FIREFIGHTERS ARE KIND OF ARSONISTS

MOVIE REVIEW

HOT TUB TIME MACHINE (2010)

Hot Tub Time Machine spins the tale of four men going on a vacation to the slopes after their friend Rob Corddry almost dies in a suicide attempt. He’s one of the four men by the way - this adventure is about four men, not four men and Rob Corddry. Unfortunately, the ski resort that they loved in 1986 is total shit in 2010 and they complain for a bit before realizing that the hot tub in the backyard looks decent enough to party in. They drink a lot and then wake up in 1986 because the hot tub is a time machine when you pour an energy drink in its circuits – sounds a lot like my ex-wife!

After some solid brainstorming and a lot of utterances of the word “fuck”, the guys decide they’d better do exactly what they did in 1986 so as not to disrupt history. The audience sees them as their old guy selves, but everyone in the movie sees them as the wily teens they were in ’86, probably because sex scenes would be impossible otherwise. Speaking of which, Jessica Pare’s milkers make a fabulous cinematic comeback, when she gets nude with Craig Robinson in a bathtub. So far this is more of a synopsis. It's probably because I'm not very opinionated. Let's move on to the final act:

The guys have trouble sticking to the plan and everything gets shitty for awhile until the end when John Cusack’s nephew (Clark Duke) finds the lost energy drink that a ghost played by Chevy Chase tells him is the key to time travel in a the hot tub time machine. Rob Corddry decides to stay in the past and become a millionaire and when the gang gets back to present day they’re all millionaires because Rob Corddry is a great friend. This movie is about great friends and it stars, and was produced by, John Cusack. This movie was pretty good laughs, but I don't think you're going to go home wishing you were the main characters, like after you saw Field of Dreams.

After proofreading this movie review, I’ve decided a better film would’ve been “Ex-Wife Time Machine”. In my version, Rob Corddry has sex with John Cusack’s ex-wife after he feeds her the energy drink, and he travels to the future. She tells Cusack and his friend Craig Robinson about it and they decide they have to have sex with her, travel to the future and save Rob Corddry. When they get to the future they meet Clark Duke who is the son of the ex-wife and they all have to figure out whose son it really is. Craig Robinson says it isn’t his because he’s black, so he spends most of the movie trying to figure out who to have sex with to get back to 2010, because in the future the ex-wife died in a forest fire. There will be a lot of comic relief because he ends up having sex with a crazy cast of characters like a pot smoking grandma, a butchy woman cop, a woman with 4 boobs and 2 nipples and someone like Martha Stewart who isn’t actually Martha Stewart. Before every sex scene he says “day-amn, who knew time travel would be this hard” and then after he always says “day-amn”. In the end it turns out that they weren’t even in the future to begin with, they were just in a cool part of town and it was all a trick so the ex-wife could see if John Cusack has matured since they divorced because she ran out of money and was thinking of getting back together with him.

SUPER POWER OF THE DAY

One of the most underrated super powers would be one where you could convince yourself anything is fun. So during the week when you’re at the job you hate, you just use your powers and the most mundane tasks become surf safaris and your nad of a boss becomes a regular James J. Bullock. Then when the weekend comes around you either turn off your powers for regular fun or keep them on for power fun. In the movie version of this super power, the conflict arises when the guy’s parents die and he has to decide whether or not to turn on the fun.

I NEED SOMETHING THAT WILL GET RID OF FINGERNAILS

I wanted to end the week with an informative chart topper of a post, but I had some trouble committing, so I think maybe I'll just sprinkle the screen with a little bit of everything, which in my kitchen is called "makin' pizza".

First, I wanted to go through a fake list of people you may run into this regular weekend. Characters like "talkative fast food restaurant employee", "homeless ghoul", "Chinese lady can collector", "friend who wants to do something that no one wants to do", "person from work you don't want to run into to", "some guy you think is from the Red Green Show", "hot babe who takes you on an adventure but doesn't have sex with you" and "construction worker". The only problem is that they pretty much speak for themselves. A true arteeest gives the audience's brain a diving board from which to dive into their own pool of whatever and swim around doing handstands and water somersaults. Such a shitty band name would be "The Summer Salts". I'm going to check if a band has called themselves that, hold on............ hahahahah yep, http://www.thesummersalts.com/ and of course they have a song called "Broomstick Rock Star". Hey Summer Salts, Everclear called, they want their concept and image back so they can go on a casino tour!



