Pye in the Face

Monday's Quotelet: Vicks Alpo Rub

2007-08-27T19:01:00.000-04:00

As part of his court-ordered dog fighting restitution, Michael Vick was ordered to babysit "Sweetums" for the rest of the year.

Creative Outdoor Teenage Partying.

2007-08-27T18:31:00.000-04:00

There's a Facebook group for my high school town, and someone added a "You Know You're From Concord When..." thread a while ago. Obviously, the group is predominantly much-younger people, but I was curious and added my own point to the thread. You know you're from Concord When: "Being told to meet your friends at 'Eden', 'Boonyards' or 'Mayflower' makes perfect sense to you."

Someone from the class of 2004 emailed me today and asked me to elaborate, so I did. This email is extended a couple paragraphs for the sake of the blog and reprinted with express written permission from... myself.

All three were nicknames we had for secluded outdoor places around Concord where we used to "par-tay". Eden was along the river and accessible from behind the strip mall just off Lowell road near the center where Stop n Shop used to be. I worked there for a summer until they found out I was Canadian and didn't have my greencard yet. It's still a grocery store but has a different name now. There was a narrow path that wound through the underbrush for a bit and came out on a nice public lawn on the riverside with a decent amount of tree cover overhead. You could also walk down to it from the bridge down Lowell road a bit.

Anyway, Eden was a huge cop magnet and we only used it as a last resort when nobody's parents were out of town. My friend got arrested one night, fully cuffed and stuffed, for peeing on the fire after the po-po told us to put it out. "I don't care how you do it, but put that fucking fire out!" Well, my pal got a night in the docks and an embarassing Concord Journal Police Log entry for his efforts. The worst part is, the Journal listed the charge as "indecent exposure", with his real name and age. That could have meant a million different things, and I'm sure his grandparents enjoyed reading it over Sunday breakfast while envisioning him running through a local preschool with his pants around his ankles.

Boonyards was a field that accessible by an overgrown dirt road just over the Bedford town line on Bedford Street that extended out from the Concord center rotary. Technically it's located on Hanscom airforce base which we learned the hard way one night when soldiers with M16s on jeeps showed up to break up our bonfire. I was off in the dark fiddling with a British exchange student and made an easy escape.

Mayflower was in West Concord technically, and you had to go through the back of Thoreau hills to get to it. I don't think the police ever found it during my CCHS career, but we accidentally rolled a full keg down into someone's backyard one enchanted evening. That attracted a lot of attention and I don't think I ever returned.

Glad I could impart some history on my wee descendants. Concord was a strange place in the early 90's era. When I got to college in 1992, it bored me to tears. I've had this conversation with dozens of my friends who had the same freshman year blues. We'd wonder why people in our dorm got so excited over a lame frat keg party, and the rest of the kids on our floor wouldn't believe our high school stories. The classes of 89 and 91 especially - we'd already fucking done it all. We kept Mr. Kryple and Ms. DiCicco on antacids - that's for sure. The outdoor spots were backups, and the tip of the iceberg. Good times.

Facebook Applications That Don't Lick Monkey Taint.

2007-08-24T13:01:00.000-04:00

Facebook is an incredible website. The fact that it blew the frig up the same year I moved back to Canada was extremely serendipitous as I've mentioned before. I have gotten back in touch with kids I haven't seen since 1986, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Two months ago, Facebook opened their doors to 3rd party applications - most of which are enormously stupid wastes of time. Many of which try to accomplish the same thing, leaving you confused as to which version is the better one. I've kicked the tires on quite a few of them, and here are my favorites to date. Click the links to learn more or install them yourself.

Red Bull Roshambo: A well done take on the classic "Rock, Paper, Scissors" game. You can challenge your friends and even make imaginary wagers. The categories, strategy and stat features are in-depth and enjoyable. This was the first app I really dug and it gave me hope for the future - after I'd been bitten by fecking zombies and werewolves 800 times.

Scrabulous: I never played Scrabble as a kid, and there's been a learning curve (I have yet to beat anyone in 10 games) but this is a winner. You can play as many games as you like at once, which is a good thing as your opponent's turn around time from move to move may be a couple of days. Hugely strategic and never, ever the same game twice. Great stat keeping and super ajax-based controls.

MyTunes: I wasn't crazy about installing an application on my own computer in order to get this to work, but the results were worth it. If MyTunes is running in your taskbar, and you've installed the accompanying FaceBook app, anyone who looks at your profile can see what you're listening to via iTunes in real time. Look at my profile for an example - it's near the top of the right column under the news feed. As useful as tits on a bull, but for some reason I love it!

Flixster: A movie-based app that let's you write reviews, talk about upcoming films and display a list of your personal favorites, Flixster is well-organized and handles a lot of info without making your profile look too busy. Most of the user-submitted reviews are similar to the point of being unintentionally funny (Ya, so, I liked this movie. It had a great cast, great writing and was really funny) but a few of them stand out, and the social aspects make the app stand out a mile over some of the other movie plugins.

Dave Goes To The Dogs.

