Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Seriously Affected

Now that I've reread this post it seems very sappy and whiny I apologize in advance.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."

There have been couple women in my relatively short life that I've loved with everything I had. 

One of them is married to a man I introduced her to, he is good people. They have a child now. I couldn't be happier for them. I loved her but it was never meant to be. (The story "Letters Unsent" was written for her)

Another betrayed me so badly I didn't feel a thing when I heard she got hit by a car. (she lived, I'm not that big of an asshole)

The last one, as of right now, she is the one that got away. Except I'm the idiot that fucking left. 

When we first broke up we didn't speak to each other for a while. It wasn't an easy break up for either of us. Eventually though we started talking again and then just over a year later we thought we would try and date again. Long distance this time because I was a jackass and moved. Things went well for a week or two, then it all came unglued.... The long distance just put too much stress on old wounds and eventually we just gave up. 

We would still talk to each other every day. We would sit and do homework and chat back and forth. We were each others best friend. Whenever we could we would get together, between her having to drive through where I lived to visit her parents and me just randomly going up to see her, we would see each other once every couple months. 

As with everything in life, nothing stays the same.  We broke up just over 5 years ago. Which is odd because that is longer then we were actually together as a couple. (not by much)  Now that time has done it's damage we only really talk to each other once every couple weeks and I haven't seen her in a couple months. 

Last night however we chatted. I fucking hate the way emotions work.

In life and on here, I tend to pretend like I don't have a whole lot of fuzzy emotions, but this woman brings it out of me. We didn't even talk about anything important, just life and the new jobs we have. Just menial shit, but just talking to her brings back memories of her smile. I didn't even have to hear her voice, just reading the words made my heart jump. 

It feels good to feel these things, but shitty all at the same time. It's bittersweet, because she has a boyfriend now. We have lives that are rooted in the cities we live in. We've grown so far apart. It sucks just watching it happen.

I wish life was like the movies, where I could just drive there and tell her I love her and have everything work out. The movies never take into account the logistics. The prince shows up to the princess and says I love you and they live happily ever after. What about the prince's job or the princess's? One of them is going to have to find a new one. What about lease agreements? Mortgage payments? Local Contracts? Family pressure? The cost of moving? It all adds up to what seems insurmountable. The more time passes the more insurmountable it gets.

I don't know what to do. It's been a long time; am I fucking crazy for still having feelings for this girl? I can't very well pour my heart out to her and expect what? 

Why can't these feelings just go away? It would make my life so much fucking easier.

I'm sorry to dump all this out there I just had to get it out. 

Later days. 

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

I'm not in Jail.

I know I've been MIA for the last week and a bit, and I don't even have a good reason. I'm not in jail, nor have I been in jail. Should I have gone to jail, possibly.

This last week has been crazy busy at work. The oil industry here in Alberta has taken off. There is a new statistic out there that says that Alberta will be roughly 200,000 people short when it comes to workforce in the next 2 years. So to all my readers out there that need jobs, start looking in Alberta. I mean this is Canada, so our immigration laws are a joke. I'm just saying.

Other than work I have been busy as well. The sun is shining so unless I'm at my office I haven't been in front of a computer. I do read everyone's blogs but only from my phone so I can't comment.

Now that that is out of the way what have I been up to.

Last weekend I had a friend come into town on Thursday for his birthday. There was some naked women involved, a lot of money spent and man drama. I hate man drama. It is even worse than women drama.

What is man drama you might ask? Well you see it is when a guy goes ape shit for no reason and his friends are left to pick up the pieces. Or in my case, just say fuck it. I'm not the type of guy that will tolerate someone else being an idiot. I'm willing to let a friendship die if the idiot is going to go on about how I'm not a good enough friend to drop a ridiculous amount of money on him for his birthday. Get bent.

That was last Thursday. Last Friday I was so tired and hung over I was very late for work which didn't go over very well. I got in a little bit of trouble. I know, new job, I'm an idiot for being so self destructive.

That Saturday I went out with "J" the drama queen I've talked about here. It was a great time we went and got drunk at a dive bar, then went to an after party. There were no stupid questions about feelings or such things as that. No instead I hit on women that I knew I would never go out with. I got their numbers knowing I'd never call them. Not because they weren't attractive, because they were. I just know that when sober we would have nothing to talk about. These aren't the types of women that would fit into my world.

My world is a dangerous place filled with intrigue and espionage. Just kidding, instead my world is filled with two very distinct lifestyles. There is my family, I love them dearly, but to be honest they are what the rest of the world calls snobs. We eat out at nice restaurants. We go to galas, and art shows. We have season tickets to the symphony. I feel perfectly comfortable in a 3 piece suit. With this snobby attitude comes the manipulation and backhanded comments most people aren't used to.

Then there is the regular Joe lifestyle I have. I go out to bars and drink. I have fun with friends and go to the park. I play sports. I dress the same as every other guy. (that isn't a douche, that means no sequins for this guy. )

The problem is finding a girl that I can have in both these lives.The girls I met that Saturday I'm not sure would fit into either of them. These were women that work to party. I'm talking most of these women have a recreational cocaine habit. Which doesn't really play well with me as a regular Joe. Never mind their survival rate in the world my family lives in would be similar to a gold fish vs a swarm of piranha.

That was last weekend.

This weekend, was special. I had 2 different reunions. I had a family reunion where I got to see my dads side of the family. They are not pretentious in any way. They are laid back all the time. The difference in lifestyle was apparent by who brought what to drink. I showed up with some Stella Artrois. My sister shows up with a bottle of Spanish wine. The rest of the family was drinking discount beer. I stayed for dinner which was a basic BBQ, steaks and bean salad. I left when they started the Crib tournament.

I went to a party that was being hosted by some of my old high school classmates. These are people I haven't seen in eight years. It was a black and white party. I wore some of my nicer clothes to this party. I showed up and felt way over dressed. Apparently people thought black and white meant anything that was either black or white. I even had someone tell me that I looked like a high ranking law enforcement guy. I was confused by this because I was wearing dress pants, a waistcoat, a tie, and a white shirt. I suppose I could have looked like a US marshal from an old western movie.

I was reminded as to why I haven't seen these people in eight years. They still act like they are in high school. I'm not saying I didn't have fun, because I did. It was quite possibly for the wrong reasons though.

I know it is wrong to laugh at people unless they are trying to be funny but I couldn't help it. There were some women that I graduated with that are still living in the tiny ass little town I grew up in and I'm guessing that the selection in men is a little wanting. All of the ones that are still living there are dating guys that are 6 or 7 years their junior. These aren't ugly women, not at all, (These are some of the women I used to fantasize about) yet they are with these pubescent teenagers  young men. I don't understand it, but I found it funny. There were people there that are doing exactly what they were doing when we graduated. They hadn't moved up in life. I felt sorry for them telling them what I'd been up to since I left that shit hole of a town. However sorry I felt, I still laughed a little.

