(lygenztia *166) The "dreaded" golf tournament

Today, I am in a golf tournament with my beer league hockey team. It’s a “friendly”. This is a wondrous occasion, completed by decadent cigars, stylish clothing and…beer. Lots and lots of beer. With any luck, there will be a poker game “just for fun” afterwards.

Some of the wives will complain that we drank too much. Some will just laugh it off…and some will have an after drink with us.

The “friendly” isn’t really about golf. It definitely isn’t about winning….it’s more about getting out with the guys, letting off some stress and acting like 10 year olds. We will “chirp” (tease) each other mercilessly. We will fart and then laugh hysterically. We’ll get mad when we make a bad shot, but then pretend it doesn’t matter. We’ll think of ways to mess up the Teams behind and ahead of us.

Most of us will tastefully flirt with the beer girl that drives around on the beer cart, serving refreshments. (actually all of us will, but some will tell their wives they “didn’t even notice her”..ya, right) This “flirt” is so harmless it’s laughable. All of us 40-somethings will act charming with the drop dead gorgeous 20 year old beer girl. She plays along to make us feel good, (and feeling sorry for us) knowing full well that 40-somethings will tip very, very well and go home to their beautiful wives. It’s a harmless game….

It’s also the day the rookie golfers and “non golfers” love. They get out on the links and pretend in their mind that they are Mike Weir. They actually will pray for just one good drive in front of the guys. If they do get a decent drive, the guys will tease them like crazy, which is good. Because, on the inside, the rookie feels like he’s king of the world for a brief, fleeting moment.

At the after party, we’ll laugh, tell lies about how great we played and be very careful about which stories we “re-tell” in front of our wives. It’s not that we did anything “wrong”, we just don’t want our wives to know for certain that we can’t act properly without them around.

Mercifully, our wives will make sure that we get enough to eat. They know full well, that after we have had a few, we aren’t smart enough to actually take in some sustenance. The guys master plan is always to have “one more beer” before we eat. This usually leads to an early nap.

As the night wears on at the after party, the scene gets quite funny. Some of the guys will be “tired” and need to have a sleep on the swing, the shed, or in some cases, the lawn. (see previous paragraph)

The whole day is therapeutic and does wonders for our stress levels. The only problem with the tournament and the after party….is the morning after the after party.

(Lygenztia *165) That's "man's work"

Weekly tasks (for men)

Garbage-approximately 30 minutes-and gross
Recycle-approximately 1 hour-sorting and GROSS
Grass cutting 1.5 hours-twice weekly
Grass trimming or “weed whacking”-1 hour weekly
Cleaning dog poo-1 hour weekly and GROSS

Washing the car(s)- 1- 1.5 hours weekly

Total-7.5 hours week, approximately (summer)

This does not include all of the other various and sundry “little items” that we attend to on a weekly basis.

The last two winters saw record setting snowfalls, which required snow removal that took anywhere from 5-10 hours per week. It is hard, cold work. (wives think, for some strange reason, that we find this activity “fun”.)

Then, there are the leaves in the fall. We have a large lot, with a mature Oak and Maple. We also have a crabapple, cheery and 3 lilac trees. 10-15 leaf bags a week, for about 3 weeks in a row. Yep, that’s a real party. Especially when you are scooping them up by hand and get a little present from the dogs mixed in.

Ok, I’ll do more laundry. (be prepared to see most of it ruined) I’ll cook more too. (barbeque steak is pretty much gonna be the norm) I’ll pick up after myself more, but you should know, most of my “stuff” will just get hidden under the bed.

I think it’s a good deal. We (men) do the outside stuff. Women do the “inside” stuff. I think laundry could be fun. I think that dusting and vacuuming could be turned into some solid work out routine, which is “fun”.

Like really, c’mon…how long does laundry, vaccuming and dusting take? 30-40 minutes? Walk in the park.

Now, if you’ll excuse me….I have to go on backyard poo patrol. Yep, that’s “fun”.

(lygenztia *164) Father's Day eh?

