Thursday, February 28, 2002

The Votes are In!

Salt Lake City, Utah ( — Despite making what most observers agreed were "obvious technical errors," such as surrendering, the Taliban were awarded victory in the Afghanistan war last night after the French judge said they won on presentation.

Read more about it at SatireWire.

Wednesday, February 27, 2002

Gashlycrumb Tiny Death

I love the work of Edward Gorey.

You are most like Winnie, embedded in ice!

Created by Thren.
Which Gashlycrumb Tiny are you?
Would you like a Queen Victoria? No thanks... I'm trying to give them up.

Alas... poor Goons! Spike Milligan has shrugged off his mortal coil and gone to join that rogue piece of Christmas pudding in the sky.

If you haven't taken the time to listen to the old Goon Show tapes, you should. Spike Milligan was the one of the fab four of British comedy (Peter Sellars, Harry Secombe, Michael Bentine), and became one of the top influential comedy groups to come from the British Isles in the last 50 years. Spike was the man behind the voice for such Goonish characters as Eccles, Miss Minnie Bannister and Count Moriarty.

Now I gotta go dig up my old Goon Show tapes and give them another listen. Maybe I'll finally get my hands on the scripts.
I really wish I could Zot folks

And I'm still not sure what I should've done.

Last night, I was returning home after a session of Pagan Tea Time (a discussion group sponsored by the MPRC). I had made it to Villa Maria metro where I sat on a bench and waited for the 103 bus to arrive.

A well-dressed man (who seemed to be in his fifties or so) sauntered his way over to a woman who was sitting by herself nearby. This man started talking to her at length. He seemed jovial and gregarious and I thought he might know her, but when I glanced at the woman, I could tell that she was not interested in speaking with him. In fact, she was actively trying to ignore him, looking uncomfortably away from him every time he tried to catch her eye. I could actually feel her discomfort from where I was sitting.

This man continued to chat away to her, trying to get her to respond by occasionally asking her questions, moving closer and closer to her and finally sitting next to her. I tried to will him away from her, visualizing a shield around her and pushing him back. All that seemed to do was make him jumpy. He would alternate between standing and sitting, but I couldn't make him move back. I was starting to get very drained.

Then the 103 bus arrived and we all boarded it. The man made sure he sat next to her in the front of the bus and I sat nearby, watching. He slid next to her on the bus seat and began to stroke her hair. I could see real fear in her eyes now. She felt trapped and unsure what to do. I decided that I would stay on the bus until she got off, and if this man got off with her, I would get off as well and finally intervene.

Fortunately, the woman got off one stop before mine and the man stayed on the bus. When the bus stopped at my street, I rose from my seat and made my way towards the door, pausing briefly in front of the man to glare at him until he caught my eye. Then I got off.

It took me hours to get to sleep. Did I do the right thing? Should I have intervened sooner? In the end, I'm sure this woman felt trapped and alone, unsure how to handle this man's unwanted advances. I spent the whole time trying to analyze the situation and decide what to do, but in the end, I didn't do anything.

I guess it all comes down to this unwritten rule of not getting involved. I hate that rule and I'm always fighting against it. I don't want to be part of the cold masses who step around people in need of help, thinking "Don't get involved. It's not my problem."

There's always a first time for everything, I guess. Next time I see this kind of situation, I'll spend less time analyzing, bite the bullet, and just offer my help ("Excuse me Miss... Is this man bothering you?").


Tuesday, February 26, 2002

I'm a Third Rate Philosopher. Go me!

Discover how you feel about God and faith using the Battleground God test (sponsored by The Philosophers' Magazine). It's a pretty cool quiz (thanks Dominique!).

The quiz has more to do with logic and answering the questions consistently. If you end up contradicting yourself, it'll tell you. I bit a bullet and took two hits for slight contradictions. I should've taken more time to think about those particular questions...

Drat. Is the divine trying to tell me something, you think?

I received a TPM service medal for my efforts, which is their third highest award for outstanding service on the intellectual battleground. Imagine that.
Move along... We're a hedge. Nothing to see...

I had a sort of terminal conversation with a girl I was kinda dating since November. The conclusion of the conversation can best be described by the following sound bite.

