Passion of the Dale

Drinks Are On Me!!

2011-12-04T08:04:00.000-05:00

If you ever need someone to take one for the team, invite me to dinner.

After thoroughly enjoying the excellent musical play Ride The Cyclone at Theatre Passe Muraille and heady with remembering it is possible to be completely entertained for under 20 bucks, we headed for Buca to have drinks and dinner. The restaurant had a bricked and warehouse-y feel but managed to be warm and inviting.

Wine, cocktails and appetizers were decided on after some discussion and I settled back with a delicious vodka based drink finished off with elements of pepper and pear. After a preliminary taste, I set it down rather than guzzling it the way I wanted to.

The server came back to fuss with things ahead of the food arriving and got things off to an exciting start by knocking my drink from the table all over my right side (I've found there is no wrong side when these things happen). Apologies and enough napkins to start a quilt didn't help much with drying off my black pants but did help with the appearance I was quite skilled in the lint harvesting arts.

While the splash down my leg left the impression of a not particularly well executed hate crime, I was determined to grin and bear it - I'm sufficiently annoying when things are going quite well. Thankfully, the food was fantastic and pulled focus from my tragicomic predicament and the evening ended on good notes several hours later.

This is not the first time I've had to wet-crotch my way through a dinner service. Once on a long flight, my light grey pants enjoyed a full glass of white wine just ahead of the "chicken or fish?". While my undercarriage seemed no worse for wear after 6 hours of dampness, my pants definitely were. On another occasion just before attending the opera for a grand evening, another full glass found its way into my lap at dinner. It's not over until the fat lady pours out her heart and possibly a drink onto you.

If someone is bound to end up wet not-by-choice, it'll be me, you're safe. So please, take me to dinner - you're assured to look as fresh and happy as when your evening began while I'll be left with more practice than I need at perfecting the fine art of Canadian restraint.

The Blind Leading The Stupid

2011-09-03T07:18:00.005-04:00

A few afternoons ago during my lunch break, I was outside in the seating area near my office among a fair number of other people. A blind man who works in my building was standing a few feet away from me having a smoke. He has a cane that he uses but doesn't wear the cool shades so many of those hipster blind guys do. One look at his eyes and it's pretty plain to see he's differently abled.

A touristy looking couple approached and of all the people to ask directions from, they went up to him. "Excuse me but can you tell us where the nearest McDonald's is?" He said "See that door over there?" He pointed accurately and directly to the door a few feet away. "Go through there, down the escalator and into the food court and the McDonald's is on your left at the end". "Thank you". The couple walked directly past the door he'd just pointed out and continued up the street toward the next building which has no entrances on that side looking more lost than before.

When a blind man gives sighted people directions they can't follow, I have faith that I will continue to laugh at the human race until I can no longer see straight.

I Melt With You

2011-07-24T07:22:00.002-04:00

Last Thursday, the mercury (do they still use mercury in anything but fish?) hit an astonishing 49 degrees Celsius with the humidity factored in (that's 120.2 degrees Fahrenheit!). "I'm melting, I'm melting" seems to be the refrain all over the continent.

Only an intrepid named Sans Pantaloons could use a video of me in full after work attire falling into the pool to illustrate how to help me help you. This graphic he created clearly outlines that A) I look like a pufferfish and B) I need to lose a few pounds.

Once I've managed those corrections, look for a mailer coming to you. For a mere $29.99, I'm willing to teach you all the right moves.

It's Not The Heat, It's The Stupidity!

2011-06-08T22:03:00.001-04:00

After walking home through a 43 degree Celsius day (with humidity), I had no other choice but to do this:

I See London, I See France, I Have Wet My Underpants!

2011-05-29T16:59:00.031-04:00

I just got back from a lovely vacation spent in London and Paris (not the Ontario versions but their European counterparts) and as I've now recovered from the lovely spring cold I got on my way back, I almost have energy enough to talk about it.

After putting in what seemed like an eternity at the airport (why does time seem so much less fluid there?), John and I boarded and settled into our seats. Also settling into my seat shortly after takeoff was a full glass of white wine. When you're wearing light grey pants, a healthy serving of wine in the crotchal area can only look like a terrible mid-air accident. My secret shame lasted about 3 hours. Dry but still cranky, I managed a little sleep before arriving in London.

The hotel near the Marble Arch was elegant and almost entirely populated with Middle Eastern military men in several different styles of uniform. I wasn't sure whether to feel worried or safe. At one point, I was sitting just outside the hotel and a few of them came out to smoke and within a couple of minutes, I was surrounded by 26 of them (I counted) saluting one another and eyeing me suspiciously. When a large van advertising Al Jazeera TV collected several of them with their shopping bags and cameras, I allowed myself to back down to medium alert status.

The weather overall in London was quite nice though a bit windy at times, just how I might describe myself. After a few moments of confusion, we mastered the Underground system but didn't realize when they say underground, they really mean underground! Many of the escalators were several stories high and the system of tunnels could accurately be described as labyrinthine.

This is looking up from about the middle of the ride

When I visited London in 2007, I took in a lot of the sights - Kensington Palace (Lady Di's home), Buckingham Palace (the house of Liz), the London Eye (the ferris wheel), Harrod's, The Tower of London, Windsor Castle and Hampton Court (Henry the 8th's place) among other things - and so this time focused on things I hadn't seen or done. Sadly this time, there was no Coaster Punchman or Melinda June to meet up with.

I managed to get to both Tate museums (the Britain and the Modern) using the handy ferry service across the Thames, the National Portrait Gallery (showing everything from The Tudors to Warhol's Liz Taylor), the Duke of Wellington's mansion (eat that Napoleon!) and of course I ate my way through several servings of fish and chips and mushy peas at the stunning Black Friar Pub and one of the Gordon Ramsay pubs. I also ate at the OXO Tower high above the Thames, in the food halls at Harvey Nichol's, visited Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, St. Paul's Cathedral, shopped at the Camden and Portobello Road markets (junk and antiques respectively) and generally enjoyed the people watching.

Inside The Black Friar Pub

Did you know you can drink in the theatres in London? Yep, beer, wine, anything you'd like really. All the better to empathize along with Tracie Bennett in her tour de force performance as a boozy, pill popping Judy Garland in the excellent drama "End of the Rainbow" and through another very darkly comic drama courtesy of Mike Leigh called "Ecstasy".

Our guide for a day trip to Stonehenge and the town of Bath, Steve Evans, was quintessentially British and quite a comedian but very knowledgeable. Thanks to him, Stonehenge is no longer a pile of old rocks to me but rather a mystical burial site (made of a pile of old rocks) that Steve had lots of information and fascinating facts about.

He also gave me enough knowledge that I can now point out where Johnny Depp lives in Bath and tell you that Jude Law, Peter Gabriel, Nicholas Cage and Jane Seymour also have homes there. Jane Austen lived and wrote there and a pudgy Mr. Darcy waves to you as you walk by the Jane Austen Centre. As Steve pointed out, he's put on a bit of weight since the movie.

Oh Mr. Darcy!

The Roman Baths and Pump House Restaurant were intriguing and delicious in that order. I didn't realize that the "Solsbury Hill" Peter Gabriel sings about overlooks the town so it was a great bonus seeing that. Bath with it's beautiful Abbey and streets made for strolling was just lovely and well worth the trip. I'm still thinking about the best salad I've ever had thanks to the Pump House - warm butternut squash with bacon, blue cheese, walnuts and greens.

Steve Evans demonstrates his pointing skills

Taking the Eurostar to Paris was uneventful and interestingly, out of the 2 hour or so trip, you're only under the English Channel for 28 minutes and don't get to see the water approaching or leaving the tunnel. A little English countryside, a tunnel, a snack, French countryside and boom, you're at Gare du Nord!

One view from the Eiffel Tower

Paris was quite a sight to see. Incredible architecture (a lot of it similar), monuments, bistros, and people watching. The main disappointment I felt was in seeing the excess of graffiti there was everywhere, no Banksy style stuff, just random letters playing tag with beautiful old buildings.

The apartment we rented was charming and fully decked out with kitchen, laundry and all the amenities. It even had two small balconies. There was a great bakery nearby for fresh baguettes and croissants each day and open air markets nearby for fresh cheeses and meats, all delicious with the exception of the wild boar cold cuts I was forced into trying.

View from the Sauternes Apartment Balcony

Most of the menus in Paris featured steak tartare (raw hamburger) alongside various cuts of horse, duck and rabbit. I managed to find some beef and pork but had to settle for guinea fowl rather than chicken. Did I mention pigeon was on the menu in London? No thank you. I did manage to have a delicious escargots and artichoke soup, French Onion soup, beef bourguignon and a hamburger with a fried egg and bacon on top among other things! A couple of my favourite restaurants were Bofinger (probably not sung to the tune of Goldfinger) where we got to sit under their beautiful glass ceiling and L'Oulette where the manager was a dead ringer for this guy from SNL's Ambiguously Gay Duo series:

Baldfinger

Bofinger

The food and wine were excellent once I figured out what I was ordering and the French seemed willing to try and translate as required. One tourist asked a waitress what was in a Quiche Lorraine (she pronounced quiche - kwish). The waitress struggled and came up with 'it has a type of meat but cut small'. I could have helped but chose not to because listening to the rest of the exchange was just as entertaining.

The Parisians were generally helpful and polite but once they'd hear a few of my weak attempts at French, they'd switch right over to their version of English. The main difference seemed to be in the stores. Here, you're bombarded and harangued by sales staff the moment you enter but it was tough work getting anyone to even make eye contact in most of the stores, especially the pricier joints. They also disapprove of the pawing through of items and pretty much demanded to know what you were looking for so they could pick it off the rack for your viewing.

A tower you may have heard of

I walked the Champs Elysee though I could barely afford the coffee let alone designer duds, saw the Arc de Triomphe and from there walked to the Eiffel Tower. After about an hour's wait to ride the elevator up, I got to see incredible views of the city and then walked the 43 stories down! The shopping at Galleries Lafayette was pricey but the beautiful setting with its amazing glass roof made you want to stay. There are 6 restaurants in this Grand Magasin so staying was no hardship. Au Printemps next door also had a beautiful cupola and I believe 8 restaurants.

Galleries Lafayette

The Musee D'Orsay housed in an old train station was remarkable not only for the architecture but for the collection of Impressionist works. I got to see some very famous paintings and sculpture by Monet, Degas, Matisse, Van Gogh (before he cut his ear off), Picasso and hey - what's Whistler's Mother doing here?

I toured and visited the Palais Garnier (the spectacular opera house), Napoleon's Crypt (small man, large monument), the Tuiliries Gardens, the Moulin Rouge, St. Chapelle (beautiful stained glass and a one hour classical music concert on the altar), Sacre Coeur in Montmartre and I also went to Versailles.

Palais Garnier

St. Chapelle

Palais Garnier

While spectacular, I was more than a little disappointed with the jostling crowds at Versailles and that the fountains in the massive gardens (800 hectares worth) were not yet turned on. I bought a DVD of that so I could see what I missed along with a DVD for the Louvre because by week's end, I lacked the drive to tackle this imposing museum.

Versailles

A tiny portion where the gardens begin

The Grand Canal off in the distance

In London, everyone was in suits and stylish outfits while in Paris, it was all sweaters and scarves on everyone. I did draw a few scowls in Paris for wearing shorts on a few of the hotter days, forgive me Frenchies, I'll try harder next time.