The background story here is I was never very popular in school. I was even voted least likely to succeed. Yea my school wasn't all about the anti-bullying. So when I can look at them now and see where they are it kinda makes me laugh. I don't care if this makes me a terrible person, it's funny.

So yea...

In case you were wondering, I wasn't killed. I haven't been out of the country doing espionage for the Canadian government. I haven't been in jail. I've just been busy.

Later Days.

Ps. I have a new chapter up in my novel. You can find it here.

PPS. My mother was in town this weekend for the family reunion and I was the grown up and had to tell her to quit acting like a child. (She doesn't like my dads side of the family) Other than that though it was a nice visit.

Monday, June 20, 2011

A punch to the face, with a side of memory loss.

I've been noticing a couple things lately with the people I know. When they start dating they get super attached to each other right off the bat. "OH MY GOD!!! I can't live without you!!!" Type bullshit.

What people need to realize is that for the first part of a relationship (it shouldn't even be called that it's fucking dating) you are just trying to get to know each other. There shouldn't be wedding bells in the back of your eyes every time you look at each other. 

I had to learn this lesson the hard way.

I've been on both sides of the coin for this one. I'm going to tell you about both.

First I'll start with the heart break side of it. There was a girl I was dating, and I fell hard. I was crazy for this girl. I would drop kick a gorilla for this girl, type crazy. She said she felt the same. We never wanted to leave each others company, if we could have we would have never left each others arms. Cuddling all day, making love, and some mad passionate monkey sex in there too. Things were great I felt like I was on top of the world. Nothing could bring me down.

I could act like a retard and she would just laugh it off. She could be a bitch and I would just laugh it off. It seemed like there was nothing that could go wrong. We had mutual friends that we hung out with; had tonnes of things in common. It seemed like it was the real deal. This was only 2 months in. I know sounds crazy romantic and all that. It was.

But it didn't last. There was no emotional stability and nothing truly invested in it. So when she found a guy that tickled her fancy a little more than I did it wasn't a huge deal for her, to jump ship. Well for me it was.

So I did what I said I would do. I drop kicked a gorilla, or at least tried to. He wasn't a gorilla, I think his name was Steve. He was however a big guy. (understatement of the year) He wasn't even the guy that tickled her fancy. He was just the biggest guy I could find at the time. I found him, said something I won't bother repeating, and needless to say it didn't work out in my favor. It might have went a little more in my favor if I hadn't been 55 dollars into a night of 25 cent draft. I think my actions helped change the law here in Alberta that made 25 cent draft illegal.

The results of me trying to drop kick the gorilla named Steve were,
7 stitches in my cheek (to the bone)
5 stitches in my eyelid
1 broken nose
1 major concussion
1 less girlfriend
2 days loss of memory
1 missed week of work.

Let this simmer for a couple years and you have,

1 hell of a story.
1 gnarly scar on my left cheek.
1 eyelid that twitches under stress.
1 nerve damaged cheek when poked feels like it's actually poking my lip.
1 more tidbit of understanding.

So there you go. I think that pretty much sums up that side of the coin.
The other side of the coin.

I started dating a co worker. (Which is fucking stupid) We'll call her K.

It all started at a house party we were at. It was relatively small... actually it was just small, a grand total of eight people.  Well I'd had a crush on this girl since the moment I saw her. She was curvy, had long brown hair and an infectious laugh and smile. She would always wear a flower in her hair. She was the image of cute. 

Well we are at the house party and this cougar (older woman that likes sleeping with young guys) was on a rampage. We couldn't do much about it, it was her house. So I did the only thing I wasn't man enough to do without the fear of a mountain cat encouraging me. I cuddled up to K. She didn't seem to mind. We ended up laying on the lawn in the back yard looking at the stars. I know a few constellations just for this reason; so I started pointing them out to her. We kissed under the moonlight, to the sounds of my buddy fending off the vicious feline inside.

"Fuck you Cougar! I don't want to see what is in your closet!" followed by pounding foot steps.
"AHHH!!!" more sounds of struggle. "Aww she fucking kissed me!"

K and I just cuddled up some more and looked at the stars. Minus the cougar hunting inside it sounds romantic. It was.

Things started out slow enough. We would go on a couple dates. Watch some movies and have some solid make out sessions for the first week. Each time getting closer and closer to bumping uglies. (I'm not talking about the patch of skin on the outside of your elbow, that shit is ugly but that isn't what I mean)

We had sex! It was amazing. Guys if you haven't had sex with a cheerleader/gymnast I recommend it. Girls take gymnastics/cheerleading.

After a couple of days we fell into a cycle. We would either watch a movie and have sex, or we would watch cooking shows (only thing we really had in common) and have sex. We went on with our daily lives for the most part, going to school. We went to the same one so it didn't matter whose place we stayed at we had to be at the same place in the morning. Went out to dinner with some friends, a double date if you will. It was really good food and a nice time.

However well things seemed to be going, I felt a little off. I was getting a little bored of doing the same things over and over again. There is only so long you can be in a relationship based on really good sex. I didn't want to end it but wasn't sure it was going to last very long.

Lucky for me! I was an alcoholic back then.

K's birthday was coming up and she had a nice drinking fest planned. I was all for it. I invited some mutual friends over to my place to pre drink before we went to the bar. They showed up with whiskey. Crown Royal to be exact. We were drinking crown and coke like a rabbit fucks. Fast. Before I knew it, I was right torqued. Then we went to the bar.

I remember feeling on top of the world. We arrived before K did. I was so excited that I was going to have the best looking girl at the bar. I was in the mood to party hard. So I started talking to the shooter girl. (it made sense to me at the time) I made a bet with her that she could sell some shots at a table full of guys. I lost so I had to drink all the shots she figured she should have been able to sell to the table. I drank 6 shots of jeagermeister. Then I don't remember anything.

I woke up in the morning in my own bed, alone. My phone however had a full voicemail inbox, and about 30 new text messages. I listened to the first voicemail.

"Dude, what the fuck did you do. K is crying. You managed to make your girlfriend cry on her birthday. You should probably talk to her." Recorded at 1 am by a friend. The bar was still open at this point, I'm pretty sure I was still there.

I decided to look at the text messages.

"Dude WTF?"
"Seriously dude, you are awesome!"
"Where are you"  x 10
There was some that were nonsensical drunk texts as well. From what I could tell it was an amazing night.

