONIO — Pabst Brewing Company [PBC-N] said its first-quarter earnings fell on disappointing sales of it's newest brand, 'Smear'.

The troubled brewer was seeing a resurgence of sales due to the cult following of it's 'Blue Ribbon' beer at US colleges and universities, and in turn invested the success into the development of their latest beer, 'Pabst Smear'.

"I just don't get it", said Theo Dominique, a local distributor we spoke to who was busy promoting Smear at a downtown nightclub, offering a free Pabst Smear to patrons.

"Head office is asking me to push the Smear, but when I talk to my buyers, they say everyone keeps asking for Pabst Blue Ribbon."

During our interview, Mr. Dominique had trouble passing out samples. "See? I can't even give the stuff away. I keep offering one, and all I get are weird faces."

Anna: The Swedish Girl Around

It's been over a year since we last checked in with our good friend Anna, so I thought I'd drop her a line and see how things were going. As usual, she's up to her old flirtatious ways. Here is an excerpt from our conversation today:

Anna: Welcome to IKEA. I'm Anna, IKEA Canada's Online Assistant. You can ask me about IKEA and our products and our services. How can I help you today?

Coco: Hi Anna. Right off the top I'd like to say you are looking beautiful today.

Anna: Thank you, my creators made me easy on the eyes. If you have any questions about IKEA please ask me and I'll be happy to help.

Coco: Actually, it had been a while since we here at JTC Inc. have checked in with you, so I have a few questions if you don't mind.

Anna: I have a vast knowledge of IKEA products, procedures and services. My creators analyze the log files of all conversations, and constantly update and improve me to better serve visitors to IKEA's website. Ask me a question and test me yourself.

Coco: Woah there Anna - aren't we going out for dinner on Friday? I'll test you myself after that. In the meantime, what are your thoughts on the new JTC Inc fan club? I'm assuming you are a member.

Anna: As I am only an advanced computer program, I cannot answer more than one sentence at a time. Please simplify and repeat the most important question within your previous input, and I will try to reply as accurately as possible. I am opening a page now which you can use if you wish to contact Customer Service via e-mail. Thank you very much!

Coco: Ok, ok, stop opening pages. Sorry about the long sentences – we all know you Swedes like it short and sweet (again, more on that this Friday).

Anna: Please take a look at Swedish Sweets.

Coco: I’m looking at one, babe! Anyhow – thoughts on the fan club?

Anna: On this page you will find valuable information about hoods and fans. Would you like to browse through our range of fans in the product area?

Coco: Unless you have fans of JTC Inc in the product area, no thanks. Let’s wrap this up – are we still on for Friday my Swedish Sweet?

Anna: Which IKEA store do you want the opening hours for?

Coco: Let’s say I pick you up when you get off work - around 7pm at the North York store?

Anna: On the page that I am opening now, you can find all information about opening hours at IKEA North York.

Coco: Ok – looks like you’re open. See you, babe.

Anna: Goodbye. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.

Coco: My pleasure.

Anna: Great, is there anything else I can help you with?

Coco: You can take your shirt off.

Anna: Thank you for being so polite.

A Tough Way to End It, by John Ferguson, GM, The Toronto Maple Leafs

Sunday, the New Jersey Devils scored with seconds winding down to push their final game with the New York Islanders into overtime. A Devils win would have pushed us into the playoffs. Thank god the Islanders won in penalty shots. The last thing we needed was more work in the form of weeks upon weeks of ‘playoffs’ – ugh.

It was a close end to the season. On Saturday, we fucked up and came back from two goals down to defeat Montreal and eliminate them, but we held confidence in the fact that the Islanders would end it for us. Looking back, I thought we needed to get less than 92 points to avoid the playoffs. We got to 91 and we left it to chance. We ended up on the right side of the shootout, but man was that close.

Admidst the sea of cameras on the doorstep of the Leafs dressing room yesterday afternoon, my boys explained that in the end, they know what it’s all about. “I'm happy, personally," said Andrew Raycroft, the goalie who was pulled from the biggest game of the season. "I got to play a lot of games – but all the ‘work’ is over now! See y'all in five months, motherfuckers!” It’s heartwarming to hear Raycroft pat himself on the back for really pooching games when we needed him to, despite winning 37 of them.

When asked about prospects and possible changes for next year, Darcy Tucker said “My personal opinion is I don't think we're far off where we need to be to avoid a championship until after Global Warming makes the formation of ice impossible.”

