Five Years

          Today was a momentous occasion in the calendar of events that record the contraventions and decisive moments of my so called life. Today was just a tad more special than the rest. And believe me, I’ve had my fair share of exceptional events. Just wait until I finish writing my book. You’ll need a helmet and a neck brace just to read it. What a great idea! Alert the marketing department.

          I had one of my update appointments at the Cancer center here today. A most important update appointment at that. This was my fifth year post treatment appointment. My “Five Year All Clear” appointment, if you will. And yes, it certainly does not feel as if it has been that long. Holy crap, where has the time gone. It goes by so fast.

          I went through the regular drill of being poked and prodded as well as the good old video scope being inserted slowly into one nostril ( I always get asked if I prefer left or right, a nice courtesy) and endure the slow decent of the camera. After so many times of having a tube stuffed down your nose that is a camera, one learns, and is constantly told, how to breathe correctly to help avoid the gag reflex that occurs the entire time. Breathe heavily through your mouth. The speed of decent most definitely impacts the gag reflex as well. You repeatedly attempt to ask the inserter to speed up the process. Slow is not a pleasant experience. I know this first hand. It involves gagging, coughing, grabbing the scope, ripping it from your nose, tears, and reaching for Kleenex. And yes, that is experience talking. Certainly not an Instagram moment for me.

          Unless you are a queasy person in any capacity whatsoever, you can request to have the doctor rotate the video screen towards you so you can witness the intrusion of your nasal cavity first hand. I must say that this is an interesting view for sure. If you have the unfortunate medical advantage to view anything via medical camera that has been inserted into you, anywhere, through any body cavity, or incision, do it. For no other reason than to see what they see. Never be afraid to ask questions either. I like looking because it’s cool as shit. This is video of what is inside of you. But I digress.

          My appointment was all about kicking me out. And I have never looked forward to being kicked out of anything. But this was the best reason ever, because if I passed, that means I need never come back. A club expulsion I welcome.

          I met with my Radiation Doctor and Head and Neck Surgeon with a tremendously positive result. The best anyone could have possibly hoped for. I was elated to say the least. I am now looking as to when I will open the 25 year old bottle of single malt scotch that I have been saving for the last 4 and a half years. I have a couple of people that need to be involved in this opening. They went thorough as much if not more than I did. There will be photos.

My deepest thanks to the doctors and staff of the Chemo and Radiation departments at the Kingston General Hospital Cancer Center, who I have thanked personally, and hugged each of them. I will be forever in your debt, for the rest of my life, literally.

I AM BECAUSE OF YOU. THANK YOU

Beans And Cat Shit

          Like most people, I too, enjoy a good cup of coffee from time to time. I mean a good quality cup of coffee that you can take your time and savour. The truly satisfying taste that you just don’t get from that mass produced mud powder that they force feed us, and usually comes in a big can. Oh my god this sounds like a television commercial.

          Also like most people I have been in the habit of making a pot of mud in the mornings before I go to work. I don’t always get to sit and enjoy a complete mug of the stuff, but I do slurp back the majority of a serving whilst going through my morning routine. The number one item, if I feel like it, happens the night before. Without this seemingly insignificant chore, my entire morning can be thrown completely off kilter. This would be the setting up of said coffee machine itself. You know the drill, right? Add the water, new filter, and coffee, in the correct proportions to the machine so it will be ready to go first thing. All I need to do is hit the switch, push the button, or however you say it, and we’re good to go. No I’m a cheap ass. I do not have one with a timer, or alarm, or auto shut off, or a clock, or circus cannon, or safety net. Two settings. “On” and “Off”. Old school baby.

          I don’t need a timer on my coffee machine. It’s a coffee machine dammit. I think I can reach over and turn it on in less than a half second without causing a major inconvenience to myself while exiting my abode to take The Wonderdog out for his first morning run for about a half an hour. He gets two outings before I leave for work. Besides, all of the varieties of machines end up with the same result. They dump boiling hot water over ground up bean powder to create flavoured dark brown water. Yes I know, yours is different right? I have had a number of different styles, shapes, colours, functions, settings, automations, pods, timers, and pot size to come to this conclusion. It’s a fricken coffee machine. Mine was $20 and works fine. I don’t need to spend around $100 for one just because it has lights and a siren. I could buy five like mine for that price.