There wasn't a single message from K in the text messages. OK back to voicemail. The second one was just club noise and someone yelling "what" over and over again. The third voice-mail

"OK, I don't know what happened to you last night but you really need to talk to your girlfriend. You ruined her birthday." Recorded at 9 am by the same friend.

I tried calling K, got no response. So I called the friend, I told him I didn't remember a thing and he wouldn't tell me shit. Just kept telling me I had to talk to K.

I ran into K at work later that day. The whole staff smelt a little bit like a pirate the morning after.

Me: "So what happened last night? I don't remember a thing."

K: "I'm just going to need some time to figure things out."

Me: "Figure what out? Tell me what the hell I did."

K: "Just leave me alone." Then she walked away.

Everyone at work was either giving me evil looks that would probably have killed a lesser man, or they were giving me high-fives for such an awesome night. I was just really confused. Worst of all, no one would tell me what happened.

K phoned me a couple of days later.

K: "I don't think we should be together anymore."

Me: "Why not?"

K: "It's because you're a little too intense for me."

Me: "You're being deliberately vague."

K: "Are you upset?"

Me: "Probably not as much as you want me to be."

I still don't really have any idea as to what I did that night. Someone said I was all over her and was just acting crazy. If that is all it was I don't see what I did as being that bad, probably more good then bad. People take break ups differently. She was upset by the break up. I got over it just about instantly. It was less then the 3 month mark and I'm pretty sure I did the "act obnoxious to get her to break up with me" bit. Douche-bag move. Live and learn.

Moral of the stories. Don't get too invested in something that could die off just as easily as it started. I've seen so many relationships fail before they ever really start, and not just my own.

Later days.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Scares the shit out of me.

I'm not easily scared. Am I scared of a chainsaw massacre? NO. Am I scared of these bat shit ignorant crazy people coming into power? Yes. Watch and learn where the united states is heading. 

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Security Blanket and Barbarity.

I read a post yesterday that made me proud. Heather Reese over at "My husband ate all my Ice Cream" wrote an article on personal belief's.

I guess it all started when I was young. I was born into a very religious family. My parents are still hardcore religious. What religion you ask? Mormonism. I was baptized at the ripe ole age of 8 years old. The Mormons figure that at 8 years old you should know what is right and wrong and be able to make up your own mind as to whether or not you want to be baptized. This is a load of shit. I was baptized while I was crying my eyes out because I didn't want to.  So I'm assuming that at some point in my child hood, I can't remember exactly when but at some point I decided I didn't want to be religious.

However, I stayed with it for a while. I was active in the church. I went to early morning seminary everyday before school to study scripture. I know the bible very well. When I was around 14 and really knew the bible well, I started to ask questions. Questions no one could answer, things like "How can God be all powerful if he couldn't create a world where sin doesn't exist?" They would answer with you just have to have faith.

That is what it always boiled down to, faith. Religion didn't make sense to me, so I was told to have faith. I tried. I stuck with it for several more years.

I stuck with it because every single person I cared about and that cared about me was Mormon.

When I was 19 I went on my mission. I went to England. I loved England, but I began to see the hypocrisy that was inherent in the church. I was even made into a district leader. That is when I'm in charge of looking after other missionaries. I, who knew a ridiculous amount about the church and the gospel in general but who never had any faith in it at all. Not without trying though. I would pray and pray and pray. The faith never came. I never saw anything that would make me have faith that god exists.

Eventually I decided that I couldn't do it anymore. I wanted to come home from my mission. So I did. In the process I ended up getting ex-communicated from the church. This is partially because they said I wasn't repentant enough.

Which is true. I don't feel remorse for anything I've done. I've felt apologetic, but everything I've done and all of the experience I've had has turned me into the person I am today, and I kinda like him.

Where am I now? I'm roughly 20 years old and my whole world has been torn apart. Everyone I know has turned away from me. You'd think that when I was having the most trying experience of my life that everyone would want to be there for me. Not true. All the friends I had in the church all of a sudden started treating me like I had the plague.

I needed some form of support. I needed something to fill that void that the church left. Did I do anything stupid like turn to drugs, or alcohol? No I didn't. I instead turned to education.

I have the majority of my degree in philosophy. (the only reason I don't have the degree is because I needed to get a career out of my education philosophy doesn't offer that)

I took every possible course I could find on religion, ethics and morality. I learned a lot. Eventually I formed enough of an opinion to say that I was an atheist.

Since then, however I've learned more about history and more about belief systems that have nothing to do with philosophy.

How barbaric certain religions are and are allowed to be for religious reasons. Halal meat for instance.

Modern day slaughterhouses use compressed air and a metal rod to kill our meat. The rod is pushed into the brain using massive amounts of compressed air. The animal dies instantly feeling almost nothing. In Halal, the animal has to bleed out. Don't believe me. Watch this.Warning though VERY GRAPHIC. If you can't watch it, and agree with it, it shouldn't exist as a sanctioned permissible action.

This is just one act that still happens every day that is sanctioned by religions.

How about the fact that the Catholic church doesn't allow birth control but that allows and hides child abuse when committed by the priests.

There are countless atrocities that have happened in the past that were entirely the fault of religious people and sometimes condoned by the reigning religion at the time.

History will be bound to repeat itself unless we find the cause and stop it. We can't just stop believing in one part of religion like halal. That wouldn't be good enough. We can't get rid of one religion, it isn't the Islamic people that are doing all the atrocities. How about Christians and their lobby to have creationism taught in public school as if it were fact.

Circumcision is genital mutilation.

The problem is religions tendency to tell you to do something and you do it without thinking. It is the principal behind just about every form of hate and intolerance in the world right now.

Homosexuality is hated because of religion, when it is something that occurs naturally in nature as well has existed in human culture since before history.

Some people will argue and say that religion does more good than harm.

Charities and morals will still exist regardless of religion.

The only argument people have for religion it seems is. "Knowing god is out there and loves me makes me feel good" or "I can't imagine living life thinking there isn't an afterlife".

These are like security blankets like the blanket Linus from peanuts walks around with.

Religion, if it isn't an excuse for violence, hate and discrimination, it's a security blanket. Regardless of what it is, it is a suspension of logic and reason for the substitution of faith.

When I realized all of this I turned into an anti-theist. However, I won't come knock on your door to tell you about it.

If you're interested in learning more have a look here

Later days.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Boobies and a new dating site.

There is a radio station here in town that wants to give away a 10k dollar breast augmentation. The way to win? Put a picture of yourself on the interwebs and say why you think you deserve the surgery. Then the public vote. This doesn't inherently bother me. Plastic surgery is performed everyday. What bothers me is something else. The sponsor of the contest. It isn't a little doctors office, or a cosmetic surgery clinic. It's a bar. The type of bar that lets hot chicks in for free. The type of bar that will give the slutty dressed girls free drinks. This is fucking stupid.