Well, here’s some helpful hints for the wives and daughters that see this as an “occasion”. (son’s “get it”)

Following, is what DAD’s want on Father’s Day:
-a day off to go golfing, fishing, watch a race, or do something that DAD likes to do.
-a day off without worldly distractions, stress, “jobs”, or deep conversation.
-a nice backyard barbeque, without having the fun planned right out of it and close family around.
-home-made cards from our kids.
-one hour without distractions to actually read the newspaper.
-be allowed to lay on the couch and watch an entire NASCAR race. (or the U.S. Open)

Following is NOT what DAD’s want on Father’s Day:
-a “nice” visit with an 97 year old aunt (on our wives side), who is a 3 hour drive away.
-a “nice” visit at our mother-in-law’s house.
-a “fun” shopping trip.
-wake us up at 6:45AM to start getting ready for a nice father’s day breakfast at a restaurant that will have a one hour line up, just to get a table.
-a trip to the local garden center (which is packed to the rafters with other gardeners) to help select the colour of the annual flowers that we have to go home and plant.

The basic difference between Mom’s and Dad’s on their “day” is this. Mom’s want to be recognized on Mother’s Day. They want a plan,…..a chain of events, a pinnacle. Which is great, nothing wrong with that. It’s the old “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” thing.

Dad’s? We just want to have a day off. We’re simple and easy to please.

Well, mostly simple.

“A father is a fellow who has replaced the currency in his wallet with the snapshots of his kids.” (unknown)

(lygenztia *163) The Suzuki family, we're not.

My kids are environmental experts, just ask them. I had no idea that the education system was so rife with environmental sciences experts to indoctrinate our future leaders. Yet, this pleases me, because it may just save me some money.

My kids will roil against carbon producing cars, until of course, they need a ride somewhere. (as parents, and concerned citizens of the world, we encourage them to walk or use public transportation)

They will not drink water out of a re-usable bottle and insist on the plastic water bottles from the grocery store. (as parents, and concerned citizens of the world, we encourage the use of re-usable bottles and use them ourselves.)

They will preach about the “dangers” of nuclear energy and pollution from coal fire electric plants…but yet, will not (ever) turn off a light. (as parents, and concerned citizens of the world, we encourage them constantly to turn off the lights)

They worry about our fresh water supply, yet they change their clothes three times a day. (as parents, and concerned citizens of the world, we encourage them to wear the same clothes all day, like we do ourselves.)

They won’t take the reusable grocery bags to the store, because that’s “ghetto”. (as parents, and concerned citizens of the world, we use these bags and I don’t think we’re “ghetto”.)

Yes, their concern about our planet knows no bounds, unless of course that concern inconveniences them.

So, tell me again who the concerned environmentalists are?

(lygenztia *162) Will that be cash, or your SIN number?

Have you ever been asked for personal information when you bought something recently? Is it just me, or is this really aggravating?

You pay for something in cash. Then, they want your home phone, e-mail and address. They say it’s for “warranty purposes”. Ya right. Sure, sure, the warranty…that’s it.

So, the .99 cent package of batteries, or bag of chips are FULLY COVERED under warranty right? Right. Maybe instead of the “warranty” they just want to mail me garbage, send me unsolicited e-mails and call me about more garbage.

I just love how some of these clerks seem to have been trained to lie to us, but I get a wee bit uppity when they give me attitude. I actually refuse to buy the item(s) if they insist on my personal information. They say they “need it”, or the system won’t process the sale.

I asked the clerk once……”first, you tell me your full name, address and phone number.” She looked at me like I was a serial killer that was stalking her. (I was only trying to make a point, I wasn’t the least bit interested in her information.) So basically the store, company…whatever, can stalk the consumer? That is different and totally cool?

It sucks.

But as usual, Canadian consumers have little or no protections and we take every single heap of horse crap thrown our way in stride.

So, for all the corporations that want my personal information…here’s my postal code:

G02 HEL

(lygenztia *161) Today, I made a statement! (that I can be an idiot)

Traffic in Toronto, at any given time is a nightmare. Toronto City Council is at war with the car and everyone is losing, but alas, this is not a political column.

So, I am stuck in some type of traffic quagmire and people around me start beeping their horns. Because, you know, it’s been scientifically proven that if you beep your horn, traffic will magically begin to move.