Oh well... I pretty much knew this was coming for the past few weeks, so it didn't sting as much as if it had come out of the blue. We had fun and she was pretty cool. No regrets. Moving right along...

I've decided that I could happily get used to the mild winter weather we've been having lately. This was the kind of morning where I could've very happily ridden my motorcyle to work (if I had a motorcycle, that is). I took the bus to work this time (instead of the metro) so I could take in some of the sunshine and still listen to the radio (alternating between the CBC and CHOM).

Pretty good start for a Tuesday. All things considered, this week is still running along nicely.

Monday, February 25, 2002

Tell Mel we said hello

The world of animation has lost a true pioneer in Chuck Jones who died at the ripe old age of 89 last Friday.

One of my favorite Chuck Jones cartoons was when Daffy Duck was trying to convince Porky Pig that he really and truly was Robin Hood ("Yoikes and away! [BAM]").

There was a documentary made on his work a few years ago called Chuck Amuck and I managed to tape it. One of my favorite quotes from that show was as follows:

Daffy Duck is exactly how I see myself. I may dream that I'm Bugs Bunny, but when I wake up, I'm still Daffy Duck.
-Chuck Jones
His and Her Matching Gold Medals

2002 is getting off to a great start.

I watched all the action from La Cage Aux Sports in the Molson Centre with friends. There's no better way to watch a good hockey game than being surrounded by fans whose attention is riveted on the play-by-play. The energy in that room was electric. Go us!

To top it all off, it was a good game. Good hockey, no dirty tricks, no fighting. And it still kept us on the edge of our seats the whole time. Imagine that.

After the game was done, I went down to the corner of Crescent and Ste. Catherine street to join the crowd. I haven't seen that many Canadian flags waving in a very long time in this province. It was a beautiful sight.

I stayed for an hour or so and then made my way to Hurley's Pub to meet up with another couple of friends and to catch the storytelling. Although, it was hard to hear the stories with all the surrounding noise from the happy fans.

Go Canada Go!

Friday, February 22, 2002

Canadian Hockey Chicks Rock!

Well... the Canadian women's Hockey team pulled it off and brought the Gold medal back to us. And it's that much sweeter that they defeated the Americans on their own home turf. Don't kid yourself... it is so sweet.

But there's one part of the CBC article on the event that disturbs me (thanks Ceri!).

"The Americans had our flag on their floor in the dressing room and now I want to know if they want us to sign it. We are so happy."

What is up with that? What the hell was our flag doing on the floor of their locker room? On the floor! I know I might sound a little crazy here, but is there no room for respect for your adversaries in the competitive American athelete mind?

Maybe if they spent less time convincing themselves that they were the best, they could've spent more time analyzing the Canadian team for weakness. Under-estimating your adversary is usually fatal. Learn this lesson well, you little American Grasshoppers...

It's this whole "America is the best at everything" kind of attitude that leads to such disrespectful behaviour. Why give anyone else a measure of respect when they really don't deserve it? There's only two types of people in this world: people who are American and people who wish they were.

And they wonder why people around the world have this anti-American sentiment, especially when it comes to sports.

Maybe it's just me. I've never had this overly-competitive drive. My sister has it though, and it always disturbed me how it wasn't enough for her team to beat another team. No no... they had to humiliate them with a ridiculously high difference in scores. Maybe it really is me.

Maybe not. Go Canada go! And it's now 3 to 1 for Canada against Belarus! Wahoooo!!!!
The Friday Five... On time!

Here's a serving of the Friday Five from Smattering.

1. Hey, baby, what's your sign? Do you think it fits you pretty well? Taurus. Steadfast, loyal, and stubborn. You can lead a bull to to water, but you can't make him to the dishes. Yeah... that fits.

2. What's the worst birthday gift you've ever received? A bag of white tube socks. What was that boy thinking?

3. What's the best birthday gift you've ever received? Being taken out for an evening of Sushi with a pretty girl. Good food and sexy company. It's good to be alive.

4. What's the best way you've celebrated your birthday thus far? Out for supper and then multiple pints at the pub, surrounded by friends and live music.