Now a caller that called the radio station had a good point. The contest isn't for implants, it's for augmentation. There are women out there that should get breast reductions for health reasons. However a lot of women can't get it because it is still considered to be a cosmetic surgery so isn't covered by health insurance. If this happens I'll be super stoked and take back my "This is fucking stupid" comment.

However, reading the fine print of the rules, the finalists are not decided on by the public. They will be decided by the radio and the sponsor bar. There will not be women on there that are trying to get smaller breasts. It just isn't good entertainment.

Moving on!

There is a problem here in Calgary, and Alberta in general. The government is taking a very interesting way of dealing with it. I'll let you see it and decide.

and for the ladies.

I'm so disturbed. They are also running radio adds. The website actually exists. It almost looks legit.

Like this profile here. The whole website is a farce. They are trying to educate people about syphilis but I think they are going about it the wrong way.

The controversy is that Plenty of Fish is now getting really pissed off about it. They don't want to be associated with STIs obviously.

They are also running TV adds that look like the meth adds that were run a while ago. Those are effective, and I think they should stick to it.

Either way I'm still practicing safe sex. The adds I guess are raising awareness which is a good thing.

That's it from me.

Later Days.

Monday, June 13, 2011

The feeling of asphalt.

I don't know what it is but today I'm being haunted by a memory. So I'm going to write it out and hopefully that will get rid of it so that I can actually be productive.

The feeling of asphalt cold against my face was the first thing I became aware of. I didn't move I just relished in the feeling against my cheek, hard and unforgiving. I know I'm laying on my stomach. My eyes were still closed, I don't even know what time of day it is nor where I am. I try and open my eyes but they won't respond. I begin to panic as I try and move different parts of my body and nothing is responding.

Sound is the next thing to slowly creep into the small world of cold pavement. I hear things that don't make sense, foot falls fading off into the distance, the sound of an engine running. There is music, but it doesn't sound right. It sounds far away and very small. I recognize the song though, I have it on my IPod. It clicks, my headphones must have fallen away from my ears. "It's going to be OK, son" I register somewhere that the man who said that wasn't my father. My eyes still won't open.

Slowly ever so slowly I start to become aware of my body. My hand feels sticky, like it is covered in hair gel. It still won't move but I can feel the ooze that covers my hand. I'm aware that I'm not wearing a shoe, my foot is cold. My knee is cold too, it feels wet, but the rest of my leg is fine. I can feel gravel underneath my other hand.

"The ambulance is on it's way. Hold on kid." I wanted to ask what happened? Why I couldn't move? I wanted to know what was going on. As with my eyes, my mouth was stuck shut.

I'm not sure how long I lied there in sensory deprivation. Left with my thoughts of wondering what was happening. At some point someone put a blanket on me. Eventually I hear sirens in the distance.

I feel hands on me. Some of them shaking, some with firm grip.

"Roll him over," there is a hand on my face and one on the back of my head. The feeling of asphalt is still imprinted on my cheek. I can feel the pressure of what must be the straps. There is still no pain, just vague sensory information. Patchy at best. Like a tracking television.

My eyelids are peeled back and I can see for a second. I see nothing but blurred colors, then I'm blinded by a white light. First one eye then the other. Followed by blackness again. "Blood pressure is low, but stable. heart rate weak and fast, breathing shallow. No dilation of pupils. Victim is non-responsive."

Somewhere in the back of my head the first aid version of myself is checking things off the mental list. I have a head injury.

Time passes in relative silence, just the sounds of the road.

The radio chirps something I can't make out. "His parents have been contacted and will meet us at the hospital."

I don't want my parents to be there. I'm still fighting to open my eyes, to move something. I can't.

I'm being moved again.

"Is that him?" it's my mothers voice. I realize that my mother must have already been at the hospital. She worked there it isn't that much of a surprise. I feel a hand grab my hand, the one without the ooze on it. "It's going to be OK." she says but she doesn't sound convincing she sounds terrified.

My mother is not an easy woman to scare, she worked in the hospital my whole life.

Everyone keeps saying it's going to be OK but it sounds a lie.

I am wheeled into the ER. I know the hospital like the back of my hand. Years of playing there while my mother was called into work. I feel a needle go into my arm, a warm sensation rolls over me and my awareness fades.

I eventually woke up. I was lucky I was wearing a helmet. The helmet was crushed and shattered on impact, leaving my head to absorb the second impact of face to asphalt. The goo on my hand was my own blood from a laceration on my arm. The same goes for my knee, wet with blood and cold from a tare in my pants. The only thing I broke was my nose. The shoe fell off at some point. I never found it.

This is the memory tied to a biking accident, the one that ended my fighting career. The doctor told me when I woke up that he wasn't sure what the long term effects of the concussion would be. (I suffer from migraines now) However, he was absolutely certain that I should not get hit in the head anymore.

I'm still surprised at how much I remember in my unconscious state. I was aware. Makes you wonder how many other similarly injured people have the same awareness. What about the ones that never wake up?

This is wear my biggest fear comes from. I'm terrified of being trapped in my own mind with no access to my body.

Later Days everyone,

My Weekend Monday.

First off I found this...

Click on the image or here to take you to the IMDB page for it. That's all I'm going to say about that.


Nothing happened, other than I played some bocce and drank 2 beer. Woot!


This is what happens when you let the women make the rules to sociables. There is a picture out there of me wearing a nice sequined white shirt that I'm sure the poor girl is never going to be able to wear again.

There is a problem when it comes to younger women. (I need to work on my sag-ways)

Like all younger people, they think they are clever and know everything. I used too be the same when I was younger. Then I grew up and realized I did know everything. The house party I was at was filled with women that were born after Fresh Prince of Bel-Air premiered. They were barely alive when "Saved by the bell" was cancelled.

I'm just deeply amused when the younger women try and play games and think they are being sneaky. I'll leave it at that.

My weekend was spent drinking a little bit of beer and working when I wasn't doing that. I hope everyone else's weekend was as amusing as mine if not more so.

