Okay, so we don't really need this at all; that was a rhetorical statement.

What's the deal with drinks like Pepsi Max? In my humble opinion, Pepsi USA is Johnny come lately to the trend of drinks that make you irritable, twitch uncontrollably and unable to relax at important times of the day (like when you need to go to sleep!). I mean c'mon, hasn't this train already left the station? Check it out, we have:

• Rockstar Energy Drink [which uses fonts like you saw in Boogie Nights]
• NOS [which looks like a terrible MySpace page... is this supposed to appeal to the inner rice boy in all of us or something?]
• Red Bull [the original and the first to get combined with alcohol!]
• AMP [this is made by Mountain Dew which is owned by Pepsi and which is already really popular...]
• Wired [truth in advertising - sho 'nuf]

And about a gazilion others.

It would appear to me that in true, red-blooded American fashion someone at Pepsi decided that damn it, we're in America and here more is more by god so let the nasty soda flow. Twice the caffeine or regular diet Pepsi. Did I mention that it has guarana? Oh wait, then that's really three times the caffeine; my bad. Good luck kicking that smoking habit now, you're going to need 'em just to calm yourself down.

All this stuff reminds me of the body builder drinks you see at the gym. You know, stuff like Ripped Force:

Check these bottles out! I think you can also find them listed in the dictionary under "overkill" or "redundant" or "garish" or "stupid". The louder the label the more weight you will lose. Or is that the lighter your wallet gets... I forget.

Ripped Force an dotehr body builder drinks are just like all the hopped up sodas except they use longer words to describe their products like "thermogenics" and scientific terms like "ECA stack" which are used in an [very successful in my opinion] attempt to bamboozle the average consumer. And it's obviously really successful. When you see how much air time people like Kirstie Alley get pedaling methods like Weight Watchers it is no surprise. None at all.

ASIDE - Kirstie keeps telling us how much weight she has lost but I'm just not seeing it... It's like the total ascent number on my GPS, it lets you know how much elevation you gained and lost. I'm always blown away when the ads for this particular regime come on the television and there is Kirstie, in a tight dress. Looking not so thin. And with the same, tired, much-too-blond-overly-streaked-this-style-went-out-of-fashion-years-ago hair. But that's another post.

I'm going to go out on a limb right now and predict that Pepsi Max (diet or not) will not be around one year from now. It has to be the case that these guys are going to well once too often, right?

I love the bus.

Tons of people I know hate riding the bus; or any form of public transportation. They say it's weird, dirty, the people are freaky and stare at you, they don't want to be forced to sit next to the guy that smells like a bum or a sweaty tourist. I like to people watch and  believe you me, there are few places better than good old Metro.

ASIDE - these days everyone and their brother is plugged into their MP3 player so no one looks at you anyway. Toss loads of dark glasses into the mix on any sunny day and it's almost like being in a house of mirrors. You could not feel more alone.

So besides all the practical advantages of taking 'the second car' like not having to drive myself, my employer provides me with a dirt cheap pass and there happens to be a bus line that goes right to my work and drops me off about five blocks from home, I get to check out all the weird, dirty, smelly freaks that ride it with me.

And make no mistake, there are almost always some on board. Like three days ago. This guy was sitting a few rows in front of me and had on a knit cap. Only unlike most of the youth today who pull it all the way down so it practically obscures their eyes, this guy had it rolled all the way UP stylin' like Jacques Cousteau:

Never have I seen this style carried out to this extreme. This hat was rolled up so far it looked like a yarmulke.

What exactly does this (let's just call it what it is -  a fashion accessory) accomplish? It's covering about 10 percent of his head and if it actually were cold and windy the first strong gust would steal this skull decoration no problem. Watches, belts, glasses, purses, they all have a second purpose over and above being fashionable that is practical. This woolen thimble? Not so much.

I've always wondered about this particular fashion accessory... What look exactly is this person striving to achieve? The esoteric, French artist? Some overly dramatic cinematic stereotype of a sailor? Certainly not that of the  underwater researcher and SCUBA pioneer pictured above.

I gotta say, I love zip-lining! What could be more fun than placing 100 percent of your trust in a little piece of metal, some webbing and then tossing yourself into space? That's right, not much.

Shelley and I just got back from Whistler where I had booked us a trip with Ziptrek Ecotours; we did the Eagle Tour. At first I was pretty skeptical of a zip line in the winter but it was totally amazing. The more I think about it, the more I think it was even better than a zip in the summer. At least at this place.

