Computah Sez No

When I had to have the Bodybox 5500 test done, a hospital card had to be issued to me first.

I handed over my photo i.d. and the feeb behind the counter began to enter information into her computer.

She verified my address and the only other question she asked was:

What is your marital status?

I asked her why she would need to know that and she looked blankly at me and said

'The computer needs to know'.

She said this without irony or interest.

I answered with confusion.

She gave me the card.

I shook my head.



I should tell you, I should tell you -- if you're not in the movie RENT, you shouldn't be singing along as though you are. This only makes the movie seem as though it's five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes long.

I went to see it yesterday and this 12 year old girl a few rows over sang as though she was auditioning and in between songs told her friend 'oh this part is good' or 'this is amazing' and so on. The only saving grace was that she was moved to tears several times and couldn't possibly sing every note of some of the songs. For this reason and her relative young age, I chose not to crush her dreams with my vitriol.

So I'm practically a good samaritan (in your eyes).


One Man's Folly

A friend sent me an email with instructions for one of those fun activities that you can astound and amaze your friends with. You know the kind - an impossible body activity like -rub your eyeball while licking your brain--see? can't be done- that kind. I've seen this type of email before and never had one changed my life. That is...until now!

This is how it went (and I know you'll be trying it yourself but please be careful, it can have an unintended result) --

While sitting at your desk, lift your right foot off the floor
and make clockwise circles. Now, while doing this, draw the number "6"
in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction.
There's nothing you can do about it. Try it with the left as well.

Before I even tried it, I thought 'it would probably be more fun to get your entire office to do it at the same time and film it'. I always think in single quotation marks about group activities.
So, how did the exercise change my life? I tried it first with my right foot / hand and then added the left foot / hand going counter clockwise and was immediately cast in a musical follies show! I didn't even think they were still around!

Since I'd always thought show biz could be an option, I no longer work in an office. In fact, right now? I'm appearing nightly in your town. Up to you to find me though.


This Year's Model

So just like most people on a Friday afternoon in November, I found myself doing a pulmonary function test and sitting in this little isolation booth. The test was ordered because of some lingering bronchitis issues I was having. Honest, I never felt worse than after quitting smoking!

The technician is outside and speaking into a microphone and her voice comes through a tiny speaker. Her dulcet tones in broken English talk you through the different types of breathing they want you to do into the tube. What fun. In between instructions, I'm sizing up my little isolation booth and spy the nameplate affixed to the glass: Bodybox 5500.

Now is that a name to inspire confidence that I'll make it back out of there? Instead of calling my little glass coffin that, couldn't they had named it the Wheezemaster? Or Rasp-o-Matic, that would have worked too.

There was also a small sign on the wall outside the booth that said to be careful when sitting as chairs can slip out easily. I think it's discernible from the photo that the chair is bolted down to the floor. None of the chairs in the lab had casters. Huh? is all I can say to that.

As much fun as medical testing can be, I do hope to now stop documenting the folly surrounding mine.

RK Oh Oh

I went out for a drive this morning with John. A squirrel crossed the road ahead a ways and I jokingly said, maybe I'll hit that squirrel for practice. And I did. Not on purpose. Oops. My first roadkill.

Uncle Milty

If you're being chased by a police dog, try not to go through a tunnel, then on to a little seesaw, then jump through a hoop of fire. They're trained for that.

--Milton Jones


The 41 Year Old Itch

Remember the ads for the film The 40 Year Old Virgin where they show the poor fella getting his chest hair waxed?

Well, when I went for an exercise stress test, they make you put on comfortable clothes so I had the standard t-shirt and shorts on. The tech lady says 'you'll have to take off the t-shirt so I can put these sensors on'.

I lift my arms and begin removing my t-shirt. You know how there's that second or two where your face would be covered by the shirt as you lift it over your head? Well, my new friend takes this opportunity to assault my chest with a disposable razor - no warning, no accompanying cream or powder, just a heartless slash down one side of my chest.

This surprised me to no end and I let out a strangled cry that I now imagine to have sounded like 'haowrpmph'. She says 'oh sorry, I have to shave you so the electrodes will stick' and slashes down the other side.

So now I have two unique patches of 'no hair' on my 'pecs'. They're more vertical than horizontal as worn by Steve Carell in the movie but they're my battle scars and I'll wear them just as not so proudly.

Thanks crazy lady shaver.

Post Script containing irrefutable facts:

My heart does indeed beat.
I do sweat when forced to run in place at high speeds.
I didn't drop dead.


Fiona - Apple Of My iPod

Things I can't get out of my head or off my mp3 player currently:

Extraordinary Machine. ......................Fiona Apple
Inaudible Melodies................................Jack Johnson
Colours................................................... Amos Lee
Got My Own Thing...............................Liz Phair
And..........................................................About 2820 other items


Celebrity Skin

It must have come from reading an online journal that had a post about dreams you've had involving celebrities and sex.

A lot of people seemed to have had some pretty interesting dreams and sex with celebrities. I remember thinking that I hadn't had too many dreams involving celebrity sex but I had dreamed about Matt Lauer, more than once about Lee Majors and Farrah Fawcett-Majors and then the other night, about Moby.

Matt: It started out on a hilltop behind the house I grew up in. A whole group of people were on the hill and wondering how we would get down. The lady from work most unlikely to do so coiled herself up into a circle and rolled down the hill to demonstrate. We all followed suit.