Second, I wanted to do some news jokes in the silly milieu, like I tried back in September '09, a time when Barack Obama was still just a wide-eyed boy growing up on the mean streets of Chicago. But since I don't have time because the weekend has almost begun and I'm dying to take off my work girdle on put on my party straps, I'll instead just give you the tab to the opening of Aerosmith's "Blind Man":

E-F#-A          E-F#-D         E-F#-A        E-F#-D       E-F#-
e---------------------------------------------------------------
B---------------------------------------------------------------
G-----2---------------7--------------2-------------7------------
D-----2---------------7--------------2-------------7------------
A-----0---------------5--------------0-------------5------------
E-0-2-------------0-2------------0-2-----------0-2---------0-2--

Bonus Features

When I was looking for a picture to coincide with that Everclear/Summer Salts burn, I found this picture that I think the general public will enjoy:

I HAVEN'T SEEN ANY MOSS IN A LONG, LONG TIME

Here's tonight's opening act:

♫ We are the four Chaz' and welcome to the show ♫

♫ Plug in our tuxedos, see our bow ties glow ♫

♫ We sing you a song, then cook you a roast ♫

♫ Then summon the fifth Chaz, he is but a ghost ♫

♫ He died in a robbery in fall '85 ♫

♫ By stealing the honey from a big old bee hive ♫
♫ He wasn't allergic, he fell off a tree ♫
♫ He climbed the damn thing to escape the damn bees ♫
♫ His wife is a widow and loves to sing jazz ♫
♫ She had surgery and is now the fourth Chaz ♫

I'd like to start tonight's entertainment with an old knock knock joke that I found in my email "Drafts" folder. Should it have stayed a draft?

knock knock
who's there?
The cops
The cops who?
Just the cops
Oh sorry, we just moved here from New A, not used to this kind of thing
is your father home?
no but I'm his eldest son
nice beard
thanks, we get them early in this family

I'm not sure what "New A" means, but I think it's a fine made up name for a place. Heck, a great noun in general!

Now for today's team challenge. Here's another piece I found in the Drafts folder, except this one's unfinished:

What did grampa say to the cat? "I might have missed your t-b

I don't remember this one at all, but I think I was probably going to finish it like this:

What did grampa say to the cat? "I might have missed your t-ball game, but I ate your food, used your toilet box and slept in the linen closet."

Or maybe "t-b" meant tuberculosis? The brain's memory is a wild place man. Today's team challenge is to finish that sentence the best way you can. The winner gets a producer's credit on the next cut from my British psychedelic throwback band, Orange Porridge.

What do you guys like more? Going into a weekend with a full slate of activities planned, or going into a weekend with nothing at all? I think I prefer the former. Too bad it's not even close to Friday! Speaking of leisure, I went bowling last week at that place near Kipling station and every Wednesday they have 99 cent games, 99 cent hot dogs and 99 cent fries. If you can find a better deal I'd like to hear it and take advantage of it. Good talk guys.

ZORRO IS ZORRO FOR HALLOWEEN

The Saturday Report

with Police Chief Bird

Hi citizens, Chief Dirk Bird here on a beautiful Saturday. Put out an APB for relaxation and home baked treats, courtesy of our wives, am I right? I'm responsible for putting notorious perv "Date Rapeler" behind the bars of the jail. It got personal when he spied on my wife changing from her day look into her evening wear, which reasonably consists of silk pa-jam-jams, Isotoner slippers and a terry cloth robe emblazoned with a crest featuring children's character Winnie Poo. Let's not worry about Date or his fondness for middle-aged nudes. Here's your Saturday report:

Avoid the park this weekend. Murray Kink's varsity soccer team ran into a flock of skunks on Thursday and several boys were sprayed, including class hunk, Hawk Twilight. When word got out, every teen girl in the county made their way to the park to get sprayed too. Then word got out to every teen guy that all the girls were getting "sour" as they put it, and they went too. Now I got a goddamn orgy on my hands and it all has to be cleaned up in time for next weekend's Apple Dance.