Why did I choose the Eagle Tour? Because it boasted of a 2000' zip of course. Bigger is bigger after all. Without further ado, here are some pictures and video of the trip.

I thought walking along the suspended bridges and zipping from tree to tree was pretty damn incredible. The third zip deposited you in this 'tree house' 140' up in a Sequoia for crying out loud. We had two guides, one would go first so that he could help us land and one would sweep. It was fun to see the first guide zip as his pulley would clear the snow off the cable and send up a rooster tail as he zoomed across the valley. We were told that we would approach 50 mph on the 2000 footer and it felt like it. I tried to keep my head facing forward but the snow was stinging my eyes too much so I had to shield my face with my glove.

I would do it again in a heartbeat; what a f'n blast.

OK - who's the sneaky republican in here? How else to explain that giant John McCain banner ad at the top of our blog this morning. "Don't Let It Happen" - with a picture of Hillary Clinton's head floating in a crystal ball. That's good stuff. Maybe a certain someones Orange Juice Rant (not naming names) tipped the scales to the right. I'll be sure to pepper my next entry with enough socialized health care, legalized marijuana & abortion rights rhetoric to remedy this ridiculousness.

I'm heading to the doctor on Thursday for my knee. I'm hoping that he will be able to tell me why I'm in ever-lovin' agony going down stairs, going up stairs, sitting in a chair, not sitting in a chair, breathing, walking upright, that kind of thing. If there's one thing I hate, it's inconclusive doctor visits. I've had too many 'well, let's just wait and see on this one' appointments. I realize making a diagnosis takes time but Jesus H, I took a 3 hour lunch just to be here. Break me off with the Patellar Subluxation and let's get on with it.

In the mean time, I've busied myself with all variety of Exciting projects. Let me tell you. The first being the New Diet. After Martin and I came back from Whistler, where we had eaten our weight in bagels and Guinness*, we made a pact of sorts to eat better for a while, a week or two, just to even things out. Get back to basics so to speak. We've all read about Martin's feelings on keeping it below 180. And in general my fondness for being able to fit inside the house. So it didn't seem like a bad idea at the time. We decided to cut out cheese, bad carbs (rice, crackers, white bread, etc), sugar (in the form of pints of ice cream Martin likes to hoover apres dinner) and alcohol. We also tried to be mindful of portion-size, at least during the day at work, when Martin has been known to eat 4 yogurts, 6 bagels, half a jar of peanut butter, 2 protein bars & 3 Odwalla juices before lunch. It's been tricky all week making dinners that conform to these rules, provide enough protein and fiber yet still let me get my buzz on. I'll admit, it was incredibly hard not to drink this week. It was a tough week in many respects and I did have wine two nights and sake on Sunday. I also had a beer on Friday when Martin threw in the towel and ordered a pizza (now tell me, at that point, is it so wrong to drink a beer?) in which I promptly did damage control by making a kale and cabbage Roughage Bomb salad. I think I prefer notions to ultimatums. When you say I absolutely can't have something, I kinda want it. I've made dishes with bulghur, red lentils, I even attempted onion noodles. I heard the recipe on NPR. Of course, this French chef was making "No-Carbonara" with butter, cream, parmesan and bacon. And when you've got butter, cream, parmesan cheese and bacon, who gives shit about noodles anyway? But he made the noodles from from blanched onions. Long and stringy like noodles. No one ( I don't know who this 'no one' was) could tell the difference, they couldn't figure out it was onions. So I was intrigued, I wanted to give it a try. Many tears later, I had my onions in the steamer basket. I was to steam them until 'translucent yet al dente'. Easier said than done. I thought they were too crunchy but were indeed totally translucent.

Probably won't be making them again any time soon. At least not without the cream & bacon.

Orange juice. How did something so simple become so complicated? Go to any juice isle in any larger grocery store in the US and you will not just see orange juice but you will see:

• Regular orange juice.
• Low-pulp orange juice.
• Pulp-free orange juice (this approaches Tang in my book but for the sake of this entry we'll still call it 'juice').
• Orange juice with extra pulp.
• Reduced-acid orange juice.
• Orange juice with added calcium.

Now from a marketing perspective this is pure genius. Orange juice is already insanely popular and by introducing more varieties you are guaranteed of increasing your share in that market. It's exactly the same logic Coca-Cola and Pepsi use when they give us drinks like diet caffeine-free vanilla cherry Coke and Pepsi One (which has exactly one more calorie than the calorie-free diet Pepsi) and diet cherry Dr. Pepper.

