Proof that spam is evil:
Well, it’s official:
Party at BOBTown on Saturday, March 10th.
The Evite has been sent, but since this is my first grand co-hosting party (with this guy) and we’re both novices, we kinda suck at the whole people assembling thing. So if we missed you (some of the people I’d normally have invited were left off the list due to being in other countries and stuff), leave a comment and you’ll get an invitation to the hottest pad party in downtown Toronto.
Well, maybe not the hottest… it’s kinda drafty.
I’m four days into a new beard, which I’ve dubbed “the camping beard”, for, you see, I’m going camping this weekend for four days. Doing the math, I’ll have an 8-day beard growth (I CAN ADD!) and depending on how I feel about it, I may hang onto it for a few weeks more. It was a hit last time (as documented in the hair category to some length previously) for the most part, and since summer seems to be winding down (blessedly…I like sweaterweather better, so much so that I conjoin the two words into one big one), it’s not too hot to have one.
As for camping, yeah, it’s my first foray into “real” camping, meaning actually abandoning the car and its various stores of equipment and clothing and supplies and putting everything into packs. I’ve done some camping in the past, mind you, but it was always car camping or some other form of not-quite-rustic. The last dash was in 2003 where I did a slew of city-park camping or drive-site camping… each time setting up the tent beside or near the car and showers and such were always available. When I was younger, dad would drag me out (yes, drag, as a sullen, housebound teen I didn’t want anything to do with the out-of-doors) fishing with him into the wilds of Northwestern Ontario, but we would still wind up sleeping in a camper mounted on the back of the truck (these days my dad even has like satellite and dvd hooked up in there), so hardly “leaving it all behind”.
But tomorrow, in the midst of some scattered showers, we’ll be canoeing into a campsite, leaving much of the technological world behind, sleeping on stones and cooking with fire. I’m surprisingly looking forward to it. I’ve had to gear up a bit, mainly a new rain jacket and some footwear meant for surfaces that curve more than a sidewalk curb, so I’ve taken a hit, but it’s all useful stuff which can be appropriated into other wearable situations (for biking or hiking for example). Thankfully the special lady and her friends have been doing the camping thing for some time and have a vast collections of camping gear, wear, and utilities, as well as knowledge… I, meanwhile, have watched a tonne of Survivorman. Oh, Les Stroud, I miss you.
It was tonight over a steak dinner with some delightful friends/coworker company that I realized that I cannot, in fact, remember the last time I cooked myself a meal at home. While I’m certain it was something simplistic like spaghetti with sauce (or olive oil and parmesean), I still can’t remember when it was, and actually counting the days back I get about two weeks in before my memory starts getting fuzzy. Hot damn. This can’t be good on the wallet. Not to mention that tomorrow the gang is taking a jaunt to the Sultan’s Tent (which, judging from the reaction of this evenings crowd upon its mention, should prove a delightful dining/belly dancing experience).
I don’t even remember the last time I bought groceries. My mother actually picked up the last round that I can recall, and Rooms has been stocking the cupboards and fridge with various comestibles, but I’ve been pretty regimental in my cereal in the morning and eat-out-at-all-other-times diet. Not good.
Saturday I’m finally taking a day off from social calls (I hope), catching up on reviews (keep an eye on the Ent.Etc…. it’ll be packed full of new stuff… I hope) and doing some reading (I hope). I’ve actually got three books on the go. One, “the DiVinci Code”, I’m completely unenthralled by, another, “Those Who Walk Away” (by Patricia Highsmith who wrote “Strangers on a Train” and the Tom Ripley novels) is quite sharp, and the third, “Eats, Shoots and Leaves”, is all about punctuation which I’ve certainly been letting slip as of late. Sunday, meanwhile, I’m off to Stratford to witness Coriolanus, which stars Canadian acting god Colm Feore. I’ve really dug Feore’s work for years (even his cornier stuff, like “Chronicles of Riddick” or “The Wrong Guy”) and I know absolutely nothing about Coriolanus, plus this is my first visit to Stratford, so I’m really excited. Half-price tickets made the car rental decision a lot easier too.
So yeah, busy bee, and exhausted by it.
Ach! Busy! A journey into the failed efforts of trying to get weekend work done.