Don't eat at the Steak Boat this weekend. Following a raid on Tuesday, my department discovered that the popular restaurant isn't even a boat, but just a regular structure. It also turns out that the chef, Capt. Oliver, is really named Jamal. He will be tried for treason in July.

There's a reality show being filmed inside of Greg's Hardware called "Tools" about the every day drama found inside the store, so avoid the area if you can. I make a guest appearance in the show, when I discover that Greg has been selling screws to Old Dan for 4 cents over regular price. After a brief talking to a small fine, the boys made up and we ordered an 8 piece bucket for dinner while Greg showed us the newest magnets.

HEY QUAKERSTATE, VISCOSITY BREAKDOWN DOESN'T SCARE ME IN THE LEAST

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

DON'T CLAP FOR THE WOLFMAN OR HE'LL SEE US

A poem for St. Patrick

Oh you green man, your day is here

When lasses and lads drink purple beer

Haha, you're smart, you caught my lie
Now let's all eat some apple pie

What's that? No pie? Not today?
I don't think I get this holiday

This is the one where people chew
And give small gifts to their nephew

They swat at bees and swim all day
While sisters bake their cassoulets

We all wear ties, even the misses
And each give our legs 100 kisses

Don't give me that look you stupid shit
This is St. Patrick's Day, isn't it?

I guess my parents lied to me
Cause we celebrate with pies and bees

Green beer, dumb hats and leprechauns?
I think I'll pass and head to Don's

My dad and me will kiss some legs
And eat St. Patrick's Easter Eggs

And I can't wait until Christmas Day
When we eat a bear and pretend we're gay

SHE MAY LOOK LIKE A PUMPKIN BUT HER TA TAS ARE OUT OF THIS WORLD

Over the years I've been accused by my friends and family of being a piece of shit guy at watching TV thanks to my spastic channel changing. I admit, I have a wild style, but people thought the same thing about Guy Fieri and now he's America's hottest bleached chubster.

Because of the advent of the PVR, I'm probably worse than I ever was. I'm so accustomed to fast forwarding that when I watch regular TV, the commercials burn my balls way more than before and so my trigger finger itches like the ants in my pants digging into my burning balls. I'm not going to tone down my ways though. Did Mozart stop playing piano because his mom wanted him to be a mustard man? As far as I know, he didn't. Instead, I can only share some of my techniques so you can better understand where I'm coming from and maybe learn a thing or two about how the big boys do it.

Modern times

Here's my ideal live TV watching scenario:

First, I have to catch one of my favourites at the beginning of its episode. So let's say Real Housewives is on and I happen to catch it at the start, and I realize that's it's a Vicki-heavy joint with a dash of Slade and Gretchen. Ideal. As I'm watching this, I gotta find a backup to watch during the inevitable commercial breaks. The perfect backup is a movie that I've seen that I love. For example, last night I think I was watching Top Chef Masters or something, and Crocodile Dundee was on. I'd define Crocodile Dundee as the perfect backup -- I can tune in at any point in the film and still enjoy it, and I don't really have much of a problem leaving it to go back to my primary because I've seen it so many times. But if it's at that part where Linda Kozlowski reveals the most unreasonable outback attire of all time, I'm willing to stick around.




That's one of my dad's favourite scenes of all time. Anyway, there's still a chance that your backup will be on commercial so you need a second backup as well. My current second backup is that new channel AUX TV because their commercial breaks are short and usually they just play music videos, which are great because they're short and sweet so you don't get emotionally involved. Another good backup is just having a stew on the stove you can look after, but since this is about TV, I say poo to the stew.

If your second backup is on commercial as well, you're fucked. You're going to end up going all over the place, potentially forgetting the channel number of your primary, or just forgetting about it all together, which is the most frustrating thing in the world next to the variety store not having your favourite gummies. This is when I like to give up and take a shower. Remember that episode the Seinfeld when Kramer decides to live in the shower because, in his words "this is where I want to be"? I can relate to that. I look forward to showers like a girl looks forward to her first bra. It's affords one the same privacy as sitting on the toilet, but is more therapeutic and less gross.