An exhibit not in the Louvre

Overall, I had a great time and would visit both cities again. John and I took a different flight than our friends Deborah and Ian and thanks to our Nexus cards, whizzed through Customs in a minute while they spent over an hour and a half in the regular customs line. C'est la vie babies, c'est la vie!

A Guy In Trouble

2011-04-22T10:07:00.001-04:00

Not far from where I spend time staring at my keyboard are three recently refinished stairs from the kitchen into this room. The handrails that would generally ensure a proper entrance haven't yet been put back.

The stairs are angled and like someone who's forgotten to take their medication, a few nights ago I approached them at a reckless speed with a glass in my hand.

From the middle step, I slipped and hit the floor sliding into the room protecting the glass but wrenching my neck, back and assorted other body parts.

I'm pretty sure I lost the baby but for a guy my age, that may have been for the best.

Look Up, Now Back To Me

2011-04-17T09:44:00.002-04:00

After reading Lisa's searing piece about where she writes, I felt it wouldn't compromise national security much to highlight where the cracker crumbs meet the keyboard at my house.

This is where I turn my back on the room and world and spend hours at a time snacking and agonizing about sentences that will never see the light of day. At last count, I have 33 drafts dating back to September 2006, most with the good sense to remain comfortably where they are. There's no pride in this testament to procrastination and perhaps one day, they'll rise up and demand to be completed though presently, they don't have the strength to dare.

Because picture day is an important one, I decided to move four pens (but no paper?) and assorted other small items out of the shot. They are now behind the plant which may explain why Nigel looks on curiously from the giant cat toy, he knows something's amiss. The basket in the lower right on the floor has several of his and Rizzo's toys in it. To the right is a bathroom and the left, a closet. Don't worry, the glass is not clear in those doors but I'd still probably hear you pee if I was sitting there. Directly opposite this desk is the family or television room proper. This writing area is an odd adjunct to the rest of the room but I like the way it's still within and separate at the same time.

I see now those shelves above could use some arranging but cut me some slack - I only moved in 10 months ago! My favourite distraction while writing is the rain. I look up at the skylight wishing the sight could somehow match the comfort of the sound but it never does.

At my desk is the one place my posture reaches near impeccable heights. If the exercise was to take a shot of where I watch television, you'd be looking at a sofa comforting a man who wouldn't look out of place in Dali's The Persistence of Memory.

Another writing related fascination I came across recently on The Vegetable Assassin's site involved handwriting. I broke the meme rules from what she posted - once a rebel...

A letter from me would generally start out looking fairly readable (see below) and invariably end with much less precision (be glad I didn't continue writing).

Several of my siblings write in what appears to be a complicated code that would find the experts up late into the night but somehow I manage to be one of the more legible of the gang.

I'm definitely curious about where you write and what your writing looks like but my Canadian ways will not allow me to pressure you on the matter. Do as you will, or won't.

Privy Council

2011-03-27T16:31:00.000-04:00

The jury in my brain continues to deliberate on whether I fully 'like' Facebook or not but thanks to someone I don't know prompting a more critical look at my privacy settings, my fear of people I barely remember from high school tracking me down has abated.

A while ago, I received a message from a woman asking if I was the same Passion of the Dale who'd dated her sister in the 1970s. She gave me her sister's name to jog my memory. Being a courteous fellow, I replied to let her know she had the wrong man. She sent back an explanation saying she'd noticed Family Feud (one of several games in my arsenal of time wasters) in my profile and the guy who dated her sister had been a cameraman on the television show. I found that interesting but now wish I'd asked what her motivation was in tracking this character down, it might have yielded a better story.

When Google was first becoming a part of our lives, I remember doing a search on my own name. Among others sharing my moniker sat an upholsterer and someone who stood in the forefront of the 3D field. My interest in upholstery apart from being glad it's around is minimal although the world of 3D interested me at least to the point of doing a school paper on it long ago.

Also long ago is the memory of a friend asking me after we saw Jaws 3D together "wouldn't it be great if everything in life was in 3D?" We're no longer in contact although if I wanted to be, it's good to know that Facebook could probably help me track him down or failing that, I could contract the job out to Coaster Punchman, cyberstalker extraordinaire.

I'm No Dummy

2011-03-11T21:07:00.007-05:00

I'm still laughing over this video I saw yesterday for the first time.

I've never found ventriloquists to be particularly entertaining but with this guy, I can't help but think I've been changed for the better.

In other fast breaking non-news, my new favourite word is interstitial.

The Only Time I've Ever Wanted To Be In Grade 5 Again

2011-02-26T11:38:00.000-05:00

These kids are going to be singing on the Oscars tomorrow night. Go kids!

I Like Screamin'

2011-02-20T16:32:00.000-05:00

Since there was very little fault to be found with "The Magic Flute" which I went to see the other night, I'll shift my focus to my longtime pal and opera companion Deborah.

When she noisily dropped her program during a particularly quiet onstage moment, I'm sure poor Deb was filled with dread over how I might react. She needn't have worried. While I normally would consider this a punishable offence, it was countered by my delight at her exquisite startle reaction, one that rivalled anything Joyce DeWitt ever did on Three's Company. For about a second and a half, she was all flailing arms and jerking chicken head followed by the perfect wince.

This is a quirk of Deborah's that fascinates me. Someone can simply clink a glass or drop a knife in a restaurant and she startles and a look crosses her face as though she's been smacked in the back of the head by a large book. Why I continue to delight in what may well be a neurological disorder is not for me to say although you may have an idea or two.

It puts me in mind of a Catherine Tate sketch that I don't have the heart to forward to Deborah.

With Act Two You Get Egg Roll

2011-02-12T10:42:00.000-05:00

Thankfully, I'd eaten before heading to the opera last night and so felt no obligation to hang around for egg rolls.

If you'd told Pat, Henry, Richard or Mao that one day, their meeting would be the subject of an opera (Nixon In China), they might have called the whole thing off. I'm more a fan of saying "I have season tickets" than of any modern opera I've seen and this production did nothing to change my mind.

Don't get me wrong, I thought it charming that a number of audience members wore red as though to match the stage and the music was brilliant and insistent although not incredibly operatic. Straw hats off to you John Adams. As much as I enjoyed the music, it seemed at war with the performers who had a tough time singing the required 2 or 3 metaphors a minute at us.

Also in competition for my attention were the twelve television sets on stage broadcasting variations of actual footage from Nixon's trip to China while the performers were put through their paces. Throw in a somewhat out of sync and rather lengthy Tai Chi demonstration by the chorus and all I could think about was when I first saw the name Mao Tse Tung in (news)print as a child, I thought it was probably pronounced Mayo TeeSee Tongue.

I didn't feel too much like a crook leaving at halftime but wish I'd stayed long enough to see if the Intermission clocked in at eighteen and a half minutes.

Next week is "The Magic Flute" which I think is a porn so that ought to be awesome!

Master of Fine Catalogue Arts

2011-01-02T08:54:00.000-05:00

Anyone who has ever ordered something from an organization that produces a catalogue most likely shares my affliction, that being a surfeit of other catalogues arriving through the mail with alarming regularity.

After buying Christmas cards through The Metropolitan Museum of Art store site a few years ago, I began receiving their catalogue. Some time after that, catalogues from other groups began gracing my doorstep with their ~~presents~~ presence.

My exhaustive page flipping research shows Hammacher Schlemmer has the market cornered on gadgets while National Geographic is a great place for interesting gift ideas but no other catalogue provides the Huh? factor for me more than Winter Silks does.

This fine company sells clothing for men and women made entirely of silk and they're serious about it! They offer a Silk Quarterly newsletter and even give you the opportunity to send in your own Silk Story, most of which I imagine begin with I never thought this would happen to me but...

My recycling bin often gets fed without me ever opening the publication (after careful removal of my address information lest anyone think I've ordered silk long johns) but once in a while I'll page through just to make sure everyone inside is still unnaturally happy in their silks.

A few issues ago, I happened upon an offering that made me laugh so hard it prompted me to finally figure out how the scanning function works on my printer.

Please note the type above the left shoulder of this Silk georgette flyaway tunic and Happy Ordering men and women!

I Wonder What Tom Waits' Christmas Cards Look Like?

2010-12-30T13:36:00.002-05:00

So this is blogging, and what have you done? Well, what I've done is made a pact with Beth that we'd both post something by January 15, 2011. Here goes nothing, or at least, very little!

The sadness I feel over my annual Christmas card judgery coming to an end is tempered with the satisfaction of having added a couple of new categories this time around.

Being a fan of traditions I approve of, it's nice to see my brother continuing to stand at the top of the Cheapest Card category, something the cards he sends have trouble doing. The paper stock they're on has a sturdiness that allows the card to bow to you as you help it to its feet but sadly, not to stand back up. Sealing his win is the Costanza-grade glue that makes the near translucent envelope it comes in virtually impenetrable. Well done brother!

One of the newly inaugurated categories is Smallest Card, created in honour of one of my sisters. The card she sent, while lovely, is small enough to qualify as a gift tag. I have the feeling someone at her house this year got a present with a very large 'tag' on it!

In previous years, I discounted the worth of photo cards. While they tend to stand up better than my brother's, most people's kids just aren't as cute as their parents think they are. My opinion was swayed however after receiving cards from my niece and nephew.

My niece's daughter beams in her close up head shot, eyes wide and sparkling and tongue casually lolling at the side of her mouth - now that's a photo card! My nephew's son beams adorably from each of the many shots making up a montage of the places he's visited and lived this past year. It's simply too close to call Best Photo Card although they should be happy they're even in a category, right? There might have been a tiebreaker if only a third photo card from a friend hadn't ended up in the Latest Received category (I got it today!). Since it's already a winner and a loser, it's out of the running.

As for me, I'm glad my own cards were sent fairly early this year because my fingers are practically numb from playing so much Flight Control. If this keeps up, next year I'll be designing my own foot and mouth painted cards. Watch your mail!

Until then, Happy New Year!

Can I Get A Witness

2010-09-20T10:50:00.002-04:00

Audio Version: http://passiondale.podomatic.com/entry/2010-09-20T07_40_01-07_00

There's an excellent documentary about Frank Lloyd Wright by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick I'd seen on PBS, but experiencing genius up close adds dimension and wonder that film can't always capture. Our plan for the weekend was to see Mr. Wright's Fallingwater house in Mill Run, Pennsylvania.

Our seven or so hour road trip began as every journey into America seems to, with an interrogation of the sort that tells you the border guard has a little to prove but not enough to pull you over and ask for answers to the questions on the glove test. From there, a quick stop at Premier Liquor and the four of us were ready to drink in the landscape and a few other things, though not of course, while driving. A near constant downpour accompanied us trying its best to thwart, but was no match for hearts (and wallets) ready to be lightened at the outlet shopping mecca of Grove City. It stopped raining long enough for us to find a few bargains in the mist and rejoined us as we continued our drive.

The rainy overnight stay in Mt. Pleasant found us feeling smug over the foresight of earlier collecting more than enough wine. We drank up as we dried out and after ordering food in to the hotel, we went to sleep happy. The following morning, after making friends with the cordial breakfast room employees, we headed for Mill Run.

In visiting Fallingwater, I more expected to remove something from my list of things to do rather than add to it but when life throws you beauty, sometimes the list gets rearranged. It was a breathtaking and emotional experience seeing the house so beautifully integrated into its surroundings in what seemed like more than three dimensions. I can now say I'd love to visit it again in other seasons, lighting and weather conditions. I was bowled over at getting to see such a magnificent dream brought to life.

