My pride is showing -- again

This handsome young couple is Little Bro Dan (a.k.a. Dano) and his fiancée, Christine (a.k.a. The Pretty One).
They're getting married next April in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I will be his Best Man.
They live in Timmins, where he works as a paramedic and she works as membership coordinator and receptionist at a gym, while she completes a Human Resources course to combine with her B.A. in psychology.
Here's why my pride is showing this time around: This young couple, who both turn 26 later this year, is in the process of buying their first home together. They have decided that they're wasting money on rent; done their homework; and are now buying a beautiful little bungalow in Timmins.
See why I'm proud? Does it show?

Coffee Break Time

Okay, who DO I look like?

My Mom's pic is in the last post. Here's Dad:

This is my favourite pic of my Dad. My friend Cathy took it a couple of summers ago. It just totally captures my Dad, doing one of his favourite things in one of his favourite places: having an after-supper cup of tea at the kitchen table at the cottage.

On Mother's Day, I think of my Mom even more often than I do every day

Cecile (Beaulieu) McIntyre
March 3, 1931-April 12, 2002

Sometime, I long for the days of peace, love and rock & roll

I'm feeling isolated

If you don't want to read a post that's mostly bitching and whining, click off of this one real fast.
Okay, not that they're gone, here goes:

I like my job. I especially enjoy the work it entails on weekends -- and the people I work with -- my Weekend Dream Team. But one major problem is that it's on weekends. I also work three evenings (2:30-11:30) during the week. Social life? What's that?

This schedule is actually what saved my job about 15 months ago. But I'm starting to realize how I've become isolated from the friends I made in the first two years I lived in Ottawa.

Most of those friends were because of minor hockey. I was trainer for two different hockey teams in those first two years in my adopted home town. But because of the change in my work schedule, I couldn't get involved this past hockey season. I mean, I hardly ever saw the team I was with for the last half of the 2006-07 season, because I was always working when there were games or practices.

I've realized how much I miss hockey and the kids on the teams. And just in the past two weeks, I've learned of things that really made me realize that I've become even more isolated than I thought.

First, I learned that one of the goaltenders on the first team I was with, has brain cancer and isn't expected to survive. He just turned 18. His dad was one of the coaches on that first team I was with, and I consider him a friend. But I have become so out of touch with him, I learned third-hand of Misha's illness. I've let them know I'm thinking of them and offering any help I can, but it seems like an after-thought.

Then today, I received an email from the wife of a guy who was on both coaching staffs with me. The email is complete with pictures of the new baby girl who arrived last week. I didn't even know they were expecting! Last I knew, about a year ago, Tammy had just miscarried, was an emotional wreck, and Trevor was at wit's end, trying to hold things together for Tammy, but also grieving their loss.

I've often thought of calling Tammy and Trev just to see how they're doing. But again, I'm at work when they're not, and vice versa.

Not one to just wallow without doing anything, I am going to start riding my boss to make good on a promise to hire someone to replace me on weekends, so I can work Monday to Friday. It won't be ideal, but it should help. And I'll start looking harder for another job -- hopefully in Ottawa.

Urban Pedestrian is back!

Check out her blog at urbanpedestrian.blogspot.com.
But please, don't put any pressure on her to blog regularly or anything, 'kay?

What's wrong with this picture?

I got off work shortly after 11:30 last night, and practically raced to the Sunoco near my place to fill up with gas -- even though I still had about three-eighths of a tank -- to beat the midnight price increase. So I was practically jubilant to pay 117.2! Adding to my joy was that the Petro-Can across the street and the Esso further up the street were already at 120.5.

The people I feel really sorry for are the poor eight-bucks-an-hour guys and gals inside the booth who take all the crap when customers vent about getting hosed at the pump.

I don't recall hearing of any large petroleum companies going bankrupt lately. Do you?

The rich and crass get richer and crasser on the backs of the little guys.

Another reason to like Wally World... besides bum pads, of course

So I was at my local WalMart yesterday. It's only been open for a couple years in this location, and just finished a major expansion to become a Supercentre, complete with a full-service grocery store.

Now, being the proud Canadian, supporter of the working guy/gal, not to mention iconoclast who should really be frowning at the largest retailer in the world, I try hard not to like WalMart. One thing that makes it difficult is my personal boycott of Zellers and all things belonging to HBC since the double fiasco last May with my washer/dryer and lamps (if you can't recall, check out my posts from late last May).
Anyway, to finally get to the point, my neighbourhood WalMart now has a Tim Hortons! That means you can get real coffee and real fast-type food other than McDonald's at the WalMart Supercentre! I can't do McDo -- it gives me the runs, really!

So bless Sam Walton's little timbits.

Red Hot Kohls R.I.P.

Kenneth " Donald The Red Hot " Kohls
Peacefully at the Ottawa General Hospital on Thursday, April 10, 2008. Beloved husband of the late Elva Marie Kohls. Loving father of Nancy, Vaughn (Tammy) and his grandaughter of Bronte, Paige (Bill Sonier) and Kyle Kohls-Wiebe (Megan) and granddaughter Ceepha. According to his wishes, funeral arrangements are private and are in care of the St. Laurent Chapel of Hulse, Playfair and McGarry. Memorial donations may be made to the Canadian Diabetes Association.

N@, Ma and others will relate to this. Red Hot was a long-time radio morning man in Timmins and the Ottawa Valley. I listened to him as a kid, and had the privilege of working with him as an adult. For all his crazy, on-air antics, Red Hot was a shy, sweet man off-air. The big control room in the sky is now home to another legend.

Rest well, my friend.