STOP BORCHING MY STYLE

I'm the type of male that likes to be at 100% all the time -- all systems normal. If I get sick, or injured or dirty or sticky, I just don't feel right and I whine to anyone who will listen. This week I contracted a little cold and I keep waking up earlier than I have to, so I think I'm going to whine to you.


Waaaaaaa I'm so tired and all I want is Wendy's but there's barely any in this town waaaa

booohooooo I want to make a tuna sandwich for lunch but I don't have any greens and I need greens on my sandwich waaaa

hussssssssssssssssss I can't find my slippies and my piggies are cold hhhoooonnnn

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I haven't been able to dedicate enough time to this book I've been reading - the intervals between reads are too large. Every time I pick it up now I forget what happened before and it takes away from the experience of reading ooohhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn

Some of that whining was kind of real, but I don't really make those noises and I probably whine way more about work than I do about any of those things up there. I also complain about spending money. Some may call me "cheap" but I say I'm just good at managing wants and needs. Once you convince yourself that all you need is food, shelter and the odd Star Wars toy, the clams will start piling up. Here are some other ways to make money:

Buy binoculars - In the not to distant future, it's going to be possible to get new eyes that make it so you can zoom in on things and see 3D movies without glasses. The only trouble is that it's going to cost $$$$$$$sssss. People forget that binoculars are neat, and they cost way less than new eyes. Binoculars give you better seats at the ball game, allow you to spy on the city's most premium babes and beefcakes, and allow you to play Trainspotting at the park.

Never buy pens - I don't get why anyone other than an artist or a millionaire would buy a pen. Pens are so free they make George W. Bush have diarrhea. That being said, my dad makes his own pens and they're exquisite. Buy a pen from my dad.

Find the beauty in currency - The more emotionally attached you are to your bills and coins the less likely you are to spend them. Thankfully, our Canadian money is very colourful and pleasing to the eye. But like courting a human, you need to find an emotional connection as well as an aesthetic one. Name all your money, pretend it likes all the same movies as you, and write messages on bills, pretending it's the bill who's saying it, like "Money is everything, I'm your everything" or "Spending me is spending the rest of your life without me".

HOT JUICY CORN FLAKES

Last night I went over to my friend's house to mess around with the Internet's latest critical darling, Chat Roulette. We did some silly stuff and got some good reactions from lonely people and only saw about 4 wieners, so it was a full on success in the minds of all involved.

The reason I bring up Chat Roulette was not because I want to talk about it (it's mostly about wieners), but because I want to use it to introduce my latest blog post which will follow shortly. It's going to be called "Increasing your online presence". First a political cartoon:

Professor Louie glued a dog and kangaroo together and it died in my chair on Easter morning no less

Increasing your online presence

Social media is changing corporate communications faster than Jay Leno can change time slots! A new generation of web savvy communicators has emerged and to keep up with today's changing communications landscape, these former ICQ addicts have to stay on top of every techno trend and maintain a large and favourable web presence. But just how does one accomplish this? How do you keep 6 blogs, multiple Twitter accounts with several hundred followers each and a slammin' LinkedIn profile? As a communications professional and social media guru, I'd like to share some of my secrets, because this new landscape is all about the sharing, flow and creation of ideas. "Don't just watch the revolution. Be a part of it." - A professor.

The best thing you can do to increase the size of your online network is to get nude whenever possible and never hesitate to share your sex thoughts with the masses. No matter how professional someone is, they were once, or more like are, a horn dog, whether or not they admit it. Your openness may not be accepted at first, but visions of butts, boobs, balls, bars, and bras tend to gestate in the human mind until the host desires a quick shot of erotica, which for most males happens every 1-2 mintues. Make sure your XXX's are stocked and ready in the minds of your readers.