9am - 6pm: work
6pm - 9pm: dinner/coffee with the gang
9pm - 11:30pm: Gig…
11:30pm - contemplate the Diableros midnight set, opt for sleep instead, obtuse to the fact that I could have caught Novillero’s midnight set (d’oh)
11:30pm - 12am: streetcar… and standup comedy on the iPod.
8am: awaken by holy terror that lives upstairs. It’s politically incorrect to hate children… but I don’t hate children. I hate child (singular). Spare bear traps anyone?
8am - 10:30am: catch up on comics reading in prep for Sunday reviews
10:30am - contemplate catching up on reviews, opt for shower instead.
10:30am - 11am: shower and beautifying.
11am - 11:30 am: breakfast, chat with the roommate
11:30am - 12:30pm: watching DVD, realize I was running late for lunch meeting
12:30pm - 1pm: transit, Duotang on the iPod
1pm - 4pm: big ol’ gorging of seafood at Rodney’s with my boss and work team. Fully social, incredibly fun.
BACKTRACK: 3:45pm: phonecall from Toast. They’re stopping by the Ronces “a little later” for dinner
4pm - 4:45pm: pick up Wolf Parade tickets, walk halfway home.
4:45pm - 5:00pm:streetcar! still Duotang on the iPod
5:00pm - 5:03pm: fight off drowsiness. Fail.
5:03pm - 5:30pm: Naptime
5:30pm - 5:40pm: Talk to sister on phone, reminds me she’s coming in for Woofstock on Sunday. I tell her I can’t come because of the backlog of concert/comic/cd/movie reviews that need to be done.
5:42pm - 6:00pm: Toast and Marmy visit and we concoct a plan of action for the evening, realizing that Amy Millan show is an early show, doors at 7pm
6:00pm - 6:15pm: Streetcar!
6:15pm - 7:30pm: Dinner at the Brass Taps. I’m not hungry but later glad I ate anyway.
7:30pm - 10:04pm: Amy Millan w/ the Fembots. Someone passed out! Crazy.
10:04pm - 10:40pm: Walk home.
10:40pm - 10:41pm: consider sitting down and writing reviews. Brain goes on strike.
10:41pm - 12something: Pop in disc 2 of Season 4 Kids in the Hall, select “play all”
12something+: fall asleep while watching.
10:40am: Wake up. Oddly feel hungover (odd since I only had a few glasses of wine at lunch day previous)
10:41am: Phonecall from parents. They’re passing through and stopping by.
10:42am - 11:45am: Get cracking on reviews. Don’t get very far, distracted by doing research.
11:45am - 12:30pm: entertaining the folks, make grocery list for mom
12:30pm - 1pm: the family is all together
1pm: everyone (but me) leaves for Woofstock.
1:01pm - 4:04pm: Get cracking on reviews. Get partway through.
4:05pm: doorbell. Q: are you done your reviews yet? A: Not even close
4:06pm - 5:00pm: attempting reviews with puppy distracting me.
5:00pm - 6:30pm: dinner and clean up. Saying goodbye.
6:30pm - 7:30pm: more reviewing. Brain craps out.
7:30pm - 8:00pm: begin looking for phone card, find Escape from LA instead.
8:00pm - 8:40pm: continue cleaning up (sort of) looking for phone card, eating snacks, contemplate movie.
8:41pm: pop movie in, continue to look for phone card.
8:42pm - 10:15pm: get engrossed in movie (yes, like Randy
BachmanNewman, I love (Escape from) LA)
10:15pm: attempt reviews again
10:16pm - 12:40pm: need to do research, somehow wind up on Dr. Who page on Wikipedia. My evening slips away from me.
12:40pm - 1:30am: some comic book reading.
Plan of action: go to work, do some reviews at work AFTER work, go to standup comedy show at Riv.
Actuality: 3:30 phonecall from GAK. Immediate realization that today is his layover day between Thunder Bay and Halifax. Rush home at 5:00…. GAK nowhere to be seen. Mow lawn, clean up hole mess, chat with neighbour kids, call GAK, head to the Gate to meet up with him. Drink and eat for 6 hours, chatting with one another, the barkeep and the locals. Late: expose GAK to Patience and Imagination episodes of Wonder Showzen.
