Gimme a call

Well, it finally happened.
After years of resisting, I finally caved and joined 'The Dark Side.'
That's right, I could resist the temptress no longer and I got a cell phone.
I picked it up at the beginning of the summer family vacation and before I was even aware of its evil powers, the electro-crack had a grip on me.
The first couple of days it was a novelty. I added my wife and children's numbers to the contact list and then went about playing with all the different things it can do.
Goofy texts were sent to my family and we all chortled over dad's new toy, his extremely poor texting abilities and his continual asking of "How do I do this...How do I do that...How do I do this again..."
I am a multi-finger typer (kind of a job requirement actually), but I am a single-finger texter, and not the usual finger I use to relay a long-distance message with non-verbal communication.
I use the pointer finger, that's the one next to the driving finger.
I got one of those slide phones where the little screen slides up to reveal a very tiny keyboard. I know where all the letters are, but for some reason my Shrek-like thumbs keep hitting at least two or three keys at once, leading to a message something like, "Hji, wehjat r we jhabving for supopoer?"
By using just the pointer the mistakes are minimized. They are still there, but there are fewer of them.
Before letting the pocket-sized vixen into my life, I was determined to not let it rule my waking moments. Before I became a bona fide cellphone owner, I used to scoff at and mock people who could not go 30 seconds without looking at the contraption to see if they missed anything over the last half a minute.
When I decided it was time to get a phone, I swore I would be its master, and not a slave to the glowing box.
I soon realized just how quickly one gives up to the demands of the digital mistress.
I had the phone about a week and was in an area without coverage.
"No problem," said I when I realized I could not send or receive anything. "I have only had it a week, and I survived for years without one, how tough can it be to go a couple of hours without getting or sending a text?"
Besides, it was a family vacation and my family was hiking down the same trail I was.
I was fine, until we got back into range and when I noticed someone else using their phone I dug mine out and with an anticipation just slightly less than the morning of Dec. 25, I checked to see if I had any messages.
It took a whole week for me to become addicted to the stupid thing. I am hoping it will be a novelty and wear off, but I...excuse me for a second.
Sorry about that. I thought I heard the sound of my phone vibrating, turns out it was just a bug flying by. Anyway, like I was saying, the obsessive compulsive desire to constantly check the phone will surely pass and I will use the device on the rare occasion that I...oops, hold on one more second.
Stupid buzzing bugs.
Soon after I got the phone, another problem developed when I was struck by a case of contact envy.
You see, I only had three contacts in my list, while other people had dozens.
This would not do. How could people get a hold of me without my number, not that I really cared mind you because I am not obsessed with my phone, but still we better exchange numbers in case there is an emergency or something.
I now have almost a dozen names in my contact list, but that is not nearly enough, or at least it wouldn't be if I cared that is.
So, if there is anyone out there who would like to give me a call, or send me a text you can do so at 250-867-5309.
Talk to ya soon.