Towards the end of the season, injuries to our experienced players really took the wind out of our sails. It was an opportunity for a lot of young players to come in and be productive, which made our job even harder. I’m talking about players like Colaiacovo, White, Stajan, Steen. Pohl had 13 goals, that sunofabitch! These are players who will reprimanded.

Because of our young core, we’ll be a better team next year and will have to work even harder to extend our 40 year streak of mediocrity.

But that’s what makes this team so damn exciting.

Descent into Madness '07 - A Recap

Last night, the JTC Board of Directors and several associates went out to enjoy a little something we like to call the "Descent into Madness". For a brief description of the history of this glorious event, see the end of my previous post.

Seeing how it's been a couple of years since we've had a "Descent", this year's event was aptly described by PChrist as a "rebuilding year". We were definitely a bit rusty with the old pub crawl, and there were several "lessons learned" which, I've documented below:

1) Don't leave the Descent to go play a soccer game - I really don't know what the hell I was thinking by doing this. It really cut into my drinking time and left me, later in the evening, as being more sober than anyone else - never a good spot to be in. The fact that I played like shit in said soccer game really is just salt in the wound.

Next time? Fake an injury. This is very believable, as I'm usually injured anyway.

2) Don't put Co-Co in charge - I think this exchange pretty much sums things up:

JohnnyM: "Hey - I thought we were going to the Rebel House"

Co-Co: "Yeah - we are."

JohnnyM: "But the Rebel House is south of where we are now."

Co-Co: "Really?"

JohnnyM: "Yes - really. I thought we were planning on heading north on this pub crawl."

Co-Co: "We are."

Next time? If you want something done right, do it yourself.

3) Don't have an important Leafs game on the night of the pub crawl - I'm not sure if this one is written in stone - if memory serves, during one DintoM a few years back, I clearly recall watching a Leafs playoff game at Scruffy's. Anyway - having important Leafs games really cuts down on your ability to move between bars, and if you do try to move bars, it's damn hard to get decent seats.

Next time? Ensure the Leafs have wrapped up a playoff spot months earlier, or better yet, aren't playing that night.

4) Have a proper itinerary - Back in the day, I used to have all the bars planned out with very specific time periods spent at each bar. I'd then crack the whip, and get people moving between the bars at the proper times - or leave them behind - which really kept the group going, ensuring that we hit the scheduled 4 - 5 bars.

Next time? See the response to item 2 above.

Keeping all four of these items in mind for next year will ensure that it's a night to remember. Book your calendars now - Descent into Madness '08 will be occurring on Thursday, March 20th, 2008.

On the Street...With A Cell Phone...uh....EVERYWHERE!

This afternoon at work (my real job, not JTC Inc.) I received a scathing e-mail from Co-Co, asking me why I'd been so lazy with the blog writing lately. When I pointed out that compared to PChrist, I'm about as prolific as Stephen Fucking King, he helpfully forwarded my comments to none other than PChrist. He also offered me several potential blog topics - the upcoming Descent into Madness? The "hilarious" story from Sunday where I chased after a dude in a stranger's luxury SUV who stole a Muskoka chair off my porch? Not bad options, but both ultimately unsatisfying in my opinion.

I needed something with a bit more "zing". After surfing on Facebook for an hour or two, making ludicrously witty comments on multiple people's walls, I still felt no inspiration. Wanting to see what was happening on tonight's episode of "The News", I decided to check out citynews.ca, where I came across the following picture:




Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here? In the foreground, we have a CityNews "reporter" who, thanks to the grace of gravity is apparently "on the street". She appears to be unfamiliar with the concept of cell-phone use, and either thinks that she's picked up a pocket mirror given her locked gaze, or some sort of Star Trek communicator. In the background, we see a City "News" truck, with it's broadcasting antenna up. Presumably it's picking up whatever the cell phone is being pointed at. Either that, or it's sending the Klingon's demands back to Star Fleet Command.

In other news, the Descent into Madness is a ludicrously successful and long-running pub crawl that happens every year on the Thursday before Good Friday. "Celebrating the Resurrection of Our Lord and Saviour Through Massive Alcohol Consumption" as we like to say. This year the location is on the stretch of pubs on Yonge between Bloor and Summerhill. And I have a soccer game in the middle of it. Should be fun.