2007-08-19T17:45:00.000-04:00

I love the Boss. If you know me, you know that. I have been stone cold cat crazy for the last 33 years. But that was by default - my father despises dogs and we were never allowed to have one. After a lot of careful consideration, I have decided to get my own dog. For the first time. It's a big step. I am a little nervous, but I have made the call and it's happening. Here are some of my reasons for this canine 180.

- All my friends who own dogs have told me that in order to train, raise and mold a dog with a good personality, you must be able to spend a lot of time with it. I work from home. Perfect.

- Many friends have been concerned because Boston Terriers are known for having health issues - particularly flatulence, heart ailments and breathing. I have discovered that purebred Terriers are usually devoid of the congenital defects, and the flatulence depends completely on diet and can be easily remedied.

- My mother won't stop reminding me that I have to walk the dog at least 3 times a day, like I'm retarded or something. I will welcome the new structure in my life - especially, again, because I work from home.

Those are the big points I have been mulling. I am very excited at the prospect of having a pet that doesn't sleep all day. I will be able to take it everywhere with me in the car. It will do tricks. It will protect my house. It will go for runs with me. I am thrilled.

I'd like to mention once more that I have given this a tremendous amount of thought and am definitely not entering into dog ownership lightly. To further hammer this point home, I'm happy to point out that I have found a professional breeder whom I trust and have forwarded all the emails we have exchanged (I ask a lot of questions) to two friends of mine who are very well versed on the subject of dogs (thank you Amy and Rachelle).

I've also seen photos of the parents - click here to meet the lovely Pixie Rose and Oscar - and am going to the breeder's next week to meet the humans involved and the mom and dad to be. My puppy will be born in late December and I'll be picking up little Shepherd Pye in February. Although he'll be no feline, I will continue the Pye pet naming convention.

And in case you're wondering, Boss is very alive, very well and I love him very much. He's got a good 5 years left in him and I plan to treat him like a little prince until he draws his last breath. It's just that... circumstances have led me to live in the woods - and it's doggie time.

Wow. Boss is gonna be so pissed come February.

I Knew You'd Come Walking Back Through My Door.

2007-08-16T11:29:00.000-04:00

If you didn't already know, a new Indiana Jones movie is currently being filmed and is set to be released on Memorial Day 2008. This franchise is my favorite of all time, and the news was like an old friend coming back into my life. Which is probably why I have so few. Yes, yes - my nerdery is on full display today - but I'm not ashamed and I don't apologize. By all accounts this film is being taken very seriously by the original directors and cast, and I will be very surprised if Spielberg drops the idol. As I have maniacally scanned the interwebnets looking for Indy 4 Rumors and news, I collected them all in one place. If you're curious, have a read, and here are a few highpoints:

- Shia Lebouef plays Indy's son.
- There will be very little computer animation to keep the film visually congruent with the first three Indy films.
- I'm 99% certain the official title will be "Indiana Jones and the City of Gods".
- Marion (Karen Allen) returns and has a big role.
- Indy's sidekick is played by one of my favorite actors, Ray Winstone.
- Area 51 and alien artifacts play a big role in the plot, and the villainous Nazis are all but replaced by the more appropriate (the film is set in 1957) Russians.
- Cate Blanchett plays a Russian adversary.
- Sallah and Henry Jones are not returning.
- Filming has so far taken place in Hawaii (doubling for South America), Connecticut (Yale) and Nevada (Area 51).
- The story is rumored to come full circle with Raiders, even eventually involving the Lost Ark of the Covenant.
- I may never sleep with a woman again.

Several videos have been released from the set, one of which was a live feed for attendees of ComicCon this past month. Most of the principal actors join Spielberg in costume for a chat about the new film. This was also the first time it was officially announced that Marion Ravenwood would be making her return...

18 years after the Last Crusade the principals have finally managed to get their schedules in order, and a script they're all happy with. There were half a dozen rewrites and many arguments between Ford, Lucas and Spielberg along the way. I always paid attention to the movie geek rumor sites, and never thought they'd get it underway. That tells me that the pieces are in place for something special, and I'm going to stay excited and optimistic until I'm proven otherwise. If you'd have told me a couple of years ago that the Pixies were going to reunite, and there'd be a 4th Indy film, I think my head would have pulled a Belloq.

If Indiana Jones 4 proves as popular and as well made as Raiders, Temple of Doom and Last Crusade - we'll be witness to a very cool piece of movie history. I am sick to death of CGI and haven't wanted to go to the theater (with the possible exception of Die Hard 4) for many moons. Ford will be 66 years old by the time this is released, and very probably the star of the most profitable summer action movie of all time. Think about that for a second - It's simply fantastic.

Canadian Assimilation.

2007-08-09T01:13:00.000-04:00

My friend Sean called me over the weekend and left a message to the tune of “Have you been eaten by feckin' bears?” I realized at that point that it was probably time to update anyone who cares. If not, jog on - no one has a potato gun to your head. This blog will return to it's regularly scheduled dead hooker jokes by the end of the summer.