More pics from Mexico

The Mayan ruins at Tulum. Fascinating! Unfortunately, the tour lasts less than an hour.
My kinda drugstore!
Self-portrait on the beach on Cozumel, an island that's a half-hour ferry ride from Playa del Carmen. I went on a Jeep safari of the island.
My swimming companion at Cozumel. He kept calling me "Hamburger". Maybe he meant "Big Mac".

Froot Loops, anyone?

Okay, so I'm home. I'll post more over the weekend. Meanwhile, you can wonder whether the bird crapped down my back.

And I'm surprised Maria hasn't shared this yet: In Mexico, you can buy booze in drug stores and Viagra over the counter. It was even for sale in the smoke shop at my resort. It's on the same shelf as Tylenol, cough syrup, Midol, etc.

Cancun, here I come!

I love this interweb thingy. It's so handy since they put it on computers.
I've already checked in with Air Canada, and got my boarding passes printed (seat 12A on both flights, Ottawa-Toronto and Toronto-Cancun -- window seats!).
Now I just have to finish packing, go to work, get home about midnight, up about 5:15 for my niece to pick me up at 6:15 to drive me to the airport, and mes vacances begin!

Take care of yourselves while I'm gone, and give Ma Horton a shot in the ribs once in a while, to keep her awake. If she snores during N@'s appearance at the va-jay-jay performance tonight, N@ will be soooo embarrassed.

(Hey! I just had an idea! What if The Vagina Monologues teamed up with Puppetry of the Penis for a double bill? Mind-boggling.)

Anyway, adios amigos. Must also practice my Spanish: "Una cerveza, por favor. Una cerveza, por favor..."

HAPPY EASTER BOXING DAY!

I just got back from Giant Tiger (the original from 1961, right across the street from work), and all the Easter chocolate is on sale! I bought a hockey player bunny and a Spiderman to share with everyone at work. Now I have to find the strength not to go back across the street between now and nine o'clock, when Humungous Pussycat closes.

Happy Easter? Bah, humbug!

I do not begrudge you and yours the long weekend. But please, dear fellow bloglodytes, allow me to wallow and vent.
I'm working all weekend.
That's tonight, tomorrow, Sunday and Monday.
Yeah, I know, sucks to be me.
But adding to the frustration is the fact that there's a full moon right now, and the nutbar calls to our newsroom have already started -- and guess who gets to answer the phone? I've had two already, and I still have five hours left in my shift.
Oh, well, after Monday, I only have to work on Thursday, then I'm off to Cancun for a week.
Happy Easter!

I've been wanting to share this one

...and I finally found it over the weekend, as I was trying to organize the hundreds of pictures I have on my computer, with the view to some day saving most of them on disc.

I took this on January 30, 2005, while walking along the Lake Ontario shoreline in Ajax. At the time, I had no idea that within a month, I would be living in Ottawa.
Ajax is a beautiful town, with several parks and a beautiful trail along the lake. It's actually part of the Trans-Canada Trail System.
I hope you enjoy this pic as much as I do. I took it with my Canon PowerShot A60.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

A couple post-storm pictures

Of course, I would have rather been out with my camera during the day on Sunday, before the clean-up actually got very far, but I was working, informing the Ottawa TV market of exactly what had happened, and letting them know that they were among hundreds of thousands of people inconvenienced by the wrath of nature.
Notice that the Metro newspaper box is totally blocked by snow; and that 24 Hours and the Ottawa Sun both use the same word in their headlines: WALLOP. Naturally, the French version of 24 Hours doesn't have the word, so that makes two out of three. I used my considerable power and authority ;) at A-Channel to banish the word from our coverage. It was so overused all weekend in print and broadcast, and there are so many other good words to replace it.

Proud? Who? Moi?

Check out this link http://www.timminspress.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=936329&auth=Brandon+Walker and keep reading until you get about halfway down, and the young paramedic named Dan makes his entrance. That's my Dano!

I also know Don the veteran. He's from Iroquois Falls, I coached a Midget hockey team with his Dad for a couple years. His brother was on that team.

Coffee's traumatic morning

Coffee just had her first visit to the vet -- at least, the first time since we became a family. The worst part was getting her there and back. She does not like the cat carrier (it's like a sports bag with mesh windows). She was breaking my heart with her crying on the way to the vet's (a five-minute ride from home), so I let her out of the carrier, but then the car ride was freaking her out. Luckily, she was not taking it out on me, she was in the back seat crying.
Inside the vet's office was okay. She didn't even feel the rabies needle. And she wasn't crazy about getting her nails clipped. I thought all women liked getting mannies.
Then, when she knew we were leaving and it was time to get back in the cat carrier, she hid behind some filing cabinets. The vet's assistant -- a lady of about 60 -- crawled on her hands and knees to get her out.
Coffee was pretty good on the way home, still crying a bit, but not minding the carrier all that much. But you should have seen her when we got inside and I opened the end of the carrier. ZIP!--Right to the litter box for a major dump!
She's now obviously back in her comfort zone, sleeping on the bed as I write this.
By the way, she's very healthy, although I'm supposed to switch her to a lower-calorie food for indoor cats, and only feed her about half the amount I do now. She weighs 4kg (which is just under nine pounds), but shouldn't get much heavier.
We don't have to go back for a year. On one hand, I hope she forgets about this time. On the other hand, I hope she remembers, and realizes it wasn't all that bad.
For my part, it appears that I'm not only a cat person, but a good Daddy, too.

Cancel the rest of the American Idol season

Just give the Archuleta kid the title.
Wonderful rendition of "Another Day in Paradise" and picked with a social conscience.
AND he was thirsty and had to pee! Imagine if he hadn't!

