The Single Guy

This past week was a little difficult for me. After two and a half years, I’m once again a single man.
It happened last week and I’m still having a hard time with the whole thing. I’m sure I’ll get over it and I’m sure I’ll find someone else, but it still sucks.
I’m trying to get her out of my head, but the good times keep popping in.
The first kiss at the Schanks new year’s party in front of pool table number three.
The time we went bowling and she ran down the lane and slipped on the way back.
The day we went and watched the play filth.
The countless hours of practicing pool
When she came and visited me in Powell River, you could see the love and joy in her eyes. She was the only one to come visit.
I loved the way her face lit up when ever a dog, cat or any other animal came her way.
Her personality was the exact opposite of mine. I thought they complimented each other perfectly. I guess they didn’t.
There was some bad times too, but I really don’t want to remember them.
The one thing I hate about the whole thing is everyone’s sympathy.
They make me feel like I’m some sort of pity case. I’m not some kind of freak that is now doomed to live alone in the middle of Saskatchewan.
Don’t worry, I’ll survive.

What ever happened to Johnathan Silverman?

Splish splash

I always loved the water. My favorite memories growing up were at the lake, on the waterslides or running through the sprinkler.
On Sunday I was treated to a little sailing. The Battlefords Sailing Club held their annual regatta and I got to tag along to take pictures.
It was so relaxing. The rocking of the boat, the smell of the fresh, humid air and the sounds of the waves splashing.
It was great and I didn’t want to leave. It makes me wonder why I’m trapped in a prairie province.
Yes, there’s a lake with sailing here, but you can’t do much with the minute amount of wind.
I should be along the coast, somewhere warm possibly even tropical. I could cover surf competitions and beach volleyball.
That’s the life for me. I could live in a houseboat at some dock.
I’d even give up red meat for fresh seafood. Lobster right out of the ocean beats the best steak I’ve ever eaten, which was $35 at the Banff Springs hotel.
A change in scenery is exactly what I could use right now.
I’m getting bored, even a roadtrip would be great. Something to get away from the Battlefords.
I need a break.

Whoopity-do

It’s laundry day. I hate laundry day. I dislike it so much that I’ve given up wearing socks and now do everything commando.
I’m sitting at my desk only wearing a stripped golf shirt, black dress pants, sandals, a watch and a pair of glasses.
I wouldn’t last very long at a game of strip poker.

I watched Sin City over the weekend. It’s good watch it.

I played a round of golf on Sunday. It was a little par 3 course. I ended up with my lowest score ever. It was a 47. I also took home $3.50. My golf partner and I play for 50 cents a hole with an additional 50 cents going for the longest drive and closest to the pin.
I took eight holes and closest to the pin. The closest to the pin came on hole seven when I used an eight iron on a 136-yard whole I landed on the green and rolled the ball pin high. It was eight feet left of the hole. I two-putted for par, but was damn happy with the tee shot.
Just wanted to brag. This could be my good game of the year.

Went to a 50th birthday party on Saturday night, and got hammered. There was a lot of dancing, drinking and good times. It’s fun to see the co-workers get wasted.
Funny story of the night was when Gary, the now 50-year-old, and I went to grab a shot. We walked to the bar, but he ended up stumbling down the steps.
Also my buddy Scott spilt beer and clam all over my other buddy Tim.
Good times.

$7.5 million of weed just got confiscated in southern Saskatchewan.
That sucks. Not that I smoke a lot of pot, but that just sucks.
I’d like to be there when they incinerate the stuff.

Is Joel dead?

Embarrassing

I’m perched a top of the Beaver Hotel. Ninety per cent of the criminal activity in the town occurs at that bar.
Rain splatters on my brown superhero leotard. I wipe the water from my eyes and look down.
Three drunk bar patrons bust out of the door. It’s two on one. I think the score needs to be evened out.
My superhero training kicks in and I bolt for the door to the stairs to get to street level and stop the fight.
I can’t wait to have my gloved fists smash into their faces. I want to hear the snapping of bones and the gnashing of teeth. I haven’t been in a good beating for a while. This is going to be sweet.
I race over to door and turn the knob.
Crap! It’s locked. How the hell am I supposed to get down now.
I make my way to the edge of the building once more. There’s a ledge. I shimmy down to one-foot-wide overhang, and look for my next move.
There isn’t one. I’m screwed.
Two hours later. A fire truck arrives on the scene. They use the ladder to get me down.
Why didn’t you just go in through a window? The fireman asked.
I didn’t want to wake anybody up.

It hasn't been a good day.

