here it is, but only because everyone else is doing it:
A is for
B is for
booze: Can't stand the stuff
C is for
career: Don't get me started
D is for dad's name:
E is for essential
item to bring to a party: Pen (my wife, not the writing instrument)
She goes with all my outfits.
F is for favorite
song at the moment: I rarely have a favorite anything--I love variety
G is for girlfriend:
girlfriend, no boyfriend--closest at the moment I guess would be Dave,
but that's a stretch too
H is for hometown:
I is for instruments
you play: Drums, keyboard, guitar, saxophone. Although I only play
the drums well.
J is for jam or
jelly you like: strawberry
K is for kids: Ryan,
Chantel--although their both in their 20's now
L is for living
arrangements: military housing--sucks big time
M is for mom's name:
N is for name of
your best friend: Pen, Ryan, Chantel, my brother, basically the family--again,
no real friends anymore.
O is for overnight
hospital stays: hahahahahah!!!!
P is for phobia[s]:
have a fear of phobias. Other than that, nothing. (I'm not paranoid, they
really are out to get me!)
Q is for quote you
like: "It's only premarital sex if you marry them" Celia's mom.
R is for relationship
that lasted the longest: my wife, Pen
S is for sexual
T is for time you
wake up: I get up at 6:30; I wake up around 10:00
U is for unique
trait: strange sense of humor even in the face of adversity.
V is for vegetable
you love: I love most veggies, but usually only after you add stuff
that makes them unhealthy--go figure
W is for worst trait:
think--let me get back to you on that one.
X is for x-rays
you've had: teeth, chest, arms, ankle, cat scan, mri…
Y is for yummy food
you make: pasta, pot roast, chicken fajitas, pancakes for the brats
Z is for zodiac
sign: cusp of Aries-Taurus--probably a Taurus by the narrowest of margins
didn't get any Trick or Treaters for Halloween. Not one. We didn't even
see any. Which was bad for Pen because she just loves seeing the wee ones
dressed up in their costumes, but great for me because now I have hoards
of chocolate. Yeah me!
Let's see, Oct 31 is Halloween, where the spirits of the dead walk the
earth (as opposed to the rest of the year, where I suppose they float,
or jog, or do that silly-looking power walking thing). Nov 1 is All Saints
Day. (What do you hand out for All Saints Day? Chocolate covered communion
wafers?) I guess the rest of the year is for us run-of-the-mill sinners.
As for you Americans and your presidential election--well, if you can't
say anything nice, don't say anything at all. This is me, being silent.
Someone spent 85 minutes on my website. I'd like to think that they're
actually reading the crap….er….posts I leave, but the paranoid schizo….er….wary
person that I am wonders if maybe someone is hacking my computer. Of course,
it's not like there's anything valuable on it--maybe a few hundred songs--and
my writing, either of which they can have for the asking.
Hmmm….maybe they're just using my 'puter as a way station, routing through
it to perform some nefarious plan that will end in world domination. But
they're probably just surfing porn (and looking for domination of a different
Whatever the reason, they obviously need a life. They're welcome
to mine, which is, I guess, why I write this in the first place.
So I'm going on a Basic Physical Fitness Instructor's Assistant course
starting tomorrow for 2 weeks. What the heck does a Fitness Instructor's
Assistant do? It better not have anything to do with collecting dirty towels
and washing other people's jock straps, because if it does there's gonna
be a coup.
I figure it's more along the lines of: "All right everybody, next we're
going to do 200 pushups. I'll count them out while my assistant demonstrates."
I tell you, somebody's gonna wind up locked in their locker with an atomic
wedgie and no lunch money, and it won't be me.
They opened a brand new Mega Mall in Vaughn Mills (just slightly north
of Toronto). I have to say, it's impressive. It opened last Thursday, and
my wife--the masochist--decided we should take a gander at it on Sunday.
(Actually, she dragged me along, so I guess that makes her a Sadist. She
It's huge, has just about every franchise imaginable in it, comes complete
with a bowling alley and an indoor go-kart track. And get this: the Bass
Pro Shop's Outdoor World contains a live trout pond, natural waterfall
and in-store fishing demonstrations. There's also parking for over 6,000
cars--and they were all taken. They even started parking cars over at Canada's
Wonderland (think bargain-basement Disney Land) and offered a shuttle bus
to the mall.
We managed to luck in and pull up just as someone was pulling out, and
got a prime parking space about 100 feet from the entrance. If only I had
that kind of luck with the lottery, I might actually be able to afford
something at this new mall. With all the people that showed up, you'd think
they were giving away free stuff. No such luck, though.
I was only supposed to be a spectator on the Remembrance Day Parade today
because I'm on the BFTA Course, but Dave from work showed up at my house
last night at around eight o'clock and says, "Do you know your supposed
to be on the parade tomorrow?" It would have been nice if the Sgt or someone
in authority had called to tell me, rather than just a buddy from work
showing up to fill me in--but that's the way the CF works. What would they
have done if Dave hadn't told me and I hadn't shown up--charged me with
AWOL? Anyway, apparently they ran out of people that can stand still
for hours at a time. Damn Ritalin.
It turns out that I'm not actually on the parade, but I'm an usher. I had
to show up to ush for nine o'clock, even though none of the people I would
actually be doing the ushing for would arrive before 10:15. So I got to
stand outside and freeze for an extra hour and a half before the parade
even started. I almost froze some of my favorite body parts off.
Of course the dignitaries all arrived in a gaggle. I suggested telling
them that instead of seating them individually we tell them that we were
going to play some music, and when the music stops the one left standing
without a chair would have to go sit in the bleachers. The Base Chief's
Assistant wouldn't go for it though.