A significant day in our family

This beautiful young lady is the "baby" of the McIntyre family. Caitlin is the youngest grandchild/niece, and today, she turned 18 years old. She is headed to university this fall to become an elementary teacher.
As if her birthday isn't significant enough, there is added significance to March 1, 1990. That's the day my Dad ("Paw" to the grandchildren, including Little Bro Dan) quit smoking that same day. He went for a laser treatment that afternoon, about ten hours before Caitlin was born. In his words, the laser was probably bullshit. He decided that if he wanted to live long enough to see that little girl grow up, he had to quit smoking.
Cait and Paw have always had a special bond. It is eternal.
I love them both very much.

Time Travel??? WTF???

To say I'm disappointed with tonight's episode of LOST is an understatement. I mean, come ON!

I hate to see anyone fired...

...but John Paddock had to go!
Maybe now the Sens will actually make the playoffs. At this point, I'll just settle for a goal. It's been soooooooooooo long.

Some pics I took tonight.

They're self-explanatory. Okay, so I'm no Milky, but isn't one Milky enough? And don't forget, my camera's only worth about $400.

You try to help the environment...

...but sometimes ya gotta wonder if it's worth it.
I've dramatically cut down on my plastic bag consumption. I have bought three of those sturdy, reuseable bags. And whether it's a grocery store, pharmacy or department store, when I have only a few small items, I take them without a bag -- just the receipt, so I don't get nailed for shoplifting. Heck, I might even have to start buying kitchen-sized garbage bags!

But then, something happens like what happened tonight.
I went to Quizno's to get some supper. The weird-looking kid with all the hair shoved under his Quizno's hat started putting my sandwich in a bag, so I asked him not to. "Sure, Man," he says, hands me the sandwich, and puts the bag in the garbage can. I COULD HAVE DONE THAT!

Sheesh.

Pet peeves

1) Broadcasters (I'm talking to you, Bob Cole and Don Cherry) who pronounce Detroit with three syllables. It's dee-TROYT, you morons, not dee-TROY-it!

2) The same bee-atch who goes to all the same concerts I do, gets a seat in front of me, and puts on her own stand-up performance through the whole f**kin' show. Yo, b**ch, I didn't pay to watch you. So sit your ass down. Better yet, next time, buy a ticket to be on the floor!
I'll give you this: Last night at Rascal Flatts, you had the diva hand moves down pat.

Anyone care to add their own pet peeves?

I gots a cold

...and Ma Horton's cavortin' in Mexico, so I can't get some of her cyber Timmy's chicken soup and some now now there there.

Havin' a cold sucks rocks real hard.

Lotto - by popular demand

Okay, Maria, here are my numbers. Anyone else care to join?

6/49 Feb. 6
04 09 15 16 32 35

Super 7 Feb. 8
01 07 12 18 20 21 45
03 10 11 15 20 23 34
12 13 23 29 40 43 46

My TV series idea

I almost feel like a scab coming up with this idea, what with Hollywood writers being on strike and all, but American networks are apparently snapping up Canadian shows. So here goes:

I'll call it "Hell's Snow Angels". It's a gritty drama about a gang of snowmobilers terrorizing a small Northern Ontario town called North Weasel, trying to get the corner on the illegal market in coffee and doughnuts. They ride from town to town on their souped-up Ski-doos, with their Hell's Snow Angels crests embroidered across the backs of their snowmobile suits, and park their trail hogs in long lines outside coffee shops, which might be a front for illegal activity. The cops keep a close eye on them, but very rarely actually catch them doing anything unlawful.

The Angels also congregate at trailside clubhouses, where they do God knows what.

One particular cell of the Angels has a matriarch of sorts, a tough cookie (cruller?) named Ma. She rules the roost, and what she tells her "boys" to do, gets done.

I obviously have some polishing and fine tuning to do before I actually script a pilot and make arrangements to shoot it. Any ideas are welcome, and keep your eyes right here for a casting call.

I'm thinking of including a gay character whose snowmobile helmet is painted leopard print, and call him Pussy or Kitty or Tiger, or something like that. For a dash of class, I might partner him up with a European fella.

Of course, we need a comic foil, which I'm contemplating making a mouthy chick and her paramour with a goofy name like Popcorn or Radish. They'll be in charge of clubhouse security, and totally mess things up by choosing a couple of yappy little rat dawgs to guard the property from polar bears, instead of vicious Samoyeds raised on raw meat.

For the hot romantic scenes, perhaps a couple with Mediterranean roots, who ride their snow hogs all around the world, with their two kids in tow. Their oldest -- probably a boy -- will be more sophisticated than the rest, trying to rise above the life of crime and terrorism. In contrast, his younger sister will be a bit of a handful.

Reality will be added by the single mother of a very bright little guy. She's struggling with some demons, and trying to break free of the snowmobile gang lifestyle to make a good life for herself and the kid.

Hey! This is almost writing itself. We're almost ready to roll, Mr. DeMille.

LOST is found!

Great news today! If you miss a Thursday episode of "Lost" on CTV or ABC, you can catch it on Monday nights at 10:00 on A-Channel! For you bloglodytes who don't live in an A-Channel market, A-Channel Ottawa is Channel 209 on Bell Expressvu and 342 on Star Choice.
I'm extra excited, because it's a fantastic lead-in program to the 11pm newscast I produce on Monday nights. The rationale is that a strong program retains viewers for the newscast (or other program) that follows it. And we start a new ratings period next Thursday. Over the next six weeks, at least three of them are "hot", meaning people are filling out their diaries with what they're watching at any specific time. The more people who watch my newscast, the better.
Again: The Thursday episode of "Lost" is repeated on A-Channel on Monday at 10pm. This will also be handy for a second look, to pick up details you might have missed or misunderstood the first time around.