Also, that whole Muskoka chair/SUV thing actually happened. I'll try to write it up, if I get some time in the next few days...

Don't SMS me while I'm drinking

Just wanted to share some fun from a recent St. Paddy's day meeting of the JTC Board with our readers. Two of the three board members were present at the meeting, which was enough to maintain sweet, delicious quorum, not to mention our typically high levels of jokiness. One invited guests received what appeared to be an errant text message to their cellphone:

SMS Message from 416.726.####:
"Thanks 4 the necklace Barb, it's really cute, i have nothing like it! And thanks again 4 making it out tonight even with a midterm! Good Luck!"

Delighted by the opportunity to flex our hilarity muscle real time, the board came up with the following response:

Reply:
"Necklace is stolen. Do not attempt to remove. Trust no one."

Why Am I The Only One To Notice The Obvious?

Now, I don't want this blog to become all about the Toronto Transit Commission (TTC), but fuck it - here's another post about the TTC.

Last week, the TTC unveiled a bold and daring new vision for transit here in the city of Toronto, involving extensive building of a light rail transit system. You can tell it's going to be awesome, because if you stare at the map for long enough, and unfocus your eyes, it totally turns into a sailboat. Check it out:

This plan is going to cost $6 Billion, and take 15 years to build. Yeah - that's right - "Billion"...with a "B".

Anyhoo, there's been much hand-wringing over where the hell the money is going to come from. Hey - let me tell you something I've learned about money: if you just go ahead and spend it, you'll find it from somewhere. That type of shit just usually manages to take care of itself. I mean, you should still be responsible - for example, I wouldn't recommend putting a big chunk of that $6 Billion on a credit card (unless you can pay it back quick - think of all the points / Aeroplan miles you could get!).

So - we've ascertained that the money isn't going to be a big deal. No, my friends, the real problem is this - as previously noted, the TTC is full of assholes. If you're going to build 120 kms of new track, that's a lot of trains, and hence a lot of assholes. Where are all the assholes going to come from? I mean sure - right now at rush hour, it seems like there's an endless supply of assholes. But can we take these assholes for granted?

Starting tomorrow morning, I'm going to talk to all the assholes I see on the TTC, to see if they have any asshole friends who live in Toronto, but currently aren't riding the TTC, or who would consider moving to Toronto specifically to be an asshole on the TTC. If I put my mind to it, I know I can solve this looming asshole-shortage.

Asshole,

Johnny M

Questions I would like answered

1. What is up with Fillipino Nannies? Are Filipinos culturally pre-disposed to taking care of children? Why do no other countries, south-east asian or otherwise, manage to raise a comparable army of child care providers? I mean, I’ve never been to the Philippines, but from what I understand, it’s a developing country made up of several thousand lush tropical islands inhabited by a largely agrarian society. I don’t recall seeing a lot of pictures of women there wearing jogging pants and pushing six-up baby-factory strollers full of upper-middle-class white kids down the street.

2. What the hell is up with this style where girls wear dresses over their jeans? I mean, in terms of covering bare legs and crotches, I think jeans do a hell of a job – much better than a dress, particularly on a windy day, or when walking on mirrored floors. Next time I see one of these ladies, I’m going to walk over wearing a baseball hat over my toque, and ask just what the fuck is going on.

3. Why do I have to speak Italian when ordering a coffee at a Starbucks in Toronto? I want a fucking large coffee, but I have to ask for a ‘Grande’. And when the hell did someone schlepping coffee for minimum wage at a chain coffee shop become a ‘Barista’? Doesn’t that translate to ‘Barkeeper’? Can I get a beer there? Is it a bar? No? But you have a barkeeper, and you all speak Italian? Che il fotte.

It's the people I hate...

I had a discussion this past weekend with my co-habitational partner (CHP) about the subway system here in Toronto, run by the Toronto Transit Commission (or TTC). We both agreed that we love the TTC system (wildcat strikes aside), and any frustration or anger we feel when using said system is caused by the stupid fuckers who are on the buses, subways and streetcars, and not by the system itself. (Asshole streetcar operators, not withstanding.)

Why do we hate the people? Well, there are a myriad of reasons that I won't go into right now, but this morning I was witness to one of the most irritating things I see on the subway during rush hour. That's right - those assholes who insist on taking a good chunk of their belongings to work in a fucking suitcase that they wheel along behind them.