Operation Bunkhouse is just a few days away from completion, and my place is wide open for visitors anytime in August/September. If you're a friend of mine, or a well-medicated stalker, you are officially invited to pick a weekend if that’s at all enticing. Come sleep in the silence, relax in the gazebo, soak up some sun, boat your brains out and eat a lot of corn. There is also a vicious rumor that the Pye family likes a drink or two after 5pm.

Life is good, with obvious exceptions. Here are some bullets as it’s been a while since I spoke to any of you at length and there’s a lot to mention...

- We sold Grandma’s house in July and walked out of it for the final time last Monday. There were no tears shed. I now live full time in Portland, Ontario.
- My reasons behind moving here were spun different ways for different people, but the end goal was to live here with my ailing Father and take some of the pressure off of my Mom. For example, she is on a much-needed vacation in Vancouver this week, as I watch the fort/Gordo. He’s a handful, and my social circle consists of loons and squirrels - but he’s my Dad. And that’s that.
- Gord is manageable if you distract him with things he likes to do/eat/watch/drink. “Give me my f**king car keys now!” “Oh look Dad, Fawlty Towers is on!” “It is?”
- As a result, I am picking up golf very quickly. I now understand people’s addiction to it. Gord is still an excellent player, and we’ll be doing a lot of it. My first lesson is in 9 hours.
- 2 sets of clubs fit very nicely in the back of the Charger. Golf is quite a workout and I currently feel like I’ve been dragged behind a truckful of Nazis for several miles.
- On a related note, I am completely unashamed at how happy I am that Karen Allen is going to be in Indy 4.
- While hardly Grifflet substitutes, my little cousins Jakob, Seth, Thomas, Christopher, Alexandra, Darius, Ben and Carter are enjoying having me around more than once a year. Thomas (19) went to a party with me in Toronto and had a great time with my friends. Darius (6) enjoys when I show up with bootleg Spiderman 3 DVDs.
- Janet was up last weekend and we got a TON done on the Bunkhouse and a ton drankended on the Pontoon boat (see galleries).
- I have connected from so many childhood friends via Facebook it is unreal. I recently had dinner at the home of a girl who was my best friend Freshman year of high school and when I walked in the door it was like no time had passed. Quite an amazing summer in terms of friendship rekindling. Best website ever.
- I have a great group of friends back in Toronto (2.5 hours away), mostly from University, who have made me feel very welcome back in the Great White North. When I start to get jumpy for human contact, I have plenty of places to stay back in civilization.
- I now have a boat license.
- According to Janet, who is a hard sell on this topic, my driving skills have returned. She may have been swayed when I deked a hugenormous deer going 80MPH in her new 5-speed Audi.
- TechTarget went public a month ago and I am very glad I bought all the shares I was entitled to when I left to become an international search marketing guru in 2003. Why am I telling all of you? Cause it’s a jetski, baby, and you may get to ride it one day.
- Speaking of watercraft, we have a 50HP pontoon boat with pimpin’ leather couches on it and an iPod-compatible stereo. I remarked to Janet, whilst cruising slowly through Lost Lake with a Rockstar in my lap and the Pixies blaring through the speakers - “This IS heaven on Earth”. Gord kinda likes it when I play Bolero. Bonnie likes it when I forget to bring the iPod.
- I made my first Portland friend Friday night at a bar called the Galley. I can sail there in about 15 minutes and tie up right in front. He’s a local drunk named Dana, and Janet says “keep looking”.
- I run every morning, and combined with the golf I feel amazing and am dropping weight like a Tijuana crack whore. I only drink when we have company and my Peter Pan on cheesecake days are officially over.
- I have decided to live here for the winter in order to save money, continue the health kick and by doing so lower the insurance charges on the house while my folks are in Florida.
- My friend Gooch (see bunkhouse gallery) is going to leave both his snowmobiles here and we’re taking a trip all the way to Montreal on them come winter.
- Gooch and I are building an ice fishing hut.
- I am talking to Boxer and Boston Terrier breeders. I love the Boss, but he sleeps all day and can’t go outside. I need another addition to the Lakehouse herd for my own winter sanity. Otherwise, I’ll be growing a beard, writing a manifesto and sending C4 through the mail to Al Sharpton before the first day of Spring.
- I am turning into an Ottawa-Valley-accented-hilljack-peameal-bacon-eating hick, and I love it.

I will be in Boston the weekend of September 22nd for a wedding. The wedding is in New Hampshire, but I’ll be extending my trip so I have time to visit my Boston peeps. I hope to see some of you then, and Griffin may have to give up her PS2 room for a night or two – which somehow I think she’ll be fine with . The thought of a genuine Harpoon IPA and some North End Pushcart pizza makes me beyond happy.

Turn Out The Lights.

2007-07-24T18:04:00.000-04:00

The house that I sit inside as I write this long overdue post is the one and only geographical constant I've had in my life. My Grandmother bought it shortly before I was born in 1973, and I've been wandering these halls for 33 years straight. We sold it recently, and are out of here lock, stock and barrel on July 31st. It finally sank in today when I met the new owners and overheard some of their renovation plans - and I suppose I'm sad this evening. Finally.