5. What are your plans for this weekend? I was supposed to take a friend out for Sushi tonight (can you tell I'm obsessing about it today?), but it looks like that's not going to happen. Saturday will be spent cleaning the house to prepare for morning visitors on Sunday. Sunday night, I'll be attending a French storytelling session at Les Dimanches du conte (I might even try to tell a story in French!).
The Plot Thickens!

Ceri's put up a new chapter on SoapBox Derby! Gods... this is fun!

It looks like she's got a natural talent for dialogue. It must be all those CBC interviews she works on. Don't wait... check out the latest chapter!

And do it quickly. I was chatting with Taras over chais last night and he said he would write the next chapter in a day or so. Then it'll be my turn....


Thursday, February 21, 2002

The Choir Invisible gets Rockin'

Although a few rock musicians may complain of voices in their heads, not many can say that these voices will jam with them during a session in studio.

And I just got an email from a lady from whom I requested an interview awhile back about her ghostly experiences. Everything's falling into place quite nicely.
Dave and Morely visit Montreal

Culture abounds!

Stuart Maclean's Vinyl Café show at Theatre Outremont as a rousing success! Any way you slice it, $40 for a three-hour show is good bang for the buck!

Maclean was witty, charming, and personable with his audience. At one point, he had the house lights brought up and asked if anyone was celebrating anything (birthdays, anniversaries, successful divorces, etc...). A few people piped up and the musical guests sang them birthday songs and Maclean gave them gifts as well. Fun.

He did two Vinyl Café stories (one about Morely's 40th birthday party and a new, previously unrecorded Christmas story). He also sprinkled little anecdotes in between songs from the two musical troups on stage with him (Steel Rail and Connie Caldor).

Actually, the weakest part of his show were the musical guests. Not that they were bad, mind you, but they just didn't add much to the show.

This show only proves to me that you really can combine music and storytelling together and have a show that succeeds in entertaining an audience. Storytelling is not relegated to children anymore; adults can enjoy a good story as much, if not more, than any child.

I need to take action on this idea. I've been discussing it with a few musicians and they're interested. We just need to get together to work out the details, practice, and find a place to perform it.

Wouldn't that be sweet...

Wednesday, February 20, 2002

Weird Photo Wednesdays

Jingle this Honky!

The really scary part was that this photo was taken of Taras while we were both waiting backstage for our cues. This was back in our days of Pegasus Theatre, a touring children's theatre company. This particular production was the pantomime version of Cinderella.

Maybe next week, I'll dig-up the picture of Steve in drag as Bella, one of the ugly sisters.

Side Note:
I was rooting through my piles of photographs and I suddenly realised that I have a plethora of odd photos in my collection. These pics obviously need to be shared, right?


I'll try to add a new photo every Wednesday. Stay tuned!
A Night at the Vinyl Café

Yay! Ceri, Arin, Ron, and I are going to see Stuart Maclean's Vinyl Cafe tonight! This guy is a master storyteller, but there'll probably be other entertainment as well (singers, bands, other storytellers).

I know this sounds really self-centred, but whenever I go to a storytelling concert, I always keep a tale buried in the back of my brain just in case I'm asked to tell a story. Wouldn't it be neat if Stuart Maclean invited me up to tell a story? Wow.

I wonder if musicians go through the same thing when they go see a music concert?

Tuesday, February 19, 2002

The Friday Five is late again... Argh!

I keep forgetting to do Smattering's Friday Five on Friday. Personally, I'm going to blame the metric system.

1. What was the first thing you ever cooked? It was a Sunday morning, and I was making French Toast with my Dad closely supervising.

2. What's your signature dish? I can make some superb crepe-like pancakes, especially if I add some shredded gouda and apple shavings in the middle... Topped off with some real maple syrup... Yummy!

3. Ever had a cooking disaster? (tasted like crap, didn't work, etc.) Describe: I was making an Oreo Cheesecake and I didn't realize that the eggs had gone bad until one of them shattered in my hand while I was about to break it into the mix. Ugh. I was trying to break the egg open all chef-like without cracking it on the side first. The shell was so brittle that the egg literally exploded in my hand, sending rotten egg contents everywhere.

4. If skill and money were no object, what would make for your dream meal? Sushi/Sashimi/Makie, a jug of Saki, and Green Tea Ice Cream for desert. Yum!