After a fairly full 10 days dogsitting (man, being a single uncle of an 11 month old lab is a lot of work) and trying to keep on top of work at the same time, I was a tired lad when the family returned from Phoenix today. Canada already had three goals against Sweden so I pretty much let my brain die. Fatigued, a little dizzy, and kind of itching to get back to normalcy, I spent a few more hours with the folks/siblings/dog before coming back. In my uncomfortable state, I had expected to pull a nap on the busride home, with the premonition that I would sit next to a really cute girl and that I’d embarass myself by drooling in my sleep.
Well, let’s just say only one of those two happened, and it didn’t involve a cute girl. Nothing like waking up with your chin buried in your collarbone and a drooly mcwetspot on your belly. Sexy.
Thankfully it was dark and I believed nobody noticed.
Having just obtained the “family stereo” (that would be the stereo system that I grew up with, likely older than I am) I now have the means to listen to records. Can I humbly request a “what what” for outdated technology?
I also have the means to output the audio to my computer and record it, so expect some random out-of-print comedy selections coming your way to mp3.
After yesterday’s storm (started with thunder and lightning, then freezing rain, hail, snow, sleet, blizzard, whiteouts etc etc and sunshine late in the afternoon), it took only two hours this morning to clear off my sister’s driveway. Okay, 4/5 of the drive were cleared in about half an hour, it was the foot of the drive (where the city plow had left a two foot bank of dense, heavy, ice-filled snow) that took forever. Quite the workout though. And wouldn’t you know it, just as I finish… it bloody fookin started snowing again.
I don’t actually recall the last time I’ve had to shovel a driveway, having not lived anywhere with a driveway since 2001, and methinks I’m glad.
Waits and Measures
I don’t have a scale at home, so I rarely know my exact weight. I always just assume I’m floating around the buck-sixty mark, and I usually am. That’s been my stable weight for just over four years. Before that, since, oh, the late 80’s, I’d been hovering around the 150 lbs. point. It was all the routine biking that I did in Toronto that packed on the additional ten, five per leg.
When I got to Barrie last week, I checked myself out on the bathroom scale, and as I expected I was 161 lbs. Since then I’ve noticed a slow but steady increase over the past week to today’s 165.5 lbs., which is a new high for me. Is it all the bad food I’ve been eating (and I’ve been bored so I’ve eaten a lot) or is it all the exercise I’ve been doing (long walks with the dog, situps on the inversion table, chinups on the basement I-beam, the 30 minute jogs, and the 2 hour shovel)? A combo of both.
I know once I return to Toronto and my usual diet of late breakfast, small lunch, and lazy supper, not to forget my routine 10-6 intertness, I’ll be back to my normal weight in no time.
because i’m snowed in in barrie and kind of alone:
1) mixed myself an Iron Butterfly (kaluha, baileys, vodka neat)
2) plugged the ipod into computer speakers. on random have lucked into a nice mix of downtempo so far… some de la soul, local rabbits, black moth super rainbow, mc solaar, skalpel
3) discovered a bag of turtles hidden away. ate them all.
4) sat down and actually started editing the novel (working in reverse from last chapter to the first…) got through three chapters before i got antsy
5) ran an excessively hot bath with an excess of eucalyptus bubbles
6) hopped in with a glass of water, sweating profusely (damn hot)
7) read the first issue to paul pope’s batman: year 100. still trying to figure out my reaction to it
8) ran the jets in the tub until the bubbles got a little too thick and heady.
9) stood up and began fashioning myself bubble clothes.
10) eventually got bored of constructing new foamy wardrobes, deciding that large tubs and bubble baths are really best suited for lovers, and as much as i like whistler, you know, it’s platonic. the whole man-on-dog thing just aint my scene
11) rinsed off, partially clothed myself, let the dog out for a bathroom retreat, polished off the iron butterfly, find myself in an ‘i’m bored so i blog’ state again. think it’s time for samurai jack. perhaps another cointard. or not.
Wnoodle writes in response to yesterday’s post:
Mustard and Cointreau: I DARE YOU! I DOUBLE DOG DARE YOU!
You asked for it.
The mustard first, a healthy dropping.
The Coinreau filling the rest of the shot.
The plastic fork, official stirring tool of the soon to be stirring tools.
The cheers, y’all. Pretty drink, floaty mustard bits and all.
The glug. Tastes kinda like burning oranges.
I’m an idiot.