Anyway, being in a playful, silly mood I decide to beep my horn too. But I only do it at the most inappropriate times and make sure that I am laughing when I do. A few times I even beep the staccatto tune…da du du du da daaa daaaa! (c’mon we’ve all done that) Other motorists all the sudden do not make eye contact. Some look very, very concerned and nervous. (Because you know, I may have snapped and have a rocket launcher in my car)

A few with some intelligence started laughing themselves, clueing in to what I am doing. One, started doing the same thing. He was laughing too. There was a beautiful symphony of beeps, honks, ah-oogahs and assorted cacophony of noise.

Funny thing, not one of us got through the traffic tie up any faster. Next time, I am going to try using my 4-way flashers. That’ll definitely get people moving along.

Yup, I made quite the statement alright.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-431050/I-fined-honking-man-stepped-car.html

(lygenztia *160) In 2001 we used over 500 billion plastic grocery bags?

At last count, we have about 15 of those “sexy” new reusable grocery bags that replace plastic. These things are tough and you can put a gazillion pounds of stuff in them. (They’re good for beer and ice too, if you need to be discreet) I'm not a "tree hugger", but these reusable bags make damn good sense.

The plastic bags are awful and for us, were a pain in the ass. We had a massive collection of them under the sink, taking up a ton of room. The only thing I ever used the plastic bags for, was picking up dog poo and even with 2 very large dogs, we still had hundreds of the damn plastic bags kicking around. Every now and then, we had to cull the herd and throw out a plastic bag full of…plastic bags. It always felt crappy to do that. (throw them in the garbage...and use them for dog poo)

I just wish I could actually remember to take the reusable bags to the store when I go. Inevitably, I feel guilty when I forget….so I buy another one. Which is why I am getting quite the collection. Some are gleaming and are so unused, that they have the “new car smell”.

I was keeping a few in my Jeep, but they made “crinkly noises” that bugged me when I was driving, so I took them out. I hate “crinkly noises”. These superbags are great for the environment. I am surprised it took this long….but glad that it’s caught on.

If I could just remember to take the darn things with me.

(lygenztia *159) Sunny side up, or scrambled?

Had an incident occur recently at a transit station, which caught my eye. Some type of disagreement arose, as the result of someone allegedly “cutting” in line at a station during rush hour.

It seems, or appears, that a man cut in line in front of a woman. (yes, yes, I know. Chivalry is not dead.) So, what does she do? Allegedly, she threw a cup of coffee in his face.

Ok, that’s bad. Poor form. I would not recommend that anyone act this way, even though we can all understand her frustration. But nevertheless, totally unacceptable social behaviour. I also have no doubt that it caused the poor fellow some pain and discomfort.

So, what’s my spin, you ask?

His reaction. That’s what.

He gets interviewed by the media, ever the victim. Makes a statement, something to the effect…that he gets nervous now, when he is around a stranger that has a cup of coffee in their hand?

Whaaaa??

For goodness sake man, get over it. You get nervous around people with a cup of coffee in their hand? Really? Like really, really? Or are you goofing on us? You are really willing to admit that you are afraid of a person with a cup of coffee to the world? I once dropped a barbell on my foot at the gym. I can still drag myself there…no panic attacks or cold sweats. A cow once gave me a dirty look at a farm. I have mustered up the courage to be able to eat steak.

I once saw a guy at a bar get a drink thrown in his face by a girl. (deservedly so, I might add). After he dried off and not less than 2 minutes later, I saw him talking to another girl with a drink in her hand. Wow! Look at that guy, he was a survivor.

He found a way to keep going, through all the pain. Not sure which was harder for him to clean off though, the drink…..or the egg.

(lygenztia *158) A bad day, a bad week, a bad month, a bad.......

I am the leaf in a river.
I have no allies, only acquaintances.

My battles are fought alone.
I seek no help from others.

I cannot be stopped.
I can only be delayed.

My course is never set, but my direction is steady.
My destination is the Island.

The current can direct me,
But it will never rule me.

I cannot be destroyed.
The island seeks me, it calls me.

I look ever to the east, searching.
The east is the place of reason.

There is no reason in the river.
Only fury.

Fury rules the day, but the river runs through it.
The island approaches.

Reason will return,
But only at the end of the river.