Later days.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Letters Unsent

Before I removed all my old posts not pertaining to my current incarnation of this blog I had posted a short story I wrote a long time ago. I recently got an email asking me to repost it so for my lazy Thursday post here it is. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Letters Unsent

The gusting wind, full of rain that soaked in an instant, rushed at and banged the oak door when the hunched man opened it to get into his disheveled home. The wind had stirred some stacks of papers that were the memories of some letters to a forgotten sweetheart. Letters that were wrote with the kindest of care and thought but lacking that same approach when it came to sending them. The rustling of those stacks of memories had the most gut wrenching effect on the man, causing him to drop the groceries and hurl himself across the grimy kitchen floor to the sink crowded with dishes from meals long past. In the hustle of the moment the memories were gone as quick as rodents when a light is turned on and with the vanishing memories the aversion of his stomach.

He walked dully over to the torn bags of groceries and picked up the dented cans of Pork’n Beans, dented not because he dropped them but because he liked to save the forty cents a can. The cans lay next to some generic brand of instant macaroni and cheese, its boxes crushed from the drop. It was of little concern to the soaked man. He picked up his paltry selection of food and looked gravely at his kitchen with the same apathy that he aimed at his crushed food stuffs; there was no room for the new food amongst the rejected refuse of his furious kitchen. The sink was full of mold incrusted dishes, looking as if they could themselves have leprosy. His countertops entombed with caked on food splattered from meals cooked in the long past. The groceries would be fine on the floor. He dragged them to the corner where his three legged table stood, forever leaning, mocking the architectural achievements of man. One of the bags, still untorn from the drop got caught on one of the many shreds of discolored linoleum that had peeled back away from the cupboards and walls as if curling in on itself. The final resting place of the groceries was in a cenotaphic heap next to the heating vent on a patch of floor where the manic linoleum had already deserted.

The doorbell rang and the man sauntered over to the door. He looked through the peephole it was a little girl guide. She wanted him to buy their mint-cream cookies. The man rummaged through his pockets looking for enough change before he opened the door.

“Poor girl out in this storm.” He commented as he opened the door and slipped through the crack just big enough for his bulge to fit through. The wind that had caused his earlier aversion was calmer and he didn’t even notice it. There he stood across from the girl. “I’ll take one box, please.”

“Would you like two it is by one get one half price?” Squeaked the girl’s reply.

“Sure, Hold on a second” He said and slipped inside his house, leaving the girl in his perfect front yard. The yard was fenced in by the perfect white pickets, mimicking the other fences of the neighborhood. She stood on the marble front step looking at the pristine front door with the man’s complex name written on it. The name was engraved on a brass plate and polished to a mirror finish. The girl turned to look at her mom at the end of the walk of granite. The walk was edged by little budding hedges; buds the color of early morning sky. The girl’s mom was sheltered in the Minivan away from the rain. Her mother was waving her to come to the van.

“Here, have an umbrella you’ll catch a chill if your not careful.” the mother in the van said when the girl had gotten to it. The girl now sheltered turned to the house and got a better look at it now that she wasn’t running through the rain.

The house wasn’t large but it was perfect in her eyes. It had the most wonderful blue siding and a window in the front that was tinted against the sun. The garage was a nice size; a two car. She waddled her way back to the front door. Letting her senses wade through the gardens next to the path. The rain was releasing some of the fragrances from the rare flowers in the man’s flourishing soil.

The man had returned and stood and waited just under the eaves of his house there he stood patiently waiting for her. He had the perfect change and gave it to her in exchange for the now soggy boxes of cookies. After he waved goodbye to the girl as she drove to the next house he went inside.

He walked over to the pile of groceries and dropped the cookies quite unceremoniously on to the pile. The man decided to watch TV in his sty of a living room. As he walked away from the inert pile of food, just after he turned his back, his furnace switched on. A slight breeze came from the congested ducts out of the vent, flapping the torn bags. Instantly the man was overcome by recollections of writing letters on fine paper lightly patterned. His head was reeling; he stumbled his way over to the thermostat and punched it. The thermostat shattered and the furnace was quiet, but not before her face passed before his eyes sending him into sobs.

He awoke cold, more numb than usual. The window in the corner of the room was creaking. He wondered distantly why he was laying on the floor under his shattered thermostat, and a nagging thought asked why it was broken, then shrugged it off it didn’t matter. He got up and walked over to his ratty faux leather chair in his living room. He sat and noticed again the worn out wall paper as it rolled itself down the walls. He reached for his broken remote that had duct tape on the back to hold in the mismatched batteries. He tried to turn on the TV but it didn’t work. He gave the remote a good bang on his knee, which peeked out through one of many tares on his grimy jeans. Tried again, it still didn’t work. The hole in the wall, from where he threw it was just another of many. The light shining through the hole sent the roaches scurrying to the darker corners, corners ruled by horrifying termite queens and their dark armies. The man scurried up to the TV and punched the button; the TV crackled itself on and he crawled back to his chair and hurled his mass of weight into the twisted cushions. The man settled in to watch the tracking screen of the nominal programming he was willing to pay for.

He must have drifted off the sleep but was awakened by the thunderous boom of the window pane smashing against the frail drywall. Rain and wind rushed in and knocked the TV over smashing its stunted screen. The man sat up with a start, hearing the wind, his stomach sending cramping pains through his legs. He went to stand but found out his legs couldn’t hold his weight. He fell smashing his face against the stained and soiled carpet, and grinding his skin against it. It was here in this position of torture that his memories of the past groped at him and he squirmed as fast as he could over to the window. He didn’t want to have the sweet memories of that forgotten sweetheart again. The guilt of not sending the letters would destroy him as it had almost in the past.

Although he tried, he wasn’t fast enough; the musing emotions of the past gripped him and sent him into a fitful coma, haunted by serene visages. Her soft features a stark contrast against the dark night. He was happy here, contrite to reside in this past and look at the gentle curve of her neckline. He could stay here away from the guilt, away from the reality which he had grown to hate. She was simple in her attractiveness. He sat staring at her as he had done in the past. Time passed he did not know how long; he didn’t know what it was that could cause him to pull his gaze from the pristine face in front of him, but he did he looked down at himself and it was the body of reality, obese, putrid and vile. Her face twisted and his anguish was intoxicating as he was flung back to reality his dream shattered against his dark reality.

There were tears in his eyes, streaming down his muddy cheeks leaving trails of pasty skin, as he closed the window. The image of her face twisted was still etched onto his corneas. The TV was beyond repair; its tubes on the inside a crushed history before their time.

With the only distraction from his retched life gone, and no way to suppress the emerged memories, he went to his upturned recliner; decided he should just leave it on its side from when he fell off of it. He stumbled into the wall as he lurched into the kitchen looking for anything to keep his mind busy.

The draft that came from behind him had enough force to pull his legs out from under him. He didn’t need to guess what would be coming after it. The wind of that last night good-bye was haunting him more then usual. He rushed to find the cause of this invasion of noise, his mind racing. Where was it? The crack, the leak, it had to be somewhere, upstairs? No it wasn’t in his room. It was coming from the ceiling, the tile. The memories of his lost love that he swore he would write to were skulking below the surface as he crawled up into the attic. The breeze on his face brought the nausea back from the dead.

