Fundraiser without the Fun.

Jogging. My galloping enemy. Not that I hate the act of jogging so much as the knowing better alternatives out there who, if present, warrant much better benefits. I guess one could argue that there is the health benefit or that some joggers get a potential high from this. Which I can believe. One would have to be high to say you know what I feel like doing right now? Running. Yes. Going out into the frigid cold or the summer’s heat in clothing not meant for the public’s eye just...because. Clothing still designed by some 80's factory for the sheer purpose of blinding my windshield as I drive past with their bright neon hues like giant reflective fish lures, baiting my eyes from the road ahead. Now the ones that truly give me whiplash are the lulu lemon/mini skirt/crop top wearing gorgeous bouncing beauties, defying all weather patterns (and bra weight limits) rain/sleet/snow - these women are real troopers and the real reason for car accidents, fender benders, just crashing things in general , your our true heroes,  god bless you all.

Now the real reason people jog is not for health reasons, no, I believe the true reason jogging was invented for fundraising. The first jogger might have been dying from something like cancer, rabies, or STD's (sorry its STI's now), but what I think they were really dying from was an excuse to run and not be made fun of. Because it's kind of weird...or gay. I haven't decided. Nowadays the first word that pops into your head when you hear the word fundraiser is running. Run for the cure, Moonlight Run, Run for poor Timmy's asthma, the beer run, it’s all a big scam to get you to do something you don't want to do but do anyways. They almost make you feel bad too if you don't join like you’re the bad guy: "What?  You like cancer bro? Don't you wanna stop cancer? My mother died from cancer blah blah blah" Which is a pretty good tactic to pull on the old heart strings. If you have some.  I already donate…to the hard working mothers down at the strip clubs, a good cause I can get behind.  And if me running were to stop any malady permanently, I'd crawl off the couch, dust the boots off, and run till the end where a cure is given to poor Timmy  and we all  can move on with our lives. But I probably wouldn't. Probably because it wouldn't stop there. You can't seem to get away from the monthly guilt train of marathons and thus were bombarded with this in our daily lives so other people can feel good about running for a purpose. Sorry that train left for me a long time ago.   

And don't even get me on the walkers. Something almost anyone can do, and we do, on a regular basis, throughout the day, without thinking, and this for some reason is an Olympic sport minus the sport part. Since the beginning man has walked and ran, until they were able to tame horses, then horses were the main mode of transportation for thousands of years because they were faster and they could carry daily supplies for us and their amazing with cool names like Man O' War, War Admiral, Seabiscuit and Clip Clop. Only until this past century have we been blessed with the technological advancements to travel long distances in minutes and hours vs. days/weeks! Why would I agree to step back to something anyone throughout time has done time and time again? We live in this glorious age of automobiles, be thankful! The day I was old enough to get a driver’s license with a bad teen mustache, was the day I said so long to my bike, and you know why? Because it is better in every sense. I wouldn't put it past people to one day fundraise a walk for those that love to walk for the sake of walking in memorial of all those that have fallen in the line of walking for the walking cause dedicated to the man who invented walking, Mr. Walker III....Because only an idiot with numbers after their name would come up with something like they invented walking what it is today. Probably so he could pick up a woman. Or a Man. Yep. Walking for a cause is a gay one. Yeah I decided.

Oh No Canada.

    Like all mornings before work, I get up (barely lucid), grab a bowl, and dig into the trough of Mini-Wheats set before me and graze along as I thumb through various emails, videos and posts on my cell phone, sitting there like a big dumb jersey cow, wrapped up in my Chewbacca housecoat, slack jawed in awe.

    Big debate this week, (as in all weeks on Facebook  Canada) should we change the national anthem to be gender neutral?  Casually, my first reply is to douse my phone in gasoline and let my fingers ignite the digital keyboard a glorious fireball of epic proportions of swear words, pronouns and verses that would sent chills upon Hades spine (or skin orgasms as I read this week) listening to my maniacal laughter echoing off the walls of my kitchen. Jumping up and down, Dancing naked around the table like a Zulu warrior, shouting at 6 am, only to have the wife scream at me with a threat train of ungodly hostile actions to my body and manhood, not due to what I was shouting at or for, but the fact that I may not live to rue this day if the kids awake. And the fact with the blinds open, the neighbors can see my three amigos awaken from their siesta for the quinceanera, but without the party. Or the music. Or the girls. Just me and my Mariachi band strumming out to desperado on the leftover tequila found in the freezer. Unimpressed at this display, she mutters another equally terrifying death threat that the band is going to be strung up and battered around like a piñata if I don't get my shit together, comprende? I quickly and quietly wrap myself again in my housecoat and silence bestows upon the Huneault household as the bedroom door closes, she won this round.

    That would be the old Dan. Prenoon Dan. Afternoon Dan has had time to think. To ponder. To reflect. I know now that the morning induced hatred was really just the first stage of denial. I have an entire day to go through all seven stages before I get to: Acceptance. This usually hits around home time and I have had something to eat, and all morning threats have been lifted and forgotten. This Acceptance has not only shed a new light on the subject but inspired me to rewrite our national anthem. I know what you're thinking, "Hey Dan they just want to change just one word." And I get that. But next they would want to change the word god too and get rid of that as well. Then what's next? Might as well just have a non-sexist/non-religious/non-racist, politically correct (pussified) version for today's society. So here it is:

O Canada! Where natives live tax free!

