The adventures of Almigo

Hallelujah, the occasional bouts of iron throwing out in the back shed finally seem to be paying off. For a start there's slightly less of me but the bits that haven't been flame torched off from deadlifts and amusing exercises that start with the name 'Zercher' have started to get a might stronger. The wife seems to be enjoying what she's seeing, the dog cowers in fear when I stroll by and everyone at work wonders if I've gone on an extreme diet or have been using black magic. However there is one downside to scooping up all those swoles that used to fly by and that is that my wardrobe has taken an unrecoverable cruise missile hit. I put on a pair on my old jeans the other day and realized that I could easily stash a fully loaded Mossberg shotgun in each leg and still jog comfortably.. My jeans (when viewed on acid)

Wow, has it come to this stage of the year already? When we tune into the annual adventures of Todd Hoffman and his merry band of hopeful miners in their crazed gold prospecting adventures? It sure is! And before you can say 'Wow this must be rating it's ass off to command a big budget this time around - Todd has decided to throw in a giant mechanics toolbox worth of spanners into the plan and move the entire mining operation to some of the most lethal places of the world. Because freezing cold, wayward machinery and bears on heat in the Yukon wasn't enough bang for your viewing buck apparently...(or more likely Todd's gone insane with gold lust)...  

When you've got plenty to talk about but not enough for a full story... My adventures this week haven't included scalding hot water, no. ...these are the adventures I find myself in currently.

I've just received a completely unexpected and unwanted email about possible job opportunities at the Hilton hotel. No no, the other Hilton.. While it's more of a scam than things to do with money and pyramids, I feel it's my civic duty to reply back and point out how blindingly awesome I would be in such a role...

Today I proved without a shadow of a doubt that I have the maturity of a 13 year old school boy with a Playboy collection longer than his arm (and I'm okay with that, really). How did I prove this though? Hello Cowboy! By finding a book in a bric and brac store downtown whose cover maybe me almost chortle myself silly in amusement. I give to you - the Penetrator...

On the idiot box the other day a promo flashed up for a new show called Formal Wars - basically you take a kid in high school preparing for their awesome school formal or social and then move complete control of every decision they'll ever make for the big night...over to the parents. That means the outfit, the mode of transportation and even the date will be decided by mum and dad. No ifs or buts, like it or lump it. Darling, your pink tank has arrived... Personally I feel this show will be quite hilarious (and a damn sight better than celebrities learning to fall into a pool) as plenty of school kids put more focus on preparing for a school formal for one night than they do in earning a formal education over the space of half a decade. It also got me thinking what might happen if I got involved in taking control of my own son's decisions come formal time (in roughly 16 years or so...) - and how to make it so much more entertaining than my own already amusing formal his...

Reckon you know everything you need to know about Drake? Even Drake would be amazed by these Drake facts. Word. We beg to differ. With 13 amazing facts about Drake on hand to prove our point. Welcome to the school of Drake son, take a chair. Class is now in session.