Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Family Guy episode 5ACX21

In the Family Guy episode "Peter's Daughter" (originally aired November 25 2007), Meg is thrilled to receive a Maroon 5 CD from Michael, the med student she's dating. Says Michael: "I remember how you told me you like terrible music, so I thought you might appreciate it."


There were many other moments where I howled with laughter... Peter's "Officer Nasty" striptease... the Sanka commercial...

...and this:



update - November 29 2007, 12:30 a.m.

Well, the clip is already yanked from YouTube. Wow, that didn't take Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation long. The clip (all 20 seconds of it) was a spoof of Aliens, with Mike Henry doing his campy best.

I understand and respect copyright, and if I headed a major entertainment corporation, I would probably have my staff chase down full-length episodes from sites like YouTube. But a 20-second clip? These clips help fuel a huge show fan base, and I can't believe companies like NBC* and Fox devote time and resources into such pedantry. Protect your advertising revenue stream, yes. Get nitpicky over short, review-length clips? No!

Or maybe this has something to do with the ongoing Writer's Guild of America strike. I don't know.

I didn't upload the clip to YouTube. But I provided link references to the show and the episode on this post. And on November 28th, my blog was the #4 Google hit for "Family Guy Season Six Officer Nasty" and the #6 Google hit for "Family Guy Sanka Commercial" -- but enough of this free advertising. From now on, I won't blog about Family Guy.

* remember Dick in a Box? It went VIRAL. People LOVED it. And NBC couldn't have been more anal-retentive in its campaign to scrub the Web of all traces of it. Internet buzz is modern-day word-of-mouth advertising. Free. Companies that don't recognize that are fucking DINOSAURS.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Don't tase me, bro!

I've had it with electroshock weapons. Members of my family have served the public as police officers, and I know that policing is a demanding, difficult, and dangerous job. But let's not kid ourselves: this is not Star Trek technology, and a Taser® is not a phaser set on stun. (And Dr. Crusher isn't beaming distance away, waiting to offer the services of sickbay.)

Since October 14 2007, I have been following the story of Robert Dziekanski with great sadness. Dziekanski was killed when RCMP officers shot him with a Taser at Vancouver International Airport. The government of British Columbia has announced a public inquiry into the events. Amnesty International is concerned about these weapons, and would like their use to be suspended while they are studied more closely.

Heather Mallick hits it out of the park on today:
He was Robert Dziekanski, who had just made the first plane flight of his life. Unable to speak a word of English, sleepless, dehydrated, stranded for 10 hours in the airport, unable to talk to his mother who — if he only knew — was 100 metres away on the other side of a door, had a massive panic attack.

He stood beneath a sign that read "WELCOME. Airport Greeting Centre." When the RCMP arrived, they calmly — and it is their calmness that condemns them — marched up to Dziekanski, who was pitifully relieved to see them. The video shows that they electrocuted him repeatedly from a distance and landed on him, crushing his neck, as he writhed and screamed in pain. And then he stopped, dead. On the video, the RCMP made no effort to revive him.
I know many people in law enforcement might disagree with Amnesty International, Heather, and me. To them, I pose this question: Dziekanski was acting unruly and creating a disturbance. Did he deserve to die for that?


- don't get too excited about the "excited delirium" theory... the jury's still out on that one
- the title of this post references the now infamous University of Florida incident from September 2007

Tuesday, November 06, 2007


No more sugar rationing! The war is over.

Breadlines are a thing of the past! Food is plentiful.

TTC tokens become available again!

Now that the Toronto Transit Commission price increase has taken effect, commuters can actually buy tokens again. The price has increased to $2.25, but this is a bargain compared to the $2.75 cash fare many riders were forced to pay because of the recent token rationing policy. Those fancy tokens must be made of gold and platinum for the TTC to be so anal about them!
"Tokens are expensive to produce … we simply don't have enough if everyone stored 100 at home." - TTC chair Adam Giambrone
I am sure that some riders stockpile tokens at the old price. But Giambrone is delusional if he thinks that we all have a few hundred extra dollars lying around to invest in subway tokens. People buy tokens for two main reasons: they can save a bit of money compared to regular cash fare, and they can enter a station via turnstile. (That second feature is really handy when there's a lineup of 50 people trying to buy a Metropass at the beginning of the month -- or when one of the fare booth workers is on break.)

What an interesting approach to running a business: assume your customers are always trying to fuck you over.

I understand that the TTC and the city are in a financial bind. I don't understand why the TTC adopts a backward, indifferent, and hostile plan of business in an era when society would be best served by trying to entice -- not discourage -- people to use public transit.

