Death by chicken wing...?

The last chicken wing sat there next to the chemical washed carrots. He pushed it aside to reach for last of the seasoned curly’s.
I thought to myself:

“self, he doesn’t’ want that last wing, self, I would like that last wing.”

So I reached for it… don’t worry, before my fingers even touched the deep, fried, flesh, I asked

“You don’t mind, do you?”

….”Of course not” he replied


I ate that last wing. It was delicious. Probably had a handful of seasoned curly’s and one piece of pizza. I felt good. Satisfied.

He insisted, that the last three pieces of the pizza would get lonely if they didn’t join their friends, already in his belly. Oh and the rest of the seasoned curly’s would be lonely too, so they had to go in there too. The food coma was already hitting him before he’d finished chewing the last bite. His eye’s rolled back into his head and he began to drool.

I told him:
“next time, I’m going to stop you.” “Next time I’m not going to order so much food.” “Next time this isn’t going to be an option.”

But I don’t want to get between him and his seasoned curly’s… its bad enough I took the last chicken wing.

He threatened death by Chicken Wing if I were to do anything so drastic as get between him and his four pack. No one would know.

He would give Wicket a wedgie (cheese bread), he'd never tell. "No officer, I didn't see a thing you see, well I was looking to my left when the incident happened and you see its all a bit blury"... as he licks the cheeze of his cute little pushed in nose.

His story would be something like this: "She stole the last wing officer. Just grabbed it. I went to get it back, and BAM, neck punch. I was so taken aback that I of course let her take the wing. I am a gentleman afterall. Then I was sitting there, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, she closes the pizza box and says 'NO MORE FOR YOU' and I was all like 'Whaaaat?!?!' But all of my pizza friends need to be reunited with all of their other pizza friends... in my belly... why aren't the allowed in my belly" So then she neck punched me again for talking back. I didn't think I had any other choice, the half eaten chicken wing was the only weapon of self-defence available officer... yea I said half eaten.... I know... who takes the last freaking wing... then yeah... yeah I know THE LAST WING! HALF EATEN.... so you totally understand then officer, I had to stab her with the chicken wing. There really wasn't any other option."


Death by Chicken Wing? Who knew....

The Pain Enigma: The more scientists learn, the more mysterious it becomes

A friend of mine’s dad was published in the National Post this weekend… gives a whole new perspective to pain.

“Ken Prkachin, a psychologist at the University of Northern British Columbia, knows what pain looks like. His research shows that the facial reaction to pain involves four distinct muscular actions. The eyebrows lower and are drawn in; the muscles around the eye contract, narrowing the eye and producing crow’s feet; the muscles in mid-face contract, wrinkling the nose and raising the upper lip; and the eyes often just close.

There are other reactions, such as stretching the lips into a wince, he said, but this appears to be only reliably associated with extreme pain, such as that suffered by soldiers in battle. Even without this detail, he assumed other people knew what pain looked like too, so he was surprised to discover a constant tendency to underestimate. His test subjects watched video of people in pain, taken at a sports medicine clinic, and consistently pegged it much lower on a number scale than the actual sufferer did.

What he found most “disturbing,” though, was that this effect was stronger in health care workers, suggesting that exposure to pain can dull sympathy. In fact, according to research he is presenting at the 13th World Congress on Pain, which starts today in Montreal, this underestimation can be experimentally induced and strengthened, just by priming people with a few pictures of others in pain.”


Then there was this little tid-bit:

“I’m more sure than ever that male and females have different pathways to pain,” he said. “One day there will be sex-specific drugs.”

Fascinating.

I’ve been injured pretty badly in a couple gnarly accidents. I’ve been taken into the ambulance by the paramedic and told, no joke, to “suck it up.” I mean my shoulder was dislocated, and the ligaments were torn, and I had gravel rash all across my cheek, arm, hip and leg. I wasn’t even crying. I just asked her not to touch me. B*tch.

I shouldn’t say that… she’s a lovely lady. But f*ck I was mad at her. Don’t tell me what hurts, and what doesn’t hurt.

Now reading this article I realize her reaction to me may have been skewed by the fact that she picked me up 10 minutes after finishing up driving the victims of a four car pile-up, all with critical injuries, to the hospital. Her perspective put me into that context…. “whiny little b*tch… she doesn’t even know the half of it….pain… she doesn’t know pain…”

Yeah Ok… I’ll give you that one Ms. Unfriendly Paramedic Lady.... I'll give you that one.

Oh What a night...

heartbreak... its tough. Mine is no tougher than yours... but it feels harder, it feels like it was worse. It wasn't any different. Hearts break. Hearts mend. Its the people affected by heart break that are different. Some people are stronger within themselves, they want to make it through. Some people just can't see past the hurt. Can't see past the potential for more hurt. They're willing to sacrifice the good, because of the hypothetical hurt.

One day I talk about hypothetical babies... the next day I talk about heartbreak. That's the life course we're on right. That's our path. Its a bumpy hilly ride.

one thing I often forget about is my self-worth. Tricky subject... big word? maybe. Certainly complicated.

One thing I forget about is what's the big deal?

I don't know how to have fun anymore... I'm sometimes so scared with the results of me cutting loose. Saying what I really mean.