I mean - what are you taking to work that you need a goddamn piece of LUGGAGE? Imagine if everyone decided to throw out their back-packs and shoulder bags and use these monstrosities - it would be chaos! Idiots who purchase these things seem to have the same sort of self-importance and lack of courtesy as stroller-pushing parents. (Although, there's (hopefully) not a child inside their luggage.)

Blocking doorways with your carry-on? Stopping dead at the top of escalators to pull out your luggage handle? It's of no concern!

I wish I had something constructive to say at the end of this, but I don't. I just hate these fuckers.

Hate,

JohnnyM

Pulse 24/7 Watch: Death by CN Tower - Everywhere!

So when I arrived home this eve, my co-habitational partner was flipping the dial on the television and ran into good old Channel 7, Moses Znaimer's City TV. I'm not sure if newscasts can possibly be more shitty than what they churn out (as we've previously seen - that 'Strikewatch' graphic was theirs - sans wildcat of course). They are like a canadian cross between Fox News and Access Hollywood. Each night, their top stories are Crime! Traffic Accidents! Death! and it's all done really sensibly, so you finish watching the broadcast and are scared to leave your house.

Well, on tonight's "episode" of the 6pm news broadcast, they included what seemed to the be the 2515th installment of their 1,000,000 installment series titled 'Pulse 24/7 Watch: Death by CN Tower - Everywhere!'. For anyone reading our blog outside of Toronto, lately there's been a lot of ice falling from buildings in Toronto, including the CN Tower, which has recently closed highw... Who the fuck am I kidding, there's no one reading this.

Anyways, ShittyTV replayed about 5 minutes of ice-fall slow motion capture, and then cranked up the Bam! Pow! where the cameraman tracked ice colliding with other buildings. At the end of the inane broadcast, they asked for Torontonians to share their ideas about how to deal with the ice on the CN Tower. Really? I can only imagine what the morons who watch City would comment. Oh no, wait, it's all on their website.

A few of my faves from the top end of the IQ distribution:

"Shoot at the ice with police rubber bullets. Police shoot criminals with them. Why not try that?"
"Contact the GTAA [Greater Toronto Airports Authority], tell them to get some choppers and shoot some de-icing liquid at the ice. Maybe not today with the wind but when it settles."
"Have they considered using laser or magnification of light to targeted problem areas? You know like a magnifying glass reflecting the sun or using mirrors to deflect halogen or high powered lights?"
"After storms, the corporation sends workers out to look at the damage (last year, pieces of the white fabric covering the top of the tower were blown loose). Equip them with golf cleats or the like and as they rappel down the side of the tower, swinging into it, the cleats break off the ice into small chunks ... If it doesn't work, sniper rifles from condos would also dislodge it."

This shit writes itself.

Band Names

Band names seem to be getting more creative every year that passes, although there are some bland anomalies (such as the two thousand bands out there named “The insert any word here”).

In addition to our other insanely profitable ventures, JTC has entered the band naming market. During the discourse of JTC board meetings and/or emails, a phrase is sometimes used that would qualify and someone comments “Hey, that would make a great band name!”

If for purposes of record only, please find the following catalogue of band names to date (more are being created every day):

Case of the Mondays
The Reverse Danforth
Similar to Ruffles
Extreme Binge Drinking
Male Bovine Feces
Fun and Drinking
Coffee and Bran Muffins (We imagine they would be on stage saying "Hi! I'm Coffee, and these are the Bran Muffins (pointing to the rest of the band). We're going to be taking a break every 20 minutes....you know why.")
Soup to nuts
Nothing but Chaps (This could be used for a country band just as easily as an English boy’s choir)
29 Emails
Predominantly White
Champagne and Hookers
Delighter Dashboard
The REAL Lederhosen
Unprotected Swashbuckling
Huge in Denmark
Nexus of the Universe
Game of Tee
Fucking Wedding Errands
Reservations Under "John"
Securing With Jackets
Buns and/or Thighs
Convenience Charge
Interfere with Rogering
Vegetable Lasagna

Everything is starting to look like a good band name to me,
The Coco

Interesting things I've learned listening to the radio

As I'm sure many readers of this blog would agree, things just don't quite make perfect sense to you when you are a) just waking up OR b) drunk. I've had a problem with the former in the last couple weeks when listening to my radio while waking up at 5:30 am. The commercials on one of the local radio stations have been particularly unusual, so I thought I'd learn a little bit more by visting their commercial's websites:

1) Florida11 - the commercial calls on people to visit a website http://www.florida11.com/florida11/petition.php to fill in a petition to change Florida to the 11th Canadian province. Sounds perfectly reasonable, no? I believe Jeb and George W would have a small problem with that and, after reading the fine print, it is just another gimmick by those marketing geniuses at the Florida Tourism Board, who are trying to whore the state by creating a fake petition to attract a few more Canadian snowbirds. Well, it's working. According to the website 7683 people have signed - including these interesting petitioners: Castro, Fidel; Il, Kim Jong and Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud.