Urban Pedestrian, come back!

We miss you.
Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I do. Kinda.
The blogosphere just doesn't seem the same without you.

Seamus 'n Me

So I've moved into Milky's house to take care of it and Famous Seamus for a week.
He's a lovable mutt (Seamus, not Milky -- okay, Milky too) but what a neurotic suck (Seamus, not Milky). He danged well KNOWS that Milky and The Lovely Sue were making a getaway when they left with suitcases at about 4:30 this morning. He cried and whined for about an hour, before falling asleep on the bed next to me. Then the rest of the day until I left for work, he just moped around all depressed. He wouldn't play with me and his ball, the tennis ball that he always drops at my feet until I throw it or kick it, soaking my socks on the doggie drool.

I'm sure he'll feet better as the week wears on. Milky already e-mailed to ask how Seamus is doing, and I told a little white lie, that we're getting along famously. Actually, we are, it's just that Seamus isn't his friendly old self.

Some people around me find irony in the fact that I had to hire Phil's Cat-Sitting Service (the kid who lives in the apartment above mine) to take care of Coffee while I'm taking care of Seamus.

By the way, big thanks to Milky's neighbour Yves for pitching in, and stopping by to see Seamus while I'm at work. You see, he's not used to being left alone for any more than four or five hours at a time. I'm often away for eleven hours or more.

Look what I found!

So I'm trying to clean out my extra bedroom and part with an accumulation of junk from the past 20 years or so (next project: same thing in overpacked storage locker), and look what I found. N@ wrote me this letter in 1990, when she was a wee lass working part-time at the same radio station where I was news director, and had just announced my departure for TV.

First, the front of the envelope. Note the return address and the 39-cent stamp.

Now, the artwork on the back of the envelope.

And, the pièce de résistance, the letter.

The "Ronnie m'boy" reference is to the time I memo'd young Natalie (yeah, snail mail and memos -- this was 1990, after all) for coming off a BN newscast one night by thanking the newscaster by saying "Thanks, Ronnie m'boy".

I'm not sure whether I'll keep this. It could be a collector's item some day.

Reflective Feline

"Aw Jeez, not that crazy old guy and his cat again."
Hey, it's my blog, so get used to it!
This picture of Coffee The Prettiest Cat EVER was taken in my en suite bathroom. She is sitting on the corner of the bathtub, right up against the shower stall. It, by the way, is the largest walk-in shower I have ever seen.

Facebook brings 'em back from the dead

I'm not sure if there's any connection to Kitty's recent post about ghosts, but I had a strange experience yesterday.

There was a guy I knew in college. We weren't exactly close friends, because I thought he was a bit of a horse's ass -- which is saying something for broadcasting students!

I did, however, feel badly when I heard a few years after college that he had cancer. His brother played in the NHL and he himself was a Molson rep (so much for the two-year broadcasting diploma, eh?) and Hockey Night in Canada even did a feature on his battle with cancer. I could have sworn that I heard that he had died, but then yesterday, up he pops on my Facebook page, looking for me to be his friend. I accepted, but haven't sent him any messages yet.

How do you say "Geez, I thought you were dead"?

Real estate values in Blackburn Hamlet skyrocket overnight

And why? Beside the first-ever Tim Hortons in my part of Ottawa opened today!
A co-worker tells me that one just opened in her neighbourhood, too, in downtown Ottawa, the Bank St.-Somerset St. area.

Does it get any better? I don't think so.

Ma, I know that modesty leads you to deny having any influence, but we know better. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Any story ideas?

It's a very slow day in Ottawa (In news, we never use the Q-word -- as in not noisy -- cuz it invariably causes the poop to hit the fan) and we need some story ideas.

Any suggestions? Use your imagination. Buehler? Buehler?

Market Media Mall is cursed

I'm really starting to believe that the building where I work is cursed.

You might remember my Christmas Eve post, recounting how one of our receptionists had been killed in a car accident on her way to work that morning. A week or so before that, another woman in our building was in a car accident that broke her back and hip; a co-worker's elderly mother fell and messed up one of her two replacement hips; and another co-worker's elderly mother and brother had a fire in their townhouse, and are still in hospital recovering.

Within the past week, another co-worker's elderly mother contracted pneumonia and was put into an induced coma to give her heart and respiratory system a rest from the titanic struggle they were going through. And then on Tuesday, yet another co-worker got a call from his homeland of Estonia, reporting the death of his father.

Some of us are ready to call in an exorcist or an aboriginal shaman to purify our building.

Is this ironic?

There's an online dictionary that I check almost every day, for its Word of the Day, or for the definition of any word I need. (Okay, so I'm a word nerd. Get over it. I have.)
Anyway, the word has not been changed in the last couple of weeks. It appears to be stuck on this:

sustain
Definition: (verb) to keep in existence or continue.

I think that's irony. I'll have to look it up.

Cancun, anyone?

Okay, so I'm booked March 28-April 4 at Occidental Grand Xcaret in Cancun.
Maria or anyone else: What do you know about Cancun, what's to see, what's the hotel like, etc.?

What ho, Guv'nah! Do you heah a fog horn?

I took this off my balcony at about 11:30 this morning. It was 6C at the time. If anything, it's even foggier now.

Prettiest Cat EVER

I finally got a shot without Coffee moving the split second I pushed the shutter button. My next mission: a pose of her sitting.



Ain't she purdy?

Trying to be like my hero, Milky

I took this last week at the cottage. It's a close-up of the stairs leading up to the deck at the front of the cottage. Kinda looks like a white Christmas tree, doesn't it?