ASIDE - Dr. Pepper is already a graveyard of a drink, I wonder how legitimate it is to add even more flavored syrup and then ascribe a unique, well-known 'taste' to it?

People can now feel confident in their sense of self and know they are indeed not merely a sheep-like consumer because they opted for the soda with one extra calorie or the one with a hint of lemon. It's this kind of important decision making that dominates American consumerism today. To quote my friend Chance, "One walk down the cereal isle and I've used up all my decision making power for the week!" I'm not going to push the overlord theory today, but one would be extremely naive to think that this isn't all by design. The more we get distracted by these non-consequential choices, the less we think about the big picture. It's also much more reassuring and less worrisome to debate the merits of which soda to consume than to wrap your mind around the fact that ALL of the choices you are considering either cause cancer in laboratory animals [1] or are 150 empty calories. [2] Likewise it's much easier to feel sexy and sophisticated because your choice of cigarettes are 1 cm longer in length and 3 mm smaller in diameter than the industry standard and only appears to be smoked (at least in all the advertisements you have seen) by thin women with radiant skin than to ponder the impact that all tobacco has on your body.

What's interesting (and when I say 'interesting' I really mean 'laughable') is how much energy people invest in defending their choice in light of clear and overpowering evidence that all like choices are equally indefensible. Throwing yourself behind this kind of defense gives you a sense of security and purpose. And then once you have invested all this time and energy into defending your choice, you'll be damned if you ever give it up. Did I mention marketing genius? What could be better than an army of loyal consumers who staunchly defend their product choice? Nothing. As a manufacturer you're laughing all the way to the bank since you make all the choices that are available.

Is orange juice alone in the sense that the optimal variety is up for debate? Oh no. Here are several other types of food that would appear - to the complete layman of course - to be quite simple and un-complicated but to the experienced consumer are quite clearly entirely distinct categories.

- Peanut Butter

You can get creamy peanut butter, you can get chunky, you can get extra chunky, you can get natural (caution, natural separation my occur), you can get reduced-fat and you can get it with jelly already mixed in.

- Nuts

Everyone has a friend like this. You make a batch of brownies and they love them yet when you add even a hint of a nut and it's gross. Yet this same person will gladly eat peanut butter or clean you out of your stash of cashews but add any nuts to your cookies and they're ruined.

[1] This blog entry was written without the benefit of access to the Internet so while I realize that not all artificial sweeteners cause cancer like the much-loved Saccharine in that oh so nostalgic drink Tab, I also know that lots of modern calorie-less sweeteners like Aspartame are not good for you either. Especially in the quantities that some folks consume diet drinks. Hello, I get a headache when I chew too much sugar-free gum that uses Aspartame! [3]

[2] It's not exactly 150 you say? So sue me. This just proves my theory that you are debating the insignificant, trivial details of this post without entertaining the more salient, bigger picture; that of me trying to wax significant.

[3] So did I stop chewing gum that contains Aspartame and switch to some that uses only, say, Xylitol? Uh, nope.

Not a good day for me at Blackcomb. Today my past got cozy with my present and they didn't really get along. I've never thought of myself as old or inept or untalented in any area. I try something, I usually succeed. I might not WIN but I keep up. Today, all I could think about was how I used to ski. Back when I was 15. Is that a fair comparison? No. But it didn't stop me from reminiscing how I once hit the hill with gusto and skillz. How I could ski all day, take any run, race and laugh all the way to the bottom of the hill. Trees? No problem. Moguls? You call these moguls. In reality, I did do okay for someone who's skied 4 times in 17 years. I should be proud of myself. But the hard, judgmental part of me said I should have picked it back up just like riding a bike. That my quads shouldn't be burning after 3 turns. My boots hurt, my skis are old. If I had better boots, better skis. But let's face it, I'm just old. I think that was the part that hurt the most. I've never considered myself old. Not until today. My knee is injured, I couldn't ski one run worth a shit, today sucked.

And that's why I spent two hours in the Glacier Creek Lodge. Listening to Queen, The Who and Canned Heat. Talk about old, Jesus. The 70's are still alive and kicking here in Canada, folks. I hear Mott The Hoople is up for a Juno this year. Hang tight.

Part and parcel with staying at Spirit Creek Cabin is drinking; as one of the newbies this year I'm doing my best to fit right in. Along with about five different kinds of beer, white and red wine, port and gin, there are also two different kinds of Scotch whiskey. The stand out for me is a Laphroaig Single Islay Malt.