In Berlin, you can pay your fare at an automated machine that couldn't be simpler to use -- in one of several languages. In Toronto, it's rare to find a token vending machine that's in service. Need a receipt? Visit the fare booth, where you're likely to wait in a long line, while people with transfers and exact change push past you. The fare collector will write you a receipt by hand. Isn't that nifty? Just like 1950!

Confession: I had three leftover tokens, purchased last week. I can assure you it was an inadvertent hoard -- I walked to/from work more than usual, because of the nice weather. I owe the TTC 45¢ -- please don't call the Stasi on me.

Monday, October 29, 2007


born: summer 1990
died: October 24, 2007

August 1990

autumn 1990

Christmas 1991

winter 2003

you showed up not long after we did

you made Hallowe'en that much more fun

you kicked immeasureable amounts of raccoon butt

when I was nauseous from new meds and knocked out from dimenhydrinate, I woke to find you curled up in the nook of my arm

when S and I were still together, I would wake up sandwiched between the two of you

you threw up the night Stephen Harper was elected

mice, birds, rabbits, snakes... you were so generous with your gifts

thanks for being a great pet... we love you

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Tori Amos, Sony Centre, 23oct2007

I just got back from seeing Tori Amos in concert at The Sony Centre with Thistle. This is the 7th or 8th time I've seen Tori live -- I have to go through some shoeboxes, find the ticket stubs, and get an exact tally.

What can I say? I love you, Tori (there! I said it on my blog, instead of yelling it out during the show). "Space Dog" sent chills through my body during both of its bridges. And I loved how Pip gave us all the finger after she finished.

I'll close with the refrain from the end of Hey Jupiter - The Dakota Version. These lyrics have always blown me away. Tori played it tonight as her final encore.
I go from day to day
I know where the cupboards are
I know where the car is parked
I know he isn't you

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Family Guy season premiere: chock full of the Schwartz

I'm still laughing after the season premiere of Family Guy.
  • eventually got over my inner nerd's problem with the "casting" of Herbert as Obi-Wan*
  • loved the Airplane references
  • the scene with Lois/Leia and Cleveland/R2-D2 trying to shoot an mpeg is absolutely brilliant
  • kept wondering when Meg was going to show up. When she appeared as the monster in the Death Star's trash compactor, I totally lost it.

* Obi-Wan is such a reverent character... there is almost something disrespectful about Herbert the Pervert in the role. But I realize the show spares no one, and skewers all. That's why I love it.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

container-grown carrots

This spring, I received a free package of carrot seeds as a promotion from a mayonnaise company. I'm an apartment-dweller, and although I'm in a bit of an urban canyon, I have a western exposure and can usually rely on a couple of full-sun hours every day. I've had success in the past growing morning glories, petunias, geraniums, and hibiscus in containers. I had a deep clay pot that I wasn't using, so I planted the seeds in May.

The pot is 13" deep and 14½" in diameter at the top:

So the question is begged: can carrots be container-grown?

Answer: not on my balcony!

I probably didn't water them enough. Of the entire seed packet, I only had two plants make it. Containers are quick to dry out on a balcony -- particularly in an urban environment, with winds whipping around buildings.

Revel in my bountiful carrot harvest!


Wednesday, September 12, 2007


In Toronto -- a city that is often choked by smog -- there are motorized billboards trolling the streets. I saw one tonight on the way home from work. For a moment, I had to breathe its exhaust. In a world with limited petroleum resources -- and, arguably, a world whose survival is threatened by the continued burning of said resources -- using them to power a moving advertisement is the height of arrogance and environmental short-sightedness.

In fairness, the company that runs the billboard I saw tonight claims that some of its fleet is powered by biodiesel. They point out that biodiesel can be made from soybean oil, canola oil, or recycled cooking oil. What they don't mention is that biodiesel often contains regular diesel in a blended format. And I don't care if the truck I was behind tonight was burning 100% biodiesel or 20% biodiesel / 80% diesel... it still stank, it still needs petrochemicals for its lubrication/construction/distribution, and it still takes up valuable space on downtown streets. Until you can power a truck with rainbows and pixie dust, there will always be an environmental impact.

Save the biodiesel for public transportation.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

second date rules

  • when waiting for a guy to call, the frequency of trivial/annoying phonecalls from your mother increases
  • your apartment is never cleaner than when you are expecting a second date
  • "I would really like to see you again" translates into "I am going to ignore you for a week"
  • "maybe we could get together on Labour Day for coffee" means "you're a monster; fuck off and die"
  • it's all your fault for proactively following up with a phonecall on the tentative second date day
  • the gods will punish you for viewing the world through refreshed, "I have a second date" eyes
  • there is no such thing as a second date in your reality, so this list is shit

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

not everyone can blog from work

Monday, August 13, 2007

internalized homophobia

Last Monday, after I returned to Toronto from a long weekend at my parents' house, I flopped on the couch and watched some television. One of Ontario Travel's new ads came on -- a 60-second spot featuring Keshia Chanté.

