Welcome to JTC Inc.

Chaps: because if they had an ass, they'd just be called pants.

Saturday, January 27, 2007


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.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

"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.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

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.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

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.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

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.