After marveling all we could, we continued on to Lancaster and Amish country. While I'd expected to see buggies containing Amish passengers alongside the road, I didn't expect to see the rogue Amish - girls on rollerblades, women leading their children on bicycles across busy highways or the shy smiles and hellos offered as we passed them on the sidewalks in town.

While I'd threatened to steal the souls of the Amish with my camera, I was too busy to take many photographs being struck at how fresh faced and scrubbed clean they seemed. As I bought ice cream and souvenirs from them, I'm sure the curiosity was reciprocal. Among the things I did take away was the thought that I could never rock the bowl haircut as a kid the way some of these children managed.

After another day of exploring, shopping, having the Plain and Fancy restaurant experience and getting ferhoodled, we started our journey back. Being the time of year it is, we passed many pockets of beauty as the leaves on the trees boldly flashed their best come hither before I fall looks.

We were waved through customs even with our declarations of being over our spending allowances and liquor allotments and ended a lovely long weekend in a traffic jam which I took as a sign we should slow down and reflect back on the wonderful weekend it was. Not everyone felt like this judging by the swearing in the car but soon subsided as the jam cleared and we arrived safely home with fresh souls, our own.

Freakz n the Hood

2010-07-28T10:46:00.002-04:00

I haven't done an audio blog post in a while and on checking, while GCast still hosts already recorded posts, they no longer allow new recordings. Gee GCast, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you at the end.

After researching for several minutes, I decided to give PodOmatic a try and while the process seemed easy, figuring out how to post to Facebook or my blog's sidebar is still a bit of a mystery.

This link should help you follow the sound of my voice: Freakz n the Hood

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Podomatic for the people baby!

Dale Shrugged

2010-07-24T11:03:00.000-04:00

Exploring a new neighbourhood satisfies me that there's poetry everywhere.

There's a store around the corner called Knitter's Attic, open 7 days a week no less! Despite the name, it is of course, a single storey dwelling. One of their window displays does show they're progressive enough to have solved the noisy child problem quite well and possibly permanently.

Although I haven't thought much about him lately, I'm glad to know someone in the area is providing updates on Atlas' doings in the back window of their van.

Seeing this assured my journey around the building to see if there were more clues about Atlas. The storefront sign was obscured by too many trees to take a decent photograph but I can honestly report that the signpost up ahead reads: Atlas Pood Drapery. Talk about a fibre-filled colon blowing statement!

Welcome to the jungle people.

Some Guy Turns Out To Not Just Be Some Guy!

2010-07-17T07:36:00.002-04:00

There was a time when my world fairly revolved around blogging. There was a great camaraderie in writing and visiting with everyone to start, end or middle the day with. Then the great recession of blogging hit and I wondered if I'd ever find my way back.

Having recently made the plunge into the terrifying world of Facebook, those halycon blogging days came rushing back when I started bumping into walls and great people I hadn't seen in a while. When I saw that over at Some Guy's Blog, Chris had been busy putting on a world class retrospective of the folks on his blogroll, it warmed my cockles.

Well, you can't just plunk down a whole bunch of words that make sense like that without inspiring a bit of return to sender love can you?

I first recall Chris springing into my consciousness around the time of the Little Miss Sunshine Online Pageant which made us all laugh, cringe and laugh some more. His excellent school days photo instantly made me jealous, I hate cute kids!

Thereafter, I was wowed by his wry and self deprecating humour and realized his blog was a bit like a playground you never want to leave. He had scheme hatching proposals, commentary on a variety of topics, videos, and his love of a good laugh all on display.

Any time I wonder if a documentary is worthwhile, I can have a look around his place and chances are, he's seen it and reviewed it. Chris' blog is a great example of how funny, irreverent, creative some guys can be and occasionally, there are posts involving farts!

Need I say more? Only a little. Some Guy? You should really think about renaming your blog Quite A Guy! From me and all your pals at HeeHaw - Sah-lute!

Twist and Shout

2010-07-12T12:02:00.005-04:00

Since moving house, I've adjusted to most of the morning sounds that compete for my wandering attention as I sit in the backyard.

Birds chirp on their way past while squirrels rustle through walnut trees. Traffic hum and a tucked away air conditioning unit barely register. It's quiet here with me.

As quickly as peace sets in, war breaks out. Rat-a-tat-tat shrieking bursts from the windows next door as an Indian lady ensures the future hearing loss of her children and husband.

My only release is in the sound of the cap as it twists from a bottle of beer. By the four arms of Vishnu, it must be noon somewhere.

Come On Get Appy

2010-06-08T07:36:00.005-04:00

I keep getting anonymous comments like this:

老婆的電話愈來愈少

I'm hoping these aren't the suicide notes of the people who made my iPhone because I don't know if there's an app for that.

Better Living Through Chemistry

2010-05-25T08:34:00.003-04:00

Each time I stir sugar into my coffee*, the words suspended particulate sound in my brain. All thanks go to my Grade 10 chemistry teacher who clearly had an impact.

He also gave me the questions to several Jeopardy answers featuring the Periodic Table of Elements. I believe Merv Griffin created both the show and the Table.

*In this example, sugar = sugar and coffee = coffee

Sneer and Spell

2010-05-17T19:53:00.007-04:00

Ever since being called pretty competent by my boss, I've strived to be as much as I can be without straining anything.

Today while participating in some work sponsored ~~reprogramming~~ training, we were herded into groups of three to play reindeer games and asked to flip chart our responses.

Our first task was to each write a word on the chart expressing how we felt about some looming changes to our work methods.

I wrote the word anxious and handed the marker to one of my compatriots. He started to write something and stopped. I want to write apprehensive but I don't know how to spell it he said. It's with two pees I told him. He stammered, but I don't know what comes after that and so I spelled the rest of it for him.

I was sure this would be the saddest thing that happened to me all day until the other gentle mental giant took marker in hand and meekly asked Do you know how to spell cautious?

Why Do The Wrong People Travel?

2010-04-20T08:53:00.005-04:00

When I travel, I like to know what sights I’ll be seeing, how safe the place is, whether there are any unusual laws or customs I need to be aware of, what the weather’s like and so on.

While most wouldn’t factor in the likelihood of a volcanic eruption leading to “Europe’s Closed” announcements, I think I’d handle it in a 5 step process:

1. Be annoyed.
2. Be more annoyed.
3. Feel sorry for myself.
4. Wonder why 2012 used to seem so far away.
5. Arrange another way home.

Today in the newspaper, there was an article about how Canadians stranded in Europe have been chastising the government here for not doing more to rescue them. These folks may well be related to the morons who travel directly into hurricane season because it’s a bargain and then cry when they get stranded railing away at the gubmint for not doing more. You’re all wet people, wet and stupid. Or as in the current group of strandees - ashy, ashy and stupid.

While I’m at it, if you’re a hapless snowmobiler who falls through the ice and drowns, my heart goes out to your families but otherwise it’s “See you in the spring!” I’m tired of paying taxes to have massive and costly recovery efforts pull your dumb dead asses out of the water.

I understand that not everyone can immediately round up the resources to extract themselves from unexpected situations. With diplomacy I ask that you follow me in looking at the bright side: being homeless in Europe is way sexier than being homeless in Canada.

The New Adventures of Old Dale

2010-04-10T09:31:00.008-04:00

Recently at the airport, I fell under scrutiny like never before. I'm generally a polite fellow, asking how the customs officer is and then waiting to answer the few questions they may or may not muster. This process is typically pain free and lasts a minute or less.

This time, a rather heavy lidded lummox had other plans for me. He took my passport, asked where I was going and began staring intently at my photo and then back at me. He did this several times. I felt perhaps he needed my assistance. "That photo's nearly 5 years old, I have a different haircut now" I offered with a wan smile. This had no impact.

I began to shift in place hoping I wasn't about to learn the answers to the very intimate questions on the glove test. Another minute or two went by and the officer pulled out a magnifying glass complete with a light and went back to examining my photo.

"Everything matches except in one place" he said. "There's a blemish on the left side of your lip in the photo that's not on your face. Have you had some sort of surgery?" "No" I answered. "Any kind of dermatological work done?" "No" "Well, look, here's the blemish". "Um, I don't see a blemish".

He took out a pair of glasses and went back to my photo. He then called a colleague over to discuss my face. Thankfully, the other officer was more intrigued by the magnifying glass than anything else. "That standard issue?" "Yes it is! You just have to ask for it, I need it because I'm blind as a bat!" "I'm gonna get me one then!". While they continued to marvel, my passport got stamped and I was waved on my way. The whole thing set me back about 8 minutes which isn't long in the grand scheme but far too long when a blind guy is trying to examine your face.

This brings me to another bit of horror. My passport is ready to be renewed. For the last 10 years, I've been the far too proud owner of two of the finest passport photos ever taken. Don't believe me? Hearken back for a look. The genius photographer made me look far better than I ever have in person. The problem? He's gone from his former location with no forwarding address and no listing for him in print or the real world of the internet!

I fear it shall come to pass that I will join the ranks of those with less than satisfactory passport photos. My Sarkis, my Sarkis, why have you abandoned me?

I will offer a reward should anyone locate him. The reward may or may not involve bad photocopies of good photographs.

I'm Not A Haitir

2010-01-23T05:25:00.006-05:00

Seeing Stevie Wonder manning the phones on the Haiti telethon last night made me realize how lucky I am. I have a pen, he didn't.

August in December (Sunrise Sunset Edition)

2009-12-24T10:47:00.008-05:00

I recently had an experience that almost drove the horror of having to hear Pierce Brosnan try to sing in Mamma Mia from my mind. I got to hear someone who sounds like Donald Duck sing for nearly three solid hours. Yay me!

Fiddler on the Roof is in town and when it was first announced, the brilliant Topol was set to reprise his signature role. I snapped up tickets and then was saddened when he had to bow out due to an injury. His replacement was the acclaimed Harvey Fierstein. As someone blessed with the gift of hearing, I'm here to tell you Harvey cannot and should not sing. Check this link out at the 1:50 mark and then get back to me. He's the one in the red dress.

It'd be hard to find fault with 'Fiddler' even it had been put on by Miss Thistletwat's third grade remedial class and this production had some truly lovely moments and great performances but please mister please - when it's a musical, hire a fecking singer and put a stop to the persecution!

A much more enthralling theatre experience I had recently was seeing the play August: Osage County - terrible name, brilliant play. The touring production features the exceptional Estelle Parsons chewing up and spitting out more scenery than anyone in my memory.

Everything about this show is on point from the crackling dialogue, the story and the fantastic cast. If I was ever to implore you and I do shy away from that sort of thing, it would be to go see this when it lands near you. I'll do a little of the work for you: check the tour schedule here: Have a look.

When I was headed to the theatre to see it (for the third time since they had cheap tickets available), I spied with my all seeing eye (the other one's only so-so for that sort of thing) Estelle walking up the street. I'm sure I scared her with my enthusiastic shouting that I loved her performance and the play. She thanked me and when I said I was back to see it a third time, she said WOW and hurried away with only a hint of fear trailing her.

In other news, it's the holidays! What are you doing here?! Ciao babies.

DFB

2009-09-29T22:20:00.009-04:00

Dearest Fine Bunch,

While I've made no specific plans to write or not write more, at the moment, I'm too lazy to keep my blog going.

Writing has always been difficult for me, just ask any poor sentence I've let languish for hours waiting for me to commit. The greater value and reward in doing it all has consistently come from you. Your take on my take has been enlightening, enriching and often hilariously dark.

As I continue on my dour but occasionally merry way, let me slow to say thank you for all that you've said, what you haven't and for being an excellent source of riboflavin!