Around 42 seconds into the spot, there is a fairly quick 3-shot sequence of some men meeting for gay pride celebrations.

That's when I blurted out "oh NO!" to no one in particular.

My blink reaction was negative. One of dismay and shame. Basically, homophobic.

Where the fuck did that come from? I wondered. I've been thinking about it ever since. I'm proud to live in Ontario, and even more proud that my province was one of the first jurisdictions in the world to uphold the rights of same-sex couples wishing to legally marry.

Was it my inner bitch speaking? ("Why did they have to portray young gay men?") Or was it a remnant of my weekend back in the closet, away from the city and the insular nature of my gay neighbourhood? Was it my mind processing the fact that my relationship with my parents is probably at its dysfunctional apex?

I was reminded of an anonymous comment on a post from last year about a gay guy I saw on the streetcar. The person who wrote "only emphasizes your own homophobia" really made me think. And now this. Do I have internalized homophobia, bubbling to the surface every now and then? Or am I just too easily annoyed by 20-something gay men in fauxhawks?

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Swedish 3D puzzle

I wrote in June that I know how to change a spare tire. Unfortunately, I didn't pay attention to the placement of the tools in the cargo area as I was removing them. After I changed the tire, I just pitched everything back in. A couple of weeks later -- after getting two new tires -- I had a chance to put everything back in its place.

I knew the compact spare went in a certain way, and was secured with a threaded disc. What I couldn't figure out was how to get the toolkit (jack, lug wrench, tow eye, etc. all packed in a neat polystyrene form) to fit. No matter how I tried laying it out, I couldn't get the cargo area floor access hatch to close.

Consulting the owner's manual was no help. It gave detailed instructions for the sedan, but not my model (the wagon).

I pulled up a lawn chair to the back of my car, sat down, and tinkered for an hour.

Finally, with my head on the bumper, peering into the cavern of my car's innards, I got it. The polystyrene toolkit literally fits into part of the rear bumper.

Here is an illustration of how to fit the toolkit -- along with the compact spare -- into the cargo area of a 2000 Saab 9-5 Wagon:



Tuesday, August 07, 2007

sweet sweet road justice

To the driver of the bile-green BMW who got a ticket from the O.P.P. on Monday, August 6, 2007 at approximately 2:50 p.m. -- you should know that I cheered when I saw you pulled over. I'm willing to bet that many other people did, too.

You see, when you drive like a total fucking asshole -- pulling out from behind me in the exit lane, accelerate dangerously in a lane you're not supposed to be in, deek back into the exit lane (relying on the ignorant goodwill of a fellow driver who didn't see your underhanded move), then speed recklessly onto the Gardiner Expressway, where you are stopped by the police -- the people whose lives you endanger are only too happy to see you get what's coming to you.

If I may further enlighten you, traffic was backed up because the ramp from the southbound 427 to the eastbound Gardiner Expressway was reduced to one lane. Did you not see the bright orange construction signs? How about the orange spray paint on the pavement? Then again, I'm willing to bet you knew that perfectly well. You just decided that your time was more valuable than everyone else's, and acted accordingly.

Either that, or you were about to shit your pants, just trying to get home. In which case, I hope you soiled yourself. Prick.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

very easily amused

My brother has an infinite ability to crack me up. It's especially pronounced when we're riding in a car -- probably the natural outcome of many long road vacations in our childhood.


"Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd is on his satellite radio. He's driving. Neither of us is speaking.

Just a little pinprick...
There'll be no more -- aaaaaahhh!
But you may feel a little sick.

And I'm doubled-over, laughing, because he chimes in with a loud, piercing falsetto at the "aaaaaahhh" part.


We're driving again, approaching a stop sign. The highway has rumble strips. As his truck wheels contact the rough surface, resonating with sound pairs (front and back tires) that are further and further apart (we're decelerating), he's adding his own sound effects:

mer mer
merr merr
murrr murrr

And I'm laughing again. Every time.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Clematis on Japanese Maple

Outside my building last night, I noticed one of the clematis vines making a break for it -- creeping onto the branch of a nearby Japanese Maple. I made a note to go back in better light and get a picture for I always win.

I went to bed, but couldn't unwind. As 2 A.M. approached, I panicked and took a 'pam. I managed about four hours of sleep, and woke up before my alarm went off. I had some orange juice, and went outside with my digital camera to shoot the clematis. But the plant was in shadow. I took a series of flash and naturally-lit pictures, headed back up to my apartment, put on some coffee, and started to download the images. I had some technical problems, and before I knew it, it was after 7:30. I still had to shower, dress, drive to Sunnybrook for a blood test, then go to work. At the opposite end of the city. On four hours of sleep.