Next we were in a large apartment entranceway and I realized without any visual clue that it was Matt Lauer's place. Everything was swellegant and swanky and I kept thinking how jealous my brother David was going to be since he was the Matt Lauer fan and not me. Of course, my brother David probably wouldn't know who Matt Lauer was let alone idolize him in any way. I believe we were offered cocktails and then I sat down on the floor and played chess with Matt who was very personable. I don't remember much else except thinking that he'd better do something about that bald spot.

Steve Austin & Jill Monroe: I used to have a recurring dream as a child which I believe was based on a horror / fantasy type comic book I had read. There was a long covered bridge, a shrieking witch head up in the sky, some merchants on the bridge and general foreboding. At some point, I escaped the feeling of dread by jumping in the water and swimming. As I wasn't such a strong swimmer, I soon began to falter. Some sort of crudely drawn aquaman type (think Rocket Robin Hood) character would rescue me and deposit me on the shore. I had variations on this dream many times but at some point I remember having it and ending up in a cave with Lee & Farrah. Nobody spoke but I felt safe being with them. Farrah would smile at me and Lee wouldn't really look at us but I knew I was now safe. She was up on a higher level of the cave and Lee I think was busy figuring out how his bionics were going to get us out of this mess. Does this make her my Farrah godmother? Sorry.

Moby: So, I'm walking up a hill with a bunch of people (my dreams seem to be populated with bunches of people) and I realize that some of them are friends of my sister. We somehow figure out she is gay. I don't really seem too shocked. After a while, I end up realizing at some point that Moby is in the house next to wherever I am (no longer on a hill). I peer in through the old tyme screen door (wooden frame) and see a guy asleep on a bed. It's Moby. I walk in being quiet so as not to wake him. He's sleeping on a cot. I watch him for a while and just look around. There are floor to ceiling record albums around a corner from the armchair that I'm sitting in.

Moby wakes up and doesn't seem too startled to see me there. We make small talk, I'm a bit uncomfortable but he seems cool. He decides we should put some music on. We go around the corner and start poring over the albums. He pulls out a Bob Dylan record and mentions what a classic he is. I can't believe I'm saying it to Moby but I feel I have to and say that I'd rather slice my wrists open and bleed to death than listen to Bob Dylan since he's so overrated. I'm sorry I'm saying it but I feel I really have to. Moby isn't impressed but he's still a polite host. We go back to the bedsit / living area and there are a bunch of other people there. Someone lights a joint and it gets passed around and I take a couple of puffs. There is some chit chat and eventually I realize that they all have plans and I'm really intruding when they have stuff to do that doesn't include me. I start to make my exit and this is when the clock woke me up.

Oh yes, and I have sex with all of them. Okay, I didn't but I'm surprised I haven't done it with half of Hollywood in my dreams by this point considering I eat up all that celebrity crap like it's candy. I'm not alone. Society and it's fascination with celebrity: Next on Blogger Blahgging.

How could I have forgotten? I also remember dreaming many years ago about Max and Mr & Mrs H from TV's Hart to Hart - Stefanie Powers and Robert Wagner. Weird.

Weirder than that is how I was reminded of this dream. I was watching one of the ultimate bad ideas of the late '7o's - The Concorde Airport '79 and Robert Wagner was in it. Strange that I didn't remember my dream after seeing him in countless other bad things and Austin Powers etc. If you're looking for an explanation for why I was watching Airport '79, I think I'll pass on that for now.



Having regard for the fact that there is very useful and easily digestible information to be found in the free transit Metro News paper (see previous post), I worry about the pall it casts on the many readers I encounter throughout my day.

The paper is basically a bite sized and if not tasty, at least edible capsule that gives you the jist of the day's big stories, the weather and some all important celebrity hoo haw. I love me some hoo haw.

The problem is that if you listen carefully, when people are chatting say at work, they all seem to have the same half dozen tidbits of information that they just keep regurgitating over and over courtesy of the daily capsule.

There's no in depth discussion of any topic or addition of any information, just someone recounting what they read on the way in, someone else nodding, another saying 'yep, I heard something about that' and everyone else verifying the piece as gospel. Didja hear about ...? ad nauseum.

No other big point to make, just that small talk annoys me to no end. My brain is no larger than anyone elses but can we not just talk about other things than what we've been spoon fed?

Oh, and shut the hell up about the traffic on your drive in. Nobody cares, it only allows them an in to tell their traffic tales.

Willing To Be, Aiming To Be

Last week while reading the Metro newspaper on the way to work, I read one of those 'Where Are They Now?' pieces and it happened to be on Meryn Cadell. I had wondered what happened to Meryn and the piece made me wonder some more.

I checked out Meryn's online journal and haven't been able to put it down so to speak.

Many songs courtesy of Meryn's exquisite brain are permanently lodged in mine. I was lucky enough to see her perform years ago in a club in Toronto with my friend Chris who was always dragging me to things I didn't really want to go to. I was glad I went to this event. Meryn was intriguing, creative and made me wish I was a performer.

Back to the Metro article. It mentioned that Ms. Cadell had transitioned into Mr. Cadell and this fascinating tidbit is delved into by Meryn on his journal. There's a Q & A and information about the transition along with some great pieces just on daily life, events and you know, the stuff of journals.

Basically, I'm glad to hear that Meryn hasn't disappeared. There's also talk that there may be a reissue of the CD's which I look forward to.

I'm here where I want to be.