The second best thing you can do is to pretend you know everyone and bother as many people as possible. In real life you can't just go up to someone and ask them to be your friend, but on the Internet you can cyber tap anyone on their wiki-shoulder and become blog dawgs even if the person you're bothering doesn't care about you. So yeah, just make friends with as many people as possible and soon you'll be as popular as Zach Morris. Zach Morris of course being the Bessie award winning choreographer.

Finally, spend as much time online as you possibly can. Bringing your laptop to the toilet can add 5-35 minutes of web time a day depending on your gender and regularity. Also, if you have a baby, forget about the damn thing for a few hours! If it starts doing something stupid, just check the Internet (which you'll already be on) and the problem will be solved within seconds. Don't leave it near water though, because babies can't swim and don't have gills yet.

Thanks a lot and don't forget to enroll for my seminar coming up in June called "e-zza party". We're for sure having pizza and I'll talk more about the social media and how you eventually computers are going to come with wheels.

I LOVE YOU MORE THAN MY DAD HIMSELF

THE PLAN FOR THE WEEKEND

Any weekend requires a delicate balance of party and errands, and this weekend is no different. If all goes to plan, the following is probably what will go down, unless I win Lotto Max, in which case it'll pretty much be the same but with more iPods.

Before I leave the house I have to feed my two mimmys, Tupac and Candy Doll. They're a cross between a kangeroo, a hamster and Adidas has something to do with it also, I forget.

I have to babysit my neighbour Tanya and her doll Patty Cakes and they love nothing more than going to the Pizza Tree at Bathurst and Lawrence:

Next, it's off to visit my personal shopper "Handsome" Howard "The Truth" LePage:

Last weekend, the grunge inspired outfit he put together bagged me six chicks and got me free fries at the club.

Then it's off to L.A., to impersonate Matthew Broderick at the Oscars one final time. There's a picture from last year's ceremony with me and Seth Rogen as Sarah Jessica Parker. This year I heard they're getting David Allen Grier, who is a real pleasure to work with and one of the best cooks I've ever met.

Have a good weekend troops and don't forget to tip your butlers.

I HATE THAT GUY BECAUSE OF HIS BELT AND HIS BELT ONLY

The last few entries in this collection of stories and highlights have been very similar and I didn't even mean to! Back in 2009 I could whip up a blog full of chunks like Justin Bieber whipping his hair around, making the girls scream in frustration that they can't touch him and be his obedient.

But now that the NHL trade deadline is over, summer officially begins and I can remove the ice shackles of winter, freeing my hands and my mind to fully satisfy your need for superior web content worthy of washingtonpost.com.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate music in commercials these days? If I haven't then I'm ashamed, because the anger felt while watching ads while watching TV occupies a large percentage of my bullshit threshold.

I think the problem started when ads started licensing songs from "indie bands", which was mutually beneficial -- the ads got "indie cred" and the bands made some money so they could upgrade their dinners from mustard sandwiches to cheese sandwiches with mustard. But then it seems that the ad companies could cut costs by simply getting composers to write music that kind of sounds like Feist which is where we're at today. There was one camera ad that played around Christmas where this couple was taking pictures of their baby or something that I can't find, but trust me, hearing that song was the equivalent of oh I don't know, seeing your grandma barfing while naked.

There's not much more I need to say about that really, but just look out for it next time you're watching your screen. They just don't make 'em like the old days:




PERSONAL FACTS

HA, this whole thing so far has pretty much been a personal fact, but I didn't give a stick, I run this place. And if I've told you this before just pretend that I haven't.

When I got chicken pox I was so grossed out that I had to take baths with the lights off. Totally scary baths.

I wanted to mention how I almost fainted when it was revealed I might be lactose intolerant but I'm pretty sure you know that already.

TIDBITS OF HANDKERCHIEFS

I was riding a natural Olympic high coming out the weekend, but that high has been detoxified thanks to real work, personal work, an underwhelming NHL trade deadline and reasonable yet still frustrating seasonal temperatures that continue to chill my fat-less body. Since I'm all about self improvement (and hot deals), I don't sit idle when faced with a wave self-doubt, so here's what I'm going to do to feel less like an old flag salesman and more like an NAACP Image Award winner.