5. What are you doing this weekend? See this Monday's Pooh Loggian post. As for the next weekend, maybe I'll tell you on Friday (if I remember to do that Friday Five on time).

Monday, February 18, 2002

Popcorn and big-screen movie... under 10 bucks!

The Eaton Centre's Famous Players has replaced The Palace for the repertory theatre movies (the Palace was alot cooler looking though). For a mere three bucks, I got to see two fairly good films last weekend: The Majestic (Jim Carrey) and From Hell (Johnny Depp).

The Majestic was a great feel-good movie with top-notch performances from Martin Landau, David Ogden Stiers, Laurie Holden, and Gerry Black.

As for star attraction Jim Carrey, his attempt at a serious performance falls a bit flat. He starts off pretty weak and uninteresting at the beginning, but it builds steadily until the big scene at the end, which is masterfully done (I won't tell you what scene for fear of giving away the plot).

However, Carrey's lackluster performance doesn't take away from a pretty good film. If you can catch it on the big screen, go have a look. It's a great film to watch, especially to watch such fantastic actors like Landau and Stiers.

As for From Hell, the movie that puts forward a theory about the famous unsolved mystery of Jack the Ripper, it was a good film as well with solid performances from Heather Graham, Robbie Coltraine, Ian Holm, and Johnny Depp, but it is quite explicit in its violence.

When you can't see the Ripper's knife slicing away at his hapless victims, you can certainly hear the skin and tissue being cut away, which is almost worse. I almost walked out a few times, but the story held me in place (I blocked my ears and closed my eyes at the parts I didn't want to deal with).

I spent Saturday afternoon at a Clothing Drive Party at Gen and Ron's place. We were to all bring our old clothes and maybe exchange a few pieces amongst ourselves. What ended up happening was that most of the clothes were left there unclaimed, so Gen was able to donate the bulk of it to charity (which was the intention from the get-go).

Great idea, great party, great people, great heart Gen! Bravo!

Friday, February 15, 2002

What my life needs is an Undo button

Ever have life throw you a curve and your first reaction to it was, in hindsight, terrifying embarassing? I have a plethora of those kinds of experiences that would make a fumbling Dan Quayle look like a suave James Bond.

I don't know why this particular memory reared its ugly head, but here it goes.

A few years ago, I was getting to know one of my co-workers and we were hitting it off quite well. We worked so well together that we ended up doing several writing contacts together over the next three years.

Early on in our friendship, this girl revealed to me that she was living with another woman in Montreal and that they were involved. In hindsight, I should've seen this coming. I don't why it so caught me off-guard, but it really threw me for a loop at the time. So what's the first thing I say after she tells me this?

Let me preface this god-awful statement by saying that I was trying to let her know that I was cool with this and that I was accepting her lifestyle. Not that she needed my approval or anything, but like I said, I was thrown a little off-guard by this information. I should've taken a moment to think about how to phrase my reply.

Should've. Could've. Would've. Here's what came out: "Wow... Really? Y'know, I really love Melissa Etheridge."

Thankfully, this girl smoothly let the comment glide past, commenting only that she wasn't a huge fan but that her girlfriend was. But by now, I had already realized how dumb I sounded, so I hastily changed the subject.

To hell with the Undo button... my life needs a Stop/Rewind button.
Road Trip

It's just one of those things that everyone goes through at one time or another. On Wednesday night, I went on a mini-road trip with three musicians to (of all places) Trois-Rivieres (or as I like to call it: Triple Creek). It was a go-and-come-back thing: my buddy Loic had a gig in Triple Creek, but he lost the use of his wheels. So I offered to rent a car and take him out and back in the same night.

Of course, that meant I only got home at 4:30 the next morning, but what's a little loss of sleep when it comes to a good old fashionned Road Trip? Hells bells... it's part of the mystique!

However, it just remind me how much I want to have a car again. I need to look into that whole Communauto thing.

Valentine's eve was spent in a pub surrounded by friends. Not a bad way to do it, really. I hope you made your Valentine's Day (or Vulva Day as the pub goers voted to rename it to) was memorable!

Thursday, February 14, 2002

Get yer groove on...