2) Laser Concept Therapy - Initially, I thought this one was just another hair removal offices promising women they'll never cut their legs in the shower again. Well, they've found yet another use for lasers! Apparently, blowing up intercontinental ballistic missiles wasn't the final frontier for lasers as previously thought. This commercial advertises that lasers can now help you quit smoking or lose weight with a few simple treatments - according to the website (http://laserconcepts.ca/quit.html#1). When you read into the details, the 'therapy' combines the ancient Chinese art of acupuncture with 20th century light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation technology - the perfect combination! This looks another happy client with a red glow from the side of his head:

I suppose I'm doing just what they want me to do by talking/writing about them, but I'm pretty confident nobody will be booking florida vacations or exposing themselves to cancer-causing lasers as a result of this commercial review.

Blog of the day

That's right, your favorite blog (yes, this one) has won the much coveted blog of the day award for Tuesday, February 20, 2007. According to the site, a panel of judges grants up to four awards each day "in recognition of oustanding nominees". Obviously we are honored to be part of this select pool of thousands of honorees, and I maintain that the fact that we nominated ourselves does not take away from this honor and distinction.

It goes on to say that "Being named a Blog of the Day Awards Winner can be the crowning achievement of a lifetime of work, or it can be the beginning of a new chapter in the life of a blogger". Crowning achievement? Check. New chapter in my life? Check.

Looking forward to the upcoming Miss Blog Universe pageant. Johnny M has been working to slip into that two piece for a while now.

Fuck we're good.
Coco

An open letter to all TTC streetcar riders

Lately I’ve heard and read a lot of complaints about the disposition of the Toronto Transit Commission’s streetcar drivers. My fellow riders, please offer these drivers due consideration for the high levels of stress and complexity that must deal with on a daily basis.

Sure, they may scream at riders, yell and bang their cabin to get people to move to the back, and absolutely freak out when people are surprised that the streetcar is taking a short turn (I mean, can’t they fucking see the sign on the front of the streetcar that says “SHORT TURN”?)

Put yourself in their shoes. Imagine you had to deal with their worries on a daily basis. For instance, consider the incredible complexity of the machine itself:

1. There is no steering wheel.
2. There are two pedals – one to make the streetcar move forward, and one to stop it from moving forward.
3. The streetcar travels at about 20 km/hr along a fixed track, and the doors open and close with the push of a button.

And consider the complexity of the job:

1. Sometimes people will be taking two vehicles during their commute, and will then ask you for a transfer. This requires you to rip a piece of paper off a pad and shove it in their hand.
2. You have to stop every time someone rings the bell.
3. People may ask for directions, or the final destination of the streetcar (this is especially aggravating, given that the driver has been doing this route daily for eight years, so obviously the rider should know where the car is going).
4. Payment can come in a variety of forms: Either people show you a transit pass, or put tokens/change into a box. The box sometimes has to be emptied by hitting a lever.

I know, I know – when you put it all together, it’s amazing NASA isn’t at the TTC train yard recruiting for astronauts. So the next time a driver yells at you for any reason, you’ll know exactly what they are dealing with, and you’ll be happy that your day wasn’t nearly as stressful as these gifted pilots.

Coco T. Monkey

Tuesday's Random Thoughts

Just a few things I felt like sharing today:

1) I was at CostCo last night. Anyone familiar with this establishment knows that anything you purchase must be bought in ridiculously high quantities. As I was picking up a giant bottle of multi-vitamins, I cast my gaze over the "club-packs" of condoms. Anyone who feels the urge to buy their condoms in bulk is either: a) enjoying a great deal of sex; or b) completely delusional. Either way - bravo, I say.