To those I've met, thank you for proving brilliance on the blog page does translate to real life and to those I've yet to meet, here's hoping we can and you don't turn out to be a bigger ass than I am.

Love and more,

Dale

And I Will Send Hornets Before Thee

2009-09-18T14:15:00.006-04:00

Standing in one of the side by each lines waiting for the train a few days ago, I had nothing better to do than have a lazy look around at my fellow waiters.

In the line next to me but a couple of people ahead stood a woman minding her own business, headphones in, engrossed in her reading. With a bit of minor craning, I could see she was reading some sort of bible study material. For someone who claims to eschew all things religious (except for gospel music which I love), it seems I'm forever rubbing up against it.

I'd have quickly lost interest if a hornet buzzing around the platform (they're everywhere, including my last post) hadn't landed on the top of her hair. It walked around a little and settled at the back of her shoulder length hair as though it was home. She didn't notice and I wondered back to my etiquette classes trying to remember whether it was acceptable to swat the back of a stranger's head or not.

I considered tapping her on the shoulder to tell her about it but imagined her screaming and running away swatting wildly and me being convicted on the testimony of a pack of unreliable witnesses. I decided it was up to Jesus to take care of her considering she had his whole world in her hands.

Two other people also noticed the hornet in her hair and did about as much as I did. We were waiting to see how it all played out. I'm afraid poor Kitty Genovese wouldn't have gotten much help from our unholy trinity.

As the train pulled up and the doors opened, the hornet held his position and boarded with his hostess. As she sat down, her little passenger flew up the stairs to the upper deck of the car.

I cannot provide details on whether panic eventually ensued up there as I promptly drifted off to sleep, my keen disinterest intact. Forgive me Father, for apparently, I do not care.

This Is Not My Beautiful Dog

2009-09-12T12:53:00.002-04:00

September days seem better when they dress themselves up as July ones. The sky, like my head, is nearly empty of clouds and the bamboo flowering next to the deck hums like a last blast buffet for dozens of hornets.

My concentration is limited to wondering how many more Grolsch might be left in the ridiculously distant refrigerator and my back is to the human soup that is Honeypot's pool. A noise invites me to at least think of turning to it but I don't have to, I know what it is.

Over the past few weeks, Honeypot's oldest son has been assembling a frame and fixing a canopy over a freestanding carport in the driveway. His clanging and 'creating' brings to mind Tom Waits' What's He Building? but I decide no action is required until I hear screams or smell smoke.

Settling back to my beer, I ponder over a dream I had. I was on my way to meet Beth from A Cup of Coffey. I was walking in an unfamiliar city through drizzle and as I rounded the corner of a building as grey as the light, I spied David Byrne standing with a small dog. Next to him were many more haphazardly stacked cages with assorted small dogs inside. I knew he was waiting for Beth but unsure whether I wanted to make small talk, I considered turning around. He spotted me and I felt I should be polite and go over.

He explained that in order to meet Beth, you need to have a dog with you. As I puzzled over this and bent to look at some of the other dogs in cages, Mr. Byrne chirped on and on. I wondered if Beth would ever show up but before that could happen, my alarm clock rescued me.

Why am I using this time thinking about dreams? A small reserve of energy allows me mobility enough to retrieve the second to last beer and I settle back. The noise next door stops momentarily, the last cloud particles dissolve from sight and mind and I smile thinking this is one fine day.

I Don't Know How To Love Him / Her

2009-08-29T05:43:00.009-04:00

I'm not a religious man but when jesus (with a small 'j') gets in touch, you know the end of something is nigh.

Small 'j' left a comment on a blog post I did some time ago about a trip to Las Vegas I took. It included pictures of two men dressed like Elvis.

jesus said he recently came across my blog and had been reading along. He didn't know what to say except that he enjoyed reading and would keep visiting very often. Then he signed his name Margaret with a link to a site about World of Warcraft.

While Margaret may be an all-knowing God, I'm not convinced she's an all-reading God, I'm not even on her Blogs I Follow list for Christ's sake! It could be that she reads in mysterious ways or is simply reserving full judgment for another day.

Although I went to catechism or Sunday School until I was in Grade 10, my memory of how this all works is a bit shaky. I think I just need to deny Jesus access to my blog twice more and I get a bag of gold covered chocolate coins.

Dearest Blog

2009-07-08T17:24:00.007-04:00

Please forgive me if I've seemed inattentive.

You've been more than patient with me but I find less and less time available to chronicle the everyday ridiculousness that is my life and your blood of late.

Thank you for not being so tawdry as to imply there's some sort of unnatural electronic love taking up all my time. Hello my darling iPhone ;-)

For now I must sign off but rest assured, I'll check in on you and those who I dearly admire before long.

Who Wears The PantSuit?

2009-06-20T07:39:00.010-04:00

Recently my younger sister came to town to celebrate the outsourcing of her job after 18 years and to take in a few shows. We were lucky enough to get good seats for Carol Burnett's show at Massey Hall and even luckier to attend with a lovely lady in daringly sexy shoes. Here's a good interview with Carol in three parts done the night before the show.

As my sister decided that she still wants to be a working girl (not that kind!) and needed some new blazers, skirts and pants for job interviews, I agreed to go shopping with her somehow forgetting we both abhor the act.

We plundered through several stores with little result but were at least rewarded with a good laugh. In one fine establishment crawling with seasoned shoppers, my sister stood by nearly defeated as I took charge throwing various garments over my arm for her perusal.

After I was sufficiently loaded down, a shop girl (I hope this is an offensive term?) approached and asked me "Would you like me to start a dressing room for you?" Should I take it as a compliment that someone possibly thought at 6 feet tall and still with my winter weight on that I could fit into a women's size 4? We rode a wave of laughter into another store and finally found what she was looking for.

This weekend's plans include less daring pursuits. I think I'll watch the rain feed the garden and my cats catch up on their sleep. Did I forget to mention that I adopted a cat friend for Rizzo? Oops. His name is Nigel and they're getting along famously. Thank you for the excellent cat wrangling advice Coaster Punchman!

I'm fully aware that one more cat in the mix thrusts me into crazy cat lady territory but just think how stylish I'll be as they cart me away in that new pantsuit!

Have You Never Been Fallow?

2009-06-11T07:44:00.000-04:00

My adventures as a citizen of the world have been continuing as usual but I've been far too busy not writing them down to write them down.

Why just the other day, I received a compliment of the highest order and from a management type no less!

The exchange went something like this:

MT: How are things going?

Me: Pretty good.

MT: Everything’s alright with the job?

Me: Yep.

MT: You’re happy with all the changes to the job?

Me: Yes, I’m reasonably content.

MT: That’s good. You know, you don’t seem to complain much or have a lot of questions about how to do your job. You seem pretty competent.

Me: Is that going to be a problem?

Aaaaaand...scene.

If you were exposed to some of my colleagues, you’d understand immediately that the word competent is high praise indeed. Who knows what heights I'll hit now that I have that under my belt?

I Never Thought This Would Happen To Me

2009-05-18T04:14:00.001-04:00

While there are a slew of less than wonderful things that weigh and slow us on our paths, the universe occasionally presents a perfect moment to remind you that life is a gift.

This morning, I had the pleasure of seeing a squirrel fall out of the tree in my backyard and hit the lawn. This is living!

On The Skids

2009-05-16T07:36:00.008-04:00

My pal Vicky left me a message the other day and the call was coming from inside the sexy bastion of bulk known as Costco. While meandering through, she began to realize just how much being inside a Costco was like spending time (and money) at a casino.

There are no windows or clocks so you never know what time of day it is, the people wander about in varying stages of decay, some in their Sunday best while others favour buffet pants as they flirt with the food sample presenters. There are high stakes involved in figuring out which gamble will provide the biggest payout - the case of Vaseline Intensive Care or that sexy skid of hammers.

She kept me laughing for a good couple of minutes and I went back to work. Thankfully, a follow up message pulled me away from work again.

Having cut her losses after ponying up a couple of hundred bucks, she came to the realization that like a casino, at Costco 'the house always wins'.

The next time I need a 3 minute routine on anything, she'll be my first call. I hope she picks up.

True Life Adventures of an Amazon

2009-05-11T11:38:00.002-04:00

Anybody who's ever bought something from Amazon is likely to receive communiques from them with helpful suggestions for new purchases based on past purchases.

Sometimes, they hit the mark and let me know for instance, there's a new Chuck Palahniuk book out that I need, yay! Other times, I'm just left scratching my head for other reasons than that I have lice.

Some recent gems from my 'Inbox' that have given me extra lice:

We've noticed that customers who have purchased or rated The Vicar of Dibley have also purchased Killing Hitler on DVD.

We've noticed that customers who have purchased or rated books by T.S. Eliot have also purchased The Essential Dykes To Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel.

Rather than get too rankled about it, I'm going to call the dykes I do know and ask them to rise up against Hitler and keep Dawn French safe and warm. And then I'm going to shampoo.

She's Got Eggs

2009-05-10T06:24:00.007-04:00

I work in a fairly large office where people always seem to be talking about who's pregnant or who wants to be and the general benefits of avoiding work and being paid for it.

On occasion, I've heard people make the rather large mistake of asking "When are you due?!" to someone who has to tell them they're not pregnant and then it's horror all around.

I'm terrible at guessing games and so, avoid asking questions at all. I find it much much more direct to say "Wow, you're really packing on the weight!" and keep moving.

Everyone's Disappointing, The More You Get to Know Them

2009-05-03T12:20:00.008-04:00

I just finished watching an oddball film courtesy of the mind of Charlie Kaufman: Synecdoche, New York. I can't say that I'd recommend it but I will say it made me laugh in some unexpected places and scratch my head. It had a lot of quirk going for it but not enough to be completely satisfying.

One of my favourite parts was when the priest character had this to say:

Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you'll never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce.

And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but doesn't really.

And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope for something good to come along. Something to make you feel connected, to make you feel whole, to make you feel loved. And the truth is I'm so angry and the truth is I'm so fucking sad, and the truth is I've been so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long have been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own, and their own is too overwhelming to allow them to listen to or care about mine. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.

While perhaps designed to lead me to the razor's edge, it had quite the opposite effect. It made me smirk and realize how true it is that we all shuffle around when maybe we should be out picking up speed and trying new experiences on for size. You know by speed, I meant the drug right?

Do You Believe in Dog?

2009-04-29T17:39:00.003-04:00

Easter Sunday 2009, 5th Avenue

When I wasn't on the lookout for new pet photos, my New York agenda dictated that I cram three plays into two days and as much food into me as possible. I stuck the landing on both counts.

Since there's nobody left to investigate in Cabot Cove, I decided to see what Angela Lansbury was up to. It turns out she's been treading the boards in Noel Coward's Blithe Spirit, alongside Rupert Everett, Christine Ebersole, Jayne Atkinson and none other than Jerri Blank's mother! I feel lucky to have gotten to see this production and hear such crackling well written dialogue delivered with great comic timing by a bunch of pros.

My pre-show scan of the crowd for celebrity types paid off too. Looking past the plastic surgeried folk, I quickly spied MySpace and film icon Mr. Kirk Douglas (when you're that old, I call you Mister!) which was a treat. Sitting in the row ahead of me was Dan Ackroyd and his wife which also was pretty cool. My general rule is that I don't talk to or otherwise engage celebrities but I do enjoy staring until they become mildly uncomfortable.