          From time to time I do get a hankering for an enjoyable cup of Joe. The quality stuff you can’t find in the grocery isle, no sir. I like to go to one of those specialty shops in town that roast their own beans and create some utterly magnificent aromatic sensation of medium to dark roasts with a wondrous variety of flavours and blends. The kind of place that can commandeer your entire aroma detector with the generous redolence of ground coffee and fresh baked goods, so substantial that you may even salivate just a little. You may even be doing it right now.

I am fortunate to have a few of them not far away, and within a reasonable proximity of walking distance to each other. You usually pay a premium price for the good stuff but, most of the time it’s worth it. The fun part is trying the things you have never had before. Most of these places have some select flavours for you to sample. They’re usually different flavours from day to day.

          I am, by no means, a coffee expert or connoisseur. Not even close. I’ve never researched regions, or climates, atmospheric pressures, soil densities, or the type of cat that shit out the beans. I know what tastes good to me and that’s all I’m concerned with. Except for the cat. I’m still on the fence on whether I’d drink cat shit coffee or not. I do know that I will never pay the astronomical price that they’re asking. Last I checked it was over $400 a pound. Now if someone were to outright offer me a cup of Kopi Luwak to try, I would probably oblige just to see what all of the fuss was about. Who wouldn’t?

          Getting back to it here, I always try to use a coffee press when making the quality grinds at home. These are often mistakenly called a Bodem. However Bodem is a brand or company name that has become the defining word to describe a French coffee press. Much like Crock-Pot, Jacuzzi, Chap Stick, Zamboni, Kleenex, Band Aid, and the like. You get the idea. The point is that you don’t want to just run water through a mud machine for the good stuff. And believe me, it truly is worth it. Read the instructions for the type of coffee press you will purchase. They do vary slightly and it’s important to make sure you’re doing it right for obvious reasons.

Sometimes the trick is to have your own coffee grinder so you can experiment with making your own blends. You just need a few different flavour roasts kicking around. Find that unique flavour that is all your own. You’ll be happy you did.   

Check Yourself

I talked about this a little bit last night on my radio show, but thought that I would share it with you all here as well. I can go into a bit more detail here anyway. Please be kind lol.

          As I had explained before, my day job takes me to other cities and towns not too far from where I live. Within a reasonable proximity at least. This has its advantages and detriments as well. The bad part is that I could be three hours from home when my truck breaks down and leaves me waiting for a service vehicle for an undetermined amount of time. Not fun. The good about it is the fact that I am in another town and can take advantage of that fact. Before you jump all over me on this, listen up first. The best example of this is the fact that I can take my lunch break whenever I want to, and do so. The company automatically deducts me for a lunch break anyway, and I can plan ahead to take advantage of the time to pick up a few items that are needed at home. Win-win I think. Time management for sure, and I’m not asking you to agree lol.

          I found myself at a Wal-Mart in one of these towns and was rather surprised to see the obvious change that, to me, was rather upsetting. I would not (or ever) go as far as to say that I was offended, but there are probably people that would be. Again, go figure. These are the same people that would go no further than display their faux traumatized self on social media, and do nothing more about it as if the world was actually listening to them personally. We all know at least one of these. Hey…nobody cares!

I actually know a couple and, other than their friendship, which is genuine because they are really good people, I enjoy their passion with regard to how they thrust themselves into trivial issues in a seemingly profound gesture. Full force, and sometimes without full disclosure or knowledge of said issue. Whether I agree with them or not, I do admire their emotionally driven, passionate stand on a given matter. I wish that the people who are actually in a position to do something about any of these concerns had at least half as much drive toward any cause. They could at least grow a set of balls and not waffle so much. Yes, even the women. But I digress.