The day was full of frustrations like that. I don't normally drive to work, but on my blood test days, public transit takes too long. I spent more than an hour's wage on parking today, but that's the price of speed.

Driving home after work, I get caught in a traffic jam. Yonge Street is closed for some inexplicable reason. Pulling into my building, there's a car in my parking space. Security doesn't return my call.

My current favourite gardening show is Digging Deep. On a recent episode, the highly entertaining hosts touted the healing/serene qualities of Japanese Maple. And so, I dedicate this post to Pablo, who is arguably having a shittier time of it than I am right now. Here's the least-crappy picture I took this morning... 'cause sometimes, we just have to go with what we have.

P.S. - Pablo, you should know that two weeks ago, I was trying to decide between checking myself into a psych ward or going on vacation. I Googled nervous breakdown. I'll be thinking about you.

Monday, July 23, 2007


I'm back from the island vacay
Sunburned my face but not my vajayjay
Don't want to go to work today

That was a little poem for you. Here is a picture I took Thursday night:

Monday, July 16, 2007


I'm off work this week. Tomorrow, I'm going up to a coworker's cottage near Sudbury. It's the pink route on the map below. Pink, because it's going to be two gay guys and two lesbians. We're queering it up real nice in the 705.

I'm back on Friday evening.

Although I hadn't planned on it, I got a bonus trip to another cottage on Saturday the 14th (red route on map below). It was just an overnight, but it was great. I got to see a former blogger, play some Euchre, and have an eight year-old tell me that I "really don't have a lot of hair." LOLz. Out of the mouths of babes.

Toronto, of course, is circled in acid green -- representing a frequent state for our summertime air.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

eight: not a good number of spokes

Skitzzee Mitzzee tagged me yesterday. Eight random facts or habits about yourself. Fack. Thanks Mitz. Since I did a version of this meme in January (see six weird things about me k thx bai), I'm going to refer you to that post, and add two things to it:

  • I have a bad temper. I know, I'm a redhead. Total cliché. Today, I wanted to smash my radio when it played Daughtry. And as a pedestrian, I have been known to hit/kick cars that cut me off or nearly hit me.
  • when it comes to alloy wheels, I like five-spoke the best. I'm not partial to three-spoke or even numbers. Let me illustrate with a selection of pictures!

My Saab 9-5 has this type of wheel:

This is the 3-spoke that made me decide against the nicer, better-equipped Aero model (plus the fact that I wanted a V6 engine). There's too much open space, and my eye can't reconcile the three spokes and five bolts:

Here is a 6-spoke wheel... from a 9-7X (the SUV that Saab doesn't sell in Europe). It looks like a Trivial Pursuit gamepiece. On the plus side, it has six bolts:

Note how I didn't tag anyone... this post was just an excuse to talk about spokes. Oh, and if you looked at the January list, please note that I have a different schema for appreciating hubcaps.

Monday, July 09, 2007

The more you know...

I saw Toni Collette on tv Friday night, performing at the Live Earth concert in Sydney Australia. I had no idea she could sing. Apparently, she has a band: Toni and the Finish.

Last night, I got more proof of her singing ability when a local station aired Connie and Carla. Not the best movie, but alright to have on in the background as I fold laundry. At least I learned something: the etymology of drag. (If Nia Vardalos is right, it's an acronym for "dressed resembling a girl" and originated in Shakespeare. I don't remember that from my Shakespearean English course at university, but then again, the professor was atrocious.)

It's never too late to expand your gay horizons. On Saturday, I had sex with a gay trucker. [Strikes item from list.] No, it wasn't in the sleeper cab.

I have been preoccupied with a new home computer. Thanks to my friend YJA, I now have a much faster, up-to-date machine. And thanks to my friends Marc and Jason, it's now set up and running smoothly.

This should mean more attentive/regular blogging!

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

I'll take it

If all I get is one afternoon with you in a public place... cold bathroom tile followed by coffee and a chat about music...

I'll take it -- knowing that you're at home, with your boyfriend, as I write this.

I'll take it -- as I look at the naked picture you sent to me years ago (when you were single) and wonder why we never got together.

I'll take it -- even though in a few days (or hours), the thought of our encounter will probably send me into a tailspin of loneliness.

Which came first: the lowered expectations, or the tendency to process tiny scraps of intimacy as bliss?

Monday, June 11, 2007


I've had a conceptualization lately of want as an electrical circuit: it's either open or closed. On or off. The phrase "I don't know what I want" strikes me as absurd. When you want (or don't want) something, you'll know it. Want is positive or negative, but not neutral.