There he stood facing his nemesis, the window in the upper corner of the far wall. It threatened to reveal all his pasts. He was surrounded by boxes. He went for the nearest one then the next, stacking them toward his goal. His mind was to busy to drag him into the joyful recollection. He stacked until he thought he would be able to reach the window from the top. He scrambled up to the top level on his knees. The memory of the last time he saw her hit him hard - he on his knees - her on hers - they hugged each other goodbye in the airport. The tears from his eyes were blurring his vision. The window was inches from his fingers; he needed to reach a little more. The persistent memories of the past were hitting him one after another. He remembered there last walk in the park along cobbled walks as her blonde hair was blown in the autumn wind. She was gorgeous in her simple idiosyncrasies; she would cringe at the swans but would coo lovingly at the pigeons.

He reached for the window as that memory faded. He had to reach a little more, it was too far, he reached anyway and lost his balance the window slammed shut and with it the memories, but he was falling.

He hit with a thud. His whole body hurt, it was nice just to feel. He lay there for a minute before he rolled over and for that minute of freedom he thought he finally conquered the past. Although as he rolled over, in the air was his worst night mare; the box he had placed on top of the pile, the one he had been kneeling on had contained the precious mementoes of his past and it had launched into the air after him and now lay gutted. Its beloved contents exposed. The letters on the scented paper were twirling in the air their box lay barren. He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing at them reading snippets from things he’d wrote but she’d never read. “Love you always” “Miss you forever” “I promise I’ll be coming home soon” Every word was true except the promises. There was no way to grab them all. They twirled in the commotion of his heart. When they settled all was quiet.

The middle aged women in her single bedroom basement apartment would never know the letters published, by the new owners of the man’s house, under the title “Letters Unsent” were meant for her but she would forever wonder what happened to the man that said he would write.

That's it for today. I hope you liked it.

Later days.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011


After work yesterday, as with every Tuesday, I played Ultimate.

 I love that sport, it is social and a good work out. After which we went to a pub that gives sports teams a discount. 10 dollar jugs and 40 free wings per 5 people. Yea, I know, awesome right? It was. Well one of the girls on my team who is married to an awesome guy brought her sister out for the first time. She was cute, funny, athletic, had really nice eyes and generally everything I look for in a girl. However, I couldn't bring myself to ask her out. I don't know why, I just wasn't feeling it.

The evening came to a close and every one went their separate ways. It wasn't exactly late but I do love my sleep so instead of going out to see a different friend I just went home. Where I wasted another hour and a half chatting with friends and watching some TV. I'm so good at being productive.

While this was happening I could feel my mind going to a dark place. I don't even know why. I just got this overwhelming sense of doom. I felt incredibly lonely. I didn't have any more reason than any other day to feel this way, but I did. It happens to me every once in a while. Last night however was the first time I was actually aware of it as it set in. Normally I am just in a mood.

This worried me, so using my supreme skills of ignoring my problems till they go away I went to bed. I was exhausted after all and had to work this morning. I had issues falling asleep though.
That shit right there is a lot of feathers.

My body fell asleep. It wasn't moving even if I wanted to move it. I was completely relaxed and comfortable. Laying in my epic bed trying to sleep, my mind raced. Without a conscious decision on my part I brought up in my memory some of the fiction and poetry I used to write.

Back in the day when I was writing on a regular bases, not working on my novel, and still hadn't lost my romantic side under the bed, I would write lovey dovey, pookey wookey make you tear up and vomit type of shit. There I am, exhausted, totally relaxed, in a slight amount of pain from someone landing on my ankle trying to sleep, and I'm reciting sappy poetry that I wrote 9 years ago for a girl I was dating. My mind was in torment and I was doing it to myself for no real apparent reason. I eventually managed to grab the emo kid that lives somewhere in my brain and throw him back in the crawlspace of my mind where I keep the memories of where the bodies are located. I figured it would shut him up for a while.

I fell asleep.

I dream every night. I know everyone dreams every night, but I'm one of those people that remember at least one dream every night. I always have. I also suffered night terrors as a child. To me it was just a bad dream, but my screaming bloody murder in my sleep scared the crap out of everyone else in the house. I still get bad dreams, just no screaming in my sleep. Progress right?

Last night I remember 2 distinct nightmares. One of them was so bad I woke up and had to get out of bed and fully wake up to clear it from my mind and make sure that it was actually a dream. Crawl back into bed only to wake up to another nightmare a while later. This one I knew was a dream the moment I woke up and just went back to sleep.

I fell back into the first nightmare, except it was at the beginning again. This time it didn't turn out to be such a nightmare. Like one of those choose your own adventure books my dream allowed me to make different decisions than the first time through. I woke up again at some point and smiled to myself. I woke up in a much better mood than when I fell asleep.

I'm concerned though. What could cause this massive shift in mood without my control? Should I see a doctor? I mean my mood even managed to manifest itself in my dreams. I guess through subconscious will power I was able to work through it and wake up in a state of mind that wouldn't later involve me standing in front of a judge shrugging my shoulders.

Later Days

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Women need tips too.

I have a small blog crush on a certain Random Girl, so because of this I've been reading a lot of stuff over at the Dude Society. Not just Lisa's stuff, but all the articles. I love reading it because it makes me feel better knowing that I'm actually doing things right. (I blame my two overbearing, highly opinionated sisters.)

This being said, in a lot of the articles there are certain assumptions made. Like that the girl is normal. During my dating experiences I've discovered that this assumption is most definitely not a safe one.

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to give some dating advice to a friend and her friend. They were talking about bad dates. I noticed that a lot of these bad dates could have been avoided with a little bit of thought on their part.

Let's start with the usual problem women have, "Why can't I find a nice guy." or "Why do I attract so many creeps." or "blah blah blah" (any other complaint about the men they date). There is a surprisingly simple solution to this. Don't say yes to dating those types of guys. I know, I know, it's so hard when they are showering you with witty reparte/ funny remarks/ constantly hitting on you/ or any other thing that gets you interested in the first place only to find out that they are the usual type of guy you get stuck with. Do a little bit of hindsight research, identify the common denominator and then don't date it. Or even better, you could go against the grain and dare I say, ask out a guy you think would better suit you. If you keep getting stuck with the usual clone go talk to the guy that looks a little out of the ordinary, or if you usually date the power suit, power tie combination go ask out the guy in board shorts and a t-shirt.