Welcome to it.
Feeling better, almost at 100% health now, although I’m still down a few hit points, and my flegm situation is a little worse than normal. I’m heading out to see my family today and maybe sell some old cds beforehand, and beforehand that, get some reviews done.
I really like kids. I enjoy their spirit, their energy and am amazed at their capacity for learning. They’re smart and able to pick up on subtleties that are lost to most adults, and I find their developmental process rather fascinating.
Children are the greatest resource humanity has, and these days we’re squandering it with parental selfishness instead of selflessness. That’s the universal “we” and not you, dear reader, and I… unless you have kids of mine that I don’t know about.
That said, is it wrong of me to want to set some bear traps upstairs for little miss stompsalot?
I’ve been diggin’ on Creme of Wheat a lot lately. It’s definitly one for the comfort food category
Felt it coming on Monday (probably as a result of my non-food eating/3-hour journey through gribblies-central Ikea on Sunday) and tried to stave it off with the echinacia and vitamins and copious amounts of tea and water, alas, the bug got me and I took yesterday away. The day was spent chilling out, drinking pots of tea, watching The Flash and Calimari Wrestler on DVD (reviews to come), monitoring the work I was missing for emergency situations, and playing some City of Heroes. I always feel guilty for taking sick days, but today I feel better for it, although I’m still drinking way too much and peeing all the time.
I also got a massive case of the munchies last night, and spent the majority of the hour between 11pm and 12am munching down on cheese (mmm chevre) and crackers. Odd that.
Warren Ellis is a grumpy old man in training, a cantankerous old fart waiting in the wings. He’s also one of the comic mediums best and most prominent writers, and he’s obtained and maintained a huge on-line following through is various web efforts like the old “Warren Ellis Forum” and the current The Engine. He’s also got a plus-sized mailing list of tens of thousands where he writes nuggets of surl like this:
Doesn’t Stephen Harper look like the kind of actor a US or US-but-
produced-in-Canada TV show uses as the bad guy when they can’t afford a British actor?
(Which, when David Warner is still working, is kind of unimaginable. But still.)
You know the kind of guy. Grey hair, so white you can practically see through his skin into his circulatory system, with the kind of unblinking half-glower that let’s you know that no matter what he’s talking about, he’s actually thinking
about shoving pregnant lesbians tits-first into a woodchipper. He’s the white guy in the suit whose last job was sitting behind a big desk condemning Tia Carrere to death in an episode of RELIC HUNTER.
Paul Martin should never have let on that he was desperate. And now he’s in the bin and you’re ruled by the guy who plays Creepy Vice-President in Sci-Fi Channel shows.
He’s crotchity, but I still like him. Go buy his books. “Nextwave” and “Blackgas” both debut on stands today. The first issue of “Book3: Ultimate Extinction” came out last week (both Book1: Ultimate Nightmare, and Book2: Ultimate Secret are out in trade). “Fell” and “Desolation Jones” come out often enough and his Apparat Singles Collection came out two weeks ago. His infamous “Transmetropolitan” is still available in 10 handy collected editions.
The loverly Freakgirl has entered into the realm of multimedia anti-star, as a snippet of her blog was turned into a, erm, blipvert (to steal from Max Headroom and for lack of a better term) on CBC’s Zed TV (enter in “freakgirl” in the search string, click on “watch” and violin! there you are).
The basement is still a mess, no word on when the drywall people are coming in. Colour me frustrated.
This morning as I was walking into work I saw two pigeons standing on a manhole cover drinking from the shallow pool of water it held, their heads slightly touching. It was very cute.
silly things to do
by me - 25.01.06
find a pen, stick it in your ear, but not too far. Just far enough that it stays in.
Find another pen… well, what do you know, you have another ear. Two more pens will fit nicely up each nostril too. Now take great care not to trip or fall onto anything or else you’ll wind up hurting yourself. For the coup de gras, shower yourself with eraser shavings (you may have to make your own eraser shavings, and it’s simple… find an eraser, and start erasing until the eraser is all gone or else your fingers are cramped and bleeding). Science is fun.