I took some other pics that I might share with you. It's especially beautiful there in the winter when it's sunny, which it wasn't when my Dad and I plowed through waist-high snow to get to the cottage, about 100 ft. from the road. Of course, the next day was beautiful and bright!

Man Laws

Thanks to my buddy Chris for this -- kinda "The Men Commandments". Corn and Maria's Hubby would probably agree with my suggestion to add to #2 with "When she dings your car".

The International Council of Manlaws, Ltd.

1. Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2. It is OK for a man to cry ONLY under the following circumstances:
(a) When a heroic dog dies to save its master.
(b) The moment Angelina Jolie starts unbuttoning her Blouse.
(c) After wrecking your boss's car.
(d) When she is using her teeth.

3. Any Man who brings a camera to a bachelor party may be legally killed and eaten by his buddies.

4. Unless he murdered someone in your family, you must bail a friend out of jail within 12 hours.

5. If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever unless you actually marry her.

6. Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy's fridge is forbidden. However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

7. No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man.

8. On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.

9. When stumbling upon other guys watching a sporting event, you may ask the score of the game in progress, but you may never ask who's playing.

10. You may flatulate in front of a woman only after you have brought her to climax. If you trap her head under the covers for the purpose of flatulent entertainment, she's officially your girlfriend.

11. It is permissible to drink a fruity alcohol drink only when you're sunning on a tropical beach ... And it's delivered by a topless model and only when it's free.

12. Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed to kick another guy in the nuts.

13. Unless you're in prison, never fight naked.

14. Friends don't let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

15. If a man's fly is down, that's his problem, you didn't see anything.

16. Women who claim they "love to watch sports" must be treated as spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as much as the other sports watchers.

17. A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman must remain sober enough to fight.

18. Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza, but not both, that's just greedy.

19. If you compliment a guy on his six-pack, you'd better be talking about his choice of beer.

20. Never join your girlfriend or wife in discussing a friend of yours, except if she's withholding sex pending your response.

21. Phrases that may NOT be uttered to another man while lifting weights:
A) Yeah, Baby, Push it!
B) C'mon, give me one more! Harder!
C) Another set and we can hit the showers!

22. Never talk to a man in a bathroom unless you are on equal footing (I.e., both urinating, both waiting in line, etc.). For all other situations, an almost imperceptible nod is all the conversation you need.

23. Never allow a telephone conversation with a woman to go on longer than you are able to have sex with her. Keep a stopwatch by the phone. Hang up if necessary.

24. The morning after you and a girl who was formerly "just a friend" have carnal, drunken monkey sex, the fact that you're feeling weird and guilty is no reason for you not to nail each other again before the discussion occurs about what a big mistake it was.

25. It is acceptable for you to drive her car. It is not acceptable for her to drive yours.

26. Thou shalt not buy a car in the colours of brown, pink, lime green, orange or sky blue.

27. The girl who replies to the question "What do you want for Christmas?" with "If you loved me, you'd know what I want!" gets an Xbox. End of story.

28. There is no reason for guys to watch Ice Skating or Men's Gymnastics. Ever.

29. We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the definition of each is listed below:

"GUTS" is arriving home late after a night out with The guys, being assaulted by your wife with a broom, And having the guts to say, "are you still cleaning or are you flying somewhere?"

"BALLS" is coming home late after a night out with the guys smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the ass and having the balls to say, "You're next!"


We hope this clears up any confusion,
The International Council of Manlaws, Ltd.

What's wrong with this picture?

Don't say "What picture?" -- it's a metaphor for "situation".

Picture this: I go out to get supper last night, and right in front of the building in which I work, a homeless panhandler wishes me happy new year. But to do it, he has to interrupt his cell phone conversation!!! WTF, people!

Yeah, yeah, I'm back

Got home shortly after midnight last night, thanks to a flight delay in Toronto and having to wait on the ground in Ottawa while another plane was moved away from our gate. Same thing happened when I came home from Dubai. Are there not enough gates at Ottawa International, or just a bunch of dunderheads assigning planes to them?
Then I was up early this morning, in order to do my weekly gig at the Royal Ottawa Hospital, where I volunteer in the café (think Tim Hortons without the drive-thru or apple fritters). So by the time I get off work in eight more hours, it will have been a long first day at work for 2008.
Coffee Cat was very happy to see her daddy last night. She ran around the apartment, jumped on and off the bed, and was even more lovable than ever.
So, what's new with me? Not much, other than Little Bro Dan and The Pretty Fiancée have decided that their wedding will be in April 2009, probably in the Bahamas. So knowing that, I'm going to book a one-week vacation somewhere in the Caribbean this April.

That's it from me for now. So, how're youse?

No Secret Santa gift yet...

Honest, Secret Santa, despite my potty mouth and potty keyboard on this and other blogs, I really HAVE been a good boy all year.
But here I am, two days after Secret Santa Day, and what have I got? Big, fat ZILCH.
Maybe you went down the wrong email chimney. Mine is the one at mcintyre_bob@hotmail.com . So lay it on me, Big Guy!

Love and hugs,
Newsguy Bob

P.S. Please hug Mrs. Secret Santa and the Secret Reindeer for me, even that arrogant "My nose glows" Secret Rudolph and Secret Bruno, the brown-nosed Secret Reindeer (for anyone who doesn't know, Bruno is the one right behind Rudolph. He has a hard time stopping).

R.I.P. Holly

It has been a week or so of bad news from a lot of people who work in our building. One suffered a broken back and hip in a car wreck; another is dealing with her mother having broken her hip; and yet another with his mother and older brother being severely hurt by smoke inhalation during a fire in their townhouse.