The only celebrities at the next show I saw, God of Carnage, were up on stage - James Gandolfini, Marcia Gay Harden, Hope Davis and Jeff Daniels. All made memorable turns in the funniest show I've seen in my memory. In the play, two couples who don't know each other well get together to discuss their warring children. Things start with an air of civility that's quickly doffed in favour of a good old fashioned sandbox dustup complete with name calling and shifting allegiances.

Mary Stuart was the third play I took in and in an interesting casting tidbit, Janet McTeer was one of the stars of God of Carnage when it was in London (one of the many interesting facts learned from SOB). Ms. McTeer plays Mary, Queen of Scots to Harriet Walter's Elizabeth in a brilliant slice of revisionist history. Act Two opens with a rainstorm that seemed to excite everyone, the first time I can remember water drawing a round of applause. Perhaps ~~I don't~~ they don't get out much.

Not starring in the play but in her own drama in the audience was none other than Mr. Kathleen Turner (when you're that old, I call you Mister!). Prior to the start of the proceedings, she tossed her hair to and fro and looked around several times. Yes Miss Turner, we certainly do see you. At the curtain call, she was the first to spring up from her seat and wildly applaud, again turning so we could all see she had been moved to tears. Yes Miss Turner, you love the legitimate thea-tah and are unemployed, we get it.

In all, the shows were great and I only wish I'd had more time to see a few more.

Next up it's back to the opera and rocking out with Metallica.

The Completely Bearable Lightness of a Parade of Unusual Beings

2009-04-19T08:11:00.012-04:00

Last weekend, I zipped into New York City with John to take in a few shows and generally augment my cultural needs. At the American Folk Art Museum I found myself nearly as intrigued with the people milling about as the exhibits.

While taking in the weather vanes shaped like cars, furniture shaped like people and other items of many manners, my thoughts were several times interrupted by an earnest father imploring his 5 year old son to marvel at the kaleidoscope quilts and wood inlay techniques.

As he went on about the significance of various art pieces, his son dutifully murmured "mm hm" until he found something that really spoke to him. He nearly leapt with exclamation at one of his own finds, "Wow! Look at this Dad!! What are these?!". The dismissive reply "Those are light switches son, we're not here to look at those" became one of the most satisfying exchanges I'd overheard in some time. You can't hurry love and you can't force someone to get excited about tchotchkes they're not ready for.

Most of my time was spent admiring two displays of unusual works by Martin Ramirez and Henry Darger, men with histories as intriguing as their art.

Mr. Ramirez, a Mexican immigrant who spoke no English came to the United States looking for work and instead found himself institutionalized having been labelled a schizophrenic. Once there, he began creating drawings in earnest using whatever was at hand (cigarette papers joined together, lined paper, brown paper bags) and the result was hundreds of rather mesmerizing pictures of tunnels, horseback riders and Mexican themed scenes.

Taking in the large paintings of Henry Darger at close hand was a fascinating and mystifying experience. The context provided was that Henry Darger had been a janitor by trade and a recluse whose work was discovered only at the end of his life. Among his belongings was found a 15,000 page novel he wrote illustrated with fantastical paintings, many over 10 feet long, journals, his life story and 10 years of daily weather journals. On display with his paintings at the museum was one of the large volumes of his novel. The documentary on sale at the museum begged to be bought and so it was.

When I got home, I searched on my favourite documentary loving blogger's site and Chris had indeed written about the film In The Realms of the Unreal. Yesterday I watched it (trailer here) and for the first time really considered art in a different way and why and how it's created at all.

My conclusive thought on seeing these exhibits, the film and my general life philosophy remains that there is nothing better, worse, stranger or more interesting than people.

Next up on Passion of the Dale: dogs in bowler hats and celebrity sightings.

Happy Easter Peeps!

2009-04-09T10:43:00.008-04:00

This is likely the only time of year I could get away with saying 'peeps'. At all other times, I'm simply far too white (or yellow) to make it sound right.

In other news, someone's been at my computer a lot lately and also reading my email. See Figure A.

Figure A

Rizzo's other pastimes include watching Chelsea Lately and waiting for the Wii Connection to provide all of life's answers. See Figure B.

Figure B

One more time: Happy Easter Peeps!

Personal Jesus - Get Your Own

2009-04-01T08:00:00.005-04:00

For a doughnut described as ‘Key Lime cake donut dipped in vanilla fondant and topped with a key lime streusel’, I have to say it was fairly unspectacular. It was free however, courtesy of the Roll Up The Rim To Win contest. I’m a winner!

In less spectacular news, my faith in the Missed Connections presented by Craigslist is shattered. My friend got an email over the weekend from the guy who started the search for her. It sounded as though he was breaking off a long engagement rather than mulling over having a coffee. He went on at length about having done a lot of soul searching and thinking about his priorities and basically, he felt it was time for him to focus on other things.

My guess is that he really needs to focus on his wife and kids and compose ads that are less likely to be answered.

Amid all this sadness, there is hope – only 12 more sleeps until I can bite the ears off of my chocolate Jesus!

Matchmaker Matchmaker

2009-03-27T17:32:00.009-04:00

We have two free daily newspapers here which are a slight and perfect capsule for people who don't need in-depth analysis of just how shitty life is. I usually read one of them on the way to work but today had a look at the other I usually don't bother with.

A few days ago, a friend of mine at work had to go to court about a traffic ticket. She spent some time chatting with a man there for the same reason and they commiserated, shared strategies for talking down their charges and made fun of the other courthouse denizens.

She was able to get her case thrown out as the police officer who wrote the ticket didn't show up, there is a new Key Lime doughnut on offer at Tim Hortons after all. She waved good-bye to her court chum and sped back to work and related her story to me mentioning how nice this guy seemed.

Today, I noticed that the newspaper I don't usually bother with has a column for Missed Connections from the 'Best of Craigslist'. I read it and it was from a guy saying he wished he'd had time to give a girl he sat with in traffic court his business card but she left after her case was dismissed.

I showed this to my friend at work and we looked up the actual ad on Craigslist and she e-mailed the author to ask what day they were in court. He gave her the date, time and place along with a full and accurate description of what she was wearing and looked like.

My guess now is that I'll either be giving a toast at her wedding or testifying after he turns out to be a creep. Either way, key lime doughnuts!

See and Smell - An Audio Post

2009-03-13T09:54:00.007-04:00

I felt it was time to push that Spirograph image down the page a little and so, without further ado, it's time once again on Passion of the Dale to suffer through another audio post with me.

Click the play button on my sidebar GCast player to give it a go! At 52 seconds or so, you ~~probably~~ won't be sorry.

Big Wheel Keep On Turnin'

2009-03-06T11:26:00.004-05:00

A few days and a few degrees make a big difference! There’s nary a penguin in sight and the slight crackling sound I hear is the icebreaker trawling through my brain looking for signs of activity.

While I’m not known for my self-awareness (I usually don’t know it about me until someone tells me), it’s a trait I definitely applaud in others.

To the young lady locking up her bicycle to the rack outside my office – I salute you. It’s not just anyone who can sit proudly atop a seat as unforgiving as the one on a bike while a small handwritten sign hangs beneath the proceedings with one simple word: FATSO.

After I chuckled to myself, I wondered about why it was there because she wasn't really fat. Was this just a type of rotational motivation or was she trying to illustrate the meaning of this Walt Whitman quote to me?

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Do and Be Done With Me

2009-03-03T08:52:00.005-05:00

With weather this cold, shouldn't I at least have a penguin egg to nurture?

Musical Crayons

2009-02-25T08:12:00.005-05:00

Getting to participate in one of Splotchy’s Green Monkey Music Project mixes is always a treat. Being involved causes me to think which is something I’m not often accused of doing. This time, without realizing it (or thinking), I played for the third time helping me earn a badge of honour which will allow me to dream up a worthy theme for a mix at a future date.

My choices this time had to fit the theme that there be a colour in the title of the song. Following the rules of Scattergories (and thinking), I tried to come up with songs that most likely nobody else would, a task made easier by not signing on until everyone else had chosen theirs.

A few of my choices ended up with colours in the song title and the artist’s name so thank you for that, artist types. After poring back over the palette I chose, this is why I made the choices I did:

I like these songs and they have colours in the title.

To download my selections or those of the other contributors, head over to Splotchy’s place and get busy.

· Once in a Very Blue Moon - Mary Black
· Beautiful Red Dress - Laurie Anderson
· Crimson and Clover - Joan Jett & the Blackhearts
· Orangedale Whistle - The Rankin Family
· The Song of Purple Summer - Lauren Pritchard
· Green Island Lullaby - Vienna Teng
· Pink Panther Theme - Pink Martini

Terminal (Work) Station

2009-02-24T21:33:00.006-05:00

It starts with a low rumble in the distance. Soon after, water ripples in the glass on my desk. A strange odour, louder sounds, footfalls.

Whew and phew! It's only the I.T. guy with the T. Rex arms and prehistoric smell here to check my computer.

Six 6 Six

2009-02-21T07:29:00.008-05:00

When a Princess asks you to do her bidding, you do what you must to get into the royal will. She asked me to post on six quirks, facts or things about myself. Being the most conservative looking kind of rebel you've ever seen, I refuse to post 'rules'. It's six things, you'll figure it out.

In some particular order:

5. I can't dance. At all. Unless I'm drunk. But I don't really drink. If I drank more, I'd pretend that I wouldn't want to join Coaster Punchman as he learns country and western dancing and instead, lead a big Bollywood style production number. Watch for me coming to an Indian slum near you!

6. While I may not be much of a drinker, I can still drink you under the table. It's in my genes coming as I do from a long line of marathon drinkers.

1. It took me a long time to come up with just the right name for my cat. 'Rizzo' suits her perfectly. Now, I rarely call her by the name I anguished over. If it pops into my head when I see her, that's what she gets. Latest monikers include Bunny Kardashian and Kitty Kitty Dum Dum. The 'b' in dumb is left off to preserve her dignity.

3. Making seat friends (or single serving friends) leads to satisfying relationships. Whenever I go to an opera or theatre event, I generally end up chatting with someone seated nearby who I don't know. A laugh or opinion about whatever is playing is exchanged, we smile at each other and I never have to see them again. No muss, no fuss.

4. For someone who spends a fair bit of time on the Internet I generally leave it to others to find fascinating, funny or amazing items for me to view. 'My latest find' (thank you cousin Jessica) is Fail Blog. Hilarious.

2. I am going into sugar withdrawal. Despair arrived but the fudge didn't. My mother got the parcel she tried to send me back a second time and is now embroiled in a war with Canada Post. They don't want to refund her the hefty postage she paid to try and send it to me (fudge is heavy!) but my money's on mom. By the end of it, she'll have free stamps for life.

I'm supposed to tag people to play but since I don't touch anyone before donning a HazMat suit, I'll just invite them to give it a go this way:

Naked From The Waist Down

What'sHerName

Kenny Gs Other Brother

Creator of Radloffian Theory

and the rest.

Escape From Big Rock Candy Mountain

2009-02-15T08:07:00.006-05:00

The blog card is on its merry way back to America proper but I have big hopes that afterward, it'll do a grand criss cross of Canada once more. We've only just begun (what someone else begun)!

Still no sign of my mother's fudge but if it ever does show up, my plans now include laboratory testing before an official tasting. My family hasn't been this interested in me in years so it's true I suppose that sugar really can bring people together.

In keeping with the sugar theme, may I present my new favourite snack...the cheesecake covered candy apple courtesy of Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. Mmm mmm good!

If you don't hear from me for a while, I'm changing my excuse from good old fashioned laziness to sugar shock.