The only good thing is that after the parade we had the rest of the day
off, so I went home and tried to thaw out some of those body parts. Luckily
they were still fresh.
The BFTA course is going fine. Think hardcore PT eight hours a day. To
make matters worse there are fourteen of us on the course, and eight of
them are twenty-something naval combat divers--basically elite underwater
grunts. The other six are forty-something air force personnel, and of course,
I'm the oldest.
The problem is that whenever they divide the class up, I always end up
with the combat divers. Here I am slogging my guts out, running, jumping,
diving, rolling, taking cannon balls to the gut etc., and I look over at
the other group and there doing, like….flower arranging, aroma therapy,
origami, Buddhist meditation.…
We spent an entire morning doing warm-up and cool down classes. Warm up,
cool down, warm up, cool down, warm up, cool down. If I were a piece of
metal I'd be brittle by now. The chief instructor asked if any of us took
a nap at lunch yesterday after training. I asked him if waking up in the
middle of the kitchen floor counted.
The good news is I only have another week and a half to go. I hope we end
with a cool down.
Here's a hint ladies: don't call and tell us something is wrong if you're
unwilling or unable to tell us what is wrong until later. I mean, how sadistic
is that? We only end up worrying for hours on end, wondering what it could
be, when it could run the gamut from, "Betty at work got fired," to, "I
have cancer." And while it may be upsetting to you that Betty got fired,
it's certainly nothing that we had to fret and agonize over for the last
three hours waiting for you to get home.
Somewhere along the line I managed to cease to exist. Emails are ignored,
my opinions no longer matter, the link to my webpage has been dropped,
no one IM's me. It's a hard way to learn who your friends really are. Oh,
well. At least I'm still getting paid.
Well, I finished the Basic Fitness Trainer's Assistant Course, which means
I guess I'm basically fit to train an assistant. Who'd a thought that you'd
have to be in such good shape to teach people to fetch coffee and sharpen
pencils? But if that's what it takes to succeed in today's corporate world,
who am I to argue?
On a writerly note, I'm just about done reading the third novel in E Bear's
trilogy. (At least I think it's a trilogy--hopefully she's not as confused
as Robert Jorden.) I've gone over it with a fine-tooth comb. (Oh, alright,
the way my hairline's been receding I don't even own a fine tooth
comb. A brush would do, and a lint brush at that--one of those sticky tape
types, too.) Anyway, all I have to say to you suckers that have to wait
until 2006 to read this is: na na nana na!!!
Why is it every time I spend hours researching just the right market to
send a short story to, two days after send it off I read that they're closed
to submissions. It's like everyone suddenly goes: "Holy Crap! Perry's submitted
again. Quick, lock the doors, shut all the windows and turn out the lights.
Maybe he'll think nobody's home."
Well, let me tell you something, Mister. You're not fooling me. Sooner
or later you're going to have to go out for coffee, or chocolate, or Cheezie-Puffs--you
know, survival food--and then I'll have you. So make sure you have that
form letter rejection on you.
Maybe if you hold it up in front of you like a crucifix it might ward me
off. But don't hold you're breath, because I'm developing an immunity to
it. Not only that but you'll turn blue and pass out.
(Hey, I'm not bi-polar, I just play one on TV.)
I just love it when Pen leaves me little notes telling me how much she
loves me and misses me--and how badly the garbage needs to go out. It's
the little things.
And on a related note (if you define related as: having absolutely nothing
to do with the previous subject) I have band practice tonight, at my
place, in the basement. I feel just like a kid again. We're trying out
another singer. This one wants to do Janis Joplin's Piece of My Heart.
I used to play the Sammy Hagar cover version of it ages ago, but I'm just
not into the 60's retro feel of the original. Oh, well, the sacrifices
we have to make.
Of course, we had to practice on the one night it's decided to snow like
hell. Luckily Pen's working late tonight so we don't have to subject her
to it, no matter how much she loves me. Hey, what do you know? It was
And just in case you
P P Y B I R T H D A Y K A T E B A C
H U S!!!!
There's a marine supply store beside the theater we go to called Dock in
a Box. That's right, it's just one letter away from being obscene. Anyway,
Pen and I actually had some time together this weekend, so we partook in
one of our favorite pastimes--going to the movies.
Saturday we saw National Treasure. We both enjoyed it, but of course we
went to see it for what it was--certainly not an Oscar contender, but fun
and entertaining none-the-less. If you liked the book The Da Vince Code,
you should like this. As a matter of fact, when that book is made into
a movie later this year, it's going to look like a copycat.
We also went to see Alexander. Again, I thought it was all right. Certainly
not the debacle the critics are making it out to be. I thought they spent
too much time on his relationships with his mother, father and lovers (both
male and female) and not enough time on those things that made him Great,
but that's just me. I'm sure the red haze during his battle in India was
meant to be symbolic or something, but I just found it annoying. Why spend
all that money to stage a battle when you're going to obscure the action?
Still, in my opinion, those were it's only major drawbacks. I've read one
critic's review where he panned it because Alexander's general gives
an impassioned plea to return home--in a thick Scott's brogue, no less.
Yeah, there's a valid criticism. I mean, what was Oliver Stone thinking;
everyone knows that all ancient cultures spoke with a British accent. (At
least no one ever seems to complain when they do.)
Honestly, I'm sick and tired of critics. As far as I'm concerned they rank
right up there on the usefulness scale with lawyers. There just a bunch
of snippy, pretentious blowhards, IMHO, and we'd all be much better off
if we just made up our own minds about what we like and don't like. But
of course, that'll never happen. I mean, if we all did that, how would
we ever know who was popular, or cool?
And as for the movie, Alexander, the sight of the city of Babylon was almost
worth the price of admission alone. But don't take my word for it.