"I don't know what I want for dinner" means you can't decide what to order from the menu. There's a big difference between indecision and want. I want the steak. I don't want the deep-fried parmesan [gag]. Don't say "I don't know what I want to order," but rather, "I can't decide what to order."

I tried explaining this to my brother a few weeks ago, and he asked if I had been smoking pot.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007


One of my flaws is that I tend to drop the curve balls life throws at me. Then again, I was never good at sports.
"Karen, the gays don't catch." (Grace, in Will & Grace)
Yesterday was a long day for me. Up at 5:30 a.m. and out the door by 6:15 to pick up a coworker, then off to the airport area where we met a bus as part of an organized day trip for our job. The coworker is new, straight, and smokin' hot. I was looking forward to getting to know him. I find out he's of Lebanese descent, and I immediately start picturing this:

After a 380 km (round-trip) bus ride and the rest of the day's events, we were back to the meeting point just after 7 p.m. Walking through the parking lot, we see that my car has a flat tire. Not a big problem: there's air in the spare, and I've changed a few tires in my life. Coworker is new to the procedure, so he lends a hand and learns a few pointers from the gay guy. Still, I'm annoyed at the flat and I just want to get home.

We head back downtown on the freeway. I try and concentrate on driving, knowing that I have to watch my speed and movement with the compact spare. We talk during the drive, and when we're finally downtown, I miss the exit. The drive is lengthened by 15 minutes.

(I've studied famous airline crashes, and there's a scenario where flight crews start to make mistakes under pressure. The mistakes can snowball with disastrous consequences. On a much smaller scale, this is what was happening to me.)

Because of my exit fuck-up, I end up driving west into the evening sun. No problem: I put my sunglasses on. But I'm tired, and looking for an intersection. "Is that your street?" I ask. He replies "no, it's the next one, but you can drop me off anywhere along here." Wanting to please him, I say that I'll take him right to his building.

And that's when, for the first time in my life, I drove through a red light.

I saw the street sign, and knew that I had to go one more block. I just didn't notice that it was a signal-controlled intersection. "Dude, you just blew that red light," said my coworker. To my utter and complete horror.

I managed to get us both home without further moving violations.

I spent yesterday evening thinking of how lucky I was that I didn't get into an accident and injure/kill someone. Ashamed, I vowed to pay better attention to road fatigue. Today, I apologized for my stupidity (again) to my coworker. He was really understanding and didn't seem to be taking it as seriously as I was.

mea culpa

Sunday, June 03, 2007

LOL! anthropomorphism!

I know it's not Caturday, but I couldn't resist ducktoring up this cute image of a duckling chasing an insect.

The LOLcats phenomenon has wore down my historical opposition to intentional Internet misspelling. I have a daily belly-laugh at icanhascheezburger. Those crazy kids!

Monday, May 28, 2007

camping in NY state

For the Victoria Day long weekend (May 19-21 2007), I went with my family on a camping/RV trip to Letchworth State Park. Yes, this was more than a week ago. And yes, I've only just now downloaded my digital photographs.

Letchworth simply blew us away. The gorge cut by the Genesee River is, in places, 600 feet deep. The river makes three amazing sets of waterfalls.



My pictures of the middle falls are on 35mm... still undeveloped. I hiked all the way up to the top of the canyon, right underneath the railway bridge (right side) in the first picture.

It was a good weekend. The weather wasn't too bad, and I got to try some delicious wine from the nearby Finger Lakes: Salmon Run Petit Noir and Coho Red.

Thursday, May 24, 2007


omg lastnight! Lost. I am freaking out. FutureJack is crazed -- kind of like Malcolm McDowell desperate to get back to the Nexus in Star Trek: Generations.

omg tonight! Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip returns! Six new episodes. I knew it would come back... I just knew it!

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

this post is like the mandatory sax solo in an eighties pop song

Expected. De rigueur. Kickin'!
What do we do with our lives?
We leave only a mark
Will our story shine like a light
Or end in the dark?
Give it all or nothing!
doo doo doo doo doo doo doooo doooo...
Tina Turner, "We Don't Need Another Hero"

Don't you get sad and lonely
You need a change from what you do all day
Ain't no sense in all your crying
Just pick it up and throw it into shape
INXS, "What You Need"

Always slipping from my hands,
Sand's a time of its own
Take your seaside arms and write the next line
Oh I want the truth to be known
Huh huh huh hu-uh huh
I know this much is true
Huh huh huh hu-uh huh
I know this much is -- true
Spandau Ballet, "True"

Dusty words lying under carpets
Seldom heard, well, must you keep your secrets
Locked inside, hidden deep from view?
Do I seem all that hard? Is it all that tough?
Now I've shown you all my cards, well isn't that enough?
You can hide your hurt
But there's something you can do
You can talk to me
You can talk to me -- when you're down, now
You can talk to me
T-t-talk to me
Stevie Nicks, "Talk To Me"

Friday, May 11, 2007


I walked home from work this evening. My usual route takes me close to Massey Hall and the Elgin and Winter Garden Theatres.* The paint on the south side of the theatre is peeling off, and it's revealing the brickwork in a way that I find very pleasing. Tonight, the reflected sunlight from a nearby building added an extra layer of interest. Standing on Victoria Street, I took this picture:

There it was: through the streetcar wires, dappled in light... a pattern on top of a pattern that made my grumpy mood disappear.