The Clone (source)

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results." You want to know who said that, Einstein, which I don't know if you knew this, but he was kind of a big deal.

Moving on, the other thing that I noticed women have a problem with is getting asked out in the first place, IE: meeting guys. From personal experience, if I'm out and about looking for a girl to talk to there are certain things that immediately stop me from going over and getting my chat on: Women huddled together like there is a tornado right next to them and they don't want to get dragged away. I'm not going to try and break into your circle and say Hi, no matter how good you look in those jeans. Also, if you already have a large amount of guys talking to you. I don't want to step on any toes, so if you know you aren't interested in them, get rid of them. I know they will appreciate you not wasting their time, instead of finding out when the bar is closing that you won't even give them your number.

By far the easiest way for a girl to get hit on is to go somewhere alone. Go to the bar to grab your next drink, especially if you see a guy checking you out and you think he is cute. He is probably just waiting for a chance to say hi. You want a guy to dance with you, go out on the dance floor, alone, or ask him to dance. Men are terrified of large groups of women. Large being loosely defined as more than one.

Let's say you beat the odds of the bar scene and actually manage to find a guy you are willing to spend at least 15 more minutes with. We will move onto the actual date.

I know guys are "supposed" to be the one that asks the girls out. I'm OK with this certain double standard because it allows guys like me to show off a little bit because the standard rule of thumb is that the person who asks the other out does the planning. So ladies, if a guy asks you out, you say yes, and then he goes, "So what do you want to do?" How interesting of a first date do you think it is going to be? I think first dates should be standardized anyway. Drinks/coffee, to see if you have anything in common to encourage a more involved second date.

So fine lets skip to the second date, I'm assuming again that it was him that asked the ubiquitous question of, "Can I see you again?" I'm also going to assume you said yes.

Ladies if the guy doesn't have a clue what he wants to do with you on the second date, I suggest using caution if you choose to proceed. I know this sounds harsh, but it shows certain things. 1.) He is not passionate about anything enough that he wants to share it with you. or 2.) He is lazy or 3.) He doesn't want to suggest things you won't like. (which if he was paying attention during first date wouldn't be an issue)  Almost every single bad date that my chick friends tell me they go on starts out with the "I don't know what do you want to do." My advice "Just don't do it." It goes both ways though, don't be a boring date.

Ok on to another topic that was brought up during the discussion. "Oh my god, he was so creepy, he just couldn't take a hint." I don't know how many times I've had to tell women this. Men are stupid. Be blunt, we won't break. I was then informed, men are fragile creatures and the slightest thing could upset them. Bullshit. If the guy breaks down and weeps on the second date when you tell him you just don't care about how he told his mother about you already, I'm pretty sure you didn't want to date him anyway. Just tell him to bugger off. Quit pandering to the weak, he'll either buck up and smarten up or he won't reproduce. Either way, we as a species win.

Another thing I've noticed women doing is lying to sound interesting. To quote the TV show "Love Bites" (terrible show soon to be cancelled me thinks) "We live in a twitter world. You have to hook a guy with 140 characters or less." This maybe true, but don't lie. If I meet a chick and she says she loves reading then tells me her favorite book is twilight and can't name another book she's read I'll probably develop a twitch. Or if she says she likes video games but her favorite one is Farm-ville, I may need bail money. Or she says she likes the outdoors but she meant tanning and going to the park, I may take her to the mountains and leave her there.

It's rather simple ladies. Step one, Don't date the same type of guys expecting one of them to work for you. Step 2, watch out for little warning signs like hygiene, lazy behavior, lives with his mother, is 32 and still works at Starbucks (I don't care if he is an "artist") etc. Step 3, be assertive. Tell the douche-bags and the creepers to fuck off. Step 4, be yourself. Step 5 fall madly in... to some mad passionate monkey sex.

Later days.

Monday, June 6, 2011

My weekend.

I have to be honest here and say that my weekend was surprisingly low key. Not saying I didn't do anything, because lets be honest here. I am always doing something.

So Friday I went out to a friends birthday party. This was kind of interesting because a lot of my friend's friends are a little on the, how do you say it, pussy, easily offended side of life. She has a friend that is getting her Phd. in social work, a whole bunch of school teachers and the like. I mean these are people that "care".

I did my best not to offend anyone's sensibilities but I think I failed when someone brought up the "Justin Bieber" board game. I asked if that was the one where he had to suck his managers cock. I was told that I went to far with that and it wasn't funny. I laughed anyway.

I met a girl that was really cool. She had a similar sense of humor as I did. (she laughed at the Justin thing) There was an issue though that stopped me from pursuing her. What is the maximum height difference allowed in a couple? I'm 6'2 and she was 5'1. It just felt awkward thinking dirty thoughts about her so how could I do dirty things to her, so why bother trying...

Saturday we were all hung over so we played board games. I played the board game "Things" for the first time. Hilarious game if played with the right type of people. If you've never played before it involves a question about things, then everyone write down an answer, one person reads them all, then everyone takes turns guessing who wrote what. Hilarity ensues.

"Things you shouldn't put on the table?"  Answer. "A velociraptor".
"Things you  shouldn't laugh at? Answer "Anything Hero says"
"Things you don't see in the city? Answer "Black people with jobs"

We played for hours. Those aren't all the answers just some of the ones I could remember. I think it would be an awesome drinking game.

Sunday was absolutely gorgeous outside. So I went to the park with a friend. The park we went to is called "Prince's island park"

It is an island in the river right next to down town. Walking distance from my condo.

I urge you to click on the images to get the full effect

Massive tree blocking some of Calgary's nice architecture. 

The bridge over part of the river. The majority of the river is on the other side of the island.

The walkway from my house to the park. It pretty much all looks this amazing.

I woke up to rain this morning, so these pictures brightened my day.

Later Days Everyone.

Ps. Oh I went and got twitter @Not_the_hero. I'm new to it so gimme a bit to get rolling. I also managed to get 50 followers. Cool and welcome new people.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Soft-Core Friday: Love is good, but lust burns more calories.

Warning this post contains gratuitous amounts of the word fuck and all of its conjunctions.

I have to give a shout out to Random girl for the weekly theme and for my blog title today. If you don't read their shit, you should. If you're not going to, I will find you, and because I'm feeling generous ... tickle you to death. Well maybe not death, but at least till you piss yourself then I'll make you walk home. Depending on who you are that could be a long walk in some uncomfortable pants. This got way out of control.