To weigh in on my hopes and dreams for American Idol this season (don't worry, they're not legion), you can check here.

Oh, The Places You'll Go!

2009-02-10T12:07:00.040-05:00

My fudge still hasn't arrived but I've no time to worry about that because something pretty spectacular showed up in today's post and it's been distracting me all day.

A while back, Jen from Casual Slack and Amy from Mish Mash came up with a game of blog tag but of the sort that requires you to go postal.

Amy's original card to Jen is a masterpiece nearly defying description. It's now been seen in person by several bloggers, each who has added their own touches to it. The card's been on tour through America and recently spent time in Scotland and Australia and it's now made it to the Great White North and into my grubby Canadian hands.

If you'd like to be the next recipient of this work of art in progress, leave me a comment and I'll add something to it and it'll be on the next leg of the journey.

The present incarnation of the card looks a little something like this.

The original card from Amy to Jen with additions by Jen, Chris and Miss Alex

Teri's postcard

Chris and Skyler!

Another lovely pussy card!

Nobody added a note and the back of the card is by Midleah

Sushiboy's card with nutritional and hilarious snack on the back, additional message from Sans Pantaloons inside

Sans shows off his hypnotic eyes, rhyming prowess and ripped bod. Additional message inside by Scarlet (turn monitor upside down to read) and some hilarious card back antics from Sans

Some lovely scenes of Australia courtesy of Scarlet and family and a message on the back, have a look at the upper left corner of that postcard- yikes!

The paint's almost dry on my addition to things but first let me recap Jen and Amy's official rules:

Official rules & regulations:

• When You Get "The Card"post a photograph/scan of it's arrival & contents
• Ask readers to leave a comment if they want the card next
• Pick the blogger who is worthy
• THEN add your name / url plus a nice message or creative addition to the card
• Include a copy of the official rules with the card
• Send it on it's way to the next worthy recipient
• Send it out fast..
- no putting it on the mantle an admiring it for 3 weeks...
• Can a blogger who has already received the card - be sent the card again? - Yes!
• What if there is no room left on the card? -ADD A NEW PAGE - IT'S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE!

So? Any takers? You know you waaaant it...

And Piles of Snow Before I Sleep

2009-02-04T21:46:00.021-05:00

It falls like snow at this time of year that many of us are stuck on the weather and my disappointment flows at finding myself outdoors at all so far ahead of a kinder season. Not everyone is held hostage by the inconvenience of winter however; my neighbour Honeypot, like the mail, generally manages to get delivered.

Her new man has wheels and big ones! He courteously parks them on the far side of her lawn each night so as not to pull focus from the lonely car still for sale on the corner of her estate closest to my house.

A few evenings ago, I was nearing my driveway when I spied a small Bobcat tractor crunching along the street toward me. As it got closer, seated in the tiny cab I spied Honeypot, bundled up like the Michelin man clinging to her new fella. He deposited her at the front door and this enchanting vignette ended with a frosty kiss before he headed back out, presumably to search for other souls in need of a man with a machine. It's tough to say if the bigger growl came from them, me, or the tractor.

I might have been happier at the end of this day had there been any mail. My mother had called the week previous to say she'd sent me some of her homemade maple fudge. The usual protocol after receiving it is for me to call, say how good it is, listen to her warn me not to eat it all at once and for me to pretend this hasn't already happened.

Depending on the motivation of the post office, packages usually arrive from the other side of the country within 2 to 4 days. By day 6 when there was no sign of my sugary treat, I declared the letter carrier a thief and hoped he was suffering at the hands of his dentist. On day 8, my mother called and ranted about what the post office could possibly have done with it. On day 9, she got her answer. She got the package back in her mailbox.

When addressing mail to someone, the importance of including the actual address should not be underestimated. Thankfully, she got my name right and did put the number of the house on it but didn't bother to write in the street name. The post office clerk who helped her readdress it was kind enough to not laugh directly at her and sent it back to me at no additional charge.

If this fudge ever gets here, I may well need help lifting my stale gift. I plan to enquire about how much Honeypot's man charges, minus the kiss.

Van Pelted

2009-01-29T08:06:00.013-05:00

A colleague who sits across from me wanted to make light of the fact that a lot of people had been stopping by his desk to chat, gossip or ask for advice. He settled on putting up a sign that read

"The psychiatrist is in - 5 cents".

The problem with his sign was that it actually read

“The physiciatrist is in - 5 cents".

The sign I placed underneath it constitutes a good deed in my humble estimation. It reads

"The spelling bee champion is next door - no charge".

Lost Generation

2009-01-28T18:13:00.007-05:00

The second place winner from a YouTube contest called "U@50". The best 1:44 I've spent in a while.

Green Monkey Number Crunching

2009-01-22T20:04:00.009-05:00

Splotchy's done it again! His epic Green Monkey Music Project is back for Volume no. 14. You can read about it and then download here.

The name of this mix was NUMB3R5! and the theme asked for songs with a number in the title. I was happy to play along but realized too late that if I'd submitted 6060-842 by The B-52s, I would have scored with the song and the artist having numbers in the name. No matter. My choices and explanations are as follows:

2:19 by Tom Waits - This song is featured on the Orphans release and the time in the title refers to the train Tom's baby's leaving on and not the running time of the song. Thankfully, this leaves plenty of time to take in all the arresting sounds Mr. Waits likes to paint with.

40,000 Years B.C. by Gyan - While on a quest to figure out where Jane Siberry had been hiding (she's now called Issa), she was nice enough to introduce me through her website to this Australian singer/songwriter. I love the haunting drawn out sound of her vocals and the accompanying music which clocks in a little shy of 40,000 years.

96 Tears by The Stranglers - This is a fantastic and driving remake of the classic by ? and the Mysterians. Sometimes strangulation's just the thing a song needs.

25 Minutes To Go by Johnny Cash - Whether it's gallows humour or a man singing his own countdown to the gallows, I'm there. A minor Cash classic.

10 Fingers 11 Toes by The Ponys - If I had a garage, I'd ask The Ponys to play in it, providing they like a nice game of Rummoli. This is a fun and noisy little number that reminds me that I grew up next door to a family where the dad had 11 fingers and 10 toes. I'm not sure why but he ended up taking his own life.

5 and 1/2 Minute Hallway by Poe - This is the strangest song until you read Poe's brother's novel House of Leaves and then it makes more sense but still stays pretty strange. I love the whole album this is from.

And there you have it, download, enjoy, or not, and thank Splotchy!

Swap Meet

2009-01-20T22:56:00.005-05:00

Robin Williams and Bono could switch places and very few people would notice. This is what I believe.

The Blog With Something Extra

2009-01-17T07:37:00.016-05:00

While I don't wish ill on (almost) anyone, it doesn't much bother me that Sally Field has osteoporosis. I blame her for changing my life decades ago although she probably wouldn't want to talk about that in a series of television ads for big cash.

No, I was not a teenaged Gidget and I've never stood on a table holding ~~anything other than my~~ a UNION sign. I've never broken down while proclaiming "...Right now you like me" (at least in public) and though I have many personalities, without a diagnosis, I'll stick with Dale rather than Sybil.

During the 1970s, the subject of Extra Sensory Perception (ESP) seemed to be on everyone's minds and a topic of some fascination in the media. Some might say it began at birth but things really began to unravel for me in 1973 when a series called 'The Girl With Something Extra' began airing on television starring Sally Field as a housewife with ESP. It may have been billed as a comedy but after watching only a few minutes of it, things didn't seem so funny.

While I can't imagine there was much of anything nefarious going on in my tender 9 year old brain, I became suspicious that perhaps some people could actually read minds and I began taking precautions in earnest in case they were scanning me.

If ever someone held my stare longer than I felt comfortable with, my first line of defense was to launch into a silent but simple cloud of noise comprised of la la la la la la las which rang through my head for as long as it took to change the subject I'd been pondering before the intrusion. When someone insisted on remaining in my orbit and actually engaging me, I sometimes went to a stage two higher alert involving more deliberate conversations with myself about the weather or the rising cost of popsicles. I made sure not to move my lips when I did this and eventually, things would clear enough for me to be able to carry on a conversation.

My suspicion that people were reading my mind lingered for years and even on occasion now, I feel the need to scramble my thoughts. Seeing through me is one thing but listening in on me? Unforgivable.

If you ever find yourself talking to me or at me and I seem momentarily distracted or otherwise engaged, try not to take it personally, it's not you, it's her.

Damn you Sally Field!

One Store Closes, Another One Opens

2009-01-12T09:34:00.002-05:00

It’s a new year and so with full heart and empty stomach, I decided it was time to settle the score with my old nemesis, the Korean Bagel Lady. There’s little that can’t be solved over a delicious BLT on a cheese bagel.

I was nearly blinded on approach by the high beam smiles of Mr. and Mrs. Korean Bagel Lady last week. How lovely I thought, they missed me (or at least my bagel and coffee revenues). I tried not to appear deflated as I learned the true source of their smiles – this was their last week in the building! It's no wonder they both looked as shiny as melted butter!

They’d decided to fold up shop, head for Panama (look out Canal!) for a couple of weeks vacation and then ease their way into retirement. I congratulated them on their news and they told me to be sure and return at the end of the week for a free bagel.

I did return but more in the hope of parting shots than a free bagel. KBL’s final conspiratorial warning was “be careful next week if you want bagel, new people I train not seem clean, I worry for customers”. I told her I doubted she’d be worried while she was on a beach and she cackled back “Yes, I worry only for the snowstorms you stuck in when I have no problem!” Mr. KBL chimed in with “I worry about having too much fun” as he made a motion like swinging a baseball bat. I asked “will you be playing baseball?” “No! It’s golf!” I told him I was worried too. We all shook hands and parted.

Under other circumstances, I might have felt sad but relief took its place knowing that I'd already found a replacement for KBL over the Christmas holidays. I went in to the convenience store (conveniently located) near my house to pick up a few things and the crotchety Asian counter lady there stole my heart.

I was in line behind a messy looking woman at the counter who was hemming and hawing over which of the multitude of scratch lottery tickets to buy. The Asian counter lady was regarding her with thinly veiled disgust while shaking her head and she waved me forward with my purchases.

As I came up to the counter beside her, the lottery lady turned and snorted at me ‘Hey! She’s serving me here, wait your turn’. The crotchety owner said to her “I don’t have time to wait for you!” and started ringing me up. This incensed the lotto lady. “I was about to buy a Bingo ticket honey but now I don’t know if I will!” The clerk said “Big deal, you take too long, get over it!” She turned back to me smiling as sweetly as she could and said “You have a nice day sir and Happy New Year!”. I smirked away from the counter while the lottery lady continued to rail on about convenience store protocol and turned in time to see my new heroine roll her eyes using her whole head.

I’m home again.

Tones on Dale

2009-01-08T18:22:00.005-05:00

Please tell me that ringtones will soon go the way of novelty neckties.*

*That one chick on the train who has Johnny Cash singing 'I fell into a burning ring of fire...' every time her phone rings can keep hers though, I like it.

She Knows If You've Been Bad or Good...

2008-12-24T08:15:00.005-05:00

...but she couldn't care less.

Happy Holidays to all who have stopped here and made me laugh, think, and laugh some more. May the ghosts of Christmases past be friendly, may your travel woes be few, and may the baby Jesus keep your turkeys moist.

Making Merry

2008-12-20T09:19:00.011-05:00

Shopping for Christmas gifts is daunting unless I front load the experience by buying something exquisite for myself. This year, I started my 'me shopping' early by getting tickets to An Evening With David Sedaris at Massey Hall.