The big shocker came this morning. One of our receptionists was driving in to work from her home in Brockville, when a five-ton truck hit her little car, killing Holly. She was a long-time security guard in our building, who just moved in to the receptionist job a few months ago.

A sobering occurrence this Christmas Eve.

Rest in peace, Holly. We already miss you.

To anyone reading this, give your loved ones an extra hug today.

My annual Christmas card letter this year

Hey guys and gals…



My thanks to all those who have sent me emails this past year........



I must send my thanks to whoever sent me the one about rat sh*t in the

glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet towel with every

envelope that needs sealing.



Also, I now have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same

reason.



I no longer have any savings because I gave them to a sick girl (Penny

Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.



I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive

the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for

participating in their special e-mail program .....



OR from the senior bank clerk in Nigeria who wants me to split $7

million with me for pretending to be a long lost relative of a customer

who died intestate.



I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking

out for me, and St.Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.



I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a

water buffalo on a hot day.



Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I

forward e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five

minutes.



Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca-Cola because it can

remove toilet stains.



I no longer can buy gas without taking someone along to watch the car to

prevent a serial killer crawling into the back seat when I'm filling up.



I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a

perfume sample and rob me.



I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a

number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda,

Singapore and Uzbekistan.



Thanks to you, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown

African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when

it bites my bum.



And thanks to your great advice, I can't even pick up the $5.00 I found

dropped in the car park because it probably was placed there by a sex

molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.



Now, if you don't forward this to at least 144,000 people in the next 70

minutes, a large seagull with diarrhoea will land on your head at 5:00pm

this afternoon and the fleas from 12 mangy camels will infest your

backside, causing you to grow a hairy lump. I know this will occur,

because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbour's

ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician.



By the way....a South American scientist, after a lengthy study, has

discovered, that people with high intellegence but low IQ who have

infrequent sexual activity, always read their e-mails with their hand on

the mouse. Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.



Have a great 2008 and keep emailing

Love and hugs as ever,
Bob

Anyone know of anyone driving from Ottawa to Iroquois Falls in the next four days?

So how dumb am I? Okay, a rhetorical question there, but bear with me.
First, I book the flight north for Boxing Day. Then I go out Christmas shopping, sucking up to Santa and Big Retail Business by going hog wild with big presents like housecoats, sweaters, goofy slippers (no moose or Homer Simpsons, but in that realm). How the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks do I pack all that crap?
So it looks like I'll find a box big enough, and put it on the bus. Thank Gawd the strike is over, and buses are running again north of North Bay.
Where's Scotty when you need him to beam something up for you?

Coffee the Scrabble-playing Cat

Okay, more Dubai photos

Welcome to my desert.
"He's got the Burj Al Arab in his hands..."

This one's for the guys. Notice how blue the water of the Arabian Gulf is?

Eating sushi at the Bamboo Lagoon in the Marriott Hotel. The first time I've ever been brave enough to eat sushi. Now I know what people mean when they say it's an acquired taste...
Have you had enough for now?

My eyeballs hurt

Oy! It's the morning after the CTVGlobemedia Christmas party. Why is my keyboard so damned loud?

I think I saw Mr. and Mrs. Milky at the party. I think he grabbed my ass -- not that I'm complaining.

On another topic: Coffee has been sneezing a lot the last couple of days. Should I be worried? I've only been a cat owner for six days. Am I becoming an obsessive dad?

Anybody seen Urban Pedestrian?

I haven't been able to get on to her blog the past couple days.

Where you at, Urb?

What's wrong with this picture?

Answer: It was taken in the desert. More accurately, it was taken at Arabian Ranches in Dubai.
Actually, there are a lot of Christmas decorations there, considering that the UAE is officially a Muslim country. The malls are all decked out -- and there are a lot of malls. Shopping is a national pastime in the UAE.
When I was shopping last Friday, I saw a Muslim guy dressed in a dishdash (the same thing I'm dressed in, in the Osama Bob Laden pic) buying an artificial Christmas tree and decorations to go with it. His very beautiful blonde significant other was also with him.

Camel Jockey Bob

This photo was obviously taken while I was on a desert safari in Dubai. It starts late in the afternoon with about an hour of dune bashing in Toyoto SUVs (I can't remember the name. It's not Range Rover, but something like that), ending up at a Bedouin type of camp set up in the desert, where you get to ride a camel for about 100 yards, then have a traditional dinner -- although one featured dish in the buffet was spaghetti bolognese.
I also got a henna tattoo of a scorpion, which the henna artist said is a good luck symbol for a man getting married. "With no tattoo, there is no marriage." She said the tattoo would last about a week, but after three days, it had faded away -- the same way my "Go Sens Go" henna tattoo did during the playoffs.

Osama Bob Laden

This is the first of my pics from Dubai. It was taken while I was on a desert safari last Wednesday night.

Scary, eh?

The debut of Coffee Cat

Isn't she beautiful? I adopted her today from the Ottawa Humane Society, she's 14 months old, and we've already bonded. When I'm at the computer, her favourite place is on top of my bed, which is right behind me, either just watching me or grabbing a catnap.

It's going to be nice to have some life around my apartment, other than me and my houseplants.

Wow! Talk about eventful times!

Okay, so I'm home safe and sound from Dubai, but my camera is being retarded, and I'm having a hell of a time downloading pictures.
I'm also suffering jetlag from the nine-hour time difference. I was exhausted last night, in bed by 10:15, and wide awake by 5:15. I know I will crash this evening, and hopefully, that will be the end of it.