* thanks to Salem for the geographical/architectural correction

Thursday, May 03, 2007


I took time to smell photograph the flowers this morning after my medical appointment. Forsythia gives us a jolt of electric yellow just when we really need it. It's in the same family as jasmine and lilac. Guess what else is in the same family? Olives.

location: between Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre and the Vaughan Estate

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

It's the dirtiest clean I know

I'm heading to HMV after work to buy the new albums by Tori Amos and Feist. Well... definitely Tori, and probably Feist. I'm still getting acquainted with her music. I liked the cool seventies groove of "Inside and Out" after I heard it a few times. (Note to Salem: I didn't know she was part of BSS. I still have no idea who they are, but at least I'm one step closer now.)

What might clinch the purchase is how much I love My Moon My Man. I love men, I love men's moons, and I love the foot-tapping tempo of the track. How can I lose?

Thursday, April 19, 2007


What does one do upon realizing one has ostensibly wasted the last 11½ years of one's life?

from Cause and Effect, Star Trek: TNG, season 5

Monday, April 09, 2007

STFU! It's Madame Rouge

Like OMG. I wish I could blame my absence on FaceTube. But I haven't had any of that Kool-Aid, thank you very much. Nor will I succumb.

I would like to address the issue of empire waist dresses. If you are a woman, and you are wearing a dress with an empire waist, I am going to assume that you are with child. They are butt-ugly and unflattering, and should not be worn unless you're pregnant. Do you hear that, Stacy London?

That is all.

Monday, March 19, 2007

he's not fat--he's just right!

Sorry... I don't have very much time... I'm voting for Joey Fatone after seeing him in Dancing With the Stars. I'm allowed 11 calls from my telephone line. [giggles] This is so unlike me!

He's so loveable. Smack that! AW YEAH! 6'1" of pure WOOF. Plus... a great sense of humour, killer smile, gorgeous hair, self-effacing... It's high time I go public with my crush on Joey. He's number nine on my Top Ten List.

(I'm in need of a cuddle.)

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

You are coming to a sad realization. Cancel or allow?

I didn't clog for two weeks. Pablo asked "where do you go when you go away?" I didn't go anywhere, but I got a fuckload of stuff done:

  • I really focused on work, and finally got on top of things
  • exercise (swimming & walking)
  • buttsecks
  • established a healthy sleep pattern
  • uninstalled a hog of a computer security program (rhymes with "Florton") and replaced with a better program... thus preventing me from throwing my computer off the bacony in a fit of frustration
  • saw The Lives of Others. God, I miss Berlin.
  • kept up with household crap like cleaning, dishes, and laundry
  • applied for a new job
If I had done all of this stuff plus clogging... well, I couldn't. My sleep would have suffered. And I don't function when I'm sleep-deprived.

I have missed the clog camaraderie; sadly, in order to achieve some very pressing goals (new job, weight reduction), something must be extracted from the schedule.

I haven't quit the clog. Yet.

Friday, February 23, 2007

blue and green

My favourite colour is green--all shades and hues. I like blue as well, and I find the combination can be calming and beautiful. It probably stems from my childhood, and all the time spent gazing at green forests, blue lakes, and blue sky. My aunt's house had one of those funky room dividers made of hanging strings of beads, and they were blue and green. My mother didn't care for it. "Blue and green should never be seen," she said.

No wonder I gravitated toward Martha Stewart as an adult. She made it o.k. to decorate with blue and green. And to match paint to the eggshells of your rare chickens.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

French blue

I first fell in love with French blue in 1998 when I bought a suit at Holt Renfrew. Unfortunately, it did not come with two sets of pants, and eventually, the jacket became an orphan in my closet.

I went shopping after work today and found a pair of blue dress pants. I just had a feeling the not-quite-navy pants would match my suit jacket from "Holts." They were on sale, so I bought them. When I got home, I discovered they coordinate perfectly. And I was reminded of my affinity for French blue.

Inspired by a tea towel I found at IKEA, I punched up my apartment's cream-coloured 1950s kitchen with French and royal blue a few years ago. Two of the towels are folded and leaning against the bowls in the picture to the left.