Mr. Sedaris was in fine form reading stories old and new, some with a Christmas theme and one with a local connection. He continued on with selections from his diaries and then had the lights turned up and hosted a lively Q & A session with the audience.

Hearing one of your favourite authors bring his stories to life is not an experience to be underestimated. If you need proof, track down a copy of his audio recording Live from Carnegie Hall. It's a rare gift to hear experiences unusual or even mundane filtered through a critical eye to the place where you feel both the humour and the heart of the situation.

I was distracted briefly when he began speaking about encounters with his fans and in particular a flight attendant who told him that sometimes for fun while cleaning the cabin, they hold open a garbage bag to passengers and say "You're trash" or "Your family's trash" to amuse themselves. The distraction was borne of recognition of a flight I took and mentioned here. Have a look at the last line.

At the end of his hour and a half presentation, David did what he regularly does on his book tours and invited those with further questions, comments or just wanting a book signed to join him in the lounge downstairs. I'd forgotten the book I'd brought and so went into the night with a smile and adding another item to my growing list of dreams come true.

Merry Christmas to me and to you David Sedaris!

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2008-12-13T06:44:00.006-05:00

It's easy to spot people with Christmas spirit - some wear holiday sweaters, others smile at you for no reason, another might let you ahead of them in the grocery store line, but there's always one special person who really drives it home.

When you're in control of an SUV filled with children, have taken the time to attach a wreath to your front grill, nearly run me over in an intersection and then give me the finger, well, you win!

The Call is Coming From Inside the House!

2008-12-08T17:44:00.012-05:00

A few nights ago, while I lay dozing under a warm blanket of potato chip crumbs in front of the television, I kept hearing a faint beeping sound. At first I thought it might be my hearing aid but quickly ruled that out as I don't have one.

After hearing it again a few minutes later, I realized it sounded like the beep my treadmill makes when you change speeds or programs. Considering I've been too lazy to even hang clothes on the damnable thing for months, I ruled that out too.

As my confusion grew and the sound continued, I decided to crawl my way up and out of the chesterfield and went searching for the source. I opened the door to the back room and was horrified to see that not only was the beeping coming from the treadmill but it was also flashing my weight in red letters (you enter your weight I suppose for humiliation purposes?).

I pushed the stop button, the power button and the other buttons I don't understand but it continued to beep and I swear, laugh. I unplugged it and thankfully, it stopped its menacing taunt.

Considering I haven't been that weight for months, who's laughing now? Stupid treadmill.

Number One With A Bulletin

2008-12-05T22:11:00.009-05:00

A bulletin was circulated at work saying that poinsettias are no longer allowed in our building. "This plant has been known to trigger a very serious reaction in one of our employees" was the message.

I felt so powerful. I'd just finished saying "I'd rather shoot myself in the face than have to see another pile of stupid friggin' poinsettias!" and now here was a bulletin telling me I mattered.

It was quickly brought to my attention that the very serious reaction alluded to had naught to do with me but a near fatal allergic reaction someone in the building had last year.

I've made peace with the fact that if someone has to nearly die for me to get what I want, I can live with that. It is the season of giving after all.

Search Me!

2008-12-02T23:25:00.002-05:00

After having neglected my Site Meter for far too long, I sent myself back out on the hunt for the amusing ways people end up on my blog. It’s really the fault of everyone’s favourite zombie because she recently did a post like this herself. Don’t worry, blaming’s not always bad.

Some amusing searches turned up -- “man comes around strum” and “president’s choice self carve turkey” but one in particular made my eyebrow do that funny arch thing I’ve been practicing since childhood.

This was the search that caught my eyebrow: “chilling drinks with hailstones”. Sure, that's strange but stranger yet was how Google decided to involve itself.

Often if you type a search into Google and you've spelled something incorrectly or the term is similar to something else, they intervene and politely ask “Did you mean _______?”

In this case, Google asked instead of chilling drinks with hailstones, “Do You Mean chilling drinks with gallstones?” Don’t believe me? Click here. Unless they’re suggesting that you somehow combine organ harvesting with happy hour, I'm at a loss.

In other search related news, I was thinking I needed a blog header to spruce up the place a little. I was trying to figure out who could help me with such an undertaking and remembered that Chris, most excellent writer of The Radloff's Random Midnight Thoughts also runs an outfit called HippieBoy Design. While I hate overachievers, I have to say, I’m still smirking at his excellent handiwork. When I find myself stuck for something to write (90% of the time), my glazed gaze now has something worthwhile to fall upon.

Thanks Chris, I like it, I really like it!

The Answer Man

2008-11-30T17:59:00.016-05:00

Puss in Boots, better known as Michael G, tagged me to answer a series of very intrusive questions but as he thought to say please?, the sheer force of his politeness compelled me to comply.

Five names you go by

1. Dale

2. POTD - Katie Schwartz is responsible for that.

3. Daisy - I don't really go by it but a client at work once very badly misheard my first name and thought it was Daisy. I thoughtfully had her killed.

4. Pennywinkle - one of my brothers used to call me this and I have no idea why, I wonder if it's too late to ask?

5. Fuckface - me, a name I call myself.

Three things you are wearing right now

1. Layers

2. At least 3

3. See above

Two things you want very badly at the moment

1. Chicken with 40 Cloves of Garlic - and I shall have it, in about 45 minutes.

2. For winter to be over (cue the We've Only Just Begun music).

Three people who will probably fill this out

1. PJ

2. Phronk

3. Bluez

Two things you did last night

1. Ate crispy beef with ginger (that's small 'g' ginger and not Ginger Grant).

2. Watched half of Tropic Thunder before giving up (the fake movie ads were better than the movie itself).

Two things you ate today

1. Shortbread Cookies with Chocolate Covered Almonds baked in

2. Leftover General Tso's Chicken

Two people you last talked to on the phone

1. My mother the tactician

2. Tanya Espanya

Two things you are going to do tomorrow

1. Optimistically speaking, I have to go with wake up

2. Watch a film called The Fall that Mob mentioned a while back

Two longest car rides

1. From small city New Brunswick to big city Ontario (16 hours - my father killed several birds by driving so fast even they could not manoeuver out of his way)

2. Any cab ride where I don't feel like small talking my way home (feels like 16 hours)

Two of your favourite beverages

1. Coca Cola

2. Bloody Caesars - clamato juice - yes it's made with clams, but there's alcohol involved! Try it!

Please feel free to play the home game!

Back In The Habit (An Audio Post)

2008-11-29T17:05:00.004-05:00

Between work and winter, I don't seem to have a prayer but I know who might!

If I ever were to write a book about my sister, I'd call it Letters From A Nun mostly because she's a nun, and she writes letters.

As I'm far too lethargic for such an undertaking, I've done an audio blog instead. You'll find it over on my sidebar under the Let's Go Audio heading above the GCast player.

Press play, God wants you to. And so does my cat. Oh, and Sally Field, she always wants it. Just look at her.

Church of the Poisoned Blog

2008-11-23T12:30:00.006-05:00

It's Sunday and we all know what that means! Time for Church!

Being a recovering Catholic, I long ago decided the only church I would attend is the one in my heart. Only problem is, every time I get there, it's full - not a seat to be had. Bloody hell!

So, I make my way to the drive thru and do what I can to not worship false idols. We all pray in our own way.

Moods for Moderns

2008-11-21T18:00:00.000-05:00

What does it mean when you find a song that's been sitting on your iPod for nearly a year without ever having been listened to and then you listen to it 32 times in the span of a day and a half? Around here, it means it's Tuesday (even if I'm recounting this on a Friday).

By about noon on Tuesday, it already felt like it had been a long week. When most hope seemed lost, a perfectly lovely little pop song clocking in at 2:07 found my ears. Not having recalled hearing it before, I threw caution to the wind and brazenly took my iPod from my pocket in broad daylight.

It turned out to be a song called "Seventeen Dirty Magazines" by a band called Modern Skirts. Modern Skirts? But they're guys! That's crazy! Where the hell did this come from? I played it over and over until I thought I smelled smoke, gave it a rest and then started again.

I finally got all modern myself, did a search and saw that the band was from Athens GA. I knew where to look next - over at Beth's place. Sho' nuff, she'd posted the song on one of her mix tapes on November 23, 2007. I must have downloaded it at the time, let it ferment and foment and ta-da. Even when you're not thinking about blogging, it creeps back in. Thanks Beth!

If you'd like a listen, be my guest.

Picnic Anyone?

2008-11-13T17:59:00.011-05:00

Soon after bravely and proudly presenting my 'no cold cuts please' position, I was filled with misgivings. At the risk of relinquishing any remaining dignity or credibility I may possess, I have to confess something.

For many years with great zeal, though I was young, I enjoyed eating 'Meat, Macaroni and Cheese Loaf'. *

As I gazed upon the Q-Tips and cheese bits that dot the landscape of this fine product, I realized with more than a little dread that the Best Before date has a month and day assigned but there seems to be no requirement for a year. Oh my.

While in this confessional mode of mind, may I please add to the list of weirdohole things about me one more item?

The smell of canned cat food is something I find most repugnant, yet each time I open one for little Rizzo, I am compelled to smell it. As the urge to vomit begins to pass, I adopt my slightly shrill but still sweet talking to cat voice and encourage her to enjoy what surely will be the finest canned Turducken she has ever tasted.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must get a snack before readying myself for the opera tonight.

*Many thanks to Esther for her comment about eating 'olive loaf' in the previous post which inspired me.

Weirdohole

2008-11-08T09:25:00.019-05:00

Dr. Zibbs at That Blue Yak and Esther from Gratuitous Violins (fairly) recently tagged me to disclose some weird things about myself.

In the interests of public safety and avoiding criminal prosecution, I've limited myself to a few things you may or may not find marginally interesting that may or may not involve me. Let it never be said that I'm afraid of a disclaimer! Here we go...

I'm afraid of disclaimers. Perhaps 'general unease' is a better descriptor but each time I hear a medication being pushed on a television commercial and the voiceover says something during the laundry list of warnings like "may cause some forms of cancer", I feel sick. My other favourite is "...and in some cases, death". Come on you big chicken! It's only some cases!

Today I learned I know someone who owns one of those creepy dolls Marie Osmond sells. These dolls make me fear Mormons for more than just the usual reasons. He and his wife had seen Marie hawking a doll with the same name as their daughter and impulsively bought it from a home shopping channel. Their daughter, thankfully, showed better judgment in not wanting to even take the creature out of its box and it remains there to this day. Next occasion, go for the Paper Roses instead.

Once after a physical exam, my doctor remarked that my heart rate seemed low. She asked if I was very athletic as athletes often have lower than usual heart rates at rest. I said

"come on Doc, you've seen me naked" and she laughed much longer than necessary. It turned out that I have a slightly enlarged heart, something not always evident in my day to day dealings with people.

Cold cuts creep me out, please don't serve them to me. Unless I've sliced it myself, I always think it's some pressed together mixture of dread. That said, I will eat a submarine sandwich on occasion possibly because the bread hides the fear. Any food larger than I think it should be, a giant tomato say, also makes me worry that we fuck a little too much with nature.

I've never been comfortable disclosing whether I'm a Wilma or a Betty man.

While I'm far too scared to read through my blog, it occurred to me after writing this post that all my posts could be about fear. Years ago, reading through a story in a Twilight Zone magazine, one line stood out and has remained with me since. "We're all afraid because none of us knows where we're going". There might be something to that.

How Will You Celebrate It?