2) I really hate shitty music. I think that one of the crappiest bands that has risen to prominence over the past few years is Maroon 5. Seriously - they're shit. Sometimes I feel like I'd rather be undergoing dental work than listen to them. Well, today I got to compare and contrast these situations. I was at the dentist, being worked on by the hygienist (aka "The Butcher"). Imagine my surprise - as she dug that metal pointy thing into my gums for the 15th time - when "She Will Be Loved" came on the radio. My eyes were watering with the pain, but I'm not sure if the source was my mouth or my ears. Excruciating.

3) I really love good music. The best CD I've bought this year is by a band called The Kooks. You should check out a couple of their songs on their myspace site here. Their show in Toronto on May 8th has recently been moved to a larger venue (The Guvernment), so it's no longer sold out. I highly recommend you (both?) all go.

That is all.

Valentine's Day Cards

There are some that say that Valentine's Day is a "made-up", "manufactured", or "Hallmark" holiday, like "Flag Day", "Columbus Day", or "Easter". You know what I say? "That's bullshit."


Valentine's Day is probably one of the most important days on the JohnnyM personal calendar. Why? Because it's one of the days we can plan a JTC product launch around.


Here at JTC headquarters, we have literally been inundated with requests for Valentine's Day cards. Never being ones to disappoint our reader(s), please find attached our latest hit product line:

Coming to a head

In my particular work environment, a soul-crushing cube farm where several dozen male employees share the same bathroom, certain unspoken etiquette within those facilities is called for. This topic has been widely written about, so I won’t venture into the details of this silent code except to say that if you are unfamiliar with it, you’re likely one of the abnormal specimens the policy was written for.

The code should be part of mandatory employee testing. As I said, I don’t want to get into it, but I’ve witnessed countless infractions in the past few months (such as a complete lack of attempt to cover up errant noises by flushing/coughing, attempting conversation mid-urination, and unnecessary delay time while those in stalls wait for a private moment).

Just now, I witnessed an outlandish violation of the code that has left me a little disgusted, and my bathroom experience that much creepier. As I walked in, some dude took a giant wad of paper towel, soaked it, turned to face me with a blank stare, and then proceeded to a stall, locking himself in. There were noises.

It’s not supposed to be like this. Not like this.

JTC Movie Reviews

Seen any good movies lately? Me neither. It really does seem like there's a lot of crap out there these days. What we all need is someone to tell us whether movies are any good, and if they're worth the $20 it will cost you to sit in a theatre, "enjoying" the company of your fellow movie-goers, as you marvel at the apparent shallowness of the gene pool.

As always, JTC has jumped in, and decided to fill this gaping void. Now, I don't want you to think that I'm actually going to movies, evaluating them, and then writing a well thought out review. Who has time for that shit? Rather, I'm going to look at movie posters, make what will likely be wildly accurate assumptions about the plot and characters, and then pass judgement.

Let's begin.

Music and Lyrics

Finally! Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore have decided to leave those lame-ass romantic comedies behind, and make something a bit more edgy. Ripped from the headlines (from 10 years ago), this gritty movie focuses on the seemy underbelly of prostitution in the USA, as Hugh's character attempts to convince Drew's character to become a hooker by inviting her over to his place, and then proceeding to receive a blow job from a prostitute he just picked up (not pictured). Truly gripping - and the ironic opening date of Valentine's Day? Unprecendented.

9/10.

Norbit

A tender tale of love and misunderstanding, cast against the backdrop of racial tension in the deep south. Eddie Murphy gives a tour de force performance both as a guy who looks and acts just like him, but also as a really, really fat chick. Mr Murphy - do not be surprised if a little gold gentleman I like to call "Oscar" comes a-calling. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll leave the theatre, and call all of your black friends just to say, "hey".

8/10.

Hannibal Rising

A historical documentary, detailing the incredible journey of the Carthaginian general Hannibal, as he attempted to destroy the Roman Empire by leading his army over the Alps (hence, the "Rising") and into Italy. Did you know that Hannibal took elephants with him? Everyone knows that Italians are terrified of elephants, so that was pretty damn smart. This movie loses some points though - I totally would have put a couple elephants on the poster for marketing purposes (elephants - they're this year's penguin), and what's up with the mask on the dude's face? I'm assuming that if you're about to start one of the Punic Wars, you want to be able to breathe freely.

6/10.

Hate is a Strong Word

Hate is a strong word. And it takes a strong man to use a strong word. Fortunately, I'm fucking ripped.