As you can see from the last picture, I wasn't kidding about my "thing" for the Oregon license plate. And check out the old milk door!

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Monday, February 12, 2007

dating report card for January

I didn't talk about it very much, for fear of offending the gay dating gods. I used phrases like "hung out" with my close friends; I told no one at work.

It didn't matter. It got jinxed anyway.

I met a cute guy in January and we went out twice. Yes, it originated on a gay hook-up site. No, I did not sleep with him. Yes, he is younger (nine years).

Things to be grateful for: he exposed me to the insane brilliance of Robot Chicken. He didn't leave me hanging like the last guy; rather, he did let me know what was going on (eventually).

What was going on? He had started to "see someone." I know this might sound very boil-your-pet-rabbit, but dude... I thought that's what we were kind of starting to do.

Oh well. Final report: 100% increase in dates over last time! (October 2006, one date. January 2007, two dates.) Progress, not perfection!

Friday, February 09, 2007

wear your long johns

It's cold outside! But if you dress appropriately, it's not so bad. In this picture, Colton Ford demonstrates the benefits of thermal underwear.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

she loaded her babies on that Eastern Air Lines jet and LEFT HIS ASS!

Tonight, I'm having two girlfriends over to watch Heartburn. They'll be seeing it for the first time. I, on the other hand, have seen it so many times I have themed snacks planned: something approximating mashed potatoes (for the sequence where a depressed Rachel eats them right out of the pot), and key lime pie (which Mark gets in the face near the end).

I first suggested screening it when we got together for lunch last fall. Girlfriend A had her man pull a Billy Crudup on her, bailing on the marriage while she was expecting. Girlfriend B just knows I'm nuts about Meryl Streep.

I'm so excited, I made a Heartburn collage for y'all:

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


In the past few days, three things made me miss home:

  1. watching Fargo on Friday night. Minnesota was my border state growing up.
  2. helping my brother pull vehicles out of the snowbank on Saturday night. We were on a back road in Grey County, and there were severe snow squalls. My brother was very popular with his 4WD truck, cell phone, and towing knowledge. I was in charge of equipment (tow strap, shovel) and stopping traffic with a flashlight. Helping your fellow motorist is a very northern thing to do. So is knowing how to drive in snowy conditions.
  3. at one point yesterday, Toronto's weather was -11°C with 95% relative humidity. I miss the aridity of northwestern Ontario--winter and summer. There's a reason people from western Canada say "it's a dry cold."

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

OMG yummerz

Miss Thistle
and another friend saw the JT/Pink concert lastnight. Yes, I am jealous! Pink is a badass and I like her for it. Justin Timberlake... well let's just say that I think this is one of his best assets:

Oh, and I like a lot of his songs, too. And I don't care who knows!

Lastnight, I saw Little Children with Peter, Marc, and Jason. It was a real treat to watch such a long movie with so many scenes of Patrick Wilson's face, smile, eyes, teeth, chest, arms, abs, legs, and ass.

Oh, that ass...

(Detecting a theme, anyone?)

Monday, January 29, 2007

I'm afraid of becoming "Ba"

"I'm one bad date away from being bitter." - Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

Oh, I've already passed that milestone, I can assure you.

What I'm scared of is sliding into the territory covered by Dame Judi Dench's character Barbara ("Ba") in Notes on a Scandal, which I saw over the weekend. (Fantastic, by the way.) Barbara is bitter, fed-up, and frustrated. She sees an opportunity to take advantage of a naïve new coworker, and uses it to her full advantage.

I'm a good person. I don't enjoy hurting others, and strive to do quite the opposite. But on the eve of my 37th birthday--and after six and a half years of being single--I worry about the effects of prolonged disappointment and solitude.

In the movie, Barbara reads from her journal: "People like Sheba [Cate Blanchett's character] have no idea what it's like to construct an entire weekend around a trip to the laundrette."

Are people like Barbara forged as cruel users in childhood? Were they pulling the wings off flies and playing baseball with frogs? Or, can they be changed that way in adulthood?

Friday, January 26, 2007

OMG LOLerz i m SUCH a mess

I found another book in the laundry room of my apartment building this week. What can I say? I saw "Betty White" and was immediately drawn to it.