Happy Valentine's Day! Everyone has somebody they can shower affection unto (whether it be intimate or platonic), so go out there and gush!

This is also a good time to steal a few unexpected smoochies from folks, so if you need some hints, check out - THE online Kissing Resource.

And don't buy into this "Valentine's is for Lovers" crap. Although you don't need a special day to tell the people you love how much you appreciate them, St. V-day is the perfect opportunity for you to practice random kindness and sensless acts of beauty.

Go make this day a pleasant memory for yourself (and maybe somebody else).

Wednesday, February 13, 2002

Do I Play Hockey?

I know it's wrong of me to like novelty songs, but I do. I really do like them. How can anyone not like a band called Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie.

I had heard this song a few years ago on CHOM. They only played it once, but it stayed with me. It turns out the band is called Jughead and the song is The Hockey Song.

Give it a listen (except for Susan who will undoubtably blame me for having this song stuck in her head until the birth of her fourth child).
New SoapBox Derby!

The lastest chapter in the SoapBox Derby drama has just been added, so go and check it out!

The SoapBox Derby blog is a an online story developed by three creative writers (Dave (the Grand Poohbah), Ceri, Taras).

We have no outline, no guidelines, and no particular style to stick to. Therefore, the story can take virtually any direction based on where the writer wants to go with it.

What's going to happen next? Damned if I know. I'm just one of the writers... I ain't in charge!

Tuesday, February 12, 2002

And they trusted someone with such an ill reputation?

I came home last night and flicked on the TV, hoping to catch some of the Olympic coverage. I've always been a fan of the figure skating part of the Olympics, so I was anxious to see how Pelletier and Sale did in their performance.

You can imagine my rage when they only got a Silver medal for their efforts and a perfect program. Poetry on ice and much better than what the Russians were able to offer, that's what it was! Even the commentators couldn't believe it. They openly criticized this decision rendered by the judges, who were obviously biased in their decision.

But my personal dismay was only heightened to electrifying heights when the camera swung around to the judges panel and there was my "friend" Susan! She was warbling something about more Vodka, pounding her squash raquet on the table, smacking the other judges into submission. Only now is the horrible truth becoming all too clear. Susan ain't no ordinary technical writer... nuh-uh! She's an Olympic-class Canadian Saboteur!

How did she get on the judging panel, you ask? It's a good question, but anyone who reads her blog will know that there must some kind of underhanded plot going on backstage. I have a sneaking suspicion that her Prince with Bristling Snowbrush was probably some commie figure skating judge-fella. After all, we all know how experienced the ruskies are with snow and ice, don't we comrade?

And only now is the puppy realizing that an innocent date with an not-so-innocent Montreal Techwriter has led to the downfall of the free world (in a figure-skating kinda way). For shame! For shame! The poor boy's probably chained to her microwave while she's off masquerading as a qualified figure skating evaluator! And she wonders where the "I've got a man at home" vibes come from...

No... I've been getting enough sleep. Why do you ask?

Has the Grand Poohbah lost his mind? Not completely! This is just a volley in an event we like to call Wild Accusation Month. Would you like to plug a friend's blog, but not quite sure how to do it without looking like a corrupt figure skating judge? Here's your way in! Join us as we point fingers at each other, make-up the wildest things we can think of, and pin the blame on our friends... comrade.

Monday, February 11, 2002

The Immortality of Alex P. Keaton

On Friday night, I went out on a pub crawl with my buddy Ken (it seemed to be a popular thing to do... Even Ed was out that night!). It had been a few months since we had seen each other, so we had lots to talk about (including being co-owners of a property-- I'll keep you posted).

We met up at Brutopia for a couple of pints and then moved on to O'Donnells across the way. In that part of Montreal, you can't swing a drunk Irishman without spillng someone's Guinness, there are that many pubs within walking (or swinging) distance of each other.

We met up with my friend Loic (he was playing the pub with his band 139 South) and settled in for the pints. As we chatted, Ken noticed a comely lass who seemed to be unaccompanied (she was sitting with a guy and a girl). Ken commented on the beauty of this girl, but being a bit shy, was unsure on how to approach her.

Before he could stop me, I picked up my pint and went over to the booth where these people were sitting.

