Life Lesson #13: The bigger the ego, the bigger the humiliation.

Once, in my lengthy and illustrious minor hockey career, I received a phone call from the coach of a rival team. They were playing in a tournament and were short a few players and wanted me to play for them.

My head swelled so big, my dad had a hard time fitting it into the car.

I chose a corner of the dressing room and proceeded to get dressed without saying a whole lot to my temporary team mates. Why should I talk to them? After all, they needed me more than I needed them. Standing almost 6' 4" on skates, I was an imposing site to behold; and just to add to my pride even more, one of the regulars remarked: "Wow, Crowder! I had no idea you were so big! You're scary, dude!"

I felt as high as Kate Moss on a Friday night.

The time came to head for the ice. I left the dressing room last, because I was the secret weapon. The opposition had no idea what was in store for them and I couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces when I, bantam hockey superstar, roared onto the ice.

As I strode down the hallway, my equipment creaked and strained under my massive, hulking (i.e. awkward and gangly) 15-year-old frame. From above, I could hear the crowd of 30 (bleary-eyed fathers complaining about arena coffee) and my adrenaline surged.

My heart beat faster and everything rose like a crescendo with each step closer to the gate.

I was huge.

I was unstoppable.

I was about to lay a punishment on the opposing team.

I was a hockey monster !!



I was ... flat on my back looking up at the rafters?


I forgot to take my damned skate guards off.

Felled by two 12-inch-long pieces of plastic, I don't know which was louder: my body crashing to the ice or the farting noise my ego made as it completely deflated in front of the entire arena.


Remember kids: There's no "i" in "team", but there is in "idiot".

It "Buggles" the Mind.

Radio has been around for, what, 100 years? (I'm sure PartyGirl can verify), so one would assume that the stations would have a vast library of music upon which to draw. Obviously that is not the case because, let me tell you something, when you hear the same song or the same artist over and over, day in and day out, you come to the realization that the radio station doesn't have any more CDs than I do. (I have about 10.)

There are all kinds of formats for radio stations, but they all essentially boil down to two different niches: genre-specific or time period-specific. If a station is dedicated to the 80s, that gives them 10 whole years' worth of music to choose from. Why, then, must they insist on playing Madonna every hour, followed by "I Ran" by Flock of Seagulls? If the station is termed "Country Hits", that doesn't mean "All Tim McGraw. All the time." There were country hits back as far as the 50s and 60s, you know.

Even the stations that claim to play "a variety of today's best music" has become synonymous with only James Blunt, Coldplay and Rod Stewart. Rod Stewart?? That guy hasn't had a good song since Maggie May!

(I cast a pox on all the pudding-heads who call in to request a song, but request something that is normally on the playlist! Pick something we haven't heard, why dontcha??)

Station Identification -- For the love of Pete, please stop telling me your call letters after every goddamn song. My memory may not be great, but I can sure as hell remember what station I'm listening two, given that you just told me 3 minutes ago. If I'm already listening to your station, you don't need to continually self-promote. Plus, if I'm not listening to your station, self-promotion is pretty much a waste of time.

Morning Shows -- Get it through your collective heads: You people are not funny. In all my life, I've come across only one radio station that had an entertaining morning show (in Detroit, of all places!). Studies have shown that people aren't in the best frame of mind during their morning (and evening) commute, so why are these idiots constantly blathering on about everything and nothing during this time? Play some damn music already and stop trying to manufacture your status as a local celebrity!

Contests -- Tell me…What is the point of holding a contest if the requirements or questions are geared towards vegetables? "For a trip to Fiji, a new Lexus and $100,000…Mike, what is your name?" Runners-up get 2 free passes to Billy-Bob's Waffle Hut and Cheese Museum.

I have friends who are in radio and I know that they work in hovels, keep ridiculous hours and get paid less than winners of Canadian game shows -- that must be how the radio stations can afford to give away so much crap all the time.

So now, with iPod's gigabytes of memory whereby thousands of songs can be stored, I think people are finally waking up to the fact that they can listen to the music they want without the annoying DJs or incessant commercials. And for Luddites, such as myself, who will likely never understand an iPod, there is satellite radio. No DJs, virtually no commercials and a variety of music and information that can keep even my attention span for more than a few minutes.

But until the price of satellite radio comes down or my son gets old enough to program an iPod for me, I'm stuck risking carpal tunnel in my fingers from poking the channel buttons in my car and stereo remote, looking for a radio station that doesn't suck like a Hoover.

Video may have Killed the Radio Star, but the radio industry, itself, is an accomplice.

Santa & the 2nd Regiment

For us Canadians, Remembrance Day was this past Saturday. A time to reflect upon the efforts, hardships and sacrifices that so many men and women endured and continue to endure in order for us common-folk to enjoy the benefits of not wearing a Swastika or a burkha.

