Here's a block of statistics to pass your way...
- 98% of all cambriolet owners are white teenage girls, the other 2% are men going through their mid-life crisis who got duped by a car salesman that told them to buy one because "all the chicks dig it."
- The accessory of choice on a whopping 99.9% of those teenage girl's cars: the Roxy sticker.
- Following extremely close behind at 99.5%: the Hawaiian lei. Whether these leis were ever earned is suspect.
- The chances of hearing Lindsay Lohan or any similar 'actress'/'singer' blare from the stock speakers: 1 in 4
- Chances this blog entry will recieve a comment: a little better than the chances that the Chicago Cubs have in winning the World Series. But after Boston's example, anything's possible...

Some people write a blog in order to pour out their inner most thoughts and feelings, others choose this as an avenue to give their Constitutionally-guaranteed right to free speech, and some talk about what's currently going on in their lives. Sometimes it's interesting, sometimes it's mundane, but it's nonetheless there. I'd like to think that I've offered all these things at one time or another, but mostly this blog is just an excuse to write down whatever useless shit that's been knocking around my brain before it's lost forever due to my terrible memory.
No real insight, no real answers, no neat conclusion wrapped up at the end of the half hour, it's just stuff I write to make it appear as though I'm doing something worthwhile. I don't usually talk just to hear my own voice, but I do that equivalent on here.

I have returned victorious! On Monday, the opening day of doe mule deer season, I got my doe. From the reaction I got from the guys in camp; it was a big one. So I am pleased. Although I was glad to get away from  everything (edit: anything?) for a few days, it's always nice to get come back home...and have a shower. There's a chance that I may not do that again for a while, my time spent in Europe may just factor into that.

The polls are not yet closed and nothing is written in stone yet, but I would like to be the first to say to America; "What the fuck happened?" Bush looks like he'll get to be President again, and this time legitimately. This isn't really that big a surprise though; he had four years to rig this election from the inside to make it look legit what with all the fucked up voting machines, crooked election workers changing votes. Also, having a brother who is Governor in a contentious state within the electoral college doesn't hurt. Maybe he'll even overturn the law that limits a President to serving a maximum of 8 years in office? I'm just saying there's a chance.
So let's just say Bush gets re-elected; on the bright side comedians will never run out of material, but the downside is that there are gonna be even more American travellers with Canadian flags on their backpacks. This should be another interesting 4 years.

And look at me, I'm actually updating from home! Just like normal people.
Cheers!

This is my last entry before a bit of a hiatus. Gonna get away from it all for a few days and do some real manly stuff: spitting, scratching, eating vast amounts of meat, drinking lots of beer, and possibly going out of camp and hunting a little bit. We'll see where the day takes us.
Just to update you on that attempt at double employment: utterly unsuccessful. That's okay by me, didn't want to work there anyways. *sniffle*
As I have mentioned on the sidebar; my passport is processed and now in the loving and personable care of the government for inspection and issue. Things should move along seemlessly unless they go on strike again. (knock on wood)
I sure hope everyone has a good Halloween, because I'll be sitting in the cold and pitch blackness of the middle of nowhere. Think of me as your eating your candy or getting ridiculously drunk or both. Fingers crossed that it's not snowing there already. That's about the only downside to this whole trip because there's nothing like trudging through a couple feet of snow, your feet soaked from hours of hiking with a pack on your back and a heavy chunk of metal in your frozen hands hunting something that is completely adapted to its environment. No one should be worried sick about poor Bambi. Some of this drivel might sound like bitching and moaning, that's because it is. This is a blog site, you should come to expect it by now.
Speaking of Bambi; what always bothered me about that movie is that the hunter shoots Bambi's mom. What a dumass amateur thing to do! You never shoot a doe that has a fawn because you're essentially lowering your odds to increasing their numbers by leaving that fawn to fend for itself. See? I'm all about protecting the future. But enough of my woodsy wisdom, I've been talking about this far too much.

Current countdown until I leave you all for Europe - 77 days. On that note, I sadly, no wait, gladly will not be celebrating a year of blog obscurity on the 22nd of January. Everyone will just have to make other plans. That's right, all two of you will have to find another way to waste 5 minutes of your day. Might I suggest this?
I promise, upon my return, just a brief mention of the hunting trip because I'm sure you're all sick to death of hearing it. Unless, of course, Fred manages to shoot another decoy. Good times.