However, I promptly got all verklempt when I read the jacket. The book is about Tom Sullivan's guide dog, Dinah. When she got too old to do her job, Betty White adopted her.
...when Dinah reached the age of eleven, she began to lose her edge. Her eyes were no longer as sharp, her step not as sure. The once-assured guide dog became defensive and hesitant. Although Tom hated the idea of working with any dog but Dinah, it seemed to be his only choice, and [a new guide dog] joined the family. Dinah, however, was not ready to settle back into a life of leisure [...] while an interloper took over her job and her master. She stopped eating, began hiding away, and simply gave up on life. Yet Dinah's story has a whole new beginning... and her name is Betty White.
Oh, believe me, I was nearly in tears when I read the final part:
Here [...] is how Betty rescued this gallant lady in distress and how caring, courageous Dinah became a full-fledged member of Betty's family overnight, with a brand-new job to do. Most of all, here is the essence of Dinah, a dog who made a positive difference in every life she touched.
I wish I had time to read this book. I wish I had enough money to quit my job and start an assistance dog foundation. I wish that everyone in the world was as nice to animals as Betty White.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

this is my reward

I wasted a couple of hours last night trying to update clog. Here's what I got:

This is what I get for trying.

I didn't see a notice about any scheduled outage. Perhaps Blogger can let us know when the system is available. Then, we can just assume that it's down the rest of the time.

Even Haloscan was being shitty last night. I tried 5x to leave a comment chez Butch.

Friday, January 12, 2007

six weird things about me

Last month, Riss tagged me with a meme. Yes, I'm just getting to it now. You may find it hard to believe, but it took a while for me to put together a list of six weird things about me.

  • When I'm making a sandwich, the mustard cannot touch the cheese.

  • I'm 6'4" but unless I hit my head on something, I usually go through the day not realizing how tall I am. I also "get the picture" when I see tall actors (like Tom Selleck, Vince Vaughn, or John Corbett) on television or in a movie dwarfing the people they're next to.

  • I am terrified of submerged objects. The idea of a reef or a shoal is really scary to me. I grew up around water and know my way around a boat... perhaps it's a healthy fear.

  • I find it extremely difficult to fall asleep without white noise (fan, air conditioner, etc.) and three pillows. (I'm a side-sleeper: one pillow goes under my head; the second underneath whatever arm is the upper arm; the third goes between my knees.)

  • I am strangely drawn to the Oregon license plate. I have one on my kitchen wall.

  • I have been fascinated by car wheels--and in particular, hubcaps--since I was a child. In my mind, the coolest hubcaps ever are from the 1965 Ford Galaxie.

Alright. Now it's Peter's turn. He hasn't blogged in over a week.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007


Happy birthday to Steven at Human Nature. Steven was freaking out a bit earlier this week at the prospect of turning twenty-five. It's a milestone birthday, no doubt. Quarter-century. Twenties half over. I must have been thinking these things when I turned 25, because I:

  • went out with Peter and Jason, and drank too much
  • had a lap dance at Remington's
  • later on the dance floor at Club Colby's, made everyone smell my finger (it was stripper perineum, not ass... I swear to God)
  • wound up at the tubs, where there was a big lineup (for rooms and lockers)
  • started talking to the guy beside me, who asked what I had done that Monday night
  • found out it was his birthday, too
  • asked him if he wanted to get out of line and go back to my place
  • back at my apartment, I actually carded him to see if he shared my birthday (which he did)
  • blew him in front of my kitchen sink, then sent him home
  • went to class the next day with a massive hangover

Do it up in style, Steven. You young pup, you.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Santa might suspect I'm gay

Last year, it was decorative push pins:

This home organizer was in my stocking on Christmas eve 2006. It's very flowery.

Who plays Santa during Christmas? No, it's not Peter. It's my mother. And another year has gone by without a long-overdue discussion.

Is praying for death an option? How about a coma?

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Etobicoke Hydro

There are communal libraries in the laundry rooms of my apartment complex. (Some of Peter's gag gifts and books have ended up there--but they never last long!) A couple of weeks ago, I pulled a copy of Valley of the Dolls from the shelf and found something neat tucked inside: a mailer from Etobicoke Hydro.

From the font, I thought it might date back to the 1950s.

Some web searching revealed that the mayor listed on the card served from 1967 to 1972. It's not as old as I thought.

Business Reply Mail was 8 cents, and there's no postal code.

Etobicoke was one of six former boroughs of the Municipality of Metropolitan Toronto. Etobicoke Hydro later became part of Toronto Hydro, and Metropolitan Toronto was amalgamated into the City of Toronto in 1998.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

I watch Discovery Channel too much

...because I'm crushin' on Tory Belleci from Mythbusters and Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs. Tory is smart and funny. His smile kills me.

Mike Rowe... manly, strappin', and one helluva sexy voice.

Yeah, I watched me some television on Saturday. And lastnight, I watched Super Size Me on CBC. I had always wanted to see it, but knowing that Morgan Spurlock spews in it made me want to make sure I had control of the volume. (I always mute barf scenes, and usually look away from the television.)

It's funny: despite having seen Spurlock and Rowe projectile vomit on the small screen, I still find them eminently attractive.