Pets are family - sort of

By DARREN HANDSCHUH
I would have to classify myself as an animal person.
I am not covered in fur or anything (especially on my head), but I have had a dog my entire life and do enjoy having a non-human around the homestead (mother-in-laws don't count).
We also currently have a cat, so furred beasts are something I like to have around, most of the time anyway.
We all know they are not human, but we often treat them like they are. While they eat gross things and clean themselves with their tongue, they still become members of the family.
Disgusting and annoying members of the family, but members none the less. Mind you, teenagers can also be disgusting and annoying, but with them you cannot just throw them outside because they will simply come back in. They will then proceed to eat everything in the fridge, before heading to the pantry for a post-lunch, pre-supper snack. Which, of course, is followed by the post-supper, pre-bedtime snack.
Anyway, I have to admit to talking to my pets like they could actually understand what I was saying. I wasn't asking their opinion on anything or expecting an answer, but a pet is a good "person" to tell how your day went or what is bothering you etc.
They don't talk back, you won't hurt their feelings and no matter what, they are always happy to see you.
That last part applies mainly to dogs. Cats are happy to see you if they are in the mood.
Dogs are one of the few living things on this planet that you can have their boy bits removed and they still greet you at the door.
Fish could care less no matter what is going on and a tarantula is not a pet - it is a stain on the carpet should it ever get out of its enclosure.
I am sure some may disagree, but in general, if it has scales, fangs, venom or the potential to kill me, I do not consider it a pet in the traditional sense of the word.
They are certainly not pets in the cuddly sense of the word.
I know people who have spiders, snakes and lizards, but the only critters I have ever had as pets is cats and dogs.
I have already admitted to talking to them, but that is about as far as I am willing to go to make them more "human."
I will not put clothing on an animal simply because it makes them look 'cute.'
Cats and dogs were born with all the clothing they need, and God already took care of the cute part, so additional help from me is not needed.
There are people who dress up their beasts just to be fashionable and I even saw a dachshund, a.k.a. a wiener dog, wearing a little leather jacket.
It was real leather, I kid you not.
Who in their right mind would spend that kind of money to buy a leather jacket for a dog? What's next, a little Harley Davidson for the mutt to ride around the backyard on?
I am not poking fun at people who do dress up their pets, well, actually I am. Sorry about that.
The amount of money people can spend to make their pet 'human-like' is mind boggling.
I just don't get it.
But dressing up a dog is not the most bizarre interaction people can have with their mutt. It is people who share food - like an ice cream cone - with their hound that is truly strange behaviour.
Why? I refer you to the whole dogs-clean-themselves-with-their-tongue information I provided earlier.
Dogs also eat a wide array of truly hideous items, so considering I do not even like it when a dog licks me, I doubt we will be sharing any food with the critter.
I will talk to the mutt, but I will not share a plate with him. You have to draw a line somewhere.

Too hot to handle

By DARREN HANDSCHUH

Springtime is my favourite time of year. 

The snow is a memory and the weather is warm, but not yet so hot as to cause people to spontaneously burst into flames.

I have to admit, I have never actually seen that happen, but if someone went up in a puff of smoke around mid-summer, it would not surprise me one bit.

In fact, I am amazed it has not happened already.

ì9-1-1, what's your emergency?î

ìMy friend just burst into flame while jogging.î

ìWell, it serves him right for jogging in July. Not even dogs are dumb enough to run in this weather. Have a nice day.î

As far as I am concerned there is never a need for the temperature to rise above 30 C. Anything more than that is just Mother Nature showing off.

But as we all know, there will be days this summer when 30 will be a welcome cool down from the merciless heat that can be summertime in the Okanagan.

I was born and raised in the B.C. Interior, so I am no stranger to hot weather. When I was a young lad the hotter it was, the more I liked it.

It could not be too hot. Now, however, as Father Time continues to slap me around, the heat is not nearly as enjoyable.

In fact, there are times when it can make me a little on the cranky side.

I read somewhere, or someone told me, or I overheard, the older you get, the harder it is for your body to tolerate the heat.

I can believe that. I find it especially true for my head. I am being blessed with the joys of hair loss. When I was a kid, I had a forehead, just like everyone else, but as the torturous grip of mid-life continues to choke the youth from my body, my hair line has receded to the point where I now have about a seven-head. I assume all of my hair will evacuate the premises entirely, leaving me with a 10-head and that little ring of hair around the back of my head that I will shave off and go au natural on top.

So how is being follicularly challenged impacted by the sun? Each summer I know how much hair I lost over the winter because that section of pasty white skin burns faster than the rest of my pasty white skin, thus giving indication of how much hair I no longer have.

I do still have hair, but it is now growing out of my ears.

The summer heat and blazing sun also helps to point out the tourists among us.

They are the folk from the frozen wilds of Alberta or Manitoba or where ever else the sun shines for only three weeks out of the year.

Tourists stand out from locals because they often travel in a pack ñ either of the family variety of the tour-bus type. True, local families often travel in packs as well, but somehow touristas stand out from the locals. Probably because they are glowing red from spending too much time in the Okanagan sun. 

It is like they have never heard of a sunburn and have no idea there is a way to prevent it.