I went to the mall earlier today. Yes, you read correctly, I went to the mall. I had to kill some time because my sit-down interview with some blasted video store got delayed, more about that later. So at the mall, as I walk in I can't help but notice this massive line-up snaking its way through the mall. I walked in a little deeper and there was another long line curling around the corner. I thought this was a little odd, since it was before Christmas season and all, so I asked one of the Committed what the hell was going on, apparently it's flu shot season. And here I thought maybe some Canadian Idol reject was in town signing autographs to an adoring crowd. Then the thought crossed my mind; how many fans of the Pop genre are able to collect a pension? The average age of those in line, if they were to be compared to the aging process associated with cheese; I would have rated them as 'stinky'. Quite old indeed. I don't mean to pick on old people, I hope to make it to the age when I can remember when things were better and then tell younger people about it ad nauseum.
As I was leaving the mall with the impulse item I succumbed to, a car drove by with an American Flag sticker above the gas tank. I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of it all. Of all the places to put a sticker, especially an American Flag! Maybe this person liked to be reminded each time they filled up their SUV they were doing it in support of the fight against terrorism, similar to how each time I get that shipment of hashish from Morocco, I'm actually funding terrorism.
The rescheduled interview was surprisingly intense, questions coming left, right, and center. I was almost expecting to prepare a urine sample. The manager made this job out as if it took some special kind of skill or quality, when each time I've visited the place the workers seemed to be bored. It's just a goddamn video store job, looked easy enough in Clerks . I need this job to supplement my meager earnings at Premier for that carrot on the end of my tether; Europe. It's most likely minimum wage, but I have little other alternative unless someone's looking for a slightly used liver out there. There are other schemes and plans in the works to obtain more filthy lucre, some of them doable but disappointing me thus far and some I have tried to avoid for reasons of pride (or what's left of it). Maybe I could sell my pride? That should get me a few bucks. On second though, I'd probably make more money returning empty bottles.

Yet another wonderful week of nightshifts begins and but that also means it's only a couple more days until I can take whatever pent-up aggression I may have during the course of the week/month/year and unload it on an unsuspecting deer. Ah, bloodlust, where would I be without you?
Here's a couple of things that have been swirling around in my head this weekend, I may have already mentioned them to you and if not, get in the fucking loop already...

Saw looks supremely fucked up, but in a good way. Must make a note to see it. I'm sure it will re-invigerate my fear of rogue dentistry, creepy puppets, and Danny Glover.

The newest guy who sings funny songs and plays an acoustic guitar: Stephen Lynch. He's like Jimmy Fallon, but with talent, or like Adam Sandler, but he doesn't have to play up retardation to get a laugh.

My world has been absolutely shattered, Ashlee Simpson's singing talent is about as real as her hair colour. Excuse me while I prepare my noose.

I can move clouds with my mind. Problem is they're all rain clouds.

That's about all I'm willing to share. Hope those links worked. Fingers crossed...

I can't believe I only found out about this now! Damn you night shift! Jon Stewart tears the hosts of 'Crossfire' new ones. Stewart was supposed to talk about his new book, but he had a more sinister agenda. Try as they might to get Stewart onto more light-hearted 'debate', he continued to dig into the hosts; calling them 'partisan hacks' and telling them their show is hurting America! I just love to see that man in action. I'm just gonna give you the link and you can take the trouble of cut and pasting because it's worth it and I still can't figure out how to properly link with these bullshit iMacs. Enjoy!
http://homepage.mac.com/duffyb/nobush/iMovieTheater231.html

So while all you little kiddies will be trick or treating this Halloween, or you grown-ups will party and wake the next morning realizing you got drunk and slept with someone who dressed as a pirate, or while those of you who have a religious persuasion will pray for our very souls for indulging in a holiday that is endorsed by the devil himself, I will be deep in the middle of nowhere hunting the elusive mule deer.
I must say that I do enjoy hunting; I get to act out man's most primal of urges by killing in cold blood, then smearing the dead animal's blood on my face, and eating its heart to obtain its meaty power. It's not really like that; I don't kill in cold blood, those deer have it coming to them. For every one I do get, there's at least 20 that I miss completely due to never seeing them in the first place or, even worse, taking the time to line up a shot and missing them. There's nothing more humiliating and frustrating. Hitting that one deer is like winning the lottery to me, considering how crappy a shot I am. I tote around a heavy thunderstick; a 7MM 08 if that means anything. It's got a lot of 'umph' behind it so it makes sure whatever's on the wrong end of that ain't gonna be kicking for too long. That is, of course, if I'm lucky enough to even see anything at all. Last year was the first and only time that I've gotten a shot at anything in the half dozen years I've been hunting. Fingers crossed on how I'll do this season.
It's not all Neanderthalic grunting and bloodlust out there though; hunting is also a good opportunity to hang out with my dad and brother since we are all too busy to really do anything worthwhile when we are home (that's right, I said I was busy). It also gives my dad the chance to pass down some of the stuff he's learned in the many decades that he's been hunting and gives us a chance to try and absorb as much as we can. Much beer will be drank, many sunflowers seeds consumed, meats of many kinds put to the flame. It's a good time.
One of the worst parts of such a trip is the realization that once you get back to civilization, the smell one emits could wake the dead and they really are a pain to put back into the ground. Never do you realize how nice it is to shower than when you return from 5 days of hunting in the bush. Being clean never felt so good.
As I re-read my entry, checking for the odd spelling error and such, I realize that I am rambling quite a bit and that my paragraphs are an awful mess, but it's 11:30 and I no longer care. Take it for what it's worth. In conclusion; hunting is all good in my books, just make sure you use as much of the animal as you can because you'll be kicking yourself for not bringing back that deer liver when you had the chance. Just kidding.