    Me: Excuse me... you seem to be children of the 80s. Can I quiz you on your knowledge of that time?"

    Them: Sure... have a seat. (I sit)

    Me: Do you remember who played the song called "At this Moment"? It came out in the late eighties--

    The Comely Lass: Yeah! I remember that... they played it during the episode in Family Ties when Alex Keaton was leaving--er...

    The Guy: It was Courtney Cox... I forget her character name.

    The Other Girl: Right! Alex was on a trainstation platform or something and they played that song... Now as to who played it-- um...

    Me: It was Something Something and the Somebodies. The video had the lead singer looking all scruffy singing in a smokey bar..

    The Guy: Was it Doug and Slugs? Echo and Bunnymen?

When they were all deeply engrossed in this conundrum, I looked up at Ken and motionned him to come over. He very smoothly slipped his way into the conversation and with a quick switch of the seating positions, he was chatting up the Comely Lass (which he informed me later was named Jennifer).

Who knew that Alex Keaton would be conducive to talking to a pretty girl? I still don't know who sang that song though, and I refuse to look it up on the Internet. It's just one of those things I'd like to be able to recall on my own.

Or it you know it (don't look it up!), you could let me know too!

Friday, February 08, 2002

Time for the Friday Five from Smattering

1. What's the most romantic thing you've ever done for someone else? I snuck into my girlfriend's office (with her friend's help) and left a rose, a small heart-shaped cake, and an invitation to supper on her desk, and snuck out again.

2. [pardon the cosmo question] What are your erogenous zones? Lower back, neck, ear lobes

3. How old were you the first time you had sex? Care to expound? I was 19 years old and it was with my third girlfriend (Gail). We were in an old farmhouse at the Island of Orleans (near Quebec city). Since we were both virgins, it was sex the way it was meant to be: an activity with two people who had absolutely no idea of what they were doing.

Fortunately, I was prepared for the event. The week before, my buddy Stephen showed me how to put a condom on at a bar. He took a sock off my foot, rolled it up, and then unrolled it back on my foot. Thank the Gods he did that 'cause my first time could've been quite disastrous and painful!

4. What's the most unusual place you've ever had sex? Actually, I'm quite lacking in this area since I'm terrified of being caught. I'm afraid I ain't got nothing interesting to offer for this question.

5. Do you have plans for Valentine's Day or is it just another Thursday? Actually, I plan to spend it with friends celebrating Ron's birthday. As for the romantic side of the holiday, that's probably going to involve copious amounts of sushi and a certain somebody.

Thursday, February 07, 2002

I (usually) love a rainy night...

This story actually took place last summer. I don't know why it comes to mind now, especially since lightning storms in the winter are so creepy. I've only see this occur once in my life... have you ever seen it happen in yours?

Late one night, I was coming home from work after putting in a long day. I caught the last 51 bus of the night and was riding home. Unfortunately for me, I fell asleep on the bus and woke up about 6 to 8 blocks past my stop (Fielding and Grand in NDG). It was a warm night, and although I could hear thunder in the distance, it wasn't raining. As long as it didn't rain, it would be a pleasant walk back.

Or so I thought.

After I crossed my third block, I started to notice a change in the air. The thunder was getting closer and louder, and the accompanying flashes of lightning seemed to light up the street faster. I was counting the time between the sound and the light and I figured that the storm was almost on top of me.

It was only then that I realized how many trees were surrounding me. One of the most appealing things about NDG was the number of trees in the area, but now I started to wonder how safe I was walking these streets with the tall, dark wooden leviathans arching towards the sky. I picked up my pace.

As I crossed another block, I remember feeling a change in the air. It was electric and highly charged. I could almost feel the air vibrating against my skin. I stopped for a moment right there in the middle of the street and extended my hand. The still night-air was palpable as if it were taking form.

Suddenly, everything went white and overexposed, as if I were caught in a camera flash. The dark hues of the street, the grass, the trees, and the red-brick houses disappeared in a shock of starkness. Time seemed to stop and I took in my surroundings for a second. No darkness, no corners, nowhere to hide, all white.

And then, as quickly as it appeared, the whiteness was gone with a body-ripping crash and rumble. The dark hues envelopped the landscape again and my body was battered by sound from all sides.

