Slurpees in the Arctic

Did you know that the intersection in the center of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada (Portage and Main) is supposedly the coldest intersection in North America?

I was there for a couple winters, and that place is COLD. They attribute the sharply decreased temperature to the way the buildings funnel the winds through downtown. When it’s cold, it feels like the wind is going to rip the top layer of skin off your face. There are flags placed all around the intersection, and I kid you not, the flags are usually whipping at full force in completely different directions. Winds come howling though there from every direction and converge at that intersection. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it.

Did you also know that Winnipeg is the Slurpee capital of the world?

They even have bumper stickers declaring it, so it must be true, right? That was the other thing that baffled me. It was typical to see people bundled up like that kid in "A Christmas Story" (LOVE this movie), waiting for the bus, sucking on a Slurpee.

My apologies for those who hate talking about Christmas before Thanksgiving, but bringing up "A Christmas Story" did me in. I just had to post the trailer.

Forgive me.

Freak of Nature

This post was inspired by an arm hair split end ...

I'm a freak of nature. I wish I could say this because I have some kind of special mind powers or super strength or even the ability to commit (although, my wife says I already have this one down, so maybe I should add it to my list).

But, should I tell you what it is? I mean ... some day, I might need my secret identity, and here I've already blown it. I guess since no one reads this thing anyway it's no big deal, right?

So get ready to be BLOWN A-WAY ...

... (drum roll) ...

The middle finger on my right hand is about an eighth of an inch longer than the middle finger on my left hand. Even cooler, my toes match (right middle is longer than left middle).

The problem is, I don't know if I can hack it. The pressure of having a gift like this is just too great sometimes. I don't want to squander my abilities for myself. I'm thinking of the greater good. So far, nothing else has manifested, but I'm holding out for the ability to fly or bulletproof skin. I'll keep you posted.

This brings me to my dilemma. I've racked my brain looking for good crime fighting applications of this gift, and the only thing I've come up with is that I can use my "extension" to really get noticed if I want to flip off a guy robbing a bank or stealing a candy bar from the store. (Clarification to the mother who raised me to be a good boy: Mom, you taught me to never flip people off, and I'm happy to say I never have. This is just in theory ...)

So, until my other powers arrive, I'm pretty much stumped. However, if anyone needs an extra long middle finger, you know where to find me.

Mr. Fix It

I've never claimed to be a handyman. I can hammer a nail into a wall, but that's about it. Anything beyond that gets a little dicey, and I'd probably end up doing more harm than good.

Since I can't convince our house to stop falling apart, I've had to try my best to fix things I normally wouldn't feel comfortable touching. On top of that, there are two things that freak me out in home improvement projects. Electricity and water. Electricity because it's invisible and can kill you. Water because it's amazing how much property damage it can do.

Is there a name for home-repair-phobia? If so, I think I have it.

Still, I've had to face my fears, and I've even run up a nice little list of successful projects:

• Leaky pipe under the sink
• Faulty electrical outlet
• Measuring and installing blinds
• Wiring for high-speed Internet
• Furniture assembly
• Demolition (not nearly as fun as it sounds) - carpet and linoleum removal

Thanks to these semi-successful projects, I no longer get cold sweats when I walk into Home Depot or have nightmares about drill bits and screwdrivers.

Cavities

It's pretty much guaranteed that I will almost singlehandedly finance my dentist's children when they go to college. I've never gone to an appointment when he hasn't found a cavity. Last time, I had to have four filled. In addition, two were too small for him to do anything with, so he wanted to wait and see if they grew any before my next appointment. For those whizzes out there who can't handle a little addition (like me) that's a total of six. SIX cavities. I brush twice a day and floss once a day.

When my wife and I got out of our appointments, she made the following comment:

"Man, I like going to the dentist. He looked at my teeth and said, 'Wow, you have perfect teeth.' It's nice to get a little ego boost."

It was then I got to tell her about my six new friends taking up residence in my mouth. Needless to say, I REALLY hope my daughter gets my wife's teeth.



(Tangent)
I've always been proud of myself that I haven't ever had a procedure at the dentist's office that required Novocaine. During college, I was bad and didn't go to the dentist like I should have. After I graduated, I went and found out I had a couple cavities (surprise, surprise). When he started to fill them, I was surprised when he suddenly came at me with a needle. I let him do what he had to, all the while coming to grips with the fact that my streak was over. Then he started drilling. I didn't feel a thing. It was amazing, and it was only then when I realized something about my childhood dentist. I don't think he believed in Novocaine because I had a vivid flashback to the dentist's chair growing up. I remember feeling the burning pain of the drill in my mouth as I tried not to move. I remember being afraid that if I jumped or jolted, that drill would slip and go through my lip or something. Instead, I held as still as possible, and gripped the armrests with all my might.

Now, I know what I was missing.
(End Tangent)

Oddly enough, I don't mind going to the dentist. Maybe I'm just resigned to the continual relationship I have with the drill.

Favorite Childhood Book

When I was little, my favorite book was "The Giving Tree." I loved reading how the tree was willing to give everything she had to the boy, even if it would take him away from her. Each time, the boy never said thank you and never really acknowledged the gift, but in spite of that, the tree was always happy. It reminded me that if I was going to be nice to people, I shouldn't expect anything in return. I should just be nice because I want to.

I even had my very own giving tree in my backyard. It was a huge pine tree that had tilted so far over that you could walk up the trunk. About 6 feet off the ground, a huge section grew out of the side to balance it out. Looking at it from far away, it looked like a giant Y. I used to climb up that tree all the time and sit alone in the branches. I loved having a special place all to myself.

