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I shall try to define myself in a sentence with a pithy comment at the end:
I'm just an English bloke who lives in Canada after marrying a Canadian lady he met while living in Japan. Yeah, that old cliché.

Shameless Self-Promotion:
My utterly hilarious blog is here
And another one is here


Wow! I'm on Twitter now!
Averaging three stars a tweet since the death of Favrd!

Still Want More?
Email me for fun and frolics*! My address goes along the lines of Japanese (dot) smoth (@) gmail (dot) com. *Actual ratio of fun to frolics may vary.
Jul 4 '14

goestoeleven:

I’m sure someone has already posted this.

But it needs to be posted a million times.

Happy birthday, America.

I’m reblogging this because it is literally my second favourite thing on the entire internet.

Jul 3 '14
The various steps of the dance of the toddler.

The various steps of the dance of the toddler.

Jul 2 '14
Double rainbow over Ottawa.

Double rainbow over Ottawa.

Jun 27 '14
I’ve seen a lot of these charts during the latter stages of the World Cup showing the different outcomes of the matches and who advances to the next stages. So I thought I’d see if I could make one applied to the advancement of my career. The results are quite interesting.
The chart shows my advancement prospects in two situations: a colleague is hit by a bus, and a colleague is photographed in a compromising situation with a clown.
In each case it is clear that no matter what happens to the rest of my colleagues, if Malcolm is hit by a bus, or if Malcolm is photographed playing with a Bozo-for-rent’s balloon animals, my career will advance. This is because Malcolm is immediately above me in the company pecking order and nobody likes him and I’m pretty sure people are looking for a reason to get rid of him anyway.
(Should Malcolm be photographed being hit by a bus while fellating a Ronald McDonald lookalike, so much the better)
If Mr Edwards is photographed doing something embarrassing with a clown and I have copies of those photographs, it’s possible that I could blackmail him into giving me a promotion.
Interestingly, if Jenny B is hit by a bus and Harpreet is photographed in a compromising situation, I believe South Korea advance based on goals scored during second quarter budgeting.

I’ve seen a lot of these charts during the latter stages of the World Cup showing the different outcomes of the matches and who advances to the next stages. So I thought I’d see if I could make one applied to the advancement of my career. The results are quite interesting.

The chart shows my advancement prospects in two situations: a colleague is hit by a bus, and a colleague is photographed in a compromising situation with a clown.

In each case it is clear that no matter what happens to the rest of my colleagues, if Malcolm is hit by a bus, or if Malcolm is photographed playing with a Bozo-for-rent’s balloon animals, my career will advance. This is because Malcolm is immediately above me in the company pecking order and nobody likes him and I’m pretty sure people are looking for a reason to get rid of him anyway.

(Should Malcolm be photographed being hit by a bus while fellating a Ronald McDonald lookalike, so much the better)

If Mr Edwards is photographed doing something embarrassing with a clown and I have copies of those photographs, it’s possible that I could blackmail him into giving me a promotion.

Interestingly, if Jenny B is hit by a bus and Harpreet is photographed in a compromising situation, I believe South Korea advance based on goals scored during second quarter budgeting.

Jun 25 '14

glossop-spurting whirr-twat

emmyinabox:

glossop-spurting whirr-twat

If this is my lasting contribution to literature, so be it.

Jun 25 '14
awordoraline:

torontobluejays:

The guys in the dugout are paying attention. Example above.


Today.

When this moment occurred I asked my dad if he’d seen it and he missed it because there was a helium balloon floating up to the rafters.

awordoraline:

torontobluejays:

The guys in the dugout are paying attention. Example above.

Today.

When this moment occurred I asked my dad if he’d seen it and he missed it because there was a helium balloon floating up to the rafters.

Jun 24 '14
Teaching my Dad how baseball works at the Blue Jays game!

Teaching my Dad how baseball works at the Blue Jays game!

