Mr Humble Guy Sounds Off On Unions

Fucking unions.

In Alberta and British Columbia, the union for a major telecommunications company called Telus is currently on strike. The main issue seems to be job security. In fact, it better be job security, because these fucking shitheads get paid better than most everyone else in a similar position.

Recently, union leaders and Telus negotiators reached an agreement. Great, now that all the issues have been worked out and both sides are satisfied with the conditions, everyone can get back to work.

The union voted against it.

Okay, pull your heads out of your collective asses long enough to listen to this: you guys choose union leaders to make decisions that would be a benefit for you all. If you're not going to listen to them, you shouldn't have fucking chose them.

Fucking unions.

My wife is currently contracted out to a NON-UNION position in Telus. This isn't a position that was vacated by someone going on strike...it has always been a NON-UNION position. So, one more time just to be clear, she is not replacing anyone who is currently on strike. However, every time she goes to work, she gets harassed by these fucking lowlives who are too stupid to realize what they're even striking from.

I could only imagine what it would be like to talk to these guys.

	So, Mr. Union Leader...what seems to be the problem?
	THEY TOOK OUR JOBS!
	Uh, what do you mean by that? I thought you guys went on strike
	NO! THEY LOCKED US OUT!
	Actually, wasn't it just B.C. that was locked out? And didn't you just go on strike in sympathy?
	...
	...
	...THEY TOOK ER JOBS!
	But, what do you mean by that? Who took your jobs?
	THEY WERE GOING TO SEND ALL ER JOBS OVERSEAS! WE HAD NO JOB SECURITY! DEY TUK ER JER!
	So, the fact that they guarunteed your job security in the negotiations didn't mean anything?
	...
	...
	TUK ER DURR!
	Do you even know why you're striking?
	JIHAD!

Don't fool yourself, people. Unions had their place before, but now they're nothing but a tool for useless lazy people to hide behind.

Fucking unions.

My Identical Twin?

Recently, I've had a few people email me to ask what I actually look like. For some reason, they didn't seem to think that my profile pic was actually an illustration of me.

Well, I like to keep at least a little bit of anonymity on the net, so I'm afraid that I won't be posting my exact picture. However, I thought I could try to find a picture of someone with similar features to give these people an idea of what I looked like in real life. That way, I can continue to blog normally and not have strangers come up to me on the street saying, "Hey, you're the guy who comes up in the Top 10 for MSN searches on 'Diaper Sex'!"

If you want to check out that I am actually in the top 10 for a MSN search on 'Diaper Sex', I'll just wait patiently until you get back...

Anyway, I did a little bit of searching on the net, and I finally found a picture of someone who looks like me. He has many of the same features. Really, the resemblance is uncanny.

Looks just like me!

The only difference that I can see is that I'm not black.

A Narrow Miss...

The highlight of my weekend had to be when I almost died at our local Home Depot. I was standing at the checkout counter, minding my own business, when I was almost crushed by a load of insulation that had fallen off the pile.

The brand name of the insulation was called "Safe 'n' Sound".

Now That's Just False Advertising...

As a young kid, I remember that I loved going shopping with my mom at West Edmonton Mall. I was from a small town, so I was quite overwhelmed by all the unique stores that I was seeing for the first time. Believe it or not, I can even remember going into my very first dollar store. Was I so naive to think that everything in the store would only cost $1? Even with a name like "Everything For A Dollar"...

Sure enough, as we walked down the aisles: $2.00...$2.00...$1.00...$3.00...$2.00...

As times changed, the dollar stores really threw me for a loop: Items for $1.50. Still, I like my cheap junk, and it's an easy enough number to work with, so I let it slide.

However, while in a dollar store this week, I saw something that was quite out of place. You can see them in lots of other stores, but this definately did not belong here. In fact, it's mere appearance in this store both shocked and angered me.

It was a price tag that said $1.39.

Well, I snapped. Right there next to the cheap paintbrushes and stove element liners, I had a little temper tantrum.

Mr Humble Guy: FOR FUCK'S SAKE! A DOLLAR FUCKING THIRTY NINE? WE'RE IN A FUCKING DOLLAR STORE! EVERYTHING IS SUPPOSED TO COST A FUCKING DOLLAR! WHAT THE FUCK IS NEXT? SOMETHING COSTING SIX TWENTY THREE? FUCKING HELL! GOD DAMN FUCKING HELL!

As you can imagine, Mrs Humble ushered me out the door before I got kicked out. Could you imagine being kicked out of a dollar store?

Anyway, how the hell can they get away with this? I don't think that I can stress this enough. You can't just charge things in increments of a dollar and call yourself a dollar store. As well, you can't just have stuff priced near a dollar and call yourself a dollar store. Call me old fashioned, but I think that if you're a dollar store, things better be fucking priced at one goddamn dollar.

