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Canadiana

Operation: Garage


in Canadiana

Last summer belonged to, and was largely defined by, Operation Bunkhouse. With a new year, however, must come a new… operation. I have a nemesis for the summer of 2008, and it is my cluttered garage. Same building, new floor, same lack of solid construction skill. I now announce, introduce and dread – Operation: Garage.

Step one was to clean off the back wall and consolidate everything over to one side, allowing for a large, long set of shelves to be built along the back wall. That was completed today. Step two involves me gathering my father’s once impressive collection of tools and other equipment into an organized semblance of… respect. He was once the handiest man in the world, and to look at his belongings strewn around in messy disrepair is one of the saddest parts of this whole… dementia “thing”.

operation-garage

So I’ll bring these items them out of the basement, out of the attic, out of their boxes, out of the storage bins, out of obscurity – then sort and catalog them using this new set of shelves as the blank template. Power tools go here, lawn tools and equipment go here, welders (and there are several) go here… you get the idea. And then from this new order will hopefully spring the realization of my “becoming reasonably handy” dream. Not having to try 4 different drills in 4 separate closets in 4 different corners of the property before finding one which actually works will likely increase the frequency of me picking up said drill. And maybe even becoming a little more like the father I miss so very much.

Here is the first collection of Operation: Garage photographs from this morning. If DIY / home improvement stuff is your bag you will also definitely enjoy Operation: Bunkhouse. I will now commence a little side operation I like to call Mission: Painful Pressboard Palm Splinter Removal.

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Okkervil River and New Pornographers in Toronto


in Canadiana, Musical

The Phoenix played host to one of the best double bills I’ve seen Wednesday night. Okkervil River technically opened for the New Pornographers, but both bands played power-packed sets that left my friends and the entire room more than… pornografied and okkervilled. The venue reminded me of the Paradise in Boston in the way that the main room is wider than longer, and no matter where you’re standing you have a great, close view.

new pornos okkervil

When we got to the front door of the venue one of my peeps had a camera cord hanging out of her back pocket. Although we were all packing cameras, no one was patting people down so she was the only one who got nicked. The indecisive and dodgy doorman held us to one side for almost 10 minutes before he finally agreed she could hide her battery outside and we’d be allowed to go in with the camera. Due to that incident and the many warnings he gave us, none of us took any pictures. Perhaps someone else who was there has posted something online I can use. I’m a bit miffed about this because we were very close to the stage and I could have gotten some doozy video.

Okkervil opened with The President’s Dead and their energy was immediately apparent as the drummer, sitting low and immediately beside lead singer Will Sheff, mouthed along with the words while pointing playfully at audience members with his drumsticks until his cue to start playing. About four songs in they played a fast and rocky version of my personal favorite, A Girl in Port, which I thoroughly dug. Their hour long set wrapped up with the awesome For Real and I was so satisfied I felt like it was time to go home. But things were really just getting started.

The NP’s casually took the stage with the house lights still up and the crowd went wild. The band, based in Vancouver, has an enormous following up here and are one of the biggest internationally-successful Canadian bands ever. When I saw them open for Belle and Sebastian at Avalon in 2006, band member Neko Case was not on the tour with them, so Wednesday night was a new experience for me. Sure enough they played my jam, Bones of an Idol, as well as Slow Descent into Alcoholism (which should be my jam), Bleeding Heart Show and all of the other staples. The highlight for me was actually a cover. They pulled off a thoroughly engrossing version of “Don’t Bring Me Down” by E.L.O and I will never look at that song the same way again. I loved it and it was a perfect encore.

It’s been a long while since I’ve been to a concert, or to the T-Dot, and I couldn’t have asked for a better one. Well worth the drive to Toronto. We hit a gay strange bar after the show and the night ended on a very bizarre note for a variety of reasons, but it was a wonderful break nonetheless. Janet and I worked at Jason and Amy’s dining room table all day yesterday and I walked Marj down to Duff’s on Bayview for a take out lunch from my Mecca, Duff’s. When the veritable Vendittis got home we then we capped the trip off with a delicious dinner at Zucca before driving back East and getting into Portland around 12:30 am.

