Winding DownDownDown

It’s Christmas around the world shortly and bloggers everywhere are shutting the hell up. Okay, at least I am, but this is probably a good thing. If you’re feeling lost and abandoned with the sporadic nature of posts of late, well, while I appreciate the audience, I hope Santa brings you a life for 2011.

Here are the pros and cons of blogging for me as experienced this year, in no particular order:

• Pro: Blogs impress girls
• Con: Whether it’s the right kind of girls remains to be seen
• Pro: I got a fashion overhaul
• Con: I have nothing to WEAR!
• Pro: A reason to keep up with current events and media
• Con: Actually keeping up with current events and media
• Pro: There is a reason to sit down and write daily
• Con: I am drinking way more coffee

(Pauses for coffee…)

• Pro: Media Exposure
• Con: Stalker Chick
• Pro: Can describe self as “blogger”
• Con: New synonym for “loser”
• Pro: Colleagues in the Blogosphere
• Con: Colleagues in the Blogosphere
• Pro: Good excuse to start using Twitter
• Con: Twitter
• Pro: Using Photoshop to make clever composite photos
• Con: Blog – 20 minutes. Clever composite – 3 hours.

The list could go on and on I am sure. That’s the easy part. However, I have presents to wrap and Christmas baking to avoid. Oh, and a clever composite to photoshop. I’ll post in 3 hours…

Laden in Red

Ahhhh… I have the red shirt on as I write this, the demise of which has been urged by 50% of the harem since prior to the Remake experience. I am wearing it with new jeans, however, so I am not a complete affront to Kat’s teachings, still I feel somewhat naughty. She’s like, “Why don’t you wear the good stuff all the time?” and I’m like, “So it will last longer for when I inflict myself upon Other People.”

This is a reason why clothing has to be livable for me: I don’t think about it. If I get the not infrequent urge to make bread, I guarantee you I’ll be wearing black and I won’t consider that until the point where flour assures I am wearing grey. Yeah, I have a chef’s jacket. It’s black. Go figure. I was forever ruining dress shirts at work by jumping in to equipment repairs without putting a lab coat on first. Greasy pole in the neighbourhood? I’ll lean against it wearing a suit or a new jacket. Guaranteed.

Kathryn asked me if I’d ever wear the old relaxed fit jeans again and was surprised when I said yes. I have to preserve the good stuff. Put it down to lack of awearness.

P.S. Dating Site Status: Among those stating an interest, the average age has dropped to 46.75. Let’s see how close to my mental age (13) this gets.

Make Twitter work for me, or convince me it’s a hoax – @shpak60

Rolling Lint

There are certain responsibilities I’m acquiring in the pursuit to become a Remade Man. Having determined that I look younger, slimmer, taller, smarter, less obnoxious, more mature and much less likely to go postal when confronted with a floor to ceiling display of men’s jeans all by the virtue of wearing black, there is a maintenance phase that I must now enter into.

If it’s cool with you, I think I will forego hand washing my black clothes in Woolite Dark because I like to keep things simple. Owning multiple laundry detergents runs counter to this concept. Yes, true, I use separate soaps for body and hair, but not always, and partially it’s a shopping thing, as I’d go through an all-in-one faster and have to buy more often. Reducing the amount of shopping in my life (at least for things like soap and shampoo) is the greatest way to keep simple. And several friends have told me my quest to stay simple is successful. They know who they are ..l.,

Black does, when more formal than a torn t-shirt, require a bit of attention, so with that in mind I picked up some lint rollers. Now, I’d like to claim that I got my cat to coordinate with my new wardrobe. It would sound kind of thorough. Truth is he was black long before this process ever started. He was also a little SOB before this process started. I know what you’re thinking: “Kudos for considering lint rollers for cat hair removal, but black cat hair on black clothing? You’re wasting my time on a blog for this?”

I forgive you.

Oh, my mistake. I should have shown you a close-up photo of my cat. There are a couple features you can’t make out in the photo above. They are more prominent here:

The problem with adding a Satanic Cat to a dollar store lint roller is that I ended up with something like this:

Of course, lint rollers are by their nature sticky. And, inconveniently, white. Also, of course, I was wearing some of my new, dark attire when addressing the newly shredded lint roller.

Suffice to say, it appears my t-shirt has cut itself shaving. Severely. And the other lint roller isn’t doing a thing to help. Nor is the cat. My best solution now might be to cuddle the damned cat until his fur covers the sticky bits of lint roller all over me. Problem solved; black restored.

Anybody want to buy a cat, as-is, no exorcism?

Please; help me see the point of Twitter. Follow me: @shpak60

James Bonding

You know it’s my urge to be remade as James Bond. And K is doing her best to shape me. Turns out I’m not alone. In a rare Sunday blog, I give you:

Like Minded Men

Twitter: @shpak60

MediaWhore

It’s probably bad enough that I write two blogs essentially built around the minutiae of my life. There’s a little bit of “why me?” combatting with an obviously greater amount of “why not me?” for I actually write these things, don’t I? There is a level of self-indulgence required that I feel somewhat guilty for enjoying.

But not enough to stop it.

Kathryn has, and so do I by extension, a business to run, offering a service that she believes and believes is needed. So when we met with Mr. Media Journalist yesterday to share our story, it simply made sense in putting the word out.

Poor guy. I’m not sure he knew what hit him.

Did I mention we like to talk?

A normal, well-adjusted young man when he arrived, his pencil hand shriveled into a bony raven’s claw as he flipped page after page trying to take in the verbal onslaught. His little digital recorder, which he kept protected in his left hand, underneath his notepad in an attempt to shield it from the 2000 words per minute we directed at it, probably started to overheat with the demands of capturing delivery somewhere around its sampling rate.

Did I mention Kat talks fast?

While she has said nothing about it, I know she’s observed that I always sit in the same spot at the conference table at the Katalyst Studio. Fortunately for Mr. Journalist he chose to sit across from me, in Kathryn’s usual spot. This narrowed the angle with which the barrage was directed. Had he sat at the head of the table, the ping ponging may have whiplashed his head right off.

However, he did an admirable job of taking it all in and seemed to find some relevance in the various aspects of what we have been doing. If he was feeling fear and looking for a chance to flee, he hid it well.

Granted, he was cornered.

Twitter: @shpak60