Some of us choose to celebrate by attending a parade or a wreath-laying ceremony. Some choose to reflect in a more intimate or private setting such as a church or at a loved one's graveside.

But not the folks in my neighbourhood. Apparently in my 'hood, Remembrance Day is to be celebrated by covering one's house with Christmas lights and the gaudiest of decorations. Santas, elves, reindeer; the works...There's even a Mickey Mouse in a red and white suit! Last I checked, Mickey had very little involvment with Christmas and even less to do with honouring war veterans.

Let me tell you something...there are all kinds of ways to remember our fallen heroes, but inflating a 10-foot plastic Santa isn't one of them. Hey, I'm not suggesting that you have to be standing outside, saluting a flag every November 11th, but it just seems to me to be a little disrespectful to be cursing the price of red and green spotlights at Canadian Tire while a little, wrinkly man in a wheelchair sits quietly by the check-out, hoping you'll toss in a quarter to buy a poppy.

And on top of that, it's November frickin' 11th, for crying out loud! That's at least 20 days too early to be making like the Griswalds.

It saddens me to know that because Remembrance Day isn't a 'marketable' holiday, stores pay it little attention. Instead, as soon as Hallowe'en is over (and in some cases, even before it has passed), out come the Christmas displays, the wrapping paper and the music. And it bothers me even more, knowing that there will always be people out there that will rush from store to store, holiday to holiday, no matter what time of year it is.

Perhaps these folks should pause for a moment in between the cha-chings of the cash register and think about how they came to be so fortunate to have such a life.

Monty Python: Ahead Of Its Time

There is a relatively new disease that has afflicted millions of people around the world and it has reached epidemic proportions, yet very little is being done to eradicate it. And what has been developed is reasonably ineffective because the disease mutates so quickly and randomly.

The disease causes symptoms from mild headaches to significantly increased aggression and right up to the more extreme, such as sudden, inexplicable bouts of Tourettes.

And the worst part is that this horrible pus-filled infection was created by and continues to be perpetuated by humans.

This disease is called spammers. They are a boil on the butt-crack of humanity and they need to be lanced.

Let me tell you something…Spammers are one of the lowest forms of life I can think of and it's about time we started ridding them from the planet. I can't think of anything so pointless as the generation of spam (other than, perhaps, the existence of Paris Hilton).

Seriously…Who actually has time to write these things? And if the spam itself is not written by a human, we all know that there is a computer program behind it that was written by some pimply-faced dork still living out of his (or her) parents' basement who still holds a grudge because Mr. Sulu didn't win an Oscar.

I've about had it with the constant bombardment of emails for Viagra, Cialis, singles dating sites, low mortgage rates and the latest stock tips. And given what I believe to be an accurate stereotype of a spammer, they wouldn't know anything about those topics anyway!

There isn't even any effort put into the messages anymore! Most of the time, it's just random sentence fragments and miscellaneous symbols and gibberish. That tells me that spammers aren't even expecting people to read their messages and they're just malliciously creating Internet graffiti that serves absolutely no purpose but to waste my time.

And I don't like people who waste my time.

"Just delete the spam", some say. Unfortunately, that's like standing with a pail at the mouth of the Amazon and attempting to prevent the water from reaching the ocean. The only way to stop the spread of this vile sickness is to eliminate the source of the problem. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting that we kill spammers. Even I'm not that cold hearted. All I'm suggesting is that if these clowns think that the world revolves around spam, spam and more spam, then I say we should send them off to the Cave of Caerbannog.

Life Lesson #12: Call Before You Dig (yourself into a hole)

How many of you people think it's okay to randomly "stop in" or "drop by" unannounced on family, friends or neighbours? Hands up... Uh huh. Although I can't tell how many of you raised your hand, I know that some of you did. And you people are asking for trouble.

For example, and this is purely hypothetical, let's say that you've just purchased your very first house. After a harrowing day of lugging boxes and furniture, you and your spouse decide to head upstairs to "christen" the new place. Shortly after beginning the process, the doorbell rings.

Thinking it's probably just one of your stupid friends who forgot their coat, you throw on a pair of boxers, which now barely conceals everything that needs to be concealed, and head for the door. With an exaggerated "You loser! We're busy! What do you want?", you fling the door wide open…and come face to face with your real estate agent (who has brought you a gift basket as a housewarming gift) and she morphs from an articulate professional woman into a red-faced, stuttering fool who can't retreat back to her car fast enough.

(insert awkward, uncomfortable moment here)

Clearly, it is the real estate agent who is at fault here. Had she called ahead to say "Are you guys moved in yet? I'll be over shortly to check out the place." this situation could easily have been avoided.