While everyone here at the non-stop party called Premier is wasting time in between orders with not even the slightest attempt at looking busy because the big boss man is away (even though if he were here, he wouldn't really care), I am here, on an iMac yet again writing in my blog for the third time in three days. I guess this makes up for the complete lack of entries in the past month. But I'm not here to impress you, this blog is only kept up to feed my ever-growing, uncontrollable narcissistic tendencies (I am currently looking in the mirror, telling myself how fucking sexy I am and that no one is good enough to be with me; an adonis among lowly mortals). But enough of that horseshit, on to something more blogular in nature...
As I am writing this entry there are 90, yes 90, more days until I leave the pine-smelling freshness of Canada to the cliche ridden continent of Europe! I can't wait. Go to the top of the Eiffel Tower and spit on the people on the lower levels? Check. Float down the canals of Venice and force the gondola captain to sing? Check. Try to get one of the Buckingham guards to break concentration? Check. Get nicely toasted in a cafe in Amsterdam? Check. Go to Monte Carlo and lose everything I have on me (plane tickets, traveller's cheques, loose change, my shoes)? Check. Get gored by a bull in Pamplona? Check. Like I said, I can't wait.

Just my fucking luck, serves me right for being optimistic. Woke up nice and early so I could be first in line, but as it turns out those pencilpushers at the passport office are on strike. A minor setback, but a setback nonetheless. The nice old lady that they set up to quell the angry crowds that were sure to gather told me that the strike would only last for a short while. Well it better, nice old lady, or I'll be back with my friend from Louisville (I kid really; the bat will be aluminum).
Once again, this entry is coming to you from work on a fucking useless IMac. Damn, I hate this thing. It's a greenish-blue (I guess that's aqua) monstrosity straight from the pits of hell. I know that beggars can't be choosers but I will still complain about it because everything on this computer is assbackwards.
And now, as I finish the tetra pack apple juice I stole from Lynn, I realize that I have nothing more to write and that my work demands that 5 minutes of attention.
Smell you later.

Don't know why I didn't think of it sooner; I can do updates while I'm at work (but keep that on the down low). My job affords me a lot of downtime because it really only involves about 5 minutes of concentration at any given time.
So I haven't updated in that last 3 weeks, this can be attributed to my computer yet again whoring itself out to any spyware that will give it the time of the day. I can't access my e-mail account unless by very covert operations and my blog has been gathering dust because the very page I need to use doesn't work! These are very trying times indeed. Fortunately my work has computers with Internet access, the downside; they are all IMacs. I hate absolutely everything about them. The puny keyboard, the uncomfortable mouse with only one button, and the fact that they like to crash after performing the most simple of functions. So forgive me if there are any glaring spelking mistakes. I did that one on purpose to keep you on your toews.
Update on the Europe trip: airplane tickets are as good as gotten, just have to phone in and confirm and all that shit. My passport will be dealt with this Thursday (hopefully they don't catch on that I'm the head of a terrorist training camp just outside Smithers, B.C.). The work visas were cheaper than expected, a pleasant surprise to say the least, and should be taken care of with all deliberate speed. Things are really coming together.
Yesterday marked the 35th anniversary of the "Paul is dead" hoax. Being a bit of a sucker for a good conspiracy, this one is one of my favourites. Apparently, Paul McCartney got into a gruesome car accident in 1969 and later died of his injuries. The Beatles wanted to keep this hush hush, seeing as how they were at the height of their popularity and so held a Paul look-alike contest and found a winner who was never announced to the public who then took over for Paul. Crazy shit, eh? Adherents to the conspiracy find 'evidence' in all the albums after the event in song lyrics and album art. Some of the clues are compelling and others are just wild stretches of the imagination, possibly the result of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. I can't give you a link to one of the better conspiracy sites because IMacs are shit, but if you are so inclined just go to that failsafe Google and type in "Paul is dead". Enjoy yourselves!
Fuck, I hate Macs!