$1.39...where will it fucking end?

Billy Bob: Where'd you get the new car, Jim Bob?
Jim Bob: I picked it up at the "Everything For A Dollar" store. Only cost me $12,973.62

21 Steps to Pizza

Do you feel like having pizza for dinner, but don't know what to do? Well, look no further. Thanks to my unsurpassed culinary skills, I am pround to introduce the "Mr Humble Guy Method" for pizza. Just follow my simple 21 step method, and you too can be eating fresh, hot pizza! Hey, if it worked for me, it'll work for you.

1. Place four chicken breasts in a cassarole dish.
2. Make comment to your significant other about how you are "playing with breasts".
3. When she pretends that she didn't hear you, make comment again.
4. Slice the chicken with a sharp knife to form a pocket
5. Cut yourself with sharp knife because you're not paying attention.
6. Swear a blue streak
7. Disinfect wound thoroughly, because open wounds and chicken juice don't go well together
8. Coat chicken breasts in greek salad dressing.
9. Check expiry date on greek salad dressing.
10. Wash expired greek salad dressing off of chicken.
11. Drive to the grocery store and get non-expired greek salad dressing. Re-coat chicken breasts.
12. Search for the feta cheese that you swore you bought
13. Drive to the grocery store again because you forgot to buy feta cheese.
14. Cut feta cheese into small chunks.
15. Stuff way too much feta cheese into chicken pocket.
16. Place cassarole dish in oven at 400°. Don't bother setting a timer, because you're responsible enough to be able to keep track of the time remaining.
17. Sit down to watch hockey. Swear at the TV regardless if your team is winning or losing.
18. Realize once the game is over that there seems to be a lot of smoke in the room.
19. Take charred remains of feta-stuffed chicken out of oven.
20. Swear a blue streak.
21. Call Pizza Hut. Have your credit card ready.

Getting To Be Ri-god-damn-diculous...

Browsing through the news yesterday, I came across a story about a woman who had just given birth to her 16th child. 16 fucking children in 18 years...

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that those children are going to grow up to be olympic swimmers.

Look, the rhythm method of birth control obviously isn't working for you guys. It's just like blogger Wirthy said, "c'mon, you ever heard of a condom?"

Well, it turns out that they wanted to have another child. And they want more! That's why they didn't name their kids "Iruinedmommyslife", "Makefunofme", or "Voteprochoice".

Instead, they gave every kid a name starting with "J". Some examples are "Jedidiah", "Josiah", and "Jinger". "Jinger" is a bit of a stretch, isn't it? And she was only the 6th one! You'd figure that at this rate, they'd really be struggling for different "J" names. I can't wait until I hear about the birth of "Jphillip", "Jmichael" or "J-zee".

Why My Marriage Works...

Reason #1 of why my marriage works: I only have eyes for her.

Example: We were driving back to my hometown for Thanksgiving when I spotted a peculiar truck parked on the side of the road.

Mr Humble Guy: Did you see that?
Mrs Humble: No, what was it?
Mr Humble Guy: That guy had a decal of a naked woman on the tailgate of his truck.
Mrs Humble: (sound of disgust)
Mr Humble Guy: If I had a truck, I'd put a decal of a naked woman on the back of it.
Mrs Humble: Oh really...
Mr Humble Guy: Don't worry, hon. It'd be a picture of you.
Mrs Humble: ...

The Greatest Thing...

Since we moved to our new house in Calgary, I've noticed that I'm doing a lot more housework than I used to do. My "friends" like to bug me about this by saying that I'm now wearing the panties in the house. In truth, the reason that I'm doing more housework is that I'm starting to take pride in the appearance of my home, and since I have to spend nearly all of my day there, it might has well look good.

The reason I wear panties is strictly a comfort issue.

Anyway, my wife always used to do the sweeping of the linolium, and apparently the "best" thing to use is a contraption called the Swiffer Sweeper.



From the way that I've heard people talk, you'd think that the Swiffer Sweeper is the greatest thing since sliced bread. These things can supposedly pick up anything: dust, lint, flour, cocoa, gonorrhea...

What was I supposed to think? I had to give it a try. After all, the kitchen just had a little bit of dust. This should be no match for my Swiffer.

I soon found out that "Fucking Useless" is now spelled S-W-I-F-F-E-R.

Look, if I wanted to just push the dirt around the room, I would have used the greatest thing before sliced bread: my fucking foot.


Come to think of it, that whole "sliced bread" saying is fucking retarded. Sliced bread isn't all that impressive. Bread + Sharp Knife = Sliced Bread. It's really that simple. I still think the human foot is more impressive, but I suppose it's a personal preference.

Look on the bright side! At least you still have sliced bread...