Now it’s Friday morning, my internet is down and I am writing this post in a notepad file until I hopefully upload it at a later time. I had planned to spend the weekend repairing and staining all the sections of our dock so they’re in tip-top shape to be installed in a couple of weeks when it warms up some more, but at this rate I’ll be inside on the computer catching up. Wicked. I’m rambling. Good concert and I missed my puppies.

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The Benefit of Laughter – SCTV Reunion


in Canadiana, Television

As my Cadbury Cream Egg hangover slowly wore off this morning I remembered a little news item I’ve been saving for the right moment. Perhaps I’ve just been hesitant as I thought talking about it might jinx this historic and amazing event in some cosmically unfortunate manner. Because it’s literally amazing in a ‘pull your balls out on the subway and sing Happy Days are Here Again’ sort of way. Here’s the rub: My wonderful sister got wind of an SCTV Reunion a couple of weeks ago, and before even telling me about it she’d procured two tickets to the event May 5th at their 51 Mercer Street location in Toronto.

sctv-reunion

“I am thrilled to have this wonderful collection of Second City alums come home and support their colleagues and friends who may be experiencing some difficulties in their life.” – Andrew Alexander – Proprietor/Executive Producer

My inside (literally) source, whom I shall refer to as “magic 8 ball”, tells me that the charity event is to help Tony Rosato with his treatment and/or legal bills – it’s no secret that he is currently incarcerated at a mental hospital in Ontario. Although I’m sure he isn’t the only alumnus to fall on hard times, he’s certainly the most well known having been an original member of the SCTV troupe, and he also spent 2 seasons (1980 & 81) on Saturday Night Live as a writer and performer. Here he is performing a skit with Robin Duke in 1979 – who can forget Crazy Crafts with Molly Earl ?

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdBec1pYM5k[/youtube]

Tony is and was a very funny man and for a while Lorne Michaels had very high, Belushi-esque, hopes for him. He apparently suffers from Capgras Syndrome which is a delusional belief that a friend or loved one’s body has been taken over by an imposter, Invasion of the Bodysnatchers style. It’s no joke, I wish him all the best and although I’m quite certain there are many who’d be happy to take my place now that the event is sold out – I’m very happy to be able to contribute to his cause. Here’s Tony with Eugene Levy doing Abbott and Costello, also from the early series #3.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JNS19XBjBQ[/youtube]

As if simply being at an SCTV Reunion wasn’t enough, I was further gob smacked to learn that my dear old Sis sprung for the top tier tickets which get us into a private cocktail reception with the cast. So we’ll be having drinks and hobnobbing with the likes of Martin Short, Eugene Levy, Joe Flahrety, Dave Thomas, Catherine O’Hara and Andrea Martin. Colin Mochrie will also be performing and I imagine lots of other Canadian Comedians will be on hand to support the cause. Will I finally get to meet Aykroyd? Will Marty do Jackie Rogers Jr. for me? Will I be escorted out while howling loudly like Count Floyd? All signs point to “yes“.

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Wednesday Wadio: Stan Rogers’ ‘Barrett’s Privateers’


in Canadiana, Musical, Wednesday Wadio

“God damn them all! I was told, we’d cruise the seas for American goldstan-rogers
We’d fire no guns! Shed no tears!
But I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier
The last of Barrett’s Privateers”

– Stan Rogers’ Barrett’s Privateers

Jonothan Richman came to Guelph in 1994 and I went to see him at the almighty Albion hotel for what ended up being one of my favorite concerts of all time. The chap who opened up for him, and I wish I could remember his name, did a jaw-dropping acapella version of Stan Roger’s Barrett’s Privateers that will stay with me forever. This incredible song grabbed me by the short and curlies right away, and after hearing it in the car the other day on one of my Dad’s CDs I knew I had to write about it. Every version of this song is acapella, actually, as that is how Rogers intended it, and here is a very grainy video of him singing it around a kitchen table from a documentary entitled One Warm Line which you can watch in its entirety by clicking the link.