Okay, eventful times since I got home, in reverse chronological order:

First, I am now the proud daddy of a 14-month-old female cat. I adopted her from the Ottawa Humane Society this afternoon. I'll post a pic when I can. She's all black, sleek body, with beautiful eyes. We have already bonded. Right now, she's still exploring her new home. GET THIS: Her name was and is COFFEE. I've already informed Ma Horton, and she seems pleased.

The big, momentous event: LITTLE BROTHER DAN GOT ENGAGED YESTERDAY!
He and Pretty Christine came to Ottawa for the weekend, to surprise his Mom on her birthday. Then yesterday, at Christine's folks' place in nearby Rockland, he proposed and gave her a ring. Thanks to today's snow storm, they're stranded here for a day, so we had lunch together, and Dan asked me to be his Best Man! No wedding plans are in place yet, but it will probably be somewhere in the Caribbean in the next year or so. As Dano told me last night, "Keep your sandals warmed up."

Proud of my Little Bro? Who? Me?

Hi from Dubai!

Sorry, no pics yet.
My arrival was delayed by 24 hours by a freakin' snowstorm on Thursday night, that made me miss my connection to Munich. So I had to stay overnight in Toronto (yuck!) at my own expense (Air Canada doesn't pay if the delay is weather-related). But I'm here safe and sound, chuckling at the irony of a snowstorm delaying my trip to a desert.
Yesterday, I took a double-decker bus tour of this fascinating city. Tomorrow, I'm going on a sunset desert safari, complete with camels and belly dancers, but not belly-dancing camels.
My hosts are the absolute best, setting up the ideal itinerary that isn't too ambitious, but hits the high points. After all, part of vay-kay is relaxation, too.
There's a swimming pool less than a five-minute walk from here. It's not used much this time of year, because the locals find the weather too cold, at 30C daytime, low 20s at night.

I'll check in again if and when I get a chance. Meanwhile, has anyone heard from Maria?

ow ow ow ow ow ow ow -- NOT!

So I'm back from the back-waxing and holy crap, I survived!
Nothin' to it. It really is just like getting a whole bunch of band-aids ripped off your skin. Of course, you feel it, but it's not that bad, and doesn't last long.

The benefit: My back is now as smooth as a baby's bum, just in time to wow the ladies on the beach in Dubai. And don't forget, there are more than just the head-to-toe-covered Muslim women. As my buddy Rick describes it, Dubai is a playground for the very rich British. It's their Florida.

Would I do the waxing thing again? Absolutely. What do I think of someone who wouldn't? Well, there's a five-letter word to describe them. It begins with a P and ends with an USSY.

I unintentionally made N@ pee her pants

First, for anyone who doesn't know: I cracked, and since sometime last week, I have been on facebook.
Next, I made the mistake of posting a goofy picture from high school on a facebook page about my high school. Already, my friend Doug and N@ have seen it and commented on it. They're both 15+ years younger than me, and neither of them went to Iroquois Falls Secondary School. So tighten your Depends, cuz here it is:

Doug said he would bet that the kid in the pic has a Dreamboat Annie T-shirt. I replied that I don't remember having the shirt, but I almost wore out the grooves on the Dreamboat Annie album, and now have it on CD, too.
N@ said "BWAAAAA----HAHAHAHAHAHAH PLEASE POST THIS ON YOUR BLOG! PLEASE PLEASE!!!! YOU MUST SHARE THE JOY!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
The T-shirt actually says "Bob McIntyre for Student Council". It was towards the end of Grade 10, it was my first campaign, and it worked. I spent the next three years on Student Council, including one as vice-president and one as president (Ontario had Grade 13 back then). I also had posters all over the school, and my buddies all wore homemade buttons that said "Vote Bob". Hey, it was 1974 -- there was no such thing as Powerpoint presentations or promotional videos. I hand-lettered the T-shirt, the posters and the badges.
Alright, let's see YOUR embarrassing high school pictures on YOUR blogs.

I work with the greatest people

As a TV news producer, I supervise whatever crew I happen to be working with at any given time. On weekends, we are a skeleton staff. The small number of people that we have to produce four 30-minute shows would shock a lot of people in television (although the last couple of years that I worked in Timmins, the late night crew consisted of the anchor and an all-in-one producer/director/switcher/audio person/tape operator).

I call them my Weekend Dream Team, and for good reason. We do a great job, and put a super product on the air every week. We also have a lot of fun. The talk in the newsroom gets very risqué, to the point that I often think I should put an end to it. But everyone participates, and no one has complained. So I remind myself that although it kicks the crap out of "the line", it hasn't crossed it. Besides, when I started my job as weekend producer last January, I decided that if we had to work weekends, we were going to have fun.

I often gush about my Weekend Dream Team and the great job we do together. That pisses some people off, but if you knew those people, you would get a chuckle out of anything that pisses them off.

As a token of appreciation and because many of us are on days off when any little celebrations are held in the newsroom, I organized a Weekend Dream Team pizza party a couple of months ago. The company paid the tab, I rounded up a few prizes -- including a pair of Senators tickets -- and everyone said how much they enjoyed it.

And then, last night, the entire team totally surprised me after our 6pm newscast with what they called "The Bob McIntyre Appreciation Dinner" -- something they wanted to do before I go to Dubai, and leave them in the hands of another producer for two weekends. They had pizza, pop, salad and other goodies.

I was humbled and honoured. Every one of my team members told me how much they appreciate working with me, how I surpass any other producer they've worked with in every way, and how they actually look forward to working weekends. I was almost speechless -- a rarity in itself.

