It's the Abominable Hoe-Man

Everytime I sit down to write a blog post I try to think of a catchy title. So far, before I write every title the song "Baby Got Back" comes into my mind. I spend a few minutes trying to think of an appropriate line from that song for the title of my blog-- but "my anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hun" isn't appropriate at all, and neither is "I like big butts and I cannot lie". In fact, I question if there's a single line in that whole song that I would feel okay with using at the title to this supposedly family friendly blog-- which saddens me. That song defined a time in my youth, and now, it's blocked due to my attempt at being somewhat tasteful. Being an adult stinks sometimes- if I was young, i'd almost certainly be labelling all of my posts after favorite rap songs.

Jay sometimes hates it when I pull out my old cds. See, when I was a kid, I had a funny taste in music. Not "haha" funny, but very "oh god no" funny.

I'm a country type of guy. Being from Saskatchewan, I can remember long trips across the country listening to tapes of Highway 101, Tim McGraw, Garth Brooks, Johnny Cash. I remember singing to Alan Jackson and Alabama songs, for some of my birthdays all that I wanted was a song dedicated to me on the local country radio station (for years, that song was "The Race is On" by Sawyer Brown). I can still remember driving to the zoo with my mom (in the front seat, because back seats were for the weak), having just broke up with my girlfriend of two years (Kindergarten to grade two-- the wonder years really), and listening to "She cries" by Restless Heart. Oh ya, I was that kid.

So it was no surprise to anyone in my family when later on in life I became a bit of an amateur country singer. I started by writing my own music, and then eventually coming back to the golden years of country-- when singers still sung with a twang and no self respecting country singer would have worn tight hip hugging jeans (I looked for the link, but the country singer in question is probably looking back at that particular stunt with a loathing for popular fashion). I sing everything from Johnny Cash to Garth Brooks to Travis Tritt to Keith Urban, and most anything in between- but there's a whole that can't be filled by Country Music, and that's what I find myself ranting about today.

You see, Country Music wasn't my only love over the years. Oh sure- it was the most consistent. It was the most expected. But it wasn't my favorite for many years- I had a steamy affair with gangster rap, and it's never really ended.

Now I should just say. I'm a teacher, and I constantly find myself cringing at these new "rappers" that my students claim to enjoy. I've tried to understand it- but much like Country music has deviated from it's roots, so too has rap. Techno is not rap. Computer generated voice is not rap. Cheesy repeated lyrics with zero real meaning or moral have NEVER been rap, but somehow that's the label that's been put on some of this garbage now. And I guess I just have to say this.

Give me some Dr.Dre,
Notorious or NWA,
I don't care,
Give me Snoop,
Before he sold out,
And started mumbling everywhere,
Show me freedom,
In a time when freedom was hard fought,
Show me survival,
In an area where survival cost a lot,
These rappers today are over-privileged and under winded,
Their music lacks passion and their raps lack commitment,
If they remember the roots of the music that they claim to be slinging,
They might think about the rhymes they're asking their fans to be singing,
And lament about the emptiness of the message they've been bringing,
The themes weren't always evident,
But the good ones never are,
It took a brain that understood the truth,
That wisdom is sometimes uncouth,
And sometimes life ain't always censored.

Maybe someday, i'll be able to lay down a rap like that for my kids. Sure, they love it when I sing and play guitar, but you know, Country Music and old school Rap have one major theme in common. The lyrics really meant something, and told a story, and were meant to remind the rest of the world that nobody lives in a bubble. And I miss rap. (Even now, as I listen to "Forgot about Dre" Jay looks at me like i'm crazy, and asks me to shut it off. No appreciation for talent these days).

I still know all the words to this one (though I definitely do not own the rights to this video). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GD8AFbD2mmE

If you can't appreciate the lyrical genius that went into making this light hearted, wonderful, feel good song, I pity you.

The Thrilla in Manilla
(I may start signing my blog with random lyrics from my favorite rap lyrics, as a shout out to this awesome entry. We'll see how long I decide to keep it up)

A Poem of Proper Introduction (Or, APOPI if you prefer)

I don't know why you'd prefer APOPI to the real title. It's hard to type, not at all catchy, and honestly a little much on the old acronym scale. But I had to provide it, just in case it needed to be typed again in the proceeding poem. Here's as much as I can say about myself without giving away my true, non superhero identity:

Born of grass and prairie splendor,
Soon i'm going to need a lender,
From out West I came out East,
For love of woman, dog and beast,
Her name it rhymes with hay and bay,
But the english find it hard to say,
The dog is named from a ships part,
Lets hope he floats, the little fart.

Well folks, there you have it. Everything you needed to know about me, all in a neat little poem. Beautiful in it's simplicity, marvelous in it's clarity, like a fish in it's swimmingly good nature. Like a dream on the back of a unicorn hunting an abominable snowman just outside of Winnipeg-- oh yes, oh yes.

So, for today anyway, I must leave this post to be short and sweet. Or short and bitter. Or long and bitter and totally uninformative! BROO HAHA!

No, but seriously, as some as you may have already guessed, i'm actually Jay's loving boyfriend/husband/guy. I decided to try out this blogging business, since I am in fact nearly twice as goofy as she is, almost 60% of the time. My dog is the loving, very cute, but deathly vicious... Ankor. He's the cutest dog alive, and so smart.

Now, to go find myself a job...

Whatever Blows Your Skirt Up

You know, a couple of years ago I would have never believed that I would move across the country. I'm a bit of a homebody, and always have been really-- I like small towns, I like slow living, and I like not having to fight with traffic every day to go get my slushies. Now, odds against odds, I have found myself in a new province, in a city no less, with NO SLUSHIES. It's a terrible fate that has befallen me at the moment-- but I lie in the bed I made I suppose. Sigh. If only it was a bed that had the occasional coke slushie. 

Though, slushies in bed are not always desirable. For instance, what if my dog was to jump up on the bed while I was not paying attention, and the slushie fell over onto my sheets! Then it would be all full of ice, and coke, and he would be trying to lick it up, and my sheets would be ruined, and I would be cold, which, lets face it, is perhaps the biggest tragedy of all. However, I digress.

I'm a small town Saskatchewan guy that recently moved out to Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. I'm writing the blog because I have a wealth of random knowledge to share with the world, and frustrations, and heck, even the occasional story I suppose. It's what I do for a living really-- so why not start the blog off right.

The title of this post is "Whatever Blows Your Skirt Up", which, when first read, probably incites a lot of fainting and thinking that this blog will be somehow adult in content. It will not in fact be any such things. Bring out the smelling salts, wake up your grandma, and tell her the story of why I chose this title for my first blog post.

Believe it or not, the saying is actually one from my youth. It was equivalent to such jovial sayings as 'whatever turns your crank', 'whatever milks the cow', and 'you're the boss'. However, unlike most of my Saskatchewanisms, I didn't make this one up! I actually got told this years ago, as I had a rather serious conversation with a very non-serious ex-girlfriend, that was known to do bareback bronc riding in the rodeo. (Have you ever rode a bull? I did, very shortly after we started dating). Anyway, I reacted much the same way as all of the faint of heart readers almost certainly did-- I thought that it sounded dirty. In fact, it was a very country way of saying 'whatever floats your boat'.

So, the moral of this story is this: please, if you like my blog, feel free to comment and read and laugh and shake your head at my crazy ramblings. If you don't like it, please don't leave angry-- i'm a meat loving, small town adoring, prairies have the most beautiful sunset believing man that only wants everyone to get along. 

And in lieu of that, I would also accept a large Coke Slushie. World peace is good, but lets face it, slushies are great.