Taber was known throughout Alberta for its famous corn. Every year a truck was parked by the side of the road on the outskirts of towns around the province hacking their delicious cobs.
In 1999 everything changed. Taber became known as Canada’s Columbine, when Todd Cameron Smith entered the school and killed another student.
He was convicted and sentenced. Good, justice done.
Unfortunately on Monday, he walked out of his open-custody treatment centre in Toronto. According to the story in the Globe and Mail, he left the centre without permission OR an escort.
Canada should be ashamed for brutally punishing Smith in such a way.
All he did was slaughter an innocent individual. That shouldn’t warrant anything more than a scolding, maybe a slap on the wrist.
An open-custody treatment centre is like condemning a person to hell. The severe conditions are crippling.
He was probably tortured with three meals a day, a comfy bed and fancy blanket. I bet he even had a colour TV and visitation rights whenever he wanted.
It must have been a horrible place. He couldn’t even ask for permission or wait for an escort to leave. I doubt I can even imagine the appalling conditions he had to endure.
He was nice enough to leave a note that read "I can't be caged any more. If they find me, they'll have to kill me. I will never be caged again. Bye. Sorry."
He’s sorry. That’s so sweet. I feel bad for the poor, young lad. All he did was kill someone.
Twenty-four hours after he walked out the door of the centre, he’s been brought back. I sincerely hope they actually punish this person.

Story read on the Globe and Mail website.
A Canadian abductee was slain by Iraqi kidnappers. They wanted $250,000 in ransom.
I read the first paragraph of the story and was pissed off that no one was willing to pay the money.
I was thinking that no one believes this person is worth more than a quarter million dollars. It made me wonder how much my life was worth. Would anyone be able to or want to raise that amount of money for me? Hmmmm.
Anyway, I kept reading. It turns out the family was willing to pay the money. The kidnappers just didn’t make the call to arrange the switch. Instead, they shot the guy.
Now, I’m thinking how stupid some people in the world are.
Kidnapping is not a hard concept to grasp.
Take person, ask for ransom and receive ransom. One phone call is vital to the plan if all the information is exchanged.
Necessary information includes: amount of money and exchange point.
If all the information isn’t exchanged in the first call, a second call can and must be made for a successful kidnapping/ransom caper.
These guys never made the second call.
The kidnappers are now murderers and don’t have the $250,000 that they went through the whole ordeal for.

The exciting life and times of Dane Lutz

I can't think of anything to write so I'm just going to summarize my weekend in all its glory. Maybe my next post will be better, but I doubt it.

Do I ever miss having someone else cooking for me. It was great having someone else create a tasty meal for me.
This weekend, I received two meals that I didn’t have to prepare for myself. Some good home-cooked dinners.
Friday, I was treated to delicious garden potatoes and beans accompanied with a succulent T-bone steak.
Saturday, I had some more garden veggies. This time it was corn on the cob and mashed potatoes beside a huge slab of roast beef.
You never know how much you miss something until it’s gone, I guess.
Anyone interested in cooking me a meal should send me an e-mail and we’ll arrange something.

Went to my buddy Brian’s house Friday, meal one. Ended up hanging out with him and his 15-month-old daughter. I don’t know why, but kinds seem to love me. I think it’s about age 12 when they learn what cool is that they stop liking me.
Went to a car show and saw some beautiful vehicles. Realized I like big, long convertibles. Don’t know why, just do.
Then we ended up playing a couple hours of pool. The only time I lost was when I scratched on the eight ball.

Saturday, was a relaxing day. I watched the Jays game and drank coke floats until 3 p.m. That was after a nice sleep-in.
Went over to buddy Scott’s house, meal two, to watch some football and play NFL 2005. Both activities were accompanied with a lot of beer and a couple Caesars. Yummy, yummy caesars.
Went home around midnight, watched a little TV and fell asleep until 3 a.m.
The downstairs neighbors came home and had a drunken argument. Well the girl was pissed, you could tell by the slurred yelling. The guy just put up with the ranting and then stormed out and took a walk while the girlfriend cooled down.
I’m guessing she passed out before he came back because there was no more yelling.
Fell asleep at 5 a.m.
Woke up at 8 a.m. Started the day off with some bacon and eggs. Maple syrup bacon.
Started to work. Went to the lawn bowling club, arena for hockey camp and golf course for tournament. Fun times. Took some pictures and went to the office to do some writing.
Talked with Mel the janitor. Going to play some tennis with him tonight if it doesn’t rain.
Went home watched Simpson, Family Guy and American Dad. Made some cookies, and had a steak for dinner.
Had a friend come over. Watched the movie 40 days and 40 nights. Better than I thought. Momentarily wondered if I could go that long. Decided I couldn’t.
Played some cards. I’m a pretty could 31 player. Movie and cards were mixed together with some spiced rum and cokes. Redrum.

Airport

okee dokee! im typing this atone of those super lame internet stations they haveat the airport with the tiny keyboardddds, so pleasebear with me.Fuck thease thingssuck. Anyways ill be onvaacation for the next fewdays, till the 14th. so it will be up to dane to amuse youintheinterim. probably with apost about how those damn kids won't get off his lawn. Ciao!

Make it stop!

Today is absolutely hell.
Kaylan Porter is performing in Saskatoon and the local radio station is giving away two tickets.
What does that mean? I have to listen to a Kaylan Porter song every 15 minutes.
Why does this suck? Because he sucks.
Why don’t I turn off the radio? Because we play it throughout the office.
Why couldn’t it be a Beastie Boys concert so Hey Ladies was playing over the intercom? Because Beastie Boys know better than to come to crappy Saskatchewan.
Why did I come here? Because I’m not as smart as the Beastie Boys.