When I woke up Monday I had $40 in my wallet and a bank account brimming with moneys. But the moneys quickly went away as rent and bills had to be paid. With excessive December expendatures for setting up the apartment, a “mostly business” trip to New York, and an abundance of holiday cheer with friends, I’ve pretty much maxed out the credit (and if I didn’t max it out, the interest handled the rest) and thus was left with the cash in hand and a shocking $25 left in the bank.
So it was crunch time. $65 to last me two weeks until next payday and NYC travel reimbursement and rent from the J-roomie and perhaps that 2004 income tax refund, at which point everything will be quite all right… but damn…
The $40 in wallet went immediately to food. That’s three meals a day for two weeks. Can it be done? Yes. But ouch yes. Meatstuffs, breadstuffs, vegetable stuffs, sandwich stuffs. $40 = *poof* gone. And I’m left with $25 in the bank.
But inspiration hits and I recall that I have $10 in Toonies and Loonies in my Superpiggy bank, which is enough to get me to and from work this week. Oh shit. Transportation to and from work… I had forgotten. And there goes another $20 for next week.
Yup. That’s some smarts I gots there.
I havn’t been this hard up since I was unemployed back in ‘02 (when I started blogging actually), and even then I was actually managing okay. And I said to myself I’d never get to this point again… well surprise bucko, here you are. You’ve made your bed (after purchasing and assembling), now you lay in it.
It is a comfortable bed though. Totally worth it.
Silly Things To Do
by me - 05.01.06
You know when you get money every so often from your place of employment or the government or what have you? Well, take that money and give it to establishments in exchange for goods and services, particularly those which aren’t of essence. Don’t just give a little, give a lot. That new bath robe or “Complete Calvin and Hobbes” won’t buy itself, you know. Give it all, preferrably in one day, and then starve, feasting on terrycloth and glossy paper while anxiously awaiting the arrival of the next injection of temporary monetary sustinance.
Things to do, things to do today. Got a big day ahead of me, several things to do. Gotta keep on top of my life, gotta keep on top of my life. I have seven things to do. Number one: Banking. Number two: Pick up dry cleaning. [He walks into an old lady and knocks her down.] Okay, ya just knocked over an old lady, keep moving, ya got seven things to do!
- Kids In The Hall, ep.407
Today’s list of seven:
1) 2004 Tax return (check!) - Refund! SO GOOD!
2) Dishes (check!)
3) Laundry (check!)
4) Rent & Bills paid (check!)
5) Groceries (check!) - Graig needsum eatsum!
6) Spices dispensed into jars (check) - need to tally what spices are missing
7) Reviews (booo) - I still have 4 hours… time to get to work I guess.
Dinner is prepped for tomorrow (porkchops are marinaded)
Banking (I’m broken for the next two weeks, boo!)
I sorted my socks! (woah, the adventure continues!)
SILLY THINGS TO DO
by me - 02.01.06
Monday, December 26, 1:30 pm(ish) - Found Lost on “Boxing Day” sale at Zellers while purchasing vitamins and lightbulbs and stuff. This was my only impulse/Boxing Day special purchase.
Tuesday, December 27, 8:00 pm(ish) - Waiting for dough to rise while baking bread, pop Lost in to kill an hour (so I say). I’m instantly addicted and wade through 6 episodes while also watching my bread rise, talking on phone, doing laundry, AND breathing. That’s multi-tasking.
Wednesday, December 28, 6:00 pm(ish) - Get home from work, ignore dinner until 9pm, and watch 9 episodes of Lost until…erm… around 12:30am (I don’t really recall actually).
Friday, December 30, 12:05 am(ish) - Get home from the karaoke party, feel tired but not ready for sleep. Two episodes of Lost didn’t help inspire the drowsy any but I resisted temptation and went to sleep.
5:00 pm(ish) - Back from work and have a marathon of the remaining 7 episodes until 11:15 pm(ish). I feel… unsatisfied with the 90 minute (aka 2-hour) conclusion to the first season.
Want. More. Now.
Feel. Lost. Without. Lost
Dammit, I knew this would happen.
Sitting in Laguardia airport with GAK, watching the planes land and the ground crew do their work. Three of the little carts that pull the luggage around move snake-like across the tarmac, with a rhythmic motion that looks practically choreographed.
Me - It looks like a dance
GAK - A Busby-Berkeley musical
Me - We just need a song
And literally seconds later from behind the terminal appears a plane adorned with green striping and on its tail fin is emblazoned the word “SONG”, which is Delta’s discount airline (I think).