The last 5 years or so, as my Grandmother's health and mind have deteriorated, the house has been more of a headache than anything anyone wants to be remotely nostalgic about. I watched the new owner's children run around in the backyard today, and get excited about the dark ravine I used to know like the back of my hand. I looked out the patio doors at the run down pool that we've spent hundreds of dollars keeping functional this summer and can almost see one of my parent's late night parties that used to take place this time of year - 20 years ago. I'm not going to get out of here at the end of this week without at least a little tug at the heartstrings.

There's my Grandfather helping me put together my Death Star during Christmas 1977. I can almost picture my beloved Planet of the Apes playhouse down where it stood in the basement. The obligatory driveway hand prints from 1987 are eroded but discernible. Last night I slept in the room I lived in for the summer of 1996 when I was at University and washing windows in the next town over.

The dining room table which used to be the epicenter of the house is now quiet, and will be moved to my new apartment come the fall. 10 minutes ago my father decided he didn't want the Grandfather clock and that'll go to me too. Janet's got dibs on the old kitchen table. Life will go on, obviously, but a more crystal-clear end to an era you'll never find - and I'll have a sniffle if I want to.

You Can't Teach An Old Crustacean New Tricks.

2007-07-12T20:43:00.000-04:00

The mystery surrounding Amelia Earhart's disappearance has always fascinated me, and about 6 months ago I watched yet another British documentary on the subject. It was so detailed, and the team of investigators so thorough and technologically advanced, that I thought for sure we'd seen the last serious attempt to find out what happened to her over 70 years ago. But the same persistent team is back with a brand new strategy - pig bones.

"Kar Burns, one of two anthropologists on the team, hopes coconut crabs native to the island - some as big as 2½ feet across - will carry the pig bones to wherever human bones might have been taken by crabs. DNA from human bones could help solve the mystery."

So the hope is that these monstrous crabs, probably living much the same lives their ancestors did in the 1930's, will crawl sideways across said pig bones - I assumed fitted with some sort of tracking bug - and take them back to their lair. When the lair, den, pile or whatever it is is located by the anthropologists, it may also contain the remains of Amelia and her navigator. Definitely the coolest thing I read today.

On a side note, look at this (or any) photo of our girl. If Hilary Swank isn't asked to play her in the inevitable biopic, she might as well make another movie about a paraplegic female boxer. It's easy to get typecast in Hollywood.

Potato Gun 101.

2007-07-10T20:49:00.000-04:00

Sundays have been known to drag up here at the lake, and it's important for me to keep my father as stimulated as possible. Over dinner Friday night at a pub in Portland, I asked him if he'd be interested in making a movie about his beloved potato gun. He smiled broadly and I knew I'd just have to start shopping it to the major studios.

Sunday morning we got a bag of spuds, a can of hairspray and headed down to the dock. Filming took about 10 minutes while editing took several hours. I'm getting up to speed with the software though, and I dare say this will probably be the first installment of a Gordo franchise. Even to those who don't know my Dad, this is probably going to be extremely funny. Enjoy.

Canada Day Debacle.

2007-07-05T22:44:00.000-04:00

For the long awaited Canada Day 2007, which is like the... 160th anniversary of the day the loyalists grew a pair and declared a Dominion (horribly inaccurate summary), I did a number of very patriotic things. When you live alone in a house for two months, like one of the kids from Flowers in the Attic, having your only sibling and several of your best friends in the same house for a long weekend is a little exciting. Throw in a boat, fireworks, some liquor and the birth of a nation – and we’re talking 6-year-old at Christmas excited. Here are the highlights.

1. Worked on Operation Bunkhouse for exactly 1.5 hours in 4 days.

2. Got so pinted one night that I didn’t get out of bed for the entire next day – again, whilst all my friends whom I was longing to see were here.

3. Continued to aggressively not work on the bunkhouse.

4. Provided one friend with so many patriotic punches to the ribs that he eventually retaliated with a full cup of beer to the lap.

5. Emotionally scarred a 10 month old border collie.

6. Wrote and sang at least 17 new songs whilst liquored, including such nouveau favorites as “Who’s Gonna go to the Truck and get some RedBull?”, an acapella cover of “Jump Around” and the timeless “Who Wants to go to the Gazebo and Have Drinks?”. I believe Sully has extensive video of the wonderful additions to the modern musical canon, so stay tuned.

7. Paid an extortionate amount of money to have satellite internet installed which has gone down about 15 times so far. Lightning has a very negative effect on the weak signal, as do dragonflies farting near the dish I have to assume at this point. The best part is, I got to climb a 24 foot ladder and cut down all the branches on the tree for the guy who installed it. Maybe there’s a voucher in the mail.

My gallery is here, and Sully’s should be up in a few days at which time I’ll add another shameful link. Thanks for making the trip to everyone from Boston and Toronto – it meant a lot to me, and my parents had a great time in spite of me channeling the ghost of Brendan Behan for two evenings straight.