I guess I’m smart enough. I finally grew up. My mom came for a visit on Sunday and for the first time didn’t have a care package for me.

With no care package coming my way, I had to go buy my own peanut butter. I spent five minutes trying to decide smooth or crunchy. I went with smooth, but two days later I’m not sure if I made the right decision. If only I could turn back time.

If I could turn back time, I’d travel back to Friday before Joel posted that picture. I’d drive to Rocky and give him a pre-emptive punch to the gut.

That picture isn’t me. I was a hell of a lot cuter.
Being this cute has it’s downfalls. Girls are too intimidated to talk to me. This makes it very hard to interview a girls baseball team.

I had to watch baseball provincials all weekend. It wasn’t too bad, but not my idea of a good time.

Also not my idea of a good time is sitting in this office listening to Kaylan Porter on the radio. Damn this sucks.

A Picture of Dane

Just wanted to rant

I really think there should be a law about work calling people on their days off, or at least not at nine in the morning.
The dayoff is a chance to sleepin, relax and not worry about what happened the last five days.
It’s a chance to clear your mind and let loose.
I went out for drinks, played some pool and headed to a friend’s for some drinks before returning home at three in the morning.
I thought I’d be able to lie in bed until noon, but no! I got a nice wakeup call shortly after nine from work wondering where my pages were. They needed a copy of one.
Well, instead of calling me up, they could have looked in the spot where I always keep them. The same spot they were last week, the month before that and since I started here 11 months ago.
This is the second week in a row where I’ve received an early morning wakeup call on my day off. It’s got to stop.
For breaking the no-calls-on-the-dayoff law, the employee should get to punch his boss in the face.
A good hard one. I bet that would cut the calls down to zero in no time.
I wouldn’t mind if they were afternoon, but let me sleep in once and a while.


I’m also wondering if the Dukes of Hazard is going to be any good. Jessica Simpson in short shorts helps, but it better be more than just that.

Space Invaders

According to a story I read in the Star Phoenix, the amount of UFO sightings in Canada has decreased 36 per cent from last year.
This makes me believe that aliens are realising, much like the rest of the world already knows, that Canada doesn’t pose a threat to anyone especially an intergalactic one.
This is exactly what Canada wants everyone to believe. We want to be overlooked and then when everyone least expects it we’ll attack and take over the entire universe. There will be nothing stopping us.
Everyone thinks we have an old, depleted army. That’s not the case. We just save all our best equipment and personnel on home turf.
We send out our forty-year-old Sea Kings and our second-hand submarines to give the impression that we are nothing to be afraid of, unless you’re a passenger.
Back at home we have hangers of Stealth Bombers. Super robot soldiers equipped with nuclear-tipped bullets. I can't say anymore. They're using some super spy technology on me as I write this.
We’re just waiting for someone to piss us off. So come on, give us a little push and see what happens.


Of course the fewer sightings could be because the crazies final had their phone privileges taken away.
Either way, Canada rocks!

Yes, I am drunk!

Where has Dung Beetle Guy gotten to? I know that’s the question everyone is asking.
Well he’s been too busy saving North Battleford from evil to write about his exploits on this blog.
He’s been fighting gigantuan killer bees and saving the local citizens from a herpes epidemic. (Thanks for coming to the Battlefords Joel.)
But one day, it wasn’t unlike any of the other 364 days of the year , Dung Beetle Guy had a problem.
It was with a eight-year-old boy. He wouldn’t let little Sally have the ball. She was up to bat at kick ball. He was being a jerk.
It was the early morning recess and Dung Beetle Guy was on the playground making sure everyone was playing nice.
I grabbed the boy by the collar.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked the kid. The rage was starting to build.
I heard the sounds of LFO in the background. I flashed back to 2000.
“LFO, LFO,” said Dane.
“Where the fuck do you get that from?” inquired Joel. The pair were living together in a two-bedroom apartment on Frobisher BLVD.
“It’s on the CD. Just listen to it,” Dane replys.
The duo continue playing video games.
Joel is extremely cheap. He only know a few moves.
“Quit fucking playing cheap,” Dane yells at Joel.
“Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, I’m the sexiest man alive,” Joel responds, for I am a SAIT student and only the hottest guys make it there.”
“Screw you and your sexy ways. I quit.” dane stands up and gently places his PS2 controller on the ground.
Joel stands up and pushes Dane. “You can’t quit now. I’m just about to win.”
“Fuck you!”
The two wrestle around on the ground. Dane finally has Joel by the collar and is rattling his head back and forth.
Dung Beetle Guy snaps back to reality. He has the little boy and is shaking him like a little rag doll.
“I hate you Joel!” Dung Beetle Guy yells at the kid.
A teacher runs over to save the boy, but only receives a punch to the face for the effort.
In a rage Dung Beetle Guy kicks two other little kids in the head before hightailing it home.


The pain, the pain. I can’t take it anymore. Why me? Why me?
Dung Beetle Guy has finally met his arch nemesis. I know you’re all thinking. What could even hurt the great DBG?
Well it’s a sunburn to the top of the foot.
Damn does that ever hurt. It hurts so bad. I can hardly bare the pain. Why won’t it just leave me alone?
OUCH!.