Life is so curious sometimes.
Speaking of songs:
On an express subway to Grand Central Station, it stops at a station and four men get on. The automated voice states “Stand clear of the doors, please” and a PING sounds. The doors close and as if on cue, the four men, all adorned in some traditional mexican garb of some sort (one with a colourful poncho, another with a rather small sombrero on his head), burst into a boisterous, upbeat, somewhat traditional Spanish song, drowning out the noise of the train as it rolls over the tracks.
The song lasts almost precisely the duration from one station to the next, and after collecting some change in a cowboy hat they move onto the next car on the train just before it begins to move again. There’s an absense when the subway gets rolling this time, as our time with the troubadors was all too brief.
This time the distance between stops is a little less, and after the train stops and the doors open I can hear the men, mid-song, belting out their tune, the sounds echoing in the station.
The whole thing was very surreal. A New York moment.
As we took the shuttle bus ($12.50) from Grand Central to Laguardia, I noticed the sign by the front door of the bus that said “IN THIS COUNTRY IT IS CUSTOMARY TO REWARD GOOD SERVICE WITH TIPS” with little gratuitous use of dollar signs both at the top and bottom of the sheet of paper.
When I got off the bus and retreived my bag from the bus’ undercarriage, I politely said thank you to the driver and went to go on my way. He said “What, no tip?”
I said “I’m sorry, but I’ve given all my money away at this point,” and asked GAK if he had any small bills. What I meant to say was, “A tip for what? Opening the door? For handing me my bag? For not crashing the bus? It cost 12.50 for a 20 minute ride to the airport. Give me a break.”
But I’m Canadian. We’re so polite on the outside.
Did you know it’s illegal to put your feet up on the seats of the subway in New York?
I took the city transit shuttle from the airport in Toronto to the subway line ($2.50, thank you very much, with no cost to transfer onto the train), along with about a dozen other people. When we got to Kipling station there was a train waiting dormant. I get onto an empty car somewhere near the middle. I then notice one of the other passengers from the bus carrying his luggage also steps onto the same car. He’s followed in by two girls who were also on the bus, but they aren’t with him. And then a few more people step into our car, 11 people in total. All of them were on the bus from the airport. Only the driver and one other person from the bus didn’t get on the same car as myself.
As I noted yesterday I’m planning on only buying comedy cds and kids music (as well as vinyl records) in 2006, which means I’m going to be in public places laughing my ass off for seemingly no reason in particular, and making people around me very uncomfortable.
People stare and stare curiously if you start laughing (and laughing hard enough to snort in one instance) and they aren’t in on the joke. On the aeroplane I was listening to the genius that is Mitch Hedberg (RIP), and on the streetcar it was Aziz Azaria that got me going (box turtle indeed).
More randomness tomorrow. For now:
SILLY THINGS TO DO (I forgot to do this yesterday!)
by me, 21.12.2005
Entertain your family and friends by making a fashionable suit out of festive tinsel and doing your Tony Orlando/Liza Minelli impersonation. Then get drunk off eggnog, destroy the Christmas tree and burst through the living room bay window. They’ll demand an encore… or leave you to sleep it off in the snow…
Made it back safely from NYC none the worse for wear, and perhaps even a little more enriched (like Wonder Bread). Still no internet at home (hence the lack of blog additions), but the new modem needed to make it all work is coming tomorrow, I hope.
I’ve got about 400 pages of comic book reading to do before Wednesday, on an extended deadline for the next comic column, and I didn’t get started until Sunday night. Hopefully my brain is up to the task, and I don’t go all Flaming Carrot on y’all. (Obscure reference, I know)
XMas cards have trickled in, and maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get a few out before the new year, because I’m timely like that.
I forgot some stuff in NYC, including some token gifts for a few folks. It’ll either get shipped down this week or taken to Thunder Bay and brought down in February. Nobody better be anxious. In fact, I’d say don’t expect anything at all. It’s the only way not to be disappointed.
I’ve decided to give two middle fingers to music in 2006. That’s right, screw you indie hipster music scene, I’m not going to actively participate next year. Nope, in 2006 I’m buying comedy albums, kids music and records (vinyl). If you’re not funny, youthful or on an antiquated format, you won’t be entering into my music roster until at least 2007 (unless either someone buys it for me or I download songs off some blog of some sort).