I hate Ticketmaster (henceforth referred to as "Ticketbastard".) One of the things I hate about Ticketbastard is their bizarre math. For example, let's pretend I want to go see the three-headed bizarro dinosaur mentioned in my previous post play the LA Clippers tomorrow afternoon. I find 2 upper bowl seats at the ACC, at the price of $56.60 each. How much should I have to pay for these seats? If you answered $113.20 you're:

a) pretty good at math; and
b) incredibly naive.

In fact, purchasing the aforementioned pair of tickets would cost you $133.45. You see, you need to include the convenience charge, the order processing charge, and the TicketFast deliver charge. For some concerts, there's even a "Facility Fee", which caused one JTC Executive member to comment, "If I'm paying to keep the place clean, I'm planning on urinating in the corner."

A further recent innovation by Ticketbastard, designed to prevent scalpers from mass-purchasing tickets, is the requirement to type in a series of letters and numbers that appear on the screen prior to searching for the tickets. Unfortunately, this process also unfairly discriminates against the able-sighted, as the series of letters and numbers that appear on the screen frequently don't resemble anything on my keyboard. For example:

WTF? Let's just start with that "letter" that's right in the middle. Is that a "D"? An "O"? A "0"? There's nothing more enjoyable than realizing that a concert or sporting event that you desperately want to attend is in the process of selling out, as you head-butt your keyboard, hoping that the random series of characters your forehead produces somehow matches what these (ticket) bastards are looking for.

To avoid the keyboard head-butting, sometimes I call the baboons at the Ticketbastard call centre. On one occasion, I called the US Ticketbastard phone number, as I was planning on attending an event in Buffalo. During the call, I "enjoyed" this exchange:

Baboon: "You're from Canada?"

JohnnyM: "Yes."

Baboon: "I really like Canada Dry ginger ale."

JohnnyM: "That's terrific."

Bottom line: I think I can safely state that I truly hate Ticketbastard. And you should too.

Let's pretend....

Let's pretend that you run the Toronto Raptors. Over the last few years, you have been the laughing stock of the Eastern Conference, which happens to be the laughing stock of the NBA. Suddenly, something incredible starts to happen, and your team begins to play well (relatively speaking). You're playing .500 ball, lead your division, and are right in the playoff race. Things are going great, right? Well they're going to get better.

Today, the league announced quite the trifecta - for the Eastern Conference, Sam Mitchell was named Coach of the Month, Andrea Bargnani was named Rookie of the Month, and Chris Bosh was named Player of the Month. Truly impressive. You're proud of your team, your players and your coach, and you decide to run a story on your website. The only thing left to determine is what graphic will you post with the story.

Here's what they came up with:

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Really?!?

I have a couple of things I'd like to bring up:

- Not to sound needy (which obviously means I'm about to sound needy), but WTF is up with zero comments on my last post? In my not very humble opinion, that is comedic gold, and it gets nothing? Really? REALLY?!?

- Speaking of which, Co-Co and I were out last night shooting the shit, and playing the 'Tee (mental note - "Shooting the shit and playing the 'Tee" would be a great t-shirt and/or album name), and were discussing a little segment that appeared on SNL - here's a link: Really? We both agreed it was hilarious, and couldn't stop saying "Really?" to each other the rest of the night, so I figured I should forewarn people that it's likely to come up in conversation. BTW, my favourite part? "You hid your weed - which is not allowed on a plane - in another thing that is not allowed on a plane."

- Seriously - we're trying to get a gauge in terms of how many people actually read this blog. Co-Co seems to think it's approximately 3 (including the JTC executive), while I have a "sky's the limit" take on things, and feel it could literally be in the tens. So here's what we're going to do. Every single person that reads this is going to click on that little "comments" link below, and leave a comment. You don't have to log-in - you can do it anonymously - and it doesn't have to be funny...just leave something. Really.

"Bathing" "the" "cat"

I don’t understand women. Never have – never will. I actually have an all-encompassing theory that “all chicks are nuts”, but this seems to cause more tension when I bring it up with the ladies (thus leading to further craziness), so I tend to keep it to myself these days.

One of the things that I really don’t understand about women is their excitement over marriage. As we all know – marriage is a man-made prison. You’re doing time! Anyway, a girl who I work with is getting married shortly, and for some reason, the females in our department thought it would be a good idea to have a “marriage countdown”.