Rogers was killed in an airliner fire on June 2, 1983 when he was exactly my age, 34 years young. There are unsubstantiated claims that he made it off of the Air Canada flight on the ground in Cincinnati but succumbed to smoke inhalation after going back in to rescue other passengers. Like that story, Rogers’ music immediately gets under your skin and if you’re Canadian the subject matter – primarily ye olde maritime sailing culture based – is uniquely of this country and stands to provide a wonderful history lesson. I had no idea, for example, that there was such a thing as a Canadian pirate which is a loose way to describe Privateers. But I’m not going to regurgitate everything I’ve just read. You won’t find a better explication of the song and the history behind it than Dan Conlin’s:

“There was no Elcid Barrett. There was no Antelope sloop and there wasn’t even a town of Sherbrooke in the year of 1778. Stan Rogers basically made up an imaginary privateer to carry a 60s anti-war theme in a traditional folk setting. Having said all that, many of the details, ranging from the type of cannons mentioned to the letter of marque reference, are very authentic.”

Back in the golden years of sailing, once you were on a ship you were on a ship, and as part of the crew you were doomed to follow orders and obey regardless of how you felt about missions that were called on the go – lest you walked the plank or spent the rest of the long voyage eating rats in the hold. And many ‘conscripts’ were downright lied to about their intended purpose. Barrett’s Privateers tells the story of a naive young Nova Scotian who boarded a ship under the promise they would fly under a legal English charter (letter of marque) and inconvenience the burgeoning American navy by by stealing cargo. But Barrett had other ideas, and the song goes on to describe the mental anguish felt by the ‘broken’ protagonist when he finally makes it back to his Halifax pier.

The song is available for purchase on Amazon, and I encourage anyone who owns an album by the Decemberists to check out the late, great Stan Rogers in greater detail. There is also a Facebook petition devoted to getting Stan a star on the Canadian walk of fame and it’s good to see I’m not the only “younger” Canuck spreading the word about this great musician and his ongoing influence.

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WestJet Review: They Frigging Rule


in Canadiana, Travels

All too frequently, people use their blogs to bitch about things. I try very hard not to do that, exclusively. Although I’m about to do a bit of whingeing, ultimately this post was inspired by WestJet’s amazing customer service. The old adage goes something like… Do something nice for someone and they’ll tell a few close friends. Do something bad and they’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. Well – I’m attempting to do the opposite here.

When I flew down to Boston in early November for my citizenship ceremony, I had a flight booked with Air Canada to fly down on Tuesday and return on Friday. After I booked the flights I found out that two friends of mine were driving 9 hours from D.C. to be in Boston for my swearing in and it was meant to be somewhat of a surprise. Not only that but they had made plans to stay the weekend too. Now, if someone drives 9 hours to sit in a boring 3-hour ceremony on your behalf – that’s a friend. I also discovered that my sister had organized a little party on the Friday night. Long story shorter, I absolutely had to change my return flight to Sunday.

Air Canada raked me over the coals. By the time I got off the phone with them I found myself sitting on the couch in shock – having just spent an additional $600 to change the flight having already spent $600 on a round trip ticket a few weeks before. With taxes and all that good stuff two short flights to and from Boston ended up costing me nearly $1500 dollars. I’ll just let that sit with you for a second…

Looking for alternative airlines, my Mother suggested WestJet. She knew from experience that they had a direct flight from Ottawa to Orlando. To get to Orlando on Air Canada (which I did 2 weeks ago for Christmas) not only do you have to sell a kidney but you have to first fly to Toronto, find your baggage, go through customs, go through airport security for a second time and then by the grace of God make your connecting flight. Same deal on the way back a week ago. So when my Mother recently told me her cancer had returned and she needed me down there again by January 15th to take care of my Father while she had her second surgery for this goddamnned fucking bastard of a disease, I sighed audibly. Then I remembered WestJet.