Jun 24 '14
This is the Tork Foam Soap Automatic Touch-Free Dispenser. I recently became acquainted with this piece of equipment when hundreds of them were installed in my office building, across all the washrooms in all the floors.
I am not a fan.
The Tork Foam Soap Automatic Touch-Free Dispenser, or TFSATFD, is a bloated, malodorous pustule on the wall of every sink proximity. It is a useless glossop-spurting whirr-twat of a machine.
If you put your hand under the TFSATFD, no soap emerges. If you wave your hand in space between TFSATFD and bathroom counter surface, you will receive no soap. It is like waving your hand at the entrance to a den of frightened chipmunks. They will not be attracted by your beckoning. The soap is scared of you. Do not signal for it to follow. It will not come.
Approximately twenty seconds after you put your hand under the dispenser, after you have bent down to make sure you are breaking the invisible motion detector seal, after you have given up and rinsed your soap-free hands under the water and then dried them with a single-use paper towel, at that point, THAT is when the soap will come out.
The soap will come out, and it will hit the countertop, forming a little foam pile with the other belated sanitary gloop from handwashings previous.
We used to have little wall-mounted hand pumps of soap. We pushed with our hands and the soap came out and we had soap in our hands and we rejoiced and reveled and rubbed our hands together under the tepid tapwater and we were happy because we were doing our antibacterial best to prevent office sickness and the spread of disease.
We were happy because we had a mentally pleasing understanding of cause and effect, that we were pressing the button, and that soap was emerging. We were effecting change on our environment, and we felt in control. We pushed, and we received, and we pushed, and we received, and we were Gods, we were creators, we had soapy bubble fingers, we rinsed and we dried and we were happy.
Now we have no control. Now we have delayed-by-twenty-seconds foam. We are no longer experiencing mastery of our surroundings. We are now helpless, nothing we do has any meaning, our lives have no meaning, no meaning and no soap, no soap and no point. Morale is low.
I hate you, Tork Foam Soap Automatic Touch-Free Dispenser. I hate you.

This is the Tork Foam Soap Automatic Touch-Free Dispenser. I recently became acquainted with this piece of equipment when hundreds of them were installed in my office building, across all the washrooms in all the floors.

I am not a fan.

The Tork Foam Soap Automatic Touch-Free Dispenser, or TFSATFD, is a bloated, malodorous pustule on the wall of every sink proximity. It is a useless glossop-spurting whirr-twat of a machine.

If you put your hand under the TFSATFD, no soap emerges. If you wave your hand in space between TFSATFD and bathroom counter surface, you will receive no soap. It is like waving your hand at the entrance to a den of frightened chipmunks. They will not be attracted by your beckoning. The soap is scared of you. Do not signal for it to follow. It will not come.

Approximately twenty seconds after you put your hand under the dispenser, after you have bent down to make sure you are breaking the invisible motion detector seal, after you have given up and rinsed your soap-free hands under the water and then dried them with a single-use paper towel, at that point, THAT is when the soap will come out.

The soap will come out, and it will hit the countertop, forming a little foam pile with the other belated sanitary gloop from handwashings previous.

We used to have little wall-mounted hand pumps of soap. We pushed with our hands and the soap came out and we had soap in our hands and we rejoiced and reveled and rubbed our hands together under the tepid tapwater and we were happy because we were doing our antibacterial best to prevent office sickness and the spread of disease.

We were happy because we had a mentally pleasing understanding of cause and effect, that we were pressing the button, and that soap was emerging. We were effecting change on our environment, and we felt in control. We pushed, and we received, and we pushed, and we received, and we were Gods, we were creators, we had soapy bubble fingers, we rinsed and we dried and we were happy.

Now we have no control. Now we have delayed-by-twenty-seconds foam. We are no longer experiencing mastery of our surroundings. We are now helpless, nothing we do has any meaning, our lives have no meaning, no meaning and no soap, no soap and no point. Morale is low.

I hate you, Tork Foam Soap Automatic Touch-Free Dispenser. I hate you.

Jun 23 '14
  • Them: I notice your blog hasn't been very funny lately.
  • Me: No, Audrey is at the stage where she finds rude words hilarious.
  • Them: So?
  • Me: So I could spend a couple of hours writing and editing something and get about thirty people to smile or I could take ten minutes to repeatedly say "poop" to my daughter and get guaranteed hysterical laughter.
Jun 22 '14
wornandwound:

This new Max Bill might make it’s way into my collection. Love the polished anthracite dial. #womw #wornandwound

Reblogging for my friend Robin and for my Christmas list.

wornandwound:

This new Max Bill might make it’s way into my collection. Love the polished anthracite dial. #womw #wornandwound

Reblogging for my friend Robin and for my Christmas list.