Call Me Vincent Vega, Eh?

2007-06-24T17:10:00.000-04:00

Vincent: You know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: Goddamn.
Vincent: I've seen 'em do it, man. They fucking drown 'em in that shit.

I've been in Canada for almost 7 weeks now, and I've been keeping a mental checklist of the "little differences" that I've noticed to date. Although I've spent a lot of time up here over the last 33 years, I haven't been fully immersed like this in over a decade. Here are some subtle little day-to-day observations I've been collecting.

1. Condiments: Vinegar and gravy are available absolutely everywhere. Swiss Chalet sauce is making a bigger impression on me than bathtub meth. You never have to ask for ketchup.

2. Traffic: Is awful. Toronto traffic is at the levels that LA is famous for. An enormous, sprawling city of highways and overpasses. You can traverse the 401 to the North, or the Gardiner Expressway to the South - but either way, unless it's between 2am and 3:30am, you're sitting bumper-to-bumper for hours.

3. Traffic Laws: You can turn right on a red light. Some States (Florida, etc.) allow this but it's a no-no in Massachusetts. I love it. I get back little snippets of time that make up for some of the traffic jams.

4. HBO Surprises: One of the first things I did when I got up here was figure out which of the cable channels was linked to HBO so I could be sure to see the last episodes of the Sopranos. The channel in question is called MMX, and their programming is quite unique. You have all your first run blockbusters during the day, but as soon as the clock strikes 11pm Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban is replaced promptly by Saving Ryan's Privates. I'm talking full-on, hardcore pornography on a channel that five minutes before might have been showing Entourage. It's simply fabulous.

5: Pizza: Canadians don't know what a cheese pizza is. I think ordering a plain pie must be some sort of taboo which is done in private clubs in North York. Bacon is a big seller. As is BBQ sauce, feta cheese, sun dried tomatoes, hamburger and my new favorite topping - green olives.

6: Tattoos: Everybody has one.

I'll keep adding to this list as I notice more of them. Feel free to chime in.

Urban Skittles.

2007-06-22T22:52:00.000-04:00

Let me just preface this post by saying - at this day in age, if anyone did this to me, my friends or a member of my family I would chase them down and beat the fecking piss out of them on the street. Luckily, the show in question is filmed in Europe where people don't sue you for belching in the same elevator as them.

In addition to its citrusy-flavored, strangely tasty, candy brand association, Skittles is an old European sport, from which Ten-pin bowling, Duckpin bowling, and Candlepin bowling in the United States, and Five-pin bowling in Canada are descended. I don't usually copy and paste so blatantly from Wikipedia, but there was no way I was prepared to capitalize so many words in a sentence after 3 cans of Canadian.

Urban Skittles is the name given to one of the many urban sports invented by a character called 'Neg' from the worthwhile British comedy show, Balls of Steel. It involves running into a public place, usually a fast food restaurant, and screaming at the top of your lungs to "get down on the floor!" For every pedestrian who drops on their face, you get a point. I really don't want to laugh at this. My second favorite Neg scene is definitely Big Stranger Rodeo.

There are roughly 12 recurring characters of which Neg is just one. If you liked, or were repulsed, by the Urban Sportsman you'll also want to check out Bunny Boiler (a cute woman who blatantly hits on men while they are with their girlfriends), the Annoying Devil (a guy in a devil suit who spreads dog poo on crosswalk buttons), and Mr. Inappropriate (a dude in a suit who whacks off in variety stores, among other things).

Searching For Peter Grumme.

2007-06-13T14:22:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, if you wanted to find someone you'd lost touch with, you'd hire a private detective. In 2007, the first answer my friends and I came up with for this same task was: "Start a FaceBook Group!" That having been said, where the hell is Peter Grumme - a.k.a. Gummer?

Many people who visit this site won't have any clue, or give a sweet frickin' tweet, who Gummer is. Simply put, he's a diamond geezer whom a lot of people would like to get back in touch with. In the age of FaceBook, and it's fervent Canadian following, not being able to locate him is extremely frustrating.

I'm writing about this today because there are currently next to no hits in Google for Pete's name. If he, or someone he knows, performs a related query anytime soon they'll undoubtedly find this post, the FB group and then - salvation. Come home, little shaggy lamb.

Oh What A Whack It Was.

2007-06-11T10:39:00.000-04:00

There are two camps of Sopranos fans making noise on the internet this morning regarding last night's series finale. Like Marmite, Ovaltine, sushi or the Scissor Sisters - you either love it or you hate it. I fall into the former category. Although I had an "oh no Chase didn't" moment when the screen fell quickly to black at the end, after some thought I calmed down. Like Sam Malone straightening the picture of Coach before turning out the lights on Beacon Street for the last time, it couldn't have been concluded any better.

Carlo flipped, and ultimately even if Mink can win Tony's case on the handgun charge there are some seriously rough waters ahead. Three of his best Capos are either dead or incapacitated and of the three remaining one is banging his daughter, one is named after Bobby Darin and one is afraid of cats. But there's a lot of positives when you think about it that may carry the family through to a feature film, or at least comfort the average viewer who is miffed at the lack of tangible resolution.