When the thunderclap subsided, I found myself sitting on the pavement screaming. The blast had shaken me off my feet and the shock awoke every nerve in my body. When I regained a sense of where I was, I made a mental check of who and where I was. Nothing broken, nothing hurt, but there was a distinct smell of sulfur in the air.

Somehow terrified and elated at the same time, I began to run towards my home. I felt like I had just cheated death, but like Kenny Rogers said "Never count your money/while sitting at the table". The thunder was moving away now, still loud but moving south. After a few blocks, I leaned against a building to catch my breath.

That's when the rain started pouring. I could see it coming up the street, like a grey sheet, advancing down the street, covering everything in its path with a soft hiss.

Thoroughly soaked and chuckling softly to myself, I walked the rest of the way home, jumping in every puddle along the way.

Wednesday, February 06, 2002

Vroom Vroom

It's been almost five years since my last car and its starting to get to me. Granted, I wouldn't take my car to work even if I could. The hassles and stress of driving to work (especially in downtown Montreal) would be enough to convince me NOT to get a car.

But it's the weekends that kill me. Grocery shopping, visiting friends, going home, going on a trip, skiing. All these things require wheelerrific motion, and I ain't got none.

So if I were to really be car-shopping nowadays (which I can't because my credit rating sucks ass), here are the cars I would be looking at:

I know, I know... none of them are terribly sexy. But what I'm looking at is practicality. I want to be able to easily toss my bike or skis in the trunk, have room for friends on those longer trips, and be able to haul stuff around without poking out an eye (or a windshield).

This obssession with the hatchback/wagon goes back to my first car which was a Honda Civic Wagon door. I loved that car. It was peppy, fun to drive, and very handy when I need to haul stuff. Of all the cars I had (even the Jeep CJ), the Honda was by far my favorite. I never should've sold it.

Tuesday, February 05, 2002

Boom buddha buddha Boom

I take the bus/metro to work every morning with The Great Unwashed population of this fine town. Even if I had a car, I wouldn't take it to work. Even riding the bus, I'm still half-asleep anyways.

While fading in and out of consciousness, I was accutely aware of some kind of Boom Boom music coming from somewhere nearby. I thought that whoever was listening to this stuff must have some really bad leak from his headset.

As I looked around the bus, I spotted the source of the tunes as the fella was changing tapes. I almost missed him for a second as I noticed that he wasn't wearing a headset, but as the music flowed again, I realized this was the Musical Jukebox fella.

He was wearing a speaker around his neck.

I kid you not. This fella had a small speaker about the size of a cookie tin sticking out of his jacket, the speaker part pointing at his face. As the music pumped out, filling the jostling bus with pounding rhythms that were mostly unwelcome this early in the morning, he stared lovingly down at his tiny little speaker and then up again, looking for admiration on his musical tastes from his captive audience.

How narcissistic can you get?

(he said, posting his rant to his blog for all the world to see)

Monday, February 04, 2002

Get to know the Poohbah... Come on, you know you want to.

My second attempt at Smatterings' Friday Five. Only a few days late. And you thought YOU had problems...

1. Have you ever had braces? Any other teeth trauma? I chipped a front tooth when I smacked my teeth agains my desk while ducking a piece of chalk flung at my head. The dentist patched it up so it looks like all my other teeth. Crooked. I wish now that I had had braces. If I had $5000 to spare, I'd get my teeth straightened out.

2. Ever broken any bones? I apparently broke my arm when I was very young after falling off a kitchen counter, but I don't remember. The only time I ever had to wear a cast was when I tore ligaments in my ankle after tripping on some stairs. That was the last time I ever tried running down steps two at a time.

3. Ever had stitches? Yep... On my chin. I was riding my bicycle on my way to the swimming pool and I put the bag with my swimming clothes on the handle bars. When I was going at full tilt, the bag got jammed in the front wheel, which catapulted me over the handle bars and I landed on the rough asphalt on my chin. 10 stitches, as I recall.

4. What are the stories behind some of your [physical] scars? Most of them are related to dares, daredevil stunts, and other dumb things I did when I was a kid and just didn't think things all the way through. Ahhh... those were the days!

