Everybody seems to have their favourite kind of content. My buddy Thussy comes here mostly for the WTFs! Every once in a while, I’ll send him a list of all the weird and wacky search terms that have (somehow) lead people to mikeladano.com. As he did inWTF Search Terms XV, he’s picked his favourites. Please welcome back Thussy for this Guest Shot edition of WTF Search Terms.
WTF Search Terms XXIV: Fan Favourites – First Grade Math edition
It’s been a year since my last installment of WTF search terms so here it is: My list of fucked up shit people want to see on the internet and then somehow make it to Lebrains blog. And when I say shit it sometimes literally means shit.
10. share this click to email this to a friend
I had to include this one because how the hell does this get you to a blog about music?
9. i don’t exist
Then don’t google yourself.
8. wild party
I am a wild party.
7. shower poop guy
Why do people keep searching this?
6. swedish made penis
This sort of thing aint my bag baby.
5. first grade math
Is this the answer to the question, “what did Lebrain fail in school?”
4. orangie took like 6 shooters and some bong tokes
Excellent season, the Boys still have it.
3. porn mcgangbang
It is definitely food porn.
2. Japanporn
If this is anything like Japanese imports they are way too expensive.
She’s back with another guest shot! Enjoy this two-fer Tale.
RECORD STORE TALES Mk II: Getting More Tale #347: Hortons
LeBRAIN’S TAKE:
Here’s one thing I never understood, either in the Record Store days or today: People who are obsessed with Tim Hortons coffee. I’m married to one and I still don’t get it.
I worked with people who never showed up at a shift without their double double in hand. I worked with others who had to do a daily Tim’s run. I served customers who left their empty cups on our shelves, or at the front counter. That was always a favourite of mine, and it’s not unique. I’ve shopped at many stores, finding the brown empty cups sitting there on shelves. Somebody else’s problem, right?
I fail to understand the obsession. Jen has to have one (large decaf with three cream and one sweetener) every single day. There was an old urban myth (an untrue one) that Tim’s put nicotine in their coffee to keep you hooked. The only reason that myth has such long life is that Horton’s Addiction (HA) is so prevalent in Canadian society.
Now that Burger King, an American company, has bought out Tim’s, I fear for our friends south of the border.
I see a future littered with brown cups. I envision our American friends unwittingly becoming addicted to Hortons’ secret brew. I picture, somewhere in the US, a record store manager not unlike my younger self, pulling empty brown cups from their shelves as I once did.
Just say no to Tim’s. Make your own coffee at home. Hell, just drink water! Don’t fall into the trap of Horton’s Addiction, an affliction for which there is no known cure.
MRS. LeBRAIN’S REBUTTAL
50 years ago, one of the greatest defensemen in NHL history decided to expand his horizons, and open a coffee & doughnut [his spelling] empire. That man’s name was Tim Horton, and he made a damn good cup of coffee.
One thing that is very special about “Timmie’s” (as we call it) is its consistency. Your coffee in Kitchener Ontario will come out exactly the same as your coffee in Kitchener BC.
Every coffee drinker has their ideal cup of coffee, and sometimes it takes years to find that combination of cream and sugar that is right for you. When you do find it, Tim Hortons has dispensing equipment designed to maintain that perfect coffee for you, no matter what size you order it or where you order it from. (The only exception to this rule is Splenda sweetener which is dispensed by hand from packets.) Rival chains such as Starbucks make the customer add their cream and sugar themselves, creating human inconsistencies.
I love the texture of the cream; the feeling inside takes me to a special place. It also doesn’t hurt that they use 18% cream, a treat in itself.
Contrary to the way LeBrain makes it appear, I really do like all kinds of coffee. My Keurig machine is well used in the LeBrain household, but Tim Hortons is the champion, and whenever possible that brown cup will be in my happy hands.
Even LeBrain himself knows that if he ever does something to get him in shit, a five minute trip to the drive-through can fix the situation!
The two greatest things on this planet are hockey and coffee. There was a man who brought those two worlds together, and his name was Tim Horton.
RECORD STORE TALES MkII: Getting More Tale #346: NO SOLICITORS!