AJ finally has his head out of his moonbat ass and is working with Carmine Junior on a movie. Meadow is going to be a lawyer at 170K starting salary and seems to have landed a decent guy in Patsy's son. Christopher has been reincarnated as an orange tabby. Carmela is pressing on with her real estate development and Janice has 3 kids and Johnny Sack's old house to be nutty in. And Tony - Tony is genuinely happy. Note the scene where he's raking the leaves and he pauses to contemplate the back yard, probably thinking about his beloved ducks. Or when he grabs AJ's hand in the diner at the very end. His closure with Junior in the state mental hospital. I think there were a lot of "finale-worthy" moments that the detractors missed.

Back to Junior and Tony's scene in the ward. "You and my Dad, you used to run North Jersey." "Did we? That's nice." Maybe it's due to my current personal situation, but that exchange really choked me up. For all their past glory, and all the 'respect' they are supposed to command within their universe - at the end of the day it doesn't amount to a hill of penne, and the mob simply doesn't work anymore.

So what happened to Tony at the very end? I remember a scene from a few seasons ago where Bobby is intimidating a guy in a bar who owes him money. It's the first time you ever see Bobby as anything more than Junior's flunkie and you can trace his transformation from that specific moment like a road map. He tells the guy that when you get whacked, it just goes black suddenly. Much like the end of the diner scene last night. But I don't think Tony is supposed to have been clipped in Chase's final bow. No way.

The level of anxiety that was created in the final moment's of the Soprano's last episode was incredible. It was right up there with Henry Hill's sauce and Carlito's cousin's beer cooler. Tony scans the room for potential leftover Leotardo interlopers and FBI goons. From the trucker, to the paisan, to the hip-hoppers, to the couple and back to the guy at the counter again. He's out in public with his family, devoid of any crew and a sitting duck of the highest order - even with his back to the wall. That's the life he has chosen and how he'll have to live it long after we don't get to follow along anymore.

For this long time Baba-Binger, last night was a calculated mix of both closure and speculation. I am glad Tony and his family survived, and I am especially happy that Paulie didn't defect to New York - but we know that there can never be a happy ending for any of them. Whether we literally see Tony's brains all over a big bowl of onion rings or are forever left to wonder exactly whatever happened to that Russian in the Pine Barrens.

Coming Clean With A Guilty Pleasure.

2007-06-06T17:33:00.000-04:00

Happiness for me today is my first listen of the new Queens of the Stone Age record a week before it's released. Lovely, rocking stuff. I also snagged the upcoming Beastie Boys instrument album, The Mix Up. I wish they had vocals, and also weren't flaming embarrassing bleeding-hearts, but it is a nice platter to play in the background while you work.

Catch me tomorrow when I'm listening to them both in the front seat of the soon-to-be-christened HMS PYE, and am most certainly not wearing trousers.

Fighting Back The Cheezy Urges.

2007-06-06T10:36:00.000-04:00

Downtown Boston was my home for almost 10 years. I had a car when I first moved there briefly, but got rid of it as parking was an expensive nightmare and I used it an average of once a month. Before that I lived in England where again, I didn't need a car. Before that it was 1997 and I was bombing down the mean streets of Guelph in a 9-year-old Caravan (that I was happy to have). What I'm saying here is - I have never had a new car, a car I am proud of, or even a car that Jed Clampett would be caught dead in. Black gold... Texas Tea...

This morning I got a call from my Uncle to tell me that I was now the proud owner of the #1 car on my auction wish list. Like a bat out of hell, I set off to get a haircut for my Ontario license picture, get an Ontario license, open a bank account for insurance purposes, get insurance and then pester said Uncle to go and get the car - which it turns out I will get my mitts on Thursday.While happy as a pig in shit, I am choking back a few inexplicable urges that seem to somehow be associated with owning a cool car...

- I want to take pictures of it.
- I want to take pictures of it with me leaning against it, looking pensive. "You know how many people had to die for me to get this car, baby?"
- I want to take off my shirt, both of them, and lean against it looking pensive. Perhaps staring off into space stroking my chin. "Well baby, that's just the way the cookie crumbles. I'll send ya a postcard from Hell."
- I want to drive slowly past high school parking lots at lunch time blaring Linkin Park's new CD. They have a new CD, right?
- I want to park it in front of a strip mall convenience store on Friday night and smoke butts. Honestly, the shirt will probably be off again.

I'll get over all of this, but there will be a period of adjustment. Bear with me, and to my Canadian friends - maybe just stay away from the house for a little while. I'll figure out how to work the self timer and we can get on with our lives.

Dead Bird Slash Mouse Saga.

2007-06-05T15:56:00.000-04:00

Alone in a big four bedroom house is how I spend my days, working in Janet's old room which has been converted into a makeshift office. I'll be here at least another month, and the silence, after 7 years of living with roommates, is beautiful. All I have to do is look after the pool and keep the place clean should one of the real estate agents want to drop in suddenly with prospective buyers. It seems easy, and it was - until the most horrible smell infiltrated the top floor. We're talking corpse-worthy, here. First 48, vaporub under the nostrils type smell.