Back to the real story here. As I said I was at a Wal-Mart and was picking up only a couple of items. One of which was a specific dog treat, that is a favorite of Mike The Wonderdog, and rather less expensive here than anywhere else where I have found it. As I approached the cash register area, I was taken aback by the lack, or disappearance of the express cash lane. Gone, nada, absent, displaced, withdrawn, flown, just not there anymore. Really? WTF!!!

The replacement for the express check-out cash register multi-feeder mouse mazes seems to be the self-check-out lane. A double hyphen? Again, really? Now mine, and everyone else in the world’s only options are either wait in line behind that person, wearing rather interesting pyjama pants, with an entire cart full of their monthly allocation of, well, everything, because they got their cheque today, or to do it yourself. Yes. Yes I am stereotyping here. Can you blame me? Never mind, it’s Wal-Mart.

I have heard a number of arguments, rants, diatribes, bombasts, tirades, orations, discussions, on this matter, but i still have my own opinion. Go figure right? All valid arguments to say the least, but…

Let’s leave the whole eliminating jobs thing, and the argument that will ensure another discussion at a later date, for a later date. My take on it all is the fact that I’m the one doing the work in replacement for a paid, and employed person at no savings to me or any other customer.

If, by me checking out myself is a savings to the company, why is there no saving passed onto the customer, me, for doing the work? I’m not being paid for it, yet I’m performing the tasks as if I were the cashier. This sounds like the work of the same person who decided to start charging customers for plastic bags. Don’t get me wrong here, checking yourself out at the cash register is not a complicated nor tedious transaction. It’s the fact that these are now my only options is what grates on me. The corporation is eliminating the choices of the general public to favour profits, which seems to be the way of the new world everywhere unfortunately.

I could go on adnosium about this but I won’t inflict that upon you this time. I will however leave this one final observational though. Like you didn’t see this coming.

If I am required to be the cashier and run my items through the scanner, bag, swipe, load, pay, and move along in timely manner, without the courtesy of a human being asking me how I’m doing today, it should at least qualify for a minor discount of sorts. Nothing extreme at all would be required. A couple percent off of my purchase would be the big win.

At the very least…and I do mean the very least…don’t charge me for the fucking bags. “Mic drop”

Need / Want

Everybody seems to have that one friend who is more than eager to offer less than sage advice on how you should manage your dating status now that you are no longer “involved” in a relationship. This “friend” is the one who tends to be single the majority of the time regardless of the justifiable reason or whose fault it was at the time. You know exactly who I mean and are picturing them right now aren’t you?

Allow me to preface this by stating that, yes I am single now, have been for over a year, am enjoying my situation, and was not looking for, well, anyone. My dog and I get along tremendously. Yet that did not deter this self-proclaimed expert from offering unsolicited input as to how I was doing it wrong. Go figure. Imagine my surprise. The funny thing about this, is the fact that I indulged these musings as a curiosity, at first. Then after a few adult beverages, it all started to sound reasonable. Again, go figure. Indulge me would you?

He started professing the attributes of this App that he had installed on his phone called Tinder. Yes I had heard of it because I’m not living under a rock. I’ve just never used it let alone given it any thought. Let’s just say I was given the “Coles Notes” version of how it works by him and ran with that.

He convinced me to create a profile and, much to my chagrin, I did. I was then exposed to an array of available women within my specified parameters, and geographic area, that I never knew existed. Quelle surprise oui? What a wonderful thing to have at your fingertips. This entire world that I was oblivious to, until you actually start reading some of the bios, and start picking out the fabricated ones. FAKE NEWS. And there are plenty. This is where it became fun.

If you are actually that photogenic sweetheart, then you are a model and men flock to you and drool doing so. You do not need this website. Someone is using your pictures for dick bait plain and simple. There seems to be a lot of models on this site looking for real men. I’M RIGHT HERE!!!! Said every man ever.

