From the monthly archives:

October 2010

Best & Worst Indiana Jones Costumes

by Dave on October 30, 2010

in Movies,Nerdery

imageI’m dusting off the fedora tonight for a Halloween costume which has evolved and improved considerably since the first time I decided to dress up as Indiana Jones 3 years ago. Granted, I took last year off in favor of a Predator costume – which just so happened to win first prize – but you can’t be Dr. Jones all the time. That would be exhausting. In addition to incredibly sad.

My 2010 additions include: Replicas of the Staff of Ra headpiece, the Hovitos fertility idol and a Sankara Stone all tucked neatly, and extremely heavily, away in a MK2 WW2 gas mask bag just like the one Jr. wears in the classic films. It should be noted that nowhere in said bag does there exist a female date for tonight’s party. Perhaps that didn’t need notation.

I think that if you up the ante considerably with improvements to a “timeless” costume the way I like to with my Indy ensemble it’s OK to wear it every other year or so. If you’re a Halloweenie who likes to stay trendy and in-the-moment, you can go join the undoubtedly enormous group of folks who’ll be dressing up as Snooki and Pauly D. this year. And then fist-pump yourself betwixt the buttocks.

My costume is pretty tight – I mean that in both senses of the word – but I’m not the first, best or worst to have ever donned this adventurer’s gay apparel. I was able to find a few individuals who could, however, rank well at both ends of the spectrum. See if you can tell which is which.


Doing Indiana Proud
Indiana John” founded a great website for the true enthusiast which not only discusses the actual movie props/costumes in great historical detail, but also helps everyday movie-nerds such as myself get their hands on said sacred stuff. His personal costume has the whole look nailed, from the dark brown color of the jacket right on down to the slightly too-high pant legs. I wanna Halloween party with this guy. Just not on one of the years I’m wearing my own walking tribute.



Pleats Release Me
There’s more than a few things glaringly wrong here – the least of which might be the Medic Alert bracelet. Trying to picture a Nazi standing over anyone announcing, “Give him some air – he’s an epileptic!” … just takes me right out of the mood. And the pleats in the wrinkly pants make me think that one of the red dot stops on this guy’s iconic Indy movie map must have been a T.J. Maxx “irregular” bin. Know your history, Mr. George Clooney look-alike, or you’re doomed to repeat it.



Something, Something… we Have a Problem
Were this meant to be a Matt Houston costume he’d have my vote for first prize. If Indy had ever been scripted as nipple-tortured by a nymphomaniac member of the Guardian Angels – again I’d be a huge proponent of this guy. As it stands, do your fucking shirt up.



A Royal Raider
It looks like Prince Charles decided to complement son Harry’s recent Nazi costume with a little Jones of his own. And look – he finally found a use for that plastic belt he hadn’t worn since 8th grade graduation. I don’t know if that’s makeup on his face or if he was brutally battered on his way in from the parking lot. What I do know is that part of a good Indy costume should be the ability to fight off Girl Guides. Not my favorite example but at least he’s standing next to a sexy Thundercat which is more than I’ll be able to claim.

Play safe this evening, folks, unlike I did a year ago tonight when I totalled my car on the way home from the aforementioned costume-contest victory. Somehow that $25 gift certificate ceased to seem quite as cool when I woke up and saw my mangled whip in the cold light of day. It’s a lot easier to navigate when you’re wearing a fedora as opposed to a giant rubber Predator mask, so I’ve got that going for me in 2010. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Somewhere the ghost of Steve McQueen was surely thinking, “A little late on the brakes, kid.” And also very likely, “You’re going to die alone, nerd”. Happy Halloween!


mcelhenny-joel-osment “I see despicable, co-dependant people from Philadelphia.”

If it’s just me, I’ll shut up. But it kinda grabbed me by the short and curlies earlier today. Whaddaya think?


Overcharged for Hydro in Ontario

by Dave on October 2, 2010

in Whinging

electrocuteWhen a neighbour of mine popped over recently to ask if I too were being charged insane monthly hydro amounts, I looked back on my bills for the summer (I live in Portland, Ontario) to learn they’ve been consistently $500 and over for many, many months. How did I miss these ridiculous charges? My lame excuse is: because the monthly hydro bills are directly withdrawn from my bank account. So I logged into said account and looked a little closer to see that for September’s bill of over $900 had just been directly placed in Hydro One’s coffers. “WTF?” doesn’t really cover the reaction that followed.

And here’s the thing – I’ve been having issues with my furnace and have had it completely switched off for over 4 weeks now. Were I running a grow-op with massive amounts of hydroponic equipment nurturing illegal flora in my basement, I’d keep my mouth shut. But since my Hydro bill should have actually been dramatically less for last month – well, it’s driven me to blog about this nonsense in the hopes eventual readers might be able to share their stories or shed some light on just what the heck is going on. And forget the $900 for a second. I’ve easily been paying over 50% more every month than should be normal for a 30 day utility charge for over a frickin’ year now.

Hydro One: I’m not building a spaceship, powering a nuclear reactor or harbouring the Trailer Park Boys’ next big growing scheme on my property. I’m going to call you next week and try to get to the bottom of this. And by “get to the bottom of this” I actually mean “get a massive credit/refund”. I will keep everyone updated as to what transpires. If you’ve found this post via a Google search and are in the same boat – please leave your own story in the comments below. In the meantime, I’ll be panhandling or selling my body in anticipation of next month’s financial haemorrhage.