The main realtor, Linda, is in constant contact with my mother who is 4 hours away at the lakehouse. Linda and my mother are convinced I'm going to leave a granola bar wrapper out, thus blowing a sale. So I am doing everything in my power to prove them wrong. So far so good. Needless to say, a gag-worthy, phantom stench is definitely a left turn away from the goal. I checked everywhere - the garbage, the cat litter, under the beds, the toilet tank, all of the cupboards, the attic. I settled on "dead animal" and started combing the vents and any other small place not in my pants that something small could get lodged in and then pass away.

I can obviously only drag this tale out for so long. I discovered the source of the stench while changing Boss' food and water dish. I thought it was strange that he hadn't been eating, but would never have assumed that some water from one half of his double dish got over onto the food side and created a nasty chemical reaction that would have make Louis Pasteur retch. It was retched, black and dark green and took only 3 days to manifest.

As soon as the offending goop was flushed - voila. The stank was gone, just like that, and I was able to leave for the weekend, secure in the knowledge that my house-sitting rep was safe. That is until I got home and found the pool had stopped filtering in my absence. You haven't lived until you've stuck your hand in to a skimmer full of dead baby mice up to the wrist. But that is another story. That I may masturbate to later.

The Belly Of The Beast.

2007-06-04T23:06:00.000-04:00

In the middle of all this "I'm so busy... Waaah - I'm moving internationally, change my drawers" bullshit, I've gotten a little ahead of myself. I get daily IMs and emails asking me why I have the fucking audacity to stop writing regularly. So, in spite of the imminent re-imagining of PITF, which is truthfully well underway and even paid for - I will continue to write. I am honored that any frigger still cares.

I am truly in the belly of the beast this eve. Less than 100 miles away lies the Capital city of Canada, my place of birth in 1973, whose Senators hockey team is in the running for the first Canadian Stanley Cup since 1993 - That's 14 frigging years for anyone keeping score. For comparative purposes, that's like the USA not being the champion of inventing chewing tobacco for almost 15 years straight. Brutal, I know.

The end of my Grandmother's street (I am living alone at her house with Boss until it is sold) has "Bring it home to Canada, Sens!" written in children's street chalk at the intersection. At least 5 out of every cars I pass have a little Sens flag waving out the window. Every time my beloved Uncle John and I meet for a beer, there are pubs full of Senator shirt clad fans everywhere. It's a typically quiet and reserved Canadian event of incredible importance.

Anaheim is now ahead in the series 3-1 as of 5 minutes ago, and the series is returning Wednesday to California - which isn't great for the odds. Home ice and one more win and it's over. But I'll be watching, and I pray for continued serendipity relating to my move home. Go Sens, and go my bid on a Charger tomorrow in the auction.

Coming Up For Air.

2007-05-23T13:55:00.000-04:00

I've arrived safe and sound in Canada, and am splitting my time between Burlington and Portland as time and duty allows. I can't begin to summarize the last 3 weeks properly in the amount of time I have to devote to the blog today, so I'll instead point you to a couple of FaceBook galleries where I have been uploading and writing captions for all the post-move photos to date. You may choose between a general gallery covering moving, cleaning, garage sales and revelry - or a photo essay documenting phase one of last weekend's Operation Bunkhouse. Click a photo and scroll through like a sideshow to see the captions. The thumbnails alone aren't nearly as interesting.

I made a down payment today to my new favorite web designer to thoroughly revamp and re-envision this silly website to which I have grown so attached over the last three years. Reese recently redid my dog sweater site, andf I have the utmost faith in her abilities. So fear not, dear reader (if there any of you left). I shall return with a lukewarm vengeance.

Dave, We Hardly Knew Ye.

2007-04-23T13:35:00.000-04:00

Many, many emphatic thanks to everyone who came to my send off bender at Kennedy's on Saturday night. The show of support and love really had a positive effect on my sister and I, and will make these next tricky months a lot easier. I couldn't be more sincere. Highlights included:

A genuine pink Red Sox thong from Tony B.
A surprise appearance by Moynihan who flew from fucking SWEDEN to be with us.
Two philanthropic Harkins brothers and one lovely Heather who allowed us to give out free drink tickets to all the guests.
Janet's brainchild - the photo album - which was passed around and signed by all.
The largest assembly of BrainGEM veterans in 5 years.
More hugs and kisses than I will probably get for the rest of my life.

Let's wrap this love-fest up. It's time to get packing, cracking and plow through the next seven days. See the photo gallery here, and you all have a place to stay in Toronto forever.

Excuses And More Fucking Excuses.

2007-04-18T13:15:00.000-04:00

As anyone in the know knows - I am gearing up for a big, and technically international, move. I am attempting to build a department at work, hand off building management duties and financials to the owners, finish taxes, organize satellite internet access to remote wilderness locations, have a tooth replaced, sort personal accounting, get a new laptop and - oh yeah - blah dee frickin' blah.