At one point, my parents had to have the tree cut down because it was bending closer and closer to our shed. I still remember watching the chainsaws cut off big chunks of the trunk. It was unusually sad for me to watch that childhood refuge disappear.

"How To" Article of the Week

This week: How to Think Like Leonardo Da Vinci

I thought I'd follow it up with a few tips on how to think like me:

1. Humor: Assume everyone automatically thinks you're funny. This will improve your confidence and help with your denial when crickets accompany the punchlines of most of your jokes.
2. Naivety: While being naive makes you the butt of many jokes, it helps in managing people's expectations of you. They'll always be disproportionately impressed with some minor thing you've accomplished.
3. Frown Lines vs. Smile Lines: We will all get wrinkles. It's inevitable. When I was younger, I thought I would rather have crinkles around my eyes rather than a perma-scowl, so I decided I would try to smile a lot. Don't laugh. This thought, along with many, many others passed through my head at some point during childhood.
4. Rain: Everything is better when it rains. My first day back from vacation, it rained all day. Over all, it was a good day, and I attribute that to the rain. I know. I'm weird. Either that or I'm permanently starved for moisture from growing up in a desert.
5. Teasing Yourself: It is much less embarrassing to tell a joke about yourself than having someone else spill the beans on something stupid you've done. I always try to get out there first so I can be the one to tell the story.

I suppose I could go on, but I'll spare you.

SA-CURITY

I'm stealing this video from Hannah. It's hilarious, and I end up watching it about twice a week.

Baggy Sacks

Warning to the pure and innocent: Irreverent story (even though it's hilarious).

So, this story is only good if you can see the hand gestures that go with it. Since that isn't possible, you're just goin to have to make due.

My sister has two boys. She often talks about how her body isn't quite the way it used to be, and is a little sad about the changes that have occurred. For the record, she looks great and shouldn't feel this way.

One day, she was in her room, and her son came in. He made the following gesture and then asked the question below.



Cup both hands like you would if you were begging for change or holding a little bit of water. Hold both hands in front of your chest, palms up and fingers pointing together (like you're cupping something that is definitely NOT water). See where this is going? Now with a quick jerk, move your hands down and up simultaneously. Now, when you see this symbol ($) in the question he asked, that stands for the above gesture (wow, this is even harder to explain than I thought).

Here is what he asked his mom:

"Mom, why do you have ($) baggy ($) sacks?"

Astronomy Class

My freshman year of college, my friend and I took an astronomy class. We thought it would be cool and didn't think it would be too tough. We didn't count on a professor from the stone age. We also didn't count on the fact that every other student in the class was either an astronomy major or took astronomy classes in the past.

This particular teacher mumbled everything he said, and rather than using the chalkboard or a PowerPoint presentation, he insisted on using the same overhead slides he used back in the 70s. These suckers were all chipped and yellow and the handwriting on them was almost illegible. Combine that with the fact that he kept switching them at lightning speeds, and you can see why we did so poorly. To clarify, I'm not blaming my teacher for my failure. I understand that I could have applied myself and done better, but I didn't, and all of these factors compounded the situation.

So, long story short, at the end of the semester, my friend and I had the most solid of solid Ds. She and I calculated our grades and realized that if we aced the final, we would still have a D. If we bombed the final, we would still have a D. So, we decided not to stress over it and didn't study at all for the test.

To celebrate the impending doom of finals week, a bunch of us went out to eat and one of those cool restaurants where you gorge yourself on the slabs of meat they bring to your table. The next day, both my friend and I succumbed to food poisoning. I, being the wimp that I was, recovered much slower than my friend, but we still missed the astronomy final. I was busy staying home, trying desperately to keep the saltine crackers and sprite from reappearing for an encore (if you catch my drift).

And wouldn't you know it. I somehow overlooked the fine print that said if you don't show up for the final, you drop a letter grade. I had never failed a class before. I had never gotten a D before. I nearly fainted when I opened up my report card from that semester.

The only good thing that came out of this experience was the giant trash bag my friend brought me. She told everyone I was sick and had everyone in the dining hall sign this thing, explaining it was going to be my new vomit bag. That night, I got a giant bag with a bunch of signatures, some of whom I knew, and many of which I didn't.

Beach Camping and the Sunburn

Every year, my sister goes beach camping with a big group of people. Getting a camp site is a whole story in and of itself because they have to call the reservation number the morning it opens over and over until they get someone. Then they have to take whatever day is still available because the entire season fills up within hours.

One year when I was still in college, I got to go down and participate. It was the best camping I've ever done, including all the camping I did as a Scout.

I was exhausted from studying and tests and didn't feel much like getting in the ocean, so I just brought a book to read. I sat under an umbrella and got to be lazy without any guilt. Is there anything better?

The problem came on the last day when I didn't notice the sun shifting overhead and ended up with my legs in the sun for most of the afternoon. By the time I noticed, it was too late. The next day, they swelled up and got all red. I thought I was going to have to amputate. By the end of the week, they had turned purple. I'm not kidding you. They were dark purple. I'm amazed they didn't blister or something. It's probably a medical miracle. I just wish I had a picture of them to post as well. It was really creepy to have pasty white arms and plum colored legs.

True to my genetic heritage, once the purple was gone, they immediately returned to their translucent white. After all that, I didn't even get the benefit of a nice tan.