Home of basketball, lacrosse, and ice hockey.

French is our second language, and

We pronounce it Zed not Zee!

From BC to Newfie

O Canada, We love minorities!

Please don't invade our land, We have no army!

O USA, We give our oil for free.

O USA, We'll buy it back for a fee!

P.S. If they do change the word "God" in the anthem, I think it should be the word "Please" It's just the Canadian thing to do.

Calgary Expo '13

    Being a closet geek most of my life, I find it wonderful that someone out there has come up with the idea of Comic Con. A convention where your true inner nerd comes to life and the people around you could care less if you’re into Dungeons&Dragons, Doctor Who, or that you know all the songs from Kirk and Spocks Spaced out album. Better yet they might even embrace this fact and sing a few bars with you and a new friendship bond develops and you laugh and talk about it over a game of Cattan.

    Visiting the Calgary Expo (Canada's version of Comic Con) this past weekend, First thing you notice is how you’re immediately thrown into this universe of geekdom that covers everything from board games, to anime, from comic books to cosplay. Like all shows they get you ready by standing in line so you can then stand in a bigger line for hours, and hours at a time. It's like prepping an athlete for a contest. Although if you look in this crowd you might not see the finest, most fit specimens on the planet waiting in line to spend $10 on a burrito with extra cheese. But you will see a fat batman and his 8 year old son joker standing there checking out the powerpuff girls in front of them giggling about what celebrity their going to get their photo with next.

    I myself, like any of the thousand pubescent virgin males around me gawk at the wonderful women portraying their beloved characters in the least amount of clothing possible. Never has any of these cartoon characters ever looked so so good in so so little. I applaud their commitment to character and wished there was more troopers out there like them. The 33 year old me stays cool and collected on the outside, but the 16 year old in me is running around like a crazy person high on testosterone, Vodka and Red Bull, wearing nothing but body paint and shooting roman candles off inside my head. If only I had a real camera instead of this Sony camera phone BS that looks like my 6 year old nephew was taking the pictures. Everyone is either too far away, terrible flash, and out of focus. Just great. Hey is that Wolverine? Wait, wait, nope it's just some hairy bastard with posters in his hands...

Anyways,

    Walking down the aisles of the Comic book artists I always feel guilty. It's as if it feels like walking by a pet shop with a giant window and all the artists are the puppies on display, with their big, sad, puppy dog eyes looking at you for approval. Browsing their work and to keep on walking is almost like telling them "Hmmm you’re not bad, but that other guy's talent is better. I think I'll take his work home instead. Sorry. Maybe next year." Although that still doesn't stop some people from taking them all home at once, they're the real humanitarians of the convention.

     The Expo has many booths for every type of fan out there. I still do not understand the whole furry movement and I don't think I ever want to. I love animals but not to that extent. Sorry. And as much as I love Anime, my parents probably will never understand what it's all about and why I'm so into it. Maybe it's the fact you have to read it as well as watch it...or maybe it’s the fact that a grown married man such as myself is watching cartoons more than his children. I dunno. I'm just a sucker for Caucasian girls in skimpy clothing, with huge eyes and breasts that speak Japanese. I admit it. I have no shame.

    I also happened to drop by the Steampunk booth to check out all of the neat brass weapons and gadgets they had on display. It's a pretty big movement that's been growing in the last few years, But don't dare ask them what their all about or anything they are selling if you are not one of them. I don't know what makes them so stuck up or think they are above everyone else. But I do know that they have developed a way to make fat people fashionable. Who knew...?

So it begins...

        Some nights while the wife is out working her shift on my days off (of course), I sometimes find myself reading up on something I heard about or an idea I had earlier that day. This one day in particular left me reading about car magazine writers. Sounds like fun!  I read how some writers stumble across these jobs, with no journalistic qualifications, get to fly halfway around the globe (free) to drive and review the latest and greatest car on the market. Right. But being a car nut myself tinkering on my cars, and I'm always on multiple car forums, blogs like Speedhunters, I thought I'd give it a go and see what happens.

        The first website looking for writers I came across were into exotics. Now having only seen a few in museums and never actually sat in any I decided the best thing to do was to make fun of them and their poorly designed website. Naturally it promoted a response but not what I thought. They were favorable. So favorably that they were asking for more of my work, schools I went too, journalistic qualifications, etc., etc. Now I have about as much qualifications as writer as I do performing neurosurgery on pygmy monkeys. But fortunately for the monkeys, I have had some published poetry in the past, so the only brain surgery I'll be doing is on my own mind.

        Sadly my inexperience of exotics has curbed my writing career from their web page to this uncharted territory of blogging. It’s too early to say if this a step up or down in the evolution of my writing. Little to me is known about this world and what lies within it. I do know that from the 5 minutes of browsing the interwebs of other bloggers, I realized that they have a nice theme to their blogs - they are about as exciting as shoving sand in my eyes and using rubbing alcohol to wash it out. Sadly this is not what I have expected, but this does provide me with the creative outlet I need to share my thoughts, feelings, ideas, frustrations, things I should say out loud, things I should not say out loud, viewpoints or anything I may or may not be held accountable for.

        Rather limiting myself to one topic, I will be posting anything and everything I feel I need to share. Although I do love certain subjects more than others (cars for example) but I'm always working on poetry, songs, and shit I find funny or interesting. I will try to post at least one thing a week and go from there. Lookout world, Dano is here...