For many tourists, the blast furnace is a novelty, an experience they do not generally get in Saskatchewan where summer starts somewhere around the second week of August and ends the third week. 

This year was a cool, somewhat rainy spring and early summer, but it looks like the big bright thing in the sky finally decided to show up. It was only a matter of time before that stifling heat broke through the clouds like a fat aunt hitting the buffet table at a family reunion.

According to the weather guys ñ who are just slightly more accurate than that stupid groundhog ñ things are going to be heating up the next few days. 

Considering this is the Okanagan, they may just get this prediction right.

Enough reality already

By DARREN HANDSCHUH

Where will it all end?

What eccentricity, oddity or just plain ol' weirdness will become the next reality TV show?

It seems there is a never-ending line of people who want the whole world to know of their ìlittle problems.î

The reality craze, which is obviously here to stay, started with Survivor, a show I have yet to actually watch. I have heard lots about it, but after watching about 20 minutes of it several years ago, I decided to vote myself off the island and I have never gone back.

But from that one-hour piece of 'reality' programming (like everyone looks like those bikini-clad, muscle-bound contestants) came thousands of hours of reality TV shows, and every day more are added.

There are shows on little people, very obese people, messy people, people with substance-abuse issues, and there are shows about people who simply do not know when to say enough is enough and have 200 children or so.

I do not watch a lot of TV, and I know of these shows mostly through osmosis. My wife enjoys the shows about obese people, and the latest reality craze, people who hoard.

We also watched a documentary about people in the Appalachian Mountains of Arkansas. Just the word Arkansas is enough to conjure up images of hill billies marrying their cousins, and the documentary was not too far off.

It would seem the mountain folk have a fondness for Mountain Dew ñ a heavily sugared and caffeine-laden drink they even put in baby bottles. The dentist said he has seen two year olds with cavities from drinking Mountain Dew.

My daughter likes the little people shows ñ of which there is a new one every hour ñ and shows about families with lots of kids ñ in which a new one is being born every hour.

There are also more obese people shows than you can shake a box of jelly donuts at.

It is only a matter of time before all of these reality shows come together into one big mix of strangeness.

I can see it now, a show about an obese little person with 15 kids who all drink Mountain Dew while hoarding everything they can get their hands on.

Of course, at least nine members of the family will have some sort of addiction issue, while the others will try to get on American Idol or So You Think You Can Dance.

It is as close to the perfect reality show as you can get. It has something for everyone.

Perhaps our freaky family can be dropped onto an island or something and they get to vote each other off, except in this case it would be a good thing so they can go home to their Mountain Dew, inbred dogs and cluttered homes.

Perhaps throw a couple of has been movie stars in there, can you say Lindsay Lohan, just to make things a little more lively.

It's kind of a stupid idea inside a stupid idea. In case you haven't guessed, I am not a huge fan of reality TV.

A lot of it should be called ìMy life is worse than yours and I am going on TV to prove it.î
But therein lies the lure of reality TV. Had a bad day at work, house is a little messy, just can't seem to shed those last few pounds, well turn on the tube and keep searching because you are pretty much guaranteed to find someone in a much worse situation than you are in.

After a while you may start to feel better about your own life. Perhaps reality TV does have a higher purpose on this rock in space ñ to make us feel better about our lives by showing us how crappy other people's lives are.

Not a great idea at all

By DARREN HANDSCHUH

Have you ever done something that seemed like a good idea at the time and then turned out to be a less-than-stellar plan?

Dumb question, I know.

Everyone, at some point in time, has done some bonehead move that in retrospect seemed too stupid to be plausible.

Look at 89 per cent of the decisions made by our national politicians ñ boneheads to the core.

I have noticed most cranial cramping occurs when the maker of the decision is of the younger set. Especially those in their teens and even into their early 20s, brain power and common sense is often over powered by  a sense of, ìC'mon, what could go wrong?î

What could go wrong? You could nearly set half the province on fire that's what.

Now before people start getting their knickers in a knot, we did not intentionally set the mountain on fire, it was just a miscue by some fireworks we had in our possession.