Yesterday and today, if there’s one thing that drives me nuts, it’s people trying to sell us something. You know the feeling: You answer the phone, not looking or not recognizing the number, only to be asked if you want to hire a shady “duct cleaning” service that has a loose grasp of the English language.
Here are some of the methods we have used and things we have said to dissuade duct cleaning companies from calling us:
1. “Have you met Jesus?” – works every single time. 2. “Oh I’m sorry, we don’t own any ducks.” – gets them a little confused. 3. Speak back to them in French only. “Où est la poutine?” 4. I also enjoy asking them to help me solve the Tedious Tiresome Trivia question on 105.7 Dave FM.
Or, just hang up. That works too. The method you choose may depend on how irritated you are.
Reminding them that you are on the “Do Not Call” registry won’t help you. Many of these scam artists are calling from overseas, according to the CBC.
At the Record Store, we had to put up one of those “NO SOLICITORS” signs but I don’t know why since every solicitor ignored it. Never once in my time at the store did I see someone come in trying to sell me shit, look at the sign, turn around and leave. Never once. Are you surprised?
People around student age would occasionally pop in with boxes full of junk, and a big smile on their faces. They’d usually come in pairs. “Have we got some deals for you here!” they would say open entering, or something like that. They didn’t much like it when I would ignore their sales pitch and try to sell them some CDs instead. “I have a better deal for you,” I might have said. “New Cher album for $12. Do you believe in life after love? I’m the only one in this store who’s going to do any selling to anyone.”
I witnessed one guy wielding his box of junk playing chicken with an automobile in our parking lot, trying to get him to stop. He stood in the middle of his lane with his box, and moved to the right and left so the car couldn’t swerve around him. Then he went up to the driver’s window with his box. Needless to say, the driver bought nothing from that idiot.
From boxes of junk, to golf memberships, to Jehova’s Witness fliers, I have had just about everything shoved in my face at the Record Store. It was irritating, but not nearly so much as the daily phone calls from duct cleaners.
What is your favourite method for dealing with solicitors? Share in the comments.
RECORD STORE TALES Mk II: Getting More Tale #332: Getting Older Everyday
I’ve been lucky enough to marry a simply awesome lady. Jen is a remarkable human being, but she also has one additional gift: the gift of looking perpetually young. She still sometimes gets carded, mistaken for a student, and so on.
Meanwhile here I am: Captain Grey Beard. I still look pretty young when I’m clean shaven. When I have a beard, forget about it! My beard started greying a year or two after marriage. I don’t think the two events are connected…but you never know.
Now, things are so bad that I have twice been mistaken for Jen’s father.
The first time it happened, we were at the Keg. It was Jen, her mom, and myself. The server handed Jen a hot plate without enough warning and she burned her hand slightly. While she and her mom went to the washroom to run some cold water on her hand, the manager came out to apologize. He said to me, “I’m so sorry about what happened to your daughter.”
My daughter! Oh man. That was a shitty meal, I’m sorry Keg, but you blew that one! None of us were in a good mood after that.
The second time it happened, Jen was meeting me at work. She walked in as our shipping supervisor was heading out the door. He’s a nice guy, about my age. The following day, he asked me, “So who was the young lady that you were meeting here yesterday? Was that your daughter?”
I didn’t stab him in the eye with a pencil.
And then, this past summer, something similar (and weird) happened.
Jen and I were out for a nice evening stroll. There were some kids playing near the park by our place. They were younger kids, none of them would have been older than about 10. As we walked past, I heard one kid yell the following:
“LOOK! That lady and that old man peed their pants!”
I looked around. There was nobody else on the street! They were referring to us, and I assure you that we had NOT peed our pants! I don’t know where that came from, but it was probably the first time I’d been referred to as “old man”!
One Thursday evening, Jen and I were out and about at Conestoga Mall in Waterloo. I saw this Toronto Blue Jays sweatshirt in the window of an unnamed clothing store. Trying to hold in my laughter and remain stealthy, I quickly zipped into to take a photo of a shirt that somebody, somewhere thought was a good idea to make.