5. How do you plan to spend your weekend? Last weekend went off pretty much as planned. It was a quiet, intellectual couple of days peppered by trips to the washing machine in the basement as I cleaned my clothes, my house. Ahhhh... Domestic life!
Ergh.. Ugh... Cringe... Argh!

Sometimes I just don't have anything to say about a section I have to write.

The headline just stares at me. Deliverables Schedule. "Write about me. Explain my existence," the headline whispers in its dark blue Arialesque font. "Validate my being. Explain me."

And I don't have anything to say! Why are you asking me this? I'm just this guy! I can barely cook myself a decent breakfast in the morning without tripping over the cat and setting my curtains on fire. If you don't know how to define your deliverables, don't look to me for help! My milestones would read like cheesy warning signs on the a desert road leading to Area 51 (Turn Back. You've been Warned. You'll be Shot if you Proceed. Really, We Mean It.).

So I sit and stare at this headline until drops of blood appear on my forehead. Deliverables Schedule. Deliverables Schedule. Deliverables Schedule. Deliverables Schedule. Argh! I twirl in my chair, stare out the window, take a restful position by resting my head upon the radiator, feeling the warm air rising against my cheek. I look back at the headline, hoping it'll reveal something about itself.

Nothing. I wonder if a jump from this window would kill me or just render me senseless. I've got nothing to say, dammit! Leave me alone! These aren't the droids you're looking for!

I sip my tea and I start banging at my keyboard again and words flow. I cut, copy, and paste the words around like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and then force the little niggly bits to fit together.

And now my hair hurts. Is it Friday yet?
Storytellers ARE sexy...

Last Friday night was storytelling swapping ground (no, not THAT kind of swapping) with the Storyteller's Guild of Montreal. I was co-hosting this month's edition and, despite the snow, ice pellets, and 80 km/hr winds outside, we got a fairly good turnout (about 25 people).

The theme of the evening was Hope Stories, but the stories that were told had a tenous tie to Hope at best (or so I thought). I'm not one to critque, however... My story had nothing to do with hope. After the break, I told a Hawaiian Winter Solstice story called How Maui Snared the Sun. This was the first time I was telling this story, so I was quite nervous about it.

I guess I must've delivered the story quite well because I got several compliments after the show. But best of all, a pretty lady (who I had seen once before) gave me her phone number, a wink, and a "Call me sometime". Ooooh la la!

Sometimes, I love being me.
Fresh Links... Served with a smile

1. I would've loved to see the creative brainstorming process that produced this little ditty of a commerical (snagged from Toast Boy).

2. Be one with the pig. Read Miss Piggy's Blog (snagged from The Fabulous Miss B).

3. Really... The question you should be asking is "What wouldn't he do? (snagged from BlogBaby).

So I spent Super Sunday being all intellectual with my play reading group. We were reading David French's "Leaving Home" (a Newf play). It was a pretty good story, but the best part was when I was able to read the part of Jacob with a Newf accent yelling "Lord T'underin' Jaysus Christ!".

We had the playreading at Lynda's new house in Montreal. It's beautiful and I'm sooooo envious! I want a pad like that, but it just seems so unattainable in this town. Ed's got pictures of his new condo and it's driving me more into a frenzy. I'm tired of renting... I want to own a really cool pad that I can invest my time and money into.

Anyhoo... we started talking about blogs for some reason (we were talking about Ed's new condo), so I mentioned the Pooh Logs and promised Marie-France that I would give her her 15 bytes of fame. Here you go Marie-France... bask in it!

Friday, February 01, 2002

Show how much you love the Pooh Logs!

AB-logo (7k image)
Vote now through February 8, 2002. Winners will be announced Monday, February 11, 2002. Now move your ass.

And don't vote for Whil Wheaton. Really... don't do it. I'm not kidding.
Does my hair look okay?

Find out which Buffy villian you are most like!
Ahhhh... Sweet Recognition

My last published User's Guide (at Toon Boom Technologies) got another favourable review from
    The Toon Boom tutorials, User Guide and Samples are quite helpful. Kudos specifically to the User Guide team for putting together a helpful, pertinent, non-patronizing Guide that actually informs without putting the curious reader to sleep.

Go me! I will now do the dance of joy!