A buddy had a rocket-type firework that shot eight brightly coloured balls of fire high into the sky.

He had been hanging on to it for months and that warm August night seemed like the perfect time to send the pretty lights skyward in celebration of the fact we had fireworks. Other than that there was no real reason for the display.

Anyway, we picked a spot on top of a mountain and tied the festive pyrotechnics to a dead stump and stood back.

Before I continue, I would just like to say we were young enough to attempt the stunt, but old enough to have known better and the possibility of something going wrong did flutter through our little brains, but was quickly pushed aside by the desire to have some fun.

I looked at my buddy and for a brief moment was gripped with a dash of practical sense.

ìUh, dude, what if one of the flaming balls hits the ground.î
ìDon't worry about it. It will shoot 100 feet into the air. See, it says so right on the package.î

ìDuuuh,OK, I can't argue with that.î

A match was lit and placed at the fuse of the rocket. It sparked as it burned as if to announce festive merriment was on the way.

We watched the fuse sparkle as it entered the rocket and that's when things went a tad wrong. No, one of the fiery balls of colour did not ignite the tinder dry brush around us ñ we should have been so lucky.

When the fuse ignited the rocket it did not send eight colourful balls of flame skyward, instead it just exploded where it sat, sending eight colourful balls of flame in eight different directions.

If we had a brain between us we would have had some water handy ñ if we had a brain. We did have bottled liquid, but it was not water. 

After a fraction of a second of total and complete utter panic we took action and ran around like mad men stomping out the little colourful balls of flame.

It took a few minutes, but we got the flames out, all the while I was reminding my friend about my cautionary tale with a creative use of verbs and nouns (none of which are suitable for print.) We spent quite a while making sure every single ember was stomped into oblivion.

We then sat back, had a good laugh and vowed to never do something so stupid again ñ until the next time we were struck by a bright idea that is.

All hail The Tape

By DARREN HANDSCHUH

It is by far one of the greatest inventions ever created by the human race.

The automobile: handy, but hard on the environment.

The computer: a vital part of modern life but a real pain in the...

Those may be fine inventions that have helped human kind, but sitting very close to the top of the list is The Tape.

Men already know what tape I am talking about. There could be only one sticky item of which I speak and that is duct tape.

I can hear men throughout the Valley grunting their approval for the multi-talented creation that men, real men I might add, have embraced throughout the world.

I love The Tape.

I do not know how the world survived without it. Had they had a whole bunch of The Tape on Titanic, well, let's just say the movie would had to have a much different ending.

Instead of what's his name sinking to a frozen death, he would run around like a man possessed, taping up the hull saving the ship and the fair maiden.

What else on this planet other than The Tape could have pulled off such heroics. Nothing, that's what.

Your arm got cut off in an industrial accident? No problem, just grab The Tape, a few well-placed strips and it's as good as new.

The Tape also comes in a variety of colours, greatly increasing its applications to everything from fixing clothing (yes, I did close a rip in an old jacket  with The Tape one time) to holding the international space station together.

Is there no end to the marvels of the shiny wonder.

But even though there are more uses for The Tape than there are corrupt politicians, my wife still mocks one of man's greatest achievements.

I know, I don't understand it either. She just does not see the value of this invaluable aid to humanity.

Despite witnessing first-hand the prowess of The Tape, still she mocks.

Without The Tape, a return trip from Saskatoon would have been a disaster. It was in the spring and we had a van load of six people and enough luggage to trek across the Andes and back crammed into every nook and cranny the silver Mazda had.

I even put on a roof-top carrier because the teenage girl we were bringing back from Toon Town had as much luggage as the rest of us combined. She had a make-up box that was just slightly smaller than a pool table. Why she needed that much face goop is beyond me.

Anyway, we were heading down the No. 1 with a blistering wind crossing the road. The air was moving at approximately 3,000 km/h and the dust was so thick in spots it was a near, um, brown out I guess you would call it.