“Hey, you can’t take pictures in here!” the young girl working inside said to me.
“It’s OK,” I responded as I left. “That shirt is hilarious!”
I zoomed out into the corridor and caught up with Jen, still laughing.
The following week I walked past the same store. The Jays sweatshirt was no longer in the front window.
I’m fairly sure I’m not the first to have a laugh at the expense of this ill-conceived sweatshirt:
I really don’t have much commentary this time. These don’t require any commentary! I continue to be amazed at the search terms that have led people here.
horny teddy bear movie
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tag: porno van kinad.com
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what comic book character puts poo poo on crackers?
For more WTF Search Terms, click here! See ya next time on the weird side.
The big peave that I have today in my current work is my daily commute. It’s not far at all (I can do it in 10 minutes if there’s no traffic) but it can be hairy. To understand this, you would have to see the poor planning that went into the roads in Kitchener-Waterloo-Cambridge, otherwise known as the tri-cities area.
To get from work (in Cambridge) to home (in Kitchener), there are only a handful of good routes. The trick is getting across the Grand River, and there are only three nearby bridges to access. One of them is Highway 8 into town (two lanes each way but expanding), which is always in a state of construction. Another is the King St. bridge (one lane each way) and another is Fairway Road (a bit too far out of my way). Any accidents can cause jams on any of these routes, but the worst location is what I call the “sweet spot”:
The Tri-cities “Sweet Spot”
The “sweet spot” is on Highway 401, between Hespeler Road and Highway 8 into Kitchener. An accident there at the right time of day (3-4 o’clock) will tie up traffic going into town on any of my routes. Prior to the opening of the Fairway Road bridge, accidents there have delayed me by almost two hours (on a normally 10-15 minute drive). Add in winter weather conditions for part of the year and you’re in for a real good time.
There are accidents on my 10-15 minute drive home nearly every day. Once a month there will be an accident in the dreaded “sweet spot” causing major delays. Last week there were two in a row! On those days, all I can do is study the traffic map, select a route and hope for the best!
When I first started this commute, all I had was a single disc CD player in my car. Each day I’d pick an album to listen to. I only had room for one or two CDs in the car at a time. Length didn’t matter; a Van Halen album would be perfectly fine for my commute on a good day. On a bad day however, you can count on running out of music and having to start over! Fortunately I have since switched to a couple 8 gig flash drives, avoiding traffic tie-up repeats.
On the bright side, a “sweet spot” traffic tie-up informed my review of Sloan’s The Double Cross (which I got to hear twice in one drive), during my drive home.
Other commuting misadventures that I witness on my way home, on a daily basis:
1. Motorcycle idiots passing between two cars. On the highway. Last seen on Friday last week.
2. People passing on the shoulder of the 401.
3. Being cut off in traffic, daily.
4. Idiots on cell phones.
5. Somebody in a Dodge Ram weaving in and out of traffic, trying to make it further along than anyone else, only to get stuck behind a transport truck.
These stories are not so unique. If you live in a major metropolitan area, you witness these same things too. As I progress into the RST Mk II’s, I intend to vent about traffic again in the future. (In fact, I’d like to buy a dash-cam. The video gold I could produce every day would provide endless blog fodder.)
Fortunately, music does soothe the savage beast. Rather, technology does. Back in Record Store Part 16: Travelling Man, I stated “when you’re stuck in traffic on the 403, in a torrential downpour, listening to Winger, it still sucks pretty much as bad as it would if you weren’t listening to Winger.” What has changed since then? Well, I’m not driving that far for one. GPS and Bluetooth have reduced the stress greatly. Having 16 gig of albums in the car is also better than five cassette tapes.
What’s your favourite album for being stuck in traffic? Take it from me: Sloan’s Double Cross works really well!
In 1996, to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Juno Awards, a box set titled Oh What A Feeling was released. It was four CDs loaded to the gills with Canadian music, from all corners of the country and all styles of music. It was a great set and one which sold regularly in our stores. The original run of the set sold out briskly. We had a hard time keeping it in stock new, and a few years later, used copies were somewhat scarce. We sold it at a very reasonable price of $19.99, used.