I've been doing a lot of driving lately. I fucking hate traffic. Calgary has 2 seasons: Winter and Construction. Either way you ain't getting anywhere fast. Everyone on the planet thinks Canadians are polite people. Try driving here. Regardless, because I've been doing a lot of driving I've been listening to the radio a lot. I've noticed a trend in music. I'm sure I'm not the first one to notice but there are really only 2 and a half topics for songs: love and partying, or a mixture of the two called "fucking". This got me thinking about love and fucking. Are they mutually exclusive?

For instance this song.

This is straight up about fucking. I love a "good" fuck. They are a lot harder to come by then just a random fuck. In the song the chick makes it perfectly clear she wants nothing more than a solid fuck. Sweet deal.

Then a song like his pops into mind.
I really don't know what to say about it, but I like it.

And of course.
The video for the song is actually too crazy to be on YouTube, so you get a lyric video, sorry. Fucking deal with it.

I love the idea all of these songs portray. It is fun, it is raw, and it is passionate. My inner monster just wants to have some random raunchy debauched sex.

Then a song like this comes on.
First of all, I want to do everything from those first songs to her. As for the lyrics it stirs the romantic in me. I'm surprised though because I thought I'd lost that part of me under the bed with my missing socks, 80's playboy magazines, the hooker from last weekend, my sleeping bag and backpack.

Or this song,
I just want to reach out and give the girl a hug. I want to feel that love that gives butterflies in the stomach, the clammy hands when I knock on her door to pick her up for a date. I want the type of love that she wrote the song about.

My drive home lately is an emotional roller coaster of wanting to go out and just fuck "to the windows, to the walls, till the sweat drops down my balls" (oh Lil' Jon who knew your words would define a generation's wet dreams) or find a girl and treat her right. Romance her and show her the more sophisticated side of me that shows up at the symphony.

 I guess I still have my "teenage dream" of finding a girl that I can take "porn star dancing" then get her "alone again" so we can be "satisfied" and she won't be a "crazy bitch" in the end.

 I don't want love and fucking to be mutually exclusive, it's too much work. What's so wrong with wanting the best of both worlds?

Later Days

Thursday, June 2, 2011

The castration of a younger generation.

This is something that came up in conversation last night while I was out watching the hockey game eating a ridiculous amount of 3 cent dry ribs. 

There is an old family friend that works at my old elementary school, or primary school, or den of noise, depending on where you're from and what your stance on children is. She is one of those playground supervisors. You know the ancient ladies that stand by the school doors watching the children run around and play. The problem is that children don't just run around and play. They run around and torment each other. 

There are a lot of people out in the world these days that think that bullying is a huge problem. They think that if they can abolish bullying children will be able to develop in a non threatening environment and have a happier healthier school life. Bollocks.

This family friend, we'll call her Patsy, because that is her name. Well she saw this little kid every day getting bullied. The other supervisors would do their best to stop the kids from bullying this poor child, but as everyone knows, kids can be sneaky little bastards and adult eyes don't necessarily see everything. The tormented child would run to the supervisors for protection. This didn't help with the bullying. It just made it worse. "Gotta run and tattle... neener neener neener." The supervisors would do whatever they could to punish the bullies but couldn't abolish it completely. You never can. Instead they teach this poor victim that he is doing the right thing by running to them for protection. This is a stop measure, not a solution. 

Now Patsy is getting sicker and sicker of having to deal with these bullies, and the victim as well. So one day the little sprite comes to her in tears saying the bullies punched him. Patsy didn't see it happen so there is nothing she can do to punish the bullies. He said, she said bullshit. So she turns to the little tike and tells him, "Look if you don't go back out and play and the next time those boys come to pick on you, if you don't turn around and punch them right back I'll take you to the principal’s office."

This little kid, who is actually bigger than the boys bullying him, goes back out into the playground. About 5 minutes later there is a large crowd gathered around in the center of the yard. No one was saying a word, no cheering, just total silence. Patsy comes running over to see what all the kerfuffle is and sees one very unconscious bully, and one previously bullied child standing holding his fist with tears in his eyes. 

Rules are rules so Patsy takes the young child to the office to deal with the principal. Where the first thing out of the child's mouth was, "Patsy told me to". Patsy was suspended from work pending possible disciplinary action. The bully’s mom was even talking of pressing criminal negligence charges. 

This was until there was a disciplinary hearing where all parties involved were brought together to talk about the incident. Patsy, principal, bully and parents, victim and parents were all brought together to solve the issue as quickly and pain free as possible. 

First the bully's mom gets up and says "My son did not deserve to be assaulted, he was just playing when this other boy comes over and punches him. I'm livid that a supervisor even told the child to hit my son. I want her fired and the boy expelled." A case of my son's perfect and this is all your fault type argument. 

Patsy's turn, "I just want to say that I've seen your boy pick on, ridicule and harass this other boy for months on end. There have been multiple incidents where we have caught him about to assault this other boy. I'm pretty sure there have been more incidents that we haven't seen. I feel that my solution to the issue was to teach the victim to defend himself. I'm not sorry for telling him what I did. Your boy will be fine."

The mother of the bully was red in the face ready to scream. However it wasn't her turn to speak.

The Victim's mother gets up with tears in her eyes. "For months my boy has cried himself to sleep knowing he has to go to school the next day. My son comes home every day from school saying he hates it and he never wants to go back. I tell him to do what all the books and media say you're supposed to do about bullying. Talk to an adult, tell someone. Nothing has worked. It isn't just your boy that picks on my son, I'm sure. However, that day that my son punched yours, when I picked my son up from the principal’s office he was crying because he hurt your boy, but let me tell you this though. That was the first night he didn't cry himself to sleep." 

Patsy ended up not getting fired. She got a stern talking to but that was about it. 

What I'm getting at with this story is that we as a society are approaching bullying the wrong way. Bullying isn't something new. It has been around since the dawn of time. It is part of societal growth and development. If we abolish bullying where will we learn to defend ourselves in the social battlefield of adulthood?

I read a story about a guy that got mugged by an unarmed assailant, didn’t even put up a fight just handed over his wallet.
How about in business, assertiveness is something that is lacking in the workforce today. People are afraid to ask for raises. Afraid to fight back when the big corporations start pushing them out of business. People have had their spines removed.

I think we don’t need to attack the bullies as much as we have been. We need to educate the young on defending themselves effectively. Teach them the skill sets they will use for the rest of their lives.

You can’t get rid of bullies; they are as much a part of society as cliques are. Not everyone is going to get along. Why bother forcing it. Instead teach them the social problem solving that they must develop in order to survive in an adult world when they grow up.

I’m reminded of the news story from a couple months ago about the victim picking up the bully and power bombing him. 

Here is the clip.

It is terrible to see violence. I'm not an inherently violent person. I still think that sometimes defending yourself is the right thing to do. There is only so long you can run away.