Before I continue I have a couple of questions that I will address shortly. I’m talking to the women on this site, which is known as a “hook-up” site, as to their criteria for what they are looking for. Seeing as we are all adults here I would like to point out that there are a lot of women on Tinder that are actually looking for a relationship and not just a slap and tickle, or so I’m told lol. I focused on this aspect and not the slap and tickle part. I must say that there is an abundance of legitimate people looking for legitimate people, which I found refreshing.

Getting back to the demands of what some of these women were looking for was surprising to say the least. Remember that part before about the fake profiles? Well, the gold-diggers are even more obvious and just as laughable. Now that I think of it, more laughable because they are overly obvious with their “requirements”. Like the stay at home mom who aspires to:

“Travel to exotic locations regularly, and am looking for an independent, established male, no less than 5 foot 10 inches tall, no older than 52, with no facial hair, who is fit and works out regularly, with no children, never married, is financially stable, with no baggage or drama, to accept my 5 year old son as his own and create a loving future together. Not looking for hook-ups or one night stands”. Seriously?

If you recognize this profile, please do not send me a message. I’ve obviously seen it. And had a hearty belly laugh with my friends.

Are you actually for real? Do you think that a man intelligent and successful enough to fall within the parameters of this want list is dumb enough to fall for your filtered photos, and is quite literally saying to himself, “Holy crap, I meet her criteria. She’s looking for me. This must be my lucky day”? No. He’s going to run like hell away from you as fast as humanly possible. Give your head a shake. What planet is this again?

 Why people put pictures of their kids on their profiles on this site is beyond me. Have you not heard of pedophile stockers dumbass?

Here’s a nickels worth of free advice sweetheart. If you were such a catch yourself, why are you not listing your attributes and not your demands? At the very least be honest, if to nobody but yourself. Why are you here on this site?

I must say, and in no derogatory way to anyone whatsoever, that I like the situation that I’m in. I could probably use an encouraging nudge every once in a while, but I don’t feel that I “need” someone to complete my life or me, and I’m good with that. If I happen to meet that particular person that I “want” to share things with, then all the better. I openly welcome that opportunity.

I feel that needing someone in my life and wanting someone in my life are two very different things.

To me, needing someone suggests that my life is lacking and am looking for them to fill a void. I can do pretty much everything for myself and then some. I’ve been fully domesticated for a long time now. I don’t “need” anyone in my life in order for me and my dog to get by. Not derogatory, just the truth.

Having that special person next to you during an event that you can give an elbow-nudge to, point at someone, and share a chuckle when you say “can you believe that asshole” at a gathering of friends is a wanting.

The epitome of want, to me, is the desire to share something with someone who wants to share it with you.

A Year In A Life

          I can honestly say, without embellishment, exaggeration, or lie of any kind, that I never thought that I would live this long. Mostly based on medical history, but not eliminating other determining factors, that I will elaborate later, I really should be dead already. And upon reflection, I’m am both surprised, and yet relieved at the same time.

          In my younger years I used to tell people, when they asked why I risked myself doing something, or why I wanted to do something, the answer was usually the same. “What difference does it make? I’ll be dead by the time I’m fifty-five anyway. I may as well have fun”. And not only meant it, but lived it as well.

          The adventures that took place in my youth were of epic proportions. So much so that a few close friends remarked on numerous occasions that I should write a book. Years ago I actually started one, but being my own worst critic, I thought it sounded like a modern Jack Kerouac rip off and never followed up with it after the first few chapters. And those pages have been long lost. Who knows, maybe I’ll start over someday soon. One book at a time. Yes, I have something else in the works and there are certain people, some that are no longer in my life will be rather unhappy. Ahhh, to be a fly on the wall that day.

          I’m not going to go into any great ramblings about all of this right now. Sorry if this leaves you hanging, but there are too many pages of detail that need to be explained to be able to portray the epicness (yes it’s a word, trust me) of what really happened. Maybe I should write a book! Whataya think?

          The list of injuries alone should be some form of insight to the amount of fun that was had. I know that I’ll be forgetting some of them, and like everything else, and as everyone has done multiple times, remember after the fact.