We had one customer, who I never gave a name to except for “Eastern European Guy”. He had an accent and broken English so that worked for me. He pulled Oh What A Feeling off the shelves and asked to listen to it on one of our six crappy listening stations. I popped in all four CDs, handed him the headphones and remote, and left him to listen.
One thing that always pissed me off was people who constantly need help on the listening stations. It’s not hard. Volume controls were right there in front of you. The remote was like any remote that people would have had at home. People who couldn’t figure out how to skip tracks pissed me off. How do you listen to music at home? I didn’t get it.
Eastern European Man motioned with his hand for me to come over. “This song…there is a problem with it. Listen please.”
“Hey, I have an idea. Let’s stick the lead guitar player behind the bassist for this video.”
I placed the headphones on my head. It was track 1, disc one. “American Woman” by The Guess Who. I listened for a few seconds, nodded my head in approving time with the song, and removed the ‘phones.
“Sounds good. What problem are you having?” I asked as politely as I could manage.
“This song…there is strange sound. Listen again.”
I placed the headphones back on. Dah da da da da, dah da. American Woman, stay away from me-hee. Sounded fine. I heard no strange sounds. I told him I heard nothing unusual.
“There is a sound…ticking sound. Tick tick tick. Listen please.”
I put the phones on for the third time. Finally I got it. I heard the ticking. It was the cymbal.
“Oh, OK, I get it. Yeah, that’s not a defect. That’s the drummer playing cymbals.” I made a drumming motion to get my point across.
“No, no. There is ticking sound. Tick tick tick. This not right.”
I explained again, “I hear the ticking sound you’re talking about. It’s part of the song. It’s the drummer playing cymbals, it’s a percussion instrument, like this.” I made the drumming motions again.
“I not like. Can you order me other copy?”
Man, I freaking hated ordering shit in when I didn’t have to. There was nothing wrong with Oh What A Feeling. If I ordered in a copy, it would be coming from another store in our chain. We carried this item as a used item, but they were all going to be the same. When we brought in this item from another store, we wouldn’t make any money on it. The store that sent it to us gets the sale. So, even if he buys it which was not guaranteed since the next copy would have the same tick tick tick, I would be losing the sale.
He insisted. I ordered in the box set, we called him, and inexplicably, he bought the new one even though they were identical. He never even returned it, which I completely expected.
Later on, the same man came in and picked out Bruce Dickinson’s album Balls To Picasso to listen to. Once again, I brought him over to the listening stations, and left him to listen. Once again, he signaled me over with a hand gesture. I made my way to home wondering what the hell could be wrong this time.
“Did you put in correct CD? I know this singer. This is…not him.”
I put on the headphones and turned it up. It was Bruce singing “Cyclops”, track one.
“This is the right CD. This is Bruce Dickinson,” I told him.
Puzzled, the man said, “He changed his style!” Well, win some lose some man. I left him to listen once again. I got back to my work, I had lots of customers to deal with that day. About 10 minutes later, he motioned me over once again.
“The player…it not working.” This happened quite frequently. Our stuff was used and abused by the lowest scum and passersby who needed to kill 10 minutes while they waited for the bus. Tire kickers. They like to try things, but not to buy things. Eastern European Man was not one of these, he did buy things. However our stuff took a lot of abuse from others and was always on the verge of failure.
Attempting to joke around with him, I put on a happy voice and said, “Oh, did you break it man?”
Not understanding the humour, he answered, “Ehhh…perhaps.”
He bought the disc. After a while, I never saw him again. It’s funny. You dread people like this coming into your store, and you having to wait on them hand on foot when they want to listen to something. You hate them constantly signaling you over when you’re busy with other customers. But, then you miss them. You miss that eastern European accent because hey, he might have been annoying but at least he wasn’t a dick, and he did buy things. He might have treated you like a servant to him, but technically that’s what you were. You might have been a manager but to these guy you’re serving them, and they’re the customer, and that’s it, and I don’t begrudge it anymore.
But what happened to him? Did he return to Eastern Europe? Did he go online and start listening and downloading there? Who knows. After all, I never caught his name. He was just Eastern European Man.
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