And I’m serious too.
Indie music is going to be about $1500 poorer next year.
Random notes were to go here but both journals within which said radom notes were written were left elsewhere. Deal with it, suckaz.
Avenue Q review to come
Also the Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada review coming soon
And probably Grizzly Man and The Life And Hard Times Of Guy Terrifico which I’ll be attending a double feature of tomorrow (which means I better get cracking on those comic reviews tonight).
I’m in New York.
’twas a balmy 54 degrees Fahrenheit when I woke up this morning which equals… something above freezing in Celcius. It’s about 45 degrees F now, which equals… something above freezing but less warm than this morning in Celcius.
The looming transit strike didn’t really happen, not yet at least, and the Union has decided to do a systemic shut-down starting with privately owned bus services within the union. It looks like I should escape the city on the weekend before all hell breaks loose. I’ve been following the strike info closely, and I’ll probably still keep up on it, especially if a strike goes through because a shutdown of a 7million passenger-per-day trasit system has got to be fascinating, and the scenarios of what could happen in such situation where traffic is gridlocked 24 hours a day and everyone’s ire is raised just get my creative brain juices movin’.
But, really, I’m just happy I’ll be able to escape the city without having to endure any real hardships. Because I’m self-centered like that.
In the events of the past few days, I managed to get most of the info I came to New York to collect so, I say, sucessful trip all around. Good show, old boy. On Wednesday after Spamelot (review on sidebar), I strolled 8th avenue and picked up a legendary New York Black and White Cookie (aka “the harmony cookie”). The light side was overly saccharine and the dark side was a bit too fudgy. And the cookie itself was like not-stale biscotti. Yeah.
Was at work until 7:30 last night (for one reason or another), and then went uptown to the Other Music for some local music cd color, said hi to the East Village for Joan, and had a late dinner at an Indian resto before rushing back in the warm rain to catch a train before a strike that didn’t happen was supposed to happen.
And then there’s today.
SILLY THINGS TO DO
The New York Edition, by me - 16.12.05
Before travelling next, buy a new pair of boots that feel fine when you try them on but later you discover that the way one of the seams is formed hits you right on a nerve at the top of your foot making your big toe go numb after prolonged wearing, and enventually cause extreme discomfort and/or pain. Once you have found these boots, make sure they are your only pair of footwear when away from home for a week.
Ahhh, New York in December is certainly a lot colder than New York in November, but also less rainy, which I guess makes this a much better trip (plus the fact that I’m meeting some great people in the office and I’m not paying for most of the trip is also pretty cool).
While yesterday was pretty much a wash (woke up at 3:45 am to catch a 6:30 plane so my brain was fuzz much of the day), I still had a pretty full afternoon and even evening. While none of the objectives for the purpose for my visit were accomplished yesterday, I still had copious amounts of work to get done, and I didn’t manage to vacate the offices until nearly 7pm.
My temporary home is the oober-mod Hudson Hotel, which kind of reminds me of the Drake in T.O. only a lot bigger and more cramped, but stylin’ nonetheless. (Pictures to come).
Armed with GAK’s knowledge of the city and another Torontoite coworker (whom I saw on the plane in and is staying two doors down from me at the Hud) we steaked out (literally) Gallagher’s Steak House and treated ourselfs to the rich man’s life for an evening. When in Gallagher’s Steak House, do as the Gallagher’s Steak Housians do… eat steak, and free bread. If you’re still hungry, then get a potato side dish.
I returned to the Hud around 11pm, chilled like the Fudgscicles in my freezer back home, so I had a hot shower, turned on the heat and crashed. I woke up again at 4:30 to realize that the heater had pumped the degrees up to 88 which, well, is insane unless you’re living on the equator. I was up roughly every hour after that for no specific reason except I was a little anxious (oh and about 6:30 I realized that the alarm was set incorrectly).
Today’s been much more successful at work and I’ve managed to snag an affordable, same-day ticked for Spamalot which mark my first Broadway exposure, to be followed by Friday’s Avenue Q, so it’s going to be a great trip regardless of what else goes on.
Of course, the “what else goes on” is the almost guaranteed NYC transit strike which will, quite literally, cripple the city. T’will be a fun weekend.