A big rig passed in the other direction and nearly ripped the lid off of the car top carrier. I remember looking in the rearview mirror and seeing all these bags of stuff bouncing down the road. It did not fully register those were our bags until I spotted one of my daughter's dollys in a green dress skip across the asphalt.

I laid on the breaks, pulled over and ran back to collect everything. We did not lose anything, but we still had hundreds of kilometres to drive with a car top carrier that had seen better times.

What to do, what to do? I only had to think for a few seconds before the answer became clear.

The Tape.

I grabbed a role of the silver-coloured saviour and wrapped it around the front of the carrier, thus sealing it from blowing open, thus saving the trip and the world, thus once again proving it is an invaluable addition to the human race.

Viva la Tape.

That was many years ago. The Missus still mocks, but for at least a few hours on that fateful day, The Tape rule supreme and even the little woman had to admit The Tape was a darned fine invention.

By DARREN HANDSCHUH

It's time for another addition of boneheads in the news.

No, it's not a round up of what is happening with our elected officials, but boneheads of the commoner variety.

Let's start with a bad guy in Oakland, Cali., who barricaded himself in his house prompting a lengthy standoff with members of the law enforcement community.

Nothing strange about that you say, well read on.

According to a news report, after firing 10 canisters of tear gas into the home, police discovered the man was standing next them shouting, ìPlease come out and give yourself up.î 

The man was arrested, but police ended up locking themselves in the holding cell while the man stood in the lobby.

The bozos in this next one are obvious.

A news agency reported ìAT&T fired president John Walter after nine months, saying he lacked intellectual leadership. He received a $26 million severance package. Perhaps it's not Walter who's lacking intelligence.î 

Perhaps? Wally is the smartest man in the room. I will be sending a resume to AT&T shortly and I would just like to let the executives know I will settle for a mere $10 million buy out. There, you have not even hired me and I have already saved you $16 million.

An Illinois man, pretending to have a gun, kidnapped a motorist and forced the driver to take him to two ATM machines where he withdrew money from his own account.

The man then forced the money onto the driver before demanding he be taken to the police station where he made a full statement. OK, that last bit is not true, but with someone this dumb it is almost believable.

Perhaps that bad-guy bozo is related to this next criminal mastermind.

Police in Los Angeles had good luck with a robbery suspect who just couldn't control himself during a lineup. When detectives asked each man in the lineup to repeat the words: ìGive me all your money or I 'll shoot,î the man shouted, ìThat's not what I said.î

That story does not even need a punchline.

Closer to home, a woman in Vancouver was charged with assault for stabbing another woman in the ear with a potato peeler.

There is nothing a'peeling' about being stabbed in the ear, but you have to admit the choice of weapons was rather odd.

The stabbee received minor wounds and did not even have to go to the hospital, while the stabber was sent to jail and sentenced to peel potatoes for the next six months.

She was not done with her violent ways and her anger flared up once again resulting in her stabbing an ear of corn 18 times.

This last bozo is on what is supposed to be the good side of the law.

In the United States a big, strong police officer type Tasered a 72-year-old lady. I kid you not.

What, was she coming at him with a pair of knitting needles?

ìStay back Smokey, or I will knit one and pearl two your ass.î

Seriously, unless she pulled a 9 mm handgun from her girdle, is there really a need to hit her with a gazzillion volts of electricity.

I admit I do not know all the fine details of the incident, but from what I read Granny was copping an attitude and the defender of the peace decided to take her down.

The Texas officer pulled Granny over for speeding and a ìdiscussionî ensued. 

In his defence the officer did warn the little old lady five times he would Taser her if she did not calm down, which he then did, much to her surprise. 

I'm sorry, but I just do not see a 72-year-old woman as a threat to my personal safety, unless she has that loaded girdle we were talking about.

My mother-in-law is 72 and I could take her down by hitting her in the shoulder with a dry sponge.

How safe are the good people of Texas if one of their finest can't even handle a member of the Blue Hair Club without using a Taser?

It does not exactly warrant a sense of confidence.

Bad guys will be wearing T-shirts, 'If you think I'm dangerous, you should see my Nana.'