There are tons of things that make Scotch whiskey cool.

• You can say stuff like "double cask matured" and "non-chill filtered" and you're not just blowing smoke.
• It's always "By appointment to HRH the Prince of Whales". Knowing that you are drinking liquor made by appointment of a royal anything is pretty cool regardless, but when you think about the historical connection between the royals and God (note capital G) you realize that you are really drinking liquor made by appointment of the almighty. Drinking by appointment of the creator can't be beat. It makes the hangover somehow purposeful.
• you learn a little history and geography. For instance, I did not know that Islay was a Scottish Isle. Nor did I know that double cask matured means that after they take the scotch out of the oak barrels, they put it in quarter casks. What are quarter casks? No idea. But nuggets like this are indispensable at high-brow parties.

Laphroaig has a very woody taste. On the label it's described as 'peatiness' that is a result of this second, specially commissioned quarter cask and that it's only barrier filtered to preserve this unique flavor. When I had my first sip I was convinced that this would be an acquired taste and now that I've had it three times I'm convinced I was right. But it's a good one. So I'm having some more.

John is sorting vinyl albums alphabetically, Tatiana and Susanna are in the kitchen preparing Thai food for our dinner, Winnie is knitting a scarf, Ann is preparing the cilantro for some veggie spring rolls and I have a beer and a glass of scotch near by. It can only mean one thing, we're at the Spirit Creek Cabin in Whistler.

Did I mention that Jethro Tull is pouring out of the 'Hi-Fi"...? Oh yes, we are definitely at Sprit Creek Cabin.

Hey! I'm writing from Whistler with all my body parts in proper working order! Yahoo for me! As you'll see, someone has already not been so lucky. Poor Chance. Oy, break a leg, buddy. With my nagging knee ailment, I was not too sure about hitting the slopes and tentatively took to the easy runs today. When I say 'easy', I mean Real Easy. Bless Martin's heart, he stuck with me on the My Pretty Pony run all day. What a guy. I caught him looking longingly up at the double black diamond bowl whilst being cut off by some troop of 3 year old ski school kids careening across the flats. He swore he wasn't bored; he didn't swear he wasn't feeling like a bitch though.

We arrived yesterday after a slight detour in downtown Vancouver. Totally intentional. Drove to the lodge to pick up our ID passes. Took another swell picture which, happily, runs a very close second to my world famous Black-Eyed Pirate Costco ID photo. I'd characterize this one more as Carl Malden With Bangs. One for the wallet! Headed up to the cabin. Got the car stuck in the driveway. Lost my wedding rings. Yes, that's right. Flew right off my stupid hand after helping Martin dig out the back wheels. Faught the urge to simultaneously throw up and punch myself in the face. Ugh. Where do you go after two silver slivers shoot off your hand into a white snow bank? And it's nighttime? And you have no idea the trajectory at which they left your finger? All you see is snow, snow, snow from the dim view of the reverse lights on the car? Well, I went to Guinness, Scotch, Champagne, Homemade Apple Cider Town. We gave it a solid effort. It was just so monumentally futile and sad and upsetting, I couldn't look anymore.

Skiing was super today despite being tense a few times. Hopefully, tomorrow will be as pain-free as possible. I'm afraid I may need a forklift to get out of bed in the morning. My muscles seizing up in the night. That first day of skiing after two years can be a real killer. At least for me. Not for Martin though. He laughed off my offer of pre-emptive Advil. "Uh, I won't be that sore tomorrow". Que? You mean, I am the only one gonna feel the burn from Upper Whiskey Dick? Oh yes. I forgot. Upper Whiskey Dick is for babies. And you are NOT a baby. I AM the baby. But do babies ski it 5 times with their teeth clenched pleading with Jesus to spare their life? Didn't think so.

Did I mention we have plenty of food here at the cabin? Mother of God. I've never seen so much food for 8 people. There's a Snack Cabinet. Cases of beer out on the porch. Leftovers from previous nights with new food at dinner each subsequent night. I was worried I wasn't bringing enough. Now I should be worried I didn't bring my Fat Ski Pants. Susanne has her goggles on chopping onions for soup tonight at this moment. Why didn't I think of that? I vow to do that from now on. I'll wear my helmet, too. The kitchen is a dangerous place. Some would say more dangerous than Upper Whiskey Dick.