DavePye.com will be back - and better than ever when the dust settles in a couple of weeks. A redesign and move to a different backend will follow shortly after. I look forward to documenting my new adventures in Canada, and will not disappoint. Also, if you're not already on the Evite for the going away party Saturday night, and feel like you should be, spare yourself the wee dejected sniffle - and just email me for details.

Ring A Ding Ding, Baby.

2007-04-13T14:24:00.000-04:00

Back in 2003 I was in the grips of a pretty severe Rat Pack fascination. Anyone who has ever been to my apartment can attest to that. Dino, Joey, Peter, Sammy and Frank still look down at you from every wall. At the time I worked as an editor and was responsible for writing up user-submitted IT bloopers into longer, readable articles. I always tried to inject a little humor into the proceedings, and I got a little carried away at times. Here is my favorite, which I stumbled upon today while looking for old copywriting examples to show to potential clients.

Discretion, and a love of breathing without a respirator, prevents us from mentioning the name of this fine establishment. But when our Clyde's contract was cancelled the following day, you can bet he didn't hang around to catch any shows. Better to miss Goulet at the Trump Marina -- than to wake up at the bottom of one.

It's way over the top in terms of what that site was used to, but my boss liked it, threw it up, and it's still there four years later. Made me laugh today, see what you think.

Sneezes Of The Cats.

2007-04-11T12:18:00.000-04:00

I took Boss to the vet last Thursday to update his papers for a smooth border crossing at the end of the month. He got a rabies shot in the haunch, and some pink distemper liquid right up his snout. He shook it off pretty quickly and that was the end of it. The vet said he'd probably sneeze a bit for the rest of the day, but he didn't. I figured that was the end of it.

He's been sneezing non stop since Monday night. At first it was funny. He'd look off into space as the sneeze came on, open his mouth a little bit and then snap his head forward with a loud "PPHHFFFFT!" But the novelty has passed, and I'm getting worried. I have narrowed it down to two possible causes:

1. He is reacting to the fact we've started opening our windows. Something that is floating in on the wind is getting to him. Pollen? The new daschund puppy who moved in across the way? I don't know.

2. He is a reincarnation of one of the many women who have Heismanned me over the years, and is now claiming she can't visit anymore because she's allergic to... herself.

Oh come on, Boss. If it makes you so uncomfortable that I keep the pattern for a human skin suit tacked to my bedroom wall, then just say so. Don't use the goddamn cat hair excuse again.

Fine Then. I Won't Paint The Yellow Easter Egg.

2007-04-07T13:32:00.000-04:00

Smack dab in the middle of some tactical reverse psychology on a six-year-old yesterday, I was reminded of a poem I loved when I too was a wee'un. It's by Dennis Lee, and I swear I still knew almost all of it - even 25 years later.

When they bring me a plate
Full of stuff that I hate
Like spinach and turnips and guck.
I sit very straight
and I look at the plate
and I quietly say to it: "Yuck!"

Little kids bawl,
cause I used to be small
and throw it all over the tray.
But now I am three
and much more like me
so I "Yuck!" 'til they take it away.

But sometimes my Dad
gets terrifically mad
and he says, "Don't you drink from that cup!"
But he can't say it right,
cause he's not very bright.
So I trick him and drink it all up.

Then he gets up and roars
and he stomps on the floor
and he hollers, "I warn you, don't eat!"
He counts up to ten
and I trick him again,
and I practically finish my meat.

Then I start on the guck,
and my Daddy goes, "Yuck!"
and scrunches his eyes 'til they hurt.
So I shovel it in
and he grins a big grin
and then we all have dessert!

Granted, she 'accidentally 'dropped and smashed it shortly after I was finished my masterpiece. So the joke may have been on me. Happy Easter, regardless!

Top 10 Ways to Save the NHL

2007-04-05T16:06:00.000-04:00

Killer wrote a great article over on GoonBlog today. If you're fed up with the new NHL rules, migrate over and have a gander. It's insightful and hilarious. Here's a wee taste:

1. Eliminate the Instigator rule: The players hate it, the fans hate it and it just plain does not make sense. Let the men police themselves. If two willing combatants have an issue with each other they can settle things the right way; one-on-one! If some wing ding wants to fly around the ice taking liberties, he will quickly be approached and dealt with accordingly. Paul Mara had two Instigator penalties this season… yeah you read that correctly - Paul Fuckin' Mara! During one of his final games with the B’s before being traded to the Rangers, he was about to get into a scrap when the ref reminded him he had 2 and one more would get him suspended. The puss bag who he wanted to go with kept goading him fully knowing Paul couldn’t do anything.

2. Suspend hit from behind offenders: There has been WAY too many of these infractions this past season. Forget giving them a 2 minute penalty, toss their ass out of the game and suspend them. I know there will be a gray area and all that but getting blasted from behind is just about the worst thing - unless of course you are My Better Half who seems to enjoy it.

Wow. Read the full post here.