I booked a round-trip flight on WestJet.com back to Florida 6 days ago as soon as I mikethen returned from there. The fare was so low that when I CC’d the neighbor who is looking after my cat on the itinerary she called me to ask how I’d managed to get such a low fare. It was almost half of what Air Canada would have charged for a semi-last minute booking. My Mother called me yesterday to tell me that her surgery had been moved from the 15th to the 9th – so immediately I envisioned a good part of my savings flying out of the window like a flock of seagulls. I mean, that’s what I’m used to, right?

Not only did WestJet get me on a flight this coming Monday when I called them an hour ago, they agreed to put my return ticket into a credit because I don’t know when I’ll be able to return. Did the last minute change to Monday have a fare increase? Unfortunately, yes. $20 fucking dollars. Not only that, but when I briefly mentioned the reason for my schedule change, Chantal unflinchingly said she was going to waive the normal fee for that which would have come in at close to $100. I was speechless.

WestJet’s routes are currently limited, I was sad to discover they don’t fly to Boston, for example, but the agent told me they were adding new destinations all the time. Check out their current routes and do yourself a favor – fly WestJet. I’ll update this post with some details from the actual flight experience when I get to FLA.

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Good News for People Coming to Visit Shep This Summer


in Canadiana

In addition to my vertitable busloads of imaginary friends, with their wee purple wingys and tails that leave stingys, I’m sure at least a couple of my American pallies will make the drive. To see my puppies. What luck then that the USA has decided to delay the much maligned Western Hemisphere Travel Initiative!

If you’ve never been outside of the USA, or are otherwise American, (hey now!) the WHTI is a new Yank law, already in place for air travel obviously, which will eventually require all Canadians (and Americans) who are entering the U.S. to have a passport or other secure identity document. Gone are the days of drivers’ licenses and Super Sexe. But gone when, exactly ? How about 18 months? That’s an 18 month delay on a huge pain in the ass that was supposed to go into effect Tuesday. However – violent, un-American, random, invasive, unfair and enormously effective racial profiling is sure to continue.

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Notes from the North


in Canadiana

I’m feeling terse today. Succinct. Extremely bullety. It’s a good morning for a brain dump. A blog blathering. Should I just give ‘er? I’ll give ‘er…

– The GPS system, called TeleNav, that I have on my new BlackBerry 8800 is astoundingly accurate and full-featured. I did not expect it nor realize that the phone came with it – but I use it all the time and it kicks touchas. $10 a month.
– My baby mamma still is not pregnant with wee Shepherd. This puts my puppy acquisition date back until at least March. I don’t want to – but I may look elsewhere for a pooch. I was so looking forward to having the wee ‘un with me while I’m alone during the winter.
– I found a treadmill of all things in the garage and I wheelbarrowed it over to the main house and plugged ‘er in. It works, and I’ve set up a spare TV and DVD player in front of it so I’ll have a nice winter hamster wheel.
– My client roster is growing by leaps and bounds – 5 new contracts last month alone – and I have been interviewing local people to help me. I found a great writer and a sharp marketing whiz via the Canadian version of CraigsList and we’re having a meeting in Kingston Thursday.
– I updated Cornett’s wedding gallery with about 40 more pictures so be sure to check it out. If only to see the adorable wee flower girl, Olivia.
– I have ordered several books on Canadian History to read over the snowy months, as I moved to Massachusetts when I was 12 and never learned any at the high school level. The fact that I moved to Concord didn’t help matter much – we kinda had our hands full in the old history department.
– My keyboard popped it’s V and B keys the other day for no apparent reason whatsoever. I’m starting to think Poltergeist – tis the season. Luckily there are no pubescent girls in the house or we’d really see the crockery flying off the walls. As I am an enormous fan of the CTRL+V paste shortcut, this is driving me batty. They won’t re-attach and I am gonna have to shell out for a new keyboard. Frig.

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Dave Goes To The Dogs.


in Animalistic, Canadiana

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.

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Canadian Assimilation.


in Canadiana

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.

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Turn Out The Lights.


in Canadiana, Reminiscent

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.

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You Can’t Teach An Old Crustacean New Tricks.


in Canadiana

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.

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Fighting Back The Cheezy Urges.


in Canadiana

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.

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Dead Bird Slash Mouse Saga.


in Canadiana

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.

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