          Remember that this is not in any particular alphabetical, geographical, chronological, nor anatomic order. It’s just me jogging my Swiss cheese memory on New Year’s Eve while drinking a bottle 2016 vintage Tragically Hip, Fully Completely Grand Reserve Red wine. So bear with me. And…no I was not in an accident that caused multiple injuries. These are all independent of each other so check your “holy shit” meter right about now. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

          Cracked ribs (2) right side, broken nose (3 different times), torn right bicep muscle, cracked skull (above left eyebrow) broken rib left side, dislocated left shoulder, blow-out fracture of left orbital bone, broken collar bone, torn left bicep muscle (different time than the right side), 49 total stitches in my face alone (33 at one time), 4 stitches in right eyeball, 3 broken fingers ( at different times), fractured left tibia, stabbed in right shoulder, shot at a few times (never shot), 4 surgeries (at different times for different things), pneumonia twice (separate occasions), and let’s not forget that whole Cancer business just over four and a half years ago just to include everything. Like I said earlier, I know I’m leaving some things out.

I would never trade any of those past experiences for anything in the world. Nor would I ever in my wildest dreams attempt to revisit that life or events. This nostalgic reunion would most definitely have a pine box outcome. I cherish many memories from that long past time in my life, and often smile when reminiscing.

I’m sharing this only because I’m looking back on a bunch of things including this past year. I realize that I have accomplished absolutely nothing in 2018 save my radio show. Other than that, I have quite honestly, floated through the year, and it’s my own damned fault. Sure I had plenty of ideas and opportunity to follow them through, but didn’t. The sad part is that I knew it all along. I knew I was putting things off and yet still accomplished nothing.

So in thinking that I have completely wasted a year of my life I have concluded this. No I’m not going to spew a bunch of resolution bullshit so calm down. I say only this. This coming year will be a lot different. How different is up to me. I have no idea what to expect which leaves it wide open to anything.

For a guy that should be dead already, this is overtime.

Not Impressed

I’ve been having some concerns with the property management company that I rent an apartment from so I decided to send them an email in an attempt to get a response for reasonable resolution to these issues. I submitted this today, so a follow up to this is pending. Ooooh, the suspense is getting thick. I will have to post updates to it as well. No, it won’t take a month. Why do you have to be like that anyway? Yeah, yeah, ok I got it. 

I have to point out that my written correspondence is a shit ton more calm than I was at the time prior to my penning this very well scribed professionalism that I have attached for your enjoyment. Seriously, I was digging out my baseball bat only because I forgot where I put my bullets. A calmer head prevailed.

As an added update, I will be submitting my concerns and a copy of the email to the Rental Tenant Board’s Social Justice Tribunal, for which, I have been informed, that they charge a fee of $60.00. Seriously? Thanks for representing the concerned citizens…for a fee. What do they charge the property companies, if anything, for a retort?

For what it’s worth, here it is. Let me know if you feel that I left something out. enjoy.

“It is with great concern that I submit this letter to your office, and yet feel I am left with no alternative but to do so. There was, originally, to be only one issue that was in need of your attention but since its occurrence, and, up to the time of this writing, another has surfaced which also cannot go without being addressed.

          The first issue is with regard to your maintenance employee J. I do not know his last name and am not concerned about that. One of the problems is that he has let himself into my apartment on two separate occasions that I am aware of, without notification and also without my consent. One of those times was on November 20^th in which I had asked him specifically to wait for a few minutes while I finished with loading my laundry into the machine. I would then show him a needed repair that we had previously discussed. He agreed that he would wait. As I exited the laundry room, Jim was exiting my apartment. I pointed out the fact that he agreed to wait and was met with a complete lack of concern. He said that he would look into getting the repair done.

          Upon returning home the next day, I found that he had once again been in my apartment without notification or consent. There had been paint peeled from the ceiling in the designated area with the mess left on my hallway floor. There were supplies left in the doorway that I almost tripped over.

