Atlantic City was interesting to say the least. I made it back safely, and I’ll post some photos over the weekend. In the meantime, it seems the Quizzlet lady has recovered from her grave illness as I found the following questions in my mailbox this morning. Also, tonight is Jim’s birthday. Anyone who’d like to join the revelry, please give me a call.
Appetizer: What is the worst movie you’ve ever seen?
I’m notorious for liking some pretty bad movies, so I think anyone who knows me will take this answer with a big ol’ hunk of kosher salt. I do, afterall, own such classics as Tango & Cash, Evil Dead and Salem’s Lot. But to be honest, I didn’t have to contemplate this question for long. The worst movie I’ve ever seen is Fahrenheit 911. Not for reasons of poor cinematic craftmanship. Michael Moore is a talented director. The reason I hated this film is the way in which it was disguised – and worse yet, perceived – as an objective documentary. Triumph of the Will had less of an agenda. Please read this and then this, and I promise I’ll never mention this fetid pile of dung again.
Soup: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
Photographs, a fear of wooden spoons and a plethora of mental scars. Speaking of scars, I’ve recently been asked several times, by different people, about the one on my eyebrow. While playing Starsky and Hutch at age 8 in Manotick, I slipped and fell whilst in pursuit of a dangerous criminal (Jennifer Snider). My head came flying down on a rusty trailer hitch of all things, and although I was fine I started bleeding like I’d been chainsawed. Jennifer’s older sister, Janet, was babysitting us at the time and the two of us decided to freak her out. I rang my own doorbell and was standing there absolutely soaked in blood when Janet opened the door and promptly screamed. It was the classic make-your-babysitter-think-you’ve-been-grotesquely-dismembered-whilst-under-her-care trick.
Salad: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you pick?
I would, and did, pick Boston. I could never live in the Urban Death Maze, and I don’t plan on heading back to Canada until I get my citizenship – although Vancouver is looking mighty attractive lately. I can only do what I do in a select number of cities, so my choices are fairly limited. As much as I’d love to move to Kentucky, where I could get an eight-story house for one month’s Boston rent, the only thing I could optimize there would be hate crimes.
Main Course: What’s a “big word” you like to use to impress people?
I used to run around with a guy named Andy Kirk when I’d go to visit my parents in Hong Kong. Andy worked as a bodyguard for some rich local, and was known absolutely everywhere to absolutely everyone. He showed my sister and I some of the greatest times of our young lives, acting as our personal tour guide over the Christmas holidays of 1994 & 1995. Doormen and club owners in WanChai, Central and Repulse Bay would look at us and say simply “Hello Mr Andy!” before letting our group cut the line and dodge the cover wherever we happened to be. It was an amazing way to see that mad island, and I’ll be forever grateful.
I still keep in touch with Andy, who currently lives in Manchester England, and a few years back he toured with Oasis as Noel Gallagher’s bodyguard. He IM’d me recently to tell me to get the Familiar to Millions tour DVD as he appears on it several times. Needless to say I ran out and got it, and sure enough – there’s Andy in a few scenes looking all big and bloody mean. Anyway, Oasis plays a great song called Acquiesce during the concert. I had never heard of it, as it was an obscure B-side to one of their later singles. Eventually I got around to looking up the meaning of the word – as prior to hearing the tune I had no idea it even existed. The simple definition is to “consent or comply passively or without protest.” So watch for me attempting to slip that word into conversations in the near future. And then beat me unmercifully when I do.
Dessert: Describe your hairstyle.
Tragic. I recently bit the bullet and had it cut after attempting for a few months to grow it out. When I was told last week that my hair resembled Bill Murray’s in Scrooged, I knew it was time to seek out that striped pole.