(lygenztia *157) Shaddup

Ever had someone ask you a question, then constantly interrupt you when you are trying to answer? I mean, how annoying is that?

The annoying, insecure twerp asks you the question, then, when you try to answer you get this:
“I know”
“Oh ya, ya..I knew that”

So then it gets better, they start to contradict you when you are trying to answer
“Ya, ya well that’s true but…”
“Well yes, but isn’t it supposed to be this way?”

If you knew the answer, then why the hell did you ask the question. Are you trying to imitate the Amazing Kreskin? If you are going to ask a question of someone, at least allow them the opportunity to fully answer.

I think that some people only ask questions to try to make themselves look as smart as I am.

(lygenztia *156) Cyclists, welcome to the world of insurance. Step on in.

All bicyclists over 16 should have to have their bikes registered and insured. They should have to pay taxes to use the roads, just like motorists. Cyclists want it all. They want ALL of the road. They always seem to want to serve us with that “pedestrians have the right of way” hogwash. They have no accountability, or responsibility on the roads that my license fees, vehicle taxes, parking rates and insurance rates (indirectly) pay for.

Cyclists get a free ride, but the problem is, they are taking complete advantage of the situation. Their “green” status gives them a twisted sense of superiority and they feel it allows them to do as they please on commuter roads.

I’ve got news for you….. you spandex covered, bubble helmet wearing, condescending pain(s) in the ass. The roads are COMMUTER routes. They are to be shared. That’s the purpose of the road….to commute. Not to jam up routes with your little bicycle. Not to make an environmental statement every time you get on your two wheeler by riding in the middle of the road. Trust me, you don’t look cool with your straw basket carrier, orange fluorescent whip flag and little “ding-ding” bell on the banana handlebars of your fold up apartment size bicycle.

Anyone that drives in the city knows what I am talking about. Yesterday, a cyclist cut right out in front of me (while wearing his MP3 player) and I nearly hit him. I beeped and he turned around and gave me the finger. Nice. Thanks for that. I swerve to avoid injury to you, beep to warn you…..and my thanks is the finger. Well, I am so sorry that I am driving a car. Pardon my damn carbon footprint all to hell.

Last week, my son and I were driving on a major artery. He says to me..”what’s that up ahead?” It was a huge line of cars and you guessed it. In front of the cars was a group of about 8 spandex wearing cyclists, that were right in the middle of the road and would not get over. (even though they could have) All were giggling and smugly smiling. Their goal, obviously, was to strike a victory for the environment and have the rest of us un-educated motorists become “informed”.

I’ve got news for you. Didn’t work. All you did was piss a lot of people off. Unnecessarily.

Now, I’m not knocking the 1% percent of cyclists that actually obey and respect the rules of the road. But, you too, should suffer for your colleagues abuse of road laws and lack of responsibility when riding. The other 99% are a big problem.

License and insure all cyclists over 16. A few tickets and some increased insurance rates will clean this mess up. Right quick.

Who’ll start the petition?

(lygenztia *155) "Yelling" is the square root of caring.

I had an interesting evening tonite talking to my son, his 2 buddies and my daughter. Got home from work and my son and his buddies were in the back yard taking shots at the net with their lacrosse sticks. They came in to say hi, which really made me feel good. My daughter wandered in and jumped right into the conversation.

They are all teenagers and I like that they are comfortable talking to me. The talk, as it always does, soon turns to school. They complain about it, but the look on their faces gives them away. They like school, of course they do. They’re good kids. And the more they talk about school, their voices raise, they get excited, they smile. That’s not the look of a person that hates something. Quite the opposite.

One young man with a contagious smile starts to go on about how much one of his teachers "hates” him. His teacher “hates" him, because they "yell" at him. (according to this young man’s account of things). I laugh and smile and tell him how lucky he is. Of course, he looks at me with a confused look on his face.

The mis-informed young man just doesn’t get it.

When a teacher “yells” at you, it’s because they still care. It’s because they want to get through to you. It’s because young man, you are worth the effort. It's because they are frustrated that YOU are not using your potential.

It’s when they stop “yelling” you need to get worried, very worried. Because chances are if they’ve given up, most of the others in your life have too. And nobody wants to see that.

Listen hard to the "yelling". It's not anger....quite the opposite.