          The most disturbing part about this is the fact that there was evidence left in my apartment that he had been tormenting my dog. This was further verified by the fact that he had been boasting to other tenants to this, and discussing the contents of my apartment. This was brought to my attention in unsolicited conversation. I respectfully request that he not be assigned to ANY repairs pertaining to my unit in the future. He will be denied access.

          I would hope that these are not endearing personal qualities that are promoted within your company and look forward to discussing this further with someone in a position to take action with regards to this.

          As for my second major issue, it is with regard to accessing my unit. I will endeavor to be brief as the previous was longer than expected.

          Within the last ten days I have received four entry notices from your office for the dates of November 21^st, 23^rd, 27^th, and the latest spanning the week of December 3^rd to the 7^th. A rather come and go as you please kind of situation it seems.

          I had made accommodation for the first three of these notices pertaining to the aforementioned dates, only to be met with no-shows for the lot. Now I am presented with an open access to my unit that includes every day of an entire week? I think not. This a complete lack of concern for the tenants and an egregious privacy violation that will not be permitted. I will, however, allow access to my unit for this notice, only if I am present. To clarify, this means only after I get home from work and I MUST BE PRESENT. I apologize for being rather blunt, but, after your staff member wilfully tormented my dog, and the numerous no-shows from multiple notices, you can accommodate my schedule for this one.

Poor planning on someone else’s part does not constitute an urgency on mine.

I must also remark that our Superintendent F has been the consummate professional and is doing a remarkable job considering he’s been thrown under the bus repeatedly by your company. Good people like him are hard to find.

I thank you in advance for your understanding.”

Other than restraining from the odd expletive, I feel that I did alright on this one. I’m anxious to hear a reply, if there will be any.

Oh yeah, I didn't let them that I was sending a copy to the Rental Board…yet

The List

                   I’ve been looking at things a little bit differently lately. Maybe not completely different, but revisiting a previous thought process of late. You see, there was a time, not so long ago where I was able to re-evaluate my personal circumstance in an effort to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. Yup, I’m there…again. Go figure. It’s like Déjà vu all over again.

Having the ability to do anything you want to, with no real ties to anything or anyone, can be rather liberating. That being said, not knowing what you want to do is like being Royalty in exile. Having all of the drive, ability, and want is excruciating without a direction to go in. I do have options, don’t get me wrong here.

          The last time this happened I found myself becoming a factory trained Harley Davidson Technician. PHD Service certified (Preferred Harley Davidson Service). And, not to toot my own horn too much, I was really good at it. I also enjoyed it immensely. Going back to that would be a major uproot and relocate to a different city. I’m not opposed to that, however, it’s not my first choice. It has been almost seven years since I’ve done that for a living, but I really don’t know if I want to go backwards. Moving forward to new things just feels right. But to what?

          I have eliminated the majority of the toxic people from my life with only a few more to deal with. I’ve also lost some others that meant a lot to me, and yet here I am. Still going strong, so to speak.

          Like a lot of people, I’ve had my fair share of hurdles to overcome these last few years or so. With the whole relationship dissolving, moving to a new residence, just me and the Wonderdog, new job…again, and the whole Cancer thing about four and a half years ago. I didn’t have an epiphany, like some folks seem to, about how things will be different from now on and then throw myself into a bunch of activities. More to the truth, I had a realization of what I didn’t want to put up with anymore. Believe me, that list is extensive. But it’s getting shorter. But also, not easy. A work in progress none the less.

          Lately I seem to be growing stagnant mentally. Like a hamster on a wheel. A ton of effort and activity going on but actually getting nowhere. It really is time for me to stop spinning in place and get on with this.

          I am by no means depressed about this current situation, let me make this very clear. I have just not decided on a direction. I do know that the first things I need to do is sort out a bunch of things that I’ve put off since the move last November. Time to liquidate and downsize. I need to rid myself of some of the things I was keeping in storage because of previous plans. Those plans have changed dramatically and these things are no longer needed. Let the games begin.

          I owe it to my dog to do and be better and a new list has already been started. The Bucket List has five items so far. Stay tuned.

          Wish me luck.