A little something for my Narutards out there… there’s an actual shushi restaurant (“Koodo Sushi”) with a “Naruto Roll” on the menu. Sorry for the crappy quality of the pic…you can’t even read the ingredients properly, but here it is off their website
Tuna, Salmon, Yellow Tail, Avocado, Masago wrapped with sliced cucumber with chef’’s special sauce on the side
SILLY THINGS TO DO
The New York edition, by me - 12.14.05
Go to New York with no hard currency in your pocket, and make sure you are unable to get any cash out of the bank machines. Good times to follow.
- off to New York tomorrow, way, waaay too early in the morning
- potential transit strike in NYC, deadline Thursday, may give me an extra couple days vacation (yeah, right)
- discovered last night I left my passport in a bag in Barrie, must leave work early to retrieve
- I was switched out of a hotel which has a notoriously bad reputation (bed bugs!), thank God, to a place on the South end of Central Park (how posh).
- will be taking one, perhaps two Broadway events while I’m there (Avenue Q, definitely, Spamalot, maybe)
- spending the weekend with my holmes GAK… looking forward to a grilled cornmeal muffin (DAYUM!)
SILLY THINGS TO DO
For the next 30 days, introduce everyone as “my furry pal __their name here__”.
So, say you’re out with your girlfriend Jaycee, and you run into a friend from work, Jorge, you wild introduce them as so: “Jorge, this is my furry pal Jaycee. Jaycee, this is my furry pal Jorge.”
Don’t question it.
I spent the past weekend dogsitting the nephew up in “beautiful” Barrie, Ontario (I used the word beautiful because it’s alliterative, and I put it in quotes because I’m being sarcastic). Now if you don’t understand the term “dogsitting the nephew”, it’s not a euphamism for anything, it just means that I’m “Uncle Graig” to my sister’s 9month old black lab, Whistler.
Barrie had a nice coating of snow when I arrived on Friday afternoon. It was really quite weird driving up from cold, windy and wet Toronto into cold, windy and white Barrie. I almost got that Christmas buzz for a second, which is probably the reason why I kept myself inside the rest of the evening.
I had an uber lazy weekend, hopping into the tub and having a long-hot soak Friday night. I relaxed to the point where I fell asleep and nearly dropped my graphic novel into the water. It’s not often I get the chance to sit fully submerged in hot, sudsy water (my sister’s place has a long and deep tub, with spray jets and everything), so I stayed in it for close to two hours.
After the tub (instead of “taking a bath”, I’ve noticed I’ve starting saying “having a tub” for no explicable reason whatsoever) I snuggled up with the pup and watched 12 episodes of Sex and the City season 4 on DVD. I hadn’t intended to but the nap in the tub kept me from sleeping until 4am. I then polished off the rest of season 4 in the morning. I couldn’t believe that I had only seen three episodes from that season previously. It must have aired in Canada during my cable blackout between summers of 2001 and 2002.
After taking the pup for a walk, I sat down to season 5 of the show, finishing the first disc (hmm, hadn’t seen those four episodes either) then having some dinner. I decided to take a S&tC break and watch something else, but my sister’s satellite programming is pretty basic (ie. nothing on) so I popped in the Incredibles and promptly fell asleep. I woke up to catch the ending and the followed it up with Constantine (I enjoy it, and I don’t feel guilty in the least for saying so). I polished off Season 5 before falling asleep.
I hadn’t intended to, but boredom forced me to devour Season 6 volume 1 (12 episodes) before 1pm, by which time I was all Sexed and Citied out. Plus, the second half of season six was pretty dull so I didn’t really feel any desire to watch anymore. 19 hours of Sex & The City in one weekend is almost the equivalent of putting one’s brain in a blender and setting to puree (I say “almost” having never actually put my brain in a blender and set to “puree”… I used “chop” instead).
So my sleeping habits were severly messed up this weekend, but it was good hanging with the nephew, despite his nasty farting and his coprophagic tendencies (the latter of which I’m sure impacted the former).
SILLY THINGS TO DO
Buy four action figures and name them Steve, Eddie, Tibor and Jimbo. Take them on a long road trip with you as travelling companions and take pictures of them standing on the dashboard or riding on a ski-lift. When you arrive at your destination leave your four little friends in the car, but crack a window for them.