1) Weave a God's Eye - Back when I was a pre-pubescent child, I was in Beavers, an organization geared at boys who wanted to play floor hockey outside of school hours while wearing funny hats. Anyway, before playing floor hockey (or maybe even bench soccer) we'd have to do a craft so our mothers wouldn't freak the fuck out. My most hated craft to do was weaving a God's Eye because I sucked so bad at it. I figure that if I try making one now and dominate the project thanks to my now manly hands and adult sized brain, I will get a great sense of accomplishment and also have a nice piece to give to someone stupid for their birthday.

We used Popsicle sticks

2) Pretend to be a documentary crew - Documentary crews can do anything they want because everyone wants to think they're doing something interesting and documentaries are all about interesting things. I was eating lunch at work in this atrium yesterday and these two girls sat near me and I tried to eavesdrop but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I thought that if I had a camera and went up to them saying I'm doing a documentary on "regular conversations" I could just sit there and listen to them and they'd go home and Twitter something like "Gonna b in a documentary hopefully^^^^!!!". In conclusion, eavesdropping allows you to hear about how other people are in a shitty mood to make yourself feel better.

3) Cook - Cooking can be many things -- artistic, tasty, sweaty, therapeutic, greasy, fun, anti-establishment, you name it. Nothing calms me down quite like making a batch of mom's famous ketchup turkey balls. Just combine your favourite ketchup with your favourite turkey, blend with milk or lemonade, depending on how tart you like your food, form into balls, coat with confectioner's sugar and bake in a clay pot for 6 days at 98 degrees.

When I started crafting this entry this morning I was in a worse mood than I am now. Remember the old days of this blog? It seems like eons ago, but trust me fans, I'm the same man, except I have a few different wardrobe pieces and I'm eating more than usual.

I MET A PEACE FREAK NAMED YAWNATHAN

The 2010 winter Olympics started off like a turd and ended up like flowers sprouted from the compost from the turd. The first few days I complained about the opening ceremonies, the coverage, and the athletes who choked, but yesterday I felt damn good about everything. Sure, the coverage was way in your face Canadian, and the closing ceremonies featured some of Canada's most embarrassing recording artists, but the athletes did a great job and Sidney Crosby showed everyone why Reebok pays him so much.

One thing I will point out though, is that the media seemed surprised at the national pride that was shown in Vancouver during these games. They marveled at the impromptu singings of our national tune, and were take aback by all the red and white that everyone covered their bodies with. I don't know about you guys (unless we discussed it in person on the weekend) but I totally expected that. Vancouver is a big city and everyone wanted to party hard for Canada. I wouldn't have expected anything less, unless we really choked big time and didn't win anything good. That being said, here are the real surprises of the 2010 winter Olympic Games, live from Vancouver British Columbia on Canada's western most coast:

1) I didn't make the team - The COC should've recognized that this was probably my last opportunity to make the Canadian team. I'll be 31 or 32 or something by the time the Sochi games roll around, and that's probably too old unless I can get a curling rink together.

2) Mario Lemieux and the Tragically Hip - I watched a whole mess of Olympic coverage this year and I didn't see Mario Lemieux OR the Tragically Hip once. I thought that maybe the closing ceremonies would've featured a surprise performance by the band with Lemieux on keys, but instead Avril Lavigne sang songs that most of the athletes remembered from elementary school pep rallies. I hope they were all over at Ron MacLean's lavish Oakville estate smoking cigars in a hot tub and telling off-colour Brian Williams jokes.

Brian Williams' balls are so prickly that he uses them to grate parmesan onto his wife's pasta dinners and she doesn't mind one bit

I can't think of anymore. I've been sidetracked with the thought of a band calling their greatest hits album "Greatest (S)hits". Or some band like Stone Temple Pilots who have a history of drug abuse: "Vials and Tribulations" or "Vials and Fibrillations". I should work for Sony/BMG!

I would love to be able to update you all on the dynamic, cosmopolitan adventure that is my life, but quite frankly nothing much has changed since I used to spoil everyone with constant updates. I got a bonus at work but all I bought was a Whalers hat. I'm also thinking of embarking on a giant literary project. Now you know as much as my diary knows.