So let me acknowledge each of these people to my blog friends. Regardless of their actual jobs, there is no snobbery. Each one realizes the contribution each makes to our work environment, and to the on-air product that we're so proud of. I have verbally thanked each and every one of them for the wonderful gesture last night. And even though none of them know of this blog, I proudly list their names: Doug, Chris (a.k.a Jonesy), Ron, Kate, Brent, Taz, Dash, Jason (a.k.a. J-Mac) and Jeni.

We all know that we won't be together as The Weekend Dream Team forever, but I do cherish every one of these fine people, and always will cherish having worked with them.

Who's in for $17,000,000 ?

Tomorrow's Super Seven.

Here are my numbers:

06 16 22 23 26 36 42
07 11 19 23 28 44 47
01 05 09 16 21 33 35
Encore 0079389

If you want to kick in your three bucks worth, post your numbers here by 9pm tomorrow. A suggestion: I have signed my ticket in the signature spot, and just below, wrote the word "blog" to distinguish it from the other tickets that I have.

Good luck to us. Maybe I'll bring a planeload of blog friends to Dubai with me next week...

Body waxing

Maybe this is a question I should ask over on Urban Pedestrian's blog, but what is body waxing like?

I'm quite a hairy guy, especially considering that I'm not of Mediterranean descent. I don't mind hair anywhere else on my body, but I'm kind of self-conscious about my back hair. I have more hair on my back than a lot of guys have on their chests. In fact, one time I had allergy tests, with pin pricks on my back onto which were dropped little doses of possible allergens. The test didn't work, because of my back hair, so I had to get them done again on my arms.

Anyway, with my trip to Dubai coming up in nine days, I have made an appointment to have my back waxed for the first time ever. Just the back, nothing else, no bikini or Brazilian for me, thank you.

The woman who's going to do it told me to take two extra-strength Tylenols before I go, because it hurts. She says she'll do a small patch first, then I can decide whether to proceed. She actually asked me if I've ever seen The 40-Year-Old Virgin, and said it really hurts that much, like a huge band-aid being pulled off.

I'm not really worried. I've survived kidney stones, which I understand is the most painful experience next to childbirth -- which, fortunately, I'll never have to go through.

So fill me in with horror stories and any wisdom you can impart about body waxing.

Why do I get the feeling I just opened the door to an avalanche of smart-assed comments?

I work in a cool place

I'm sitting at the Assignment Desk in the A-Channel Ottawa News Centre. I just stood beside my chair for two minutes, to mark the 11 o'clock hour, while watching our live coverage of the national Remembrance Day service. Remembrance Day certainly seems more poignant to this Baby Boomer, witnessing and reporting on young men (and one woman) coming home in coffins, from what is arguably someone else's war.

What is really cool, however, is that our building is just a couple hundred yards east of Parliament Hill. If the Chateau Laurier wasn't in the way, we could see the Parliament Buildings from here. From the right vantage point in our parking lot, you can see the Peace Tower clock peeking over top the Chateau. Anyway, when the Air Force flypast portion of the ceremony took place, it was like Surround Sound in here, as the jets flew over our building. Cool on one hand, and on the other hand, another poignant reminder of the significance of Remembrance Day.

When I was in elementary and high school, November 11 was a school holiday. A few years after I graduated from high school, the holiday was removed, and kids began going to school on November 11 (if it is a weekday, of course), although some classes would attend the local ceremony. As I recall, it was the Royal Canadian Legion who promoted the idea of it not being a school holiday, because Remembrance Day should be a day to remember the freedom and democracy that our forces fought for, so that kids could go to school.

Lest we forget.

LEST WE FORGET

I will be pausing at 11:00 tomorrow morning, to say a silent "thank you" to any Canadian who has ever served in our military, for the one thing we take for granted everyday: Life as a free person.

Another rant about manners

Because of the time of day that I work, it usually falls on my shoulders to answer the phone in our newsroom. Let me tell you, a radio or TV newsroom attracts calls from all kinds of stupid, ignorant, ill-mannered people. It usually increases exponentially when the moon is full (a story for another time), or when a hockey game is on.

Tonight, we are airing the Washington-Ottawa NHL game. I just got a call from someone who wanted to talk to an engineer. I told him there's none here tonight, and he would have to call back tomorrow. So then he asked me if I noticed that the A-Channel logo (we call it a "bug") is always on the screen. I said yes. He said it gets in the way of watching the hockey game. I replied that I hadn't noticed that, and besides, it takes up such a small part of the screen. So then this jerk says "Well, how do I go about questioning someone's competence and ability?" My reply: "Well, if you're going to get insulting, forget it." Him: "Yeah, I am going to get insulting." Me: "Then forget it," and I hung up.

I've always exercised that approach. If someone is going to be polite and civil, I'll participate in a civil conversation. If they want to get abusive, I warn them that if they continue, I'll hang up. If the abuse continues, I hang up.

Again, what happened to common decency and respect???

Okay, who's in?

THIRTY-FIVE-MILLION DOLLARS in tomorrow's Lotto 6/49.
Maria, Kitty and I have been pooling tickets the last couple of draws. Anyone else who's interested, put down your three bucks for a quick pick plus Encore, Extra, or whatever it's called where you live.

Here's my contribution:

03 16 21 26 34 42

Encore 1913108

Good luck to us!

I'm worried about Doe-reen

You remember her. She's the dear deer who was frolicking in the field behind my place back in July, and I took this photo of her.

Okay, so the name just occurred to me today, but here's why: A couple of hours ago, a deer was hit and killed by an OCTranspo bus, not far from here. Word is that the driver was the only human on the bus, and the deer went through the passenger's side of the windshield, dying soon thereafter inside the bus.

Was it Doe-reen? I'll never know.

Why do I suddenly have a craving to fire up my barbecue and grill some venison?