This countdown consisted of cards on a corkboard, that the bride to be would turn over each day. On the other side of the card would be some sort of whimsical phrase, reminding her of the joys she has to look forward to now that her relationship has entirely changed and been validated thanks to a piece of paper.

If at any point while reading the last paragraph, you rolled your eyes, congrats – you’re my kind of person.

Anyway, I was walking by the board today, and this is what was written on the latest card:

“You’ll have someone to bathe ‘the cat’”

Now, this caused me to do a slight double take. Why was ‘the cat’ in quotes? All of the previous cards had been like, “You’ll always have someone to cuddle”, and similar such shit. Was it possible that we had now ventured into the realm of thinly veiled sexual references? I quickly sought out PChrist to get his opinion. He informed me that apparently this girl actually has a cat (we’re talking a feline pet here, just to be clear) that sheds a lot, and needs to be bathed frequently (keep your mind out of the gutter – it’s a house pet, people!)

I thought back to some previous conversations I had enjoyed with the bride to be, and I recalled her mentioning her cat, and its furriness. WAIT! Could it be she was talking about her…no, no. It can’t be. Can it?

I am damn confused.

I'm Not a Man. More Like a Child.

As per my previous post, I occasionally consider myself somewhat of an athlete. Unfortuntely, I also occasionally consider myself somewhat of an alcoholic. Now, "alcoholic-athlete" doesn't quite have the same ring to it as "student-athlete", so I decided something had to be done. My solution? I signed up for a Running Clinic that meets weekly at 8am on Saturday mornings. Hard to get hammered when you know you have to be up at 7am the next day to run 15km, no? I know, I know - it's brilliant.

Anyway, last night (a Friday) I went out for dinner with an old roommate and some friends. Despite the fact that I was quite clear about my low-drinking status, my dinner companions insisted on attempting to feed me as much alcohol as possible. This included some of the most insistent peer pressure I've ever seen this side of an after school special. ("You can run anytime!", "Just have one more beer...", "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" were just some of the ridiculous things they said.) Towards the end of the evening, the following conversation occurred:

Ex Roommate (clearly intoxicated): "You may be able to run 15k, but I could tackle you inside the first 100 metres."
JohnnyM: "Really? I'm not so sure about that."
Friend #1: "Yeah - I'd agree. My money's on John on this one."

Which is how I found myself, half an hour later, on Yonge Street getting ready for a footrace between the Rose and Crown and The Duke of Kent. As we stood there, waiting for some of the pedestrian traffic to clear up and the race to start, I pondered exactly how I managed to find myself in this situation, and came to the realization that maybe it was time to make some serious changes in my life. As the race started, and I took off - yes, sprinting from one bar to another down the busiest street in Toronto - I realized that I'm really not a man in any true sense of the word. More like a child.

BTW, I kicked his ass. And in reality, I fully expect my juvenile behaviour to continue. I just want to make it clear that I'm very much aware of it.

I Am An Idiot, Volume 1

As some of you know, I like to consider myself a triathlete. The evidence of this is that I occasionally like to swim, bike and run. In reality, I’m fat an out of shape…but that’s a different blog entry. Anyhoo, as part of my workouts, in the winter it’s hard to bike outdoors, on account of the snow, ice, darkness, etc. To get around this, cyclists have invented one of the singularly most boring activities known to man – riding on a bike trainer. For those of you who are unfamiliar with bike trainers, basically they’re a stand that you attach the back wheel of your bike to, with a fly wheel that provides resistance. You then peddle to your heart’s content, trying to watch TV to take your mind off the fact that your ass and crotch are completely numb.

Here’s a picture I found on the web of what a bike trainer set-up typically looks like:















I’d like to point out the fact that when I use my trainer, I usually like to wear a shirt. That’s not to say that I’m some sort of shirt-nazi…no way. For no real reason, here’s a list of things I like to do with no shirt on:
- swimming
- sunbathing
- flexing
- grocery shopping
- babysitting

For some reason, every year when I set up my bike trainer, I’m concerned about damaging the frame of my bike by tightening the clamp too much. So I don’t tighten it enough. Then I start riding. And my bike comes loose from the trainer, so I go sprawling across the floor of my basement. This happened to me again last week. I think I might start wearing my helmet when using my trainer. Why?


Because I am an idiot.

My New Year's Eve Party Was Better Than Yours...

...because mine involved breakdancing. Check out the video.

Seriously - was your party that fun? I'd wager not.