Tag Archives: Darth Vader

My Everything Hurts And I Couldn’t Be Happier

Bobsleigh rides: adult diapers not included. Wuss-bags need not apply.

Well, after a most incredible 4 day adventure in Calgary with Rick, I am home. And holy crapshite my everything hurts – a lot – and in the best kind of way.

You see, all of this hurt just reminds me of how good the weekend was, and how lucky I am to have someone in my life as adventurous as Rick. I really think everyone should be so lucky to have a Rick in their life; someone who will agree to any of your wild and crazy ideas while still acting as the voice of reason; someone who will grab life with both hands; someone who will see the good before the bad; someone who would rather laugh than cry; and someone who will remind you that life is meant to be lived completely, without reserve or regret.

Ricks are rare – so if you find one, hold on to them.

Unfortunately, the hurt also reminds me that I hurt. Go figure. However, I know that the hurt is temporary and the experiences I’ve had this weekend – much like all the others that Rick and I have shared (I turn your attention to our Hawaii adventures, screeing, mountain-top scotch, and caving, to name a few) – will last a lifetime. And that is worth any of the physical discomfort I’m currently experiencing.

For those who might be wondering, Rick and I are already planning our next set of adventures. These may or may not include such things as zip-lining at the Elora gorge, the CN Tower Edge Walk, paragliding, and a camping adventure on the Wapta ice fields.

Prepping for the ride by doing my best Darth Vader impression.

Can’t. Freaking. Wait.

But back to the moral of my story. I’m hurting in the best way possible, and I can’t stop smiling about this weekend. Sunday was the last day of our 4 day adventure and it was a great way to end our shenaniganning.

It started simply: breakfast at The Coup. It ended with an intense adrenalin rush following the most insane ride I’ve ever been on. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We arrived at the Canada Olympic Park around 2:15, just in time for our 2:15 ride. Of course, there were others in front of us so we didn’t actually get into our sled for about 30 minutes or so. And those 30 minutes were enough to give both of us nerves. Which is weird because neither of us normally experience nerves like this when we’re doing crazy adventurous things. At least, not on this level. Regardless, we laughed them off as best we could and busied ourselves trying on helmets (safety first). And then, before we knew it, our names were called:

“Dan?”

“Dick?”

All smiles afterwards. Okay, mostly smiles, somewhat nauseous.

That’s right folks, they b0rked up Rick’s name. Or did they? I’m still trying to decide that. Whatever the motivation behind the name change, it was enough to make me giggle. And by giggle, I mean laugh out loud. And that calmed me enough to allow me to take my first steps out to the track.

After a few last-minute instructions from our driver, we were loaded into the sled. A random dude that was  added to our sled was placed at the back. Then me. Then Rick. And finally our driver. Helmets were double checked. Visors were lowered, and then the ride started. It started off simply – like a gentle toboggan ride. But before long it became obvious that this was not going to be an ordinary trip.

Our speed grew. And then it grew further. And just when I was thinking “Hey, this isn’t so scary” we hit the first turn. The force was absolutely intense. My head was instantly pushed towards the ground as our bodies hit approximately 5 times the force of gravity. That meant that my head weighed about 5 times as much as my neck is accustomed to holding. The force of the turn took my breath away. I’m sure my eyes were wider than they’d ever been.

All this and we get a certificate too? Sweet.

As we came out of the first turn, in the milliseconds before hitting the second turn, I remember taking a breath and then realizing that both Rick and I were giggling. I’m not sure why our reaction was to giggle, but I know for sure it was not out of fear. I was loving every second of the ride – at least between the moments when I was trying to adapt my body to the force of 5Gs. Sure, the sled could have slipped, or we could have somehow been launched off the tracks, but none of that was going through my head. All I could think was HOLY SHIT THIS IS AMAZING.

And then, as quickly as it started the ride was over. It lasted 60.66 seconds, we reached a maximum speed of 119.89 km/hr (74.50 miles per hour), we were wobbly afterwards, and we both felt nauseous.

In other words, it was absolutely amazing.

Thanks again for an awesome weekend Rick. I can’t wait for our next adventure.



Wanted: One Minion

Tim the Minion, from the movie Despicable Me.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve had several conversations with people about the same thing: the need for a minion. According to my very trusty dictionary, a min•ion is a follower or underling of a powerful person. The dictionary further defines a min•ion as one who is servile or unimportant.

Now, let’s get a couple of things in order here: I am by no means a powerful person, nor do I aspire to be one. Further, when I speak of minion, I do not speak of someone who is unimportant. To the contrary, minions are highly important. Where would Dr. Frankenstein be without Igor? Where would Darth Vader be without his Stormtroopers? Where would George Bush be without his Dick Cheney (or should that be the other way around)?

Indeed, minions are absolutely essential. Granted, the examples I’ve provided are all examples of evil minions (more or less – some might argue that the Stormtroopers were just doing their jobs; or that Igor was only doing what he did because he was neglected as a child, ridiculed for his hump, and thus would do anything for validation and approval; I’ve no idea how to argue the dynamic that was the Bush/Cheney fiasco), but they are still essential. In fact, I think when most people hear the term minion, their minds immediately lean towards a negative connotation. But that isn’t necessarily the case. And of course, I am not looking for an evil minion, as I seek only to serve the powers of good. For now. Muah.

Anyway, all of this talk of a minion got me thinking about the perfect minion for me. Truthfully, I think I’d require two minions – one for work, and one for home. I only suggest this because I’m not sure that someone would want to take on the role of Dan’s Minion both in both places. So, after giving it some thought (and by some, I mean very little), I present to you two lists of things that I would want in an office or home minion. Did I miss anything?

Home Minion

The successful applicant for Home Minion (HM) should be able to

  • cook up a feast using the contents of my refrigerator (for example, what could you make with only a packet of mayonnaise that may or may not be several years old, a can of orange juice, a dried onion, half an english muffin, and oregano).
  • drive me to and fro, especially in rainy weather.
  • launder my clothes, and perhaps my money.
  • pay my bills when they arrive, preferably with their own money.
  • keep the house clean, with carpets vacuumed, floors shiny’d, counters decrumbed, and bathrooms left smelling of very manly roses.
  • remain out of sight and out of mind at all times.
  • to never speak of that closet in my bedroom that still contains boxes of crap that I’ve yet to unpack after my move over 4 years ago.
  • produce chocolate, coffee, lattes, cake, pie, or any other treat on a moments notice.
  • provide the worlds best massage.

Office Minion

The successful applicant for Office Minion (OM) should be able to

  • take excellent notes during meetings, so that I might nap with my eyes open.
  • keep me on time for all appointments. Be creative; a trail of m&m’s could guide me where I’m going.
  • write-up articles, opinion pieces, commentaries, etc., while I dictate.
  • be able to translate my ramblings as I dictate.
  • be able to improve my ramblings as dictated, such that they read as if I were intelligent, and what I wrote was worthy of attention.
  • clean my office.
  • produce chocolate, coffee, lattes, cake, pie, or any other treat on a moments notice.
  • provide the worlds best massage.

To those out there that are reading either of these lists and thinking I could do that, I could be an HM or OM, please pass your resume (along with 3 references) on to me. The search for a successful candidate or candidates shall remain open until further notice is provided. Should you pass the rigourous pre-screening, you’ll be contacted for an interview (do not contact us). The pay is low ($0.00 per hour) and the hours are long. But, what you lose with low pay and long hours, we make up for with the personal satisfaction that my life is somehow easier.