Hear-ache doesn't go away... it doesn't get less confusing. It doesn't get easier. I am lost in my own head. I'm not sure if I'll ever surface. I'm not sure how I lost myself... I don't know where I went. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what just happened. I do know that I'm sad, I'm confused, I'm lonely, I'm embarrassed, I'm scared... I feel tired.

I'm not drunk. I'm emotional. I'm torn between crawling into bed, sleeping away my confusion... or going out and trying to forget it. Both cases I think I'll end up right where I am.

Alone. Asleep.

Searching for a kind of Sub-Urban life.

Not sure why… today I’ve had house on the brain. Am I getting comfortable here? Am I looking to settle down? Why is a piece of yard for Wicket suddenly a priority?

I just watched the most excellent presentation on investing in Edmonton’s downtown. I agree with everything that was said. I love that I don’t have to commute to work. I love that I live in a multicultural community. I love that I’m close to good restaurants. I love that I’m close to good bars. Pubs. Parks. Schools. Nightlife. Daylife.

But Wednesday night I got caught up late at work and had to ride my bike home at 9pm. Its not a long ride. Maybe 10 minutes at the most. But on my way I counted 6 prostitutes walking the streets. I saw drug deals, pimps, johns, baby carriages, dogs, stray cats… all living in harmony in the same community. My community. I miss the perception of safety. I don’t like living in the St. Albert bubble.. and by God I don’t think I want my hypothetical children living there their whole lives. But you know, I started thinking: “St. Albert might not be so bad, when I want to have kids.”

Now its weird I know. This coming from a long-term anti-St. Albert advocate, and my good friends of yester-year would be shocked that I would say something like this… But I don’t want to live where I live forever. I don’t want my hypothetical children to have to dodge pimps and ho’s if they want to take the bus back from the movies. I don’t want my hypothetical children to have to pick up the needles in the boulevard. I don’t want my hypothetical children to have to see this shit… but I don’t want them to grow up in a rich kids urban paradise where they have to worry about having the next coach purse.. or whatever either.

I don’t know the right answer.

But I look at my soccer league. I hate that one week I have to drive to Millwoods, and the next week Terwilligar, and the next week Castledowns and the next week Capilano… and so forth. Its so far away.

I loved that growing up in St. Albert I could bike anywhere…and I mean it anywhere in that whole community for a soccer game or whatever. I don’t know. Its hard. I believe in all of these urban planning principles… but then I look at last night, it was my 4th friggin trip into St. Albert this week…. I mean common people…

It’s not like any of them come to me.

Besides you Vin… but really that’s only cuz I won’t sleep over at your place…

with the ‘cool older couple’ you live with.

I don’t know….

I really don’t know the answer.


When I was growing up in St. Albert I hated everybody… They were all rich snotty little bitches. But… now that I’ve back here, growing up. I look at the friends of mine I still have in this community and think by god I’d love it if my hypothetical children grew up with their hypothetical children. And they weren't snotty bitches... so maybe I should give this town another shot.
Weird eh?

Weird to even be thinking about this in my opinion. Weirder still that I have a blog. Weirder still that I’m actually straight truthing this blog with my true feelings and sentimentalities. Not sure where all of this will lead. But I think its healthy to think about the future. Don’t worry… I’m not making plans.

No hopes or dreams here… no goals or ambitions. Just filling up my day. I mean really its all future Lesley’s problem… right?

The day that is over soon… and….

Tonight will be filled with some of this:

And some of this:

Hopefully some of this:

maybe some of this?

Probably more like this:

mmm.... still sounds like a good weekend.

Wise words Mr. T Pierce...

Ask a question, you get an answer. Thanks Tony.


Q. What's better Blogging Bull-pucky... or straight truthin'?

as you may have noticed the tagline of the busblog is "nothing in here is true", and the busblog has provided me with pretty much anything any blogger could want: wine, women, and a good paying job.

i say set up your blog the way that will allow you to write as well as you can. for me that tag line allows me the right to flat out lie. do people always believe that line? nope. does it mean that people may not trust everything written on this site? sure - but who cares - you shouldn't believe everything you read on the web (unless it's from a trusted site like latimes.com)

but some people wont write Anything on their blog because they are afraid of the repercussions from their friends family or bosses. if thats the case then they should get a private blog and/or just write fiction. but for the most part, blogging can be an exercise about baring ones soul and being honest to oneself and the world. thus keeping it real and telling the ugly truth, to me, is the better way to blog.

Bad Planning.

Monday was a bit of a mission… played my first full game of soccer for a while.

No subs.

It was difficult.

But I got in the groove.

I’m an alpha soccer player.

I’m very bossy.

I think it’s from years of playing goalie… I’m used to yelling.

I’m not used to people listening to me.

Not to worry… no one was listening to me this game either.

Humble.

Humble: not proud or arrogant; modest

This short movie humbled me.

You don't have to watch it.

It's 16 minutes of your life you'll never get back.

Will you regret watching it?

Only if you regret thinking. If you regret being challenged.


The only difference between him and me is I've never had to kill another human being.

"What have we gained as a country? What have we actually accomplished, other than the loss of some damned fine people? People willing to give their life for the country they have."

Sometimes it helps to think about things outside your comfort zone.

Sometimes it helps to wonder about what could have been...

Sometimes we all need a reality check.

Sometimes we all need to be humbled.