Tales of Idiocy and Woe...But Now I'm CRAZY in California!

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Clip for Hib...

Monday, October 16, 2006

Let's STOP the rumors...

Okay. I know that there's been rumors running around Virginia (and therefore Calgary and Regina) about me having a girlfriend (say it in a falsetto like "Pastor P"). Well, these rumors are NOT true. We rcently broke up, and here's why. When she abandonded the church and announced it to the world, I had to cut her lose. Good luck on your film career babe, but now we're all prayin' for you. On the flip side, this does mean that I can start returning Mandy Moore's calls now...and if ANYONE gives my new number to Paris Hilton, I'm blocking you on my MSN. What a crazy-annoying girl! Calling me at all HOURS of the night..."Let's go crash a Porsche!"..."Let's sneak into Warner Brothers"..."Let's get high on cocaine at the Viper Room and run down the street!"..."Can you post bail for me again?" Sheesh. Until Next Time,

The Armchair E-Magnet

Saturday, October 14, 2006


How cool is this? Like super cool? Yeah! Until Next Time,

The Armchair Digital Palm

Friday, October 13, 2006

Why I'm retarded...

...Well, many people who have known me for a while know that sometimes my mouth gets me in trouble, but not because I try to offend anyone or do stupid things on purpose. I just seem to have the spiritual gift of saying the WRONG thing (like wrong in a crazy way) at the WRONG time. Some people who used to know me in Prince George, BC would remember certain events, like involving comments about shaving armpits and whatnot. Not fond memories, and let's just say that there's not going to be an 'open mic' at any weddings, funeral, graduations, parties or any other public event in my future.

But, some things are still humerous, after the fact. Here's one tale for you about one condition I have: temporary announcing of inner monologue. TAIM is a horrible infirmity from which I suffer. I rarely get TAIM attacks (like when I'm SUPER tired), but when they happen they're usually not this bad:

Pastoral Ministries class.

Pastor in talking about membership training.

So he's going on about how church now has a 1 day intensive membership training and whatnot, and commenting on how everyone at the membership training is told several things. They're told to meet each other. They're told to shake hands. They're told to learn a few things about each other. Then, someone asks "why do you force that stuf" and the pastor worded it this way:

"Well, we're going to die together so we may as well get to know one another"

Infering that when we go to heaven we'll be around each other forever, so may as well start now...but I hear that and think about how a new member could misunderstand that and say:

"What, like right NOW?"

Uh, doh. I'm imagining this new convert coming to this church and being all nervous, and the pastor using the phrase "Well, we're going to die together...". Now basically nobody would think that comment refers to an imminent ritual suicide, but my imagination and my mouth teamed up on me before I knew what had happened. DAG NAB IT!

He stopped, totally caught off guard. Then, thank the Lord, the whole class looked around for who said it and started laughing as he said, "No, hopefully much later!" I'm such a dinglehead. Until Next Time,

The Armchair Austin Powers...AGAIN...

Friday, October 06, 2006


Blogger is officially run by headless chickens. I logged into Blogger and there was the option to 'upgrade to blogger beta'. I chose this, and had to enter an e-mail address, but now I have one profile for all my blogs and either I can be the Armchair Geek or the Armchair Theologian...which stinks out loud. I'll try to fix this, but this is beyond annoying. Two years of blogs down the drain! MAN! Until Next Time,

The Armchair (Geek?)

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Consider the Following...

Okay. Strange conversation like crazy...

Now for those who know me or follow the various cacophonous insanities that compose my life, you may remember that I have two interesting room-mates. One is a traveling salesman that is here maybe 5 nights a month and the second is a traveling something whom I’ve only seen twice, until last night. Consider the following:

I’m making some supper for myself and my second roomie comes in. I greet him and ask “what’s up Sven?” (Names have been changed accordingly). Sven tells me that he’s just flown in from Arizona and is just grabbing some clothes and a shower because he’s taking off again. I ask him where he’s going and he says “Munich’. I was kind of surprised and asked him what was in Munich. He told me “work’ and when I asked what kind of work he did he said “uh, networking”. I asked him if he worked with computers and he laughed to himself and said “no”. I then asked him to elucidate about his job and he smiled and said “networking” again. I didn’t want to push it, so I left the matter.

He then asked me if I had thanksgiving plans and I told him that I had several offers outstanding and I was going to have to decide about Thanksgiving. He told me that I ws welcome to go to (City around an hour away in Southern California) and have Thanksgiving with him and his family. I didn’t know he was married, though I knew that he had another house. He admitted that he was married and had several other houses. I asked him where and he started going off “London, Munich, Geneva, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Shanghai, Sydney.) I choked on my milk and said “Wow! You’re like a real world traveler! What do you need all those international properties for?”

His answer: “work”.

Then he left turned, walked out the door and left.

Call me crazy, but does that sound like organized crime or something? Millions of dollars of international property and working a job with no description beyond its title? I can see what would happen if my place got raided by the DEA or something! The newspaper reads:


Oh man! I sure hope not! Then again, it probably wouldn’t surprise me, after the crazy happenings as of late! Something new for the prayer list! Until Next Time,

The Armchair Implicated Bystander