2008-11-02T08:00:00.006-05:00

Although it's Tanya Espanya's birthday today and she's planning on shopping off to Buffalo, I will be at home celebrating in my own way - with a good old fashioned cocktail of meds!

On Friday at work, I smirked too hard at someone and somehow managed to throw my back out of whack. Thank goodness for that free Canadian health care! I was able to leave work early, pick up some choice meds and head home. I had been scheduled to take in the opera Don Giovanni in the evening but crapped out which I heard is just what the production did anyway.

Yesterday was spent in a wonderful haze of medication fueled naps but today I'm feeling better.

Please join me in wishing Tanya a wonderful birthday. If I end up with any unused medication, I plan to share it with her. What can I say, I'm a giver!

It's That Time Again!

2008-10-31T11:56:00.004-04:00

Happy only time most people can get away with wearing orange Day!*

*This message not intended for employees of A&W or their subsidiaries.

From the vault: my post entitled I Was A Teenaged A&W Cook. The horror! Oh, but there's royalty in the story too.

The War Room

2008-10-28T08:09:00.006-04:00

Inestimably talented Doc knows just how busy a life I lead and has captured it perfectly. Can someone come and clean the litter box please?

Boo Who?

2008-10-27T10:29:00.006-04:00

If proud parents can place questionably cute photos of their little tykes in Halloween regalia on our intranet at work to torture me with, then you should have no trouble torturing the blog world with your own photos showing your Halloween spirit as represented by your childhood selves.

It’s just about time for The Big Wicked Online Pageant to go live and it needs your help. I'm sure you recall me shilling for this recently. I even posted a photo of a younger version of myself to entice you with. Although I wasn't in costume, it sure was frightening.

Here’s another to help you get in the spirit. Behold the beauty that was my young self in a photo I call “Most Uncomfortable Looking Boy in the World” or as Coaster Punchman has called it my ‘Ma Vie En Rose’ lookalike shot. Again, not in costume but if you squint, I might pass for the Hamburglar as played by Prince Valiant.
Send Beth your entries and help Bubs fulfill his dreams.

If you don’t have a shot of you, feel free to substitute a shot of your little sister (you know she looked ridiculous that year!) or even one of your dog (does he know no shame?).

Enjoy and look for the winners and losers on a blog near you soon. Full rules and details are posted there as well.

War and Peace - The Comic

2008-10-25T22:41:00.009-04:00

After seeing some excellent cartoons done by the multi-talented Doc at Social Zymurgy The Culture of Beer, I commissioned one and by commissioned, I mean begged. He came up with a perfect depiction of me and some of the goings on I've described here. Hey Ma! I made the funny papers! You can read his accompanying explanation and check out the comments here.

Doc's timing was perfect, opera season at the Canadian Opera Company has begun again in earnest with a little production of War and Peace by Sergei Prokofiev based on Tolstoy's novel.

At nearly four hours, the opera was only a bit longer than Napoleon was tall but the show was epic befitting the source material. The orchestra and chorus were excellent as they always are and the leads poured their souls into it as well. Doc tried to save me the time by letting me know it was all Napoleon's fault and he was correct. He didn't mention the strumpet at the heart of several love affairs but I had more than enough time to get to know her. For a full review of the show, you can read more here.

Due to scheduling issues with Deborah, I had to switch my usual Friday night slot for a Saturday afternoon show and so the seats were different as well. Rather than my usual orchestra seats I sat in the third ring (there are five horseshoes in this joint) and from there, I could see the production well but there was also a lot to distract me.

While I don't mind sitting on high in judgment above the madding crowd, even Hekyll and Jekyll might have found this perch a bit much. The sightlines to the stage were excellent but along the way, there's also a full view of the orchestra, the exit signs and of course the heads of codgers nodding off everywhere. I'm the most distractible person I know so I'm glad that next Friday, order will be restored and I'll be back in my regular seat for Don Giovanni.

Thanks once again Doc, I love the cartoon. Now get back to your anniversary celebrations with the lovely Flannery Alden.

Places Everyone!

2008-10-25T07:05:00.010-04:00

Today's the day that blogging cyberstalker extraordinaire Coaster Punchman and his longtime love Poor George walk down the aisle in sunny California ahead of a looming weather change due to the threat of Proposition 8, an initiative to ban gay marriage. While I want them to happen, I'm hopeful Prop 8 won't. Here's how you may be able to help.

They're a couple of the loveliest fellows around and will be married by their good friend and blogging wonder woman Melinda June ensuring it's a special day all around.

May their best gifts include many more happy years together, all the fish tacos they can eat and the defeat of Prop 8.

For those about to wed, we salute you!

Abandoned Pools

2008-10-22T14:50:00.010-04:00

The security guard in the lobby of my building at work has begun whistling the notes to Summertiiiiiime and the livin' is eaaaasy over and over. This could mean that I’m spending far too much time in the lobby but more likely, it means that he's accepted that warm weather is becoming a memory and so must I.

I had noticed a two day trickle of water running down Honeypot’s driveway last week but I thought she was just marking her territory. The blanks were filled in with the treat of seeing her emerge from her nearly drained pool wearing a sweat suit and rubber boots, a fetching look to be sure. I suppose my dream of seeing her try to ice skate across its frozen top should be put aside.

The trees have also been doing their part to warn me. After a brazen display of colour, they’ve been readying themselves for raking and the nights have definitely grown colder. Perhaps the most obvious sign was watching the snow fall through the train window on the ride home yesterday. Snow, in October, that stayed into today.

It’s not all bad and I'm not really complaining. It's exciting to think that it's time again to start working through the sorting of acceptable distances between the sofa and essentials (snacks, drinks, remote controls) in preparation of my annual near hibernation.

This year I may even give up the pretense that I hate it when the weather’s bad and officially declare myself a shut-in. I wonder if there’s a minimum age before you can apply for Meals-On-Wheels?

Very Very Frightening Me!

2008-10-14T17:11:00.007-04:00

I remember it as though it was only 2 years ago...blogging sensation Beth at A Cup of Coffey hosted the wonderful Little Miss Sunshine Online Pageant dedicated to, well, some of our more awkward phases captured in photographic glory. She's at it again, this time working on inspiration from none other than magic man Bubs of Sprawling Ramshackle Compound!

This time, the challenge is to show off your finest Halloween costumed selves as young 'uns and be a part of The Big Wicked Online Pageant. Don't make us go back in our time machine and ridicule you in person. Instead, scan your photo(s), post it/them on your blog on Monday, October 28 and then email Beth (the address is in her sidebar) so she can link everyone up.

Good thinking Bubs! Good hosting Beth! Good Lord Dale! (this is one of my Little Miss Sunshine entries - I'm still shuddering).

Go see Beth and Bubs - they're good for your soul. Come on, you're not using it anyway.

Praise You Like I Should

2008-10-10T09:41:00.006-04:00

It’s time for the Thanksgiving Day long weekend again here in Canadaland.

I am thankful

- that I got to see a Monarch butterfly land on the cab of a parked cement truck on a warm October day and then continue on its journey

- that the cement truck was painted all in pink complete with a huge Breast Cancer Awareness ribbon

- that I don’t have to drive that truck

- that I can experience the wonders of the world from the comfort and safety of the great indoors via the BBC Series Planet Earth

- that you’re all there

- and that I don't look like this poor guy anymore (the surgery worked!)

Videodrome (Audio Blog)

2008-10-04T07:55:00.009-04:00

These days for me, it's all about work. How to manage it, avoid it and ultimately survive it. To find out how I'm doing, click on my GCast player on my sidebar and you'll get an audio idea. I've got to run, I have an elevator to catch.

The Walrus Was Paul

2008-09-28T10:51:00.011-04:00

Now that Newman's out of the way, maybe another man's dreams can come true? Coming soon direct to dvd near you...

Shaun Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

I Love My Job, I Love My Job

2008-09-24T07:50:00.005-04:00

Does anybody else get as excited as I do when it's time to refill the stapler? No? Okay.

Oh, My God

2008-09-20T11:01:00.005-04:00

A few years ago, I had the pleasure of seeing Margaret Cho in Toronto while she was touring with her I'm The One That I Want show. I just saw an episode of her new television series "The Cho Show" and it reaffirmed why I like her so much. Smart and funny always win the race.

Someone pointed out this excellent rant to me entitled I'm A Christian, You Fuckers! from her blog. It's righteous and I'm pretty sure God fucking well approved her message.

Why Don't The Windows Open In This Building Again?

2008-09-16T17:48:00.006-04:00

Someone this morning said to me "You must be able to retire soon". "No, I just look that old" was all I could reply. It's a good thing I don't wake up until noon.

A Day Late And Several Hundred Dollars Short

2008-09-11T13:53:00.004-04:00

There was an email sent to everyone yesterday at work entitled Emergency Preparedness For Work and Home. Aside from my dislike of the word preparedness, the timing I found to be questionable.

The night before, I woke up hearing a strange noise, strange only because I hadn’t yet had enough sleep and wasn’t willing to ponder it for long. I woke again at 5:00 a.m. and was more ready to realize that the sound was dripping water. Dripping water? How strange.

After listening to it for a while, I decided I could wait no longer – I went to the bathroom - I’m fairly suggestible. Now better equipped to investigate, I padded out to the kitchen and stepped into what felt like a very large bowl of gazpacho. The kitchen was flooded.

As I stood wiggling my toes in the water, additional consciousness eventually dawned. I checked under the sink and found that the solder on the main water pipe had given way just enough to produce a steady burble of water.

My next realization was that the dripping sound remained and with a flash, I recalled there being a downstairs to this house. I tromped down and switched on the lights. There were two tiny waterfalls coming directly through the pot lights onto the carpet. I switched off the lights and put buckets under them to catch the excess and the drip sounded much nicer.

The plumber’s been and gone, the carpet’s drying out and will need to be replaced but for now, order has been restored to my tiny kingdom.

I wonder if it would have made a difference to have received that Emergency Preparedness email a day earlier? Probably not. I still haven’t read it.

Questions For the Ages

2008-09-10T21:51:00.003-04:00

If you see a grown woman walking down the street wearing what appear to be pyjama pants covered in question marks, should you stop and ask why?

Three, Two, One or A Tale of Two Traps

2008-09-07T10:08:00.012-04:00

I recently was heard to say that I planned on making mittens out of the feral kittens who'd taken up residence in my back garden. There were three kittens so I was sure there'd be no problem with supply and demand. Shortly after my brilliant idea began germinating, one of the cats stopped showing up. From his shady looks, it's a good bet he's dealing catnip a few yards over.

Wondering whether we could take on trapping and adopting two cats resulted in much hemming and hawing but ended in John calling a 'critter control' guy for traps. The night the traps showed up, only one cat came around looking for a handout but we set both traps the next day just in case.

The traps have a small raised metal plate (covered in newspaper) that trips the door as the animal steps on to get at the food just beyond it. I came home to find two empty cages and I was a bit disappointed. On closer inspection, yes, there were two empty cages but only one full can of food; the other had been licked clean. In the plants at the back of the yard I spied one very satisfied looking kitten who'd beaten the system and was now lazing in the fading sunlight.

On day two, stealth was not on kitty's side and we arrived home to a cage full of cranky but well fed kitten. We got her to the vet where she had a full examination, shots and a good flea bath. A much shinier three month old kitten was the end result.

Over the last week, she's gotten used to us, the laundry room and now the whole downstairs.

She will hiss if I make too rapid an approach but one touch and she melts into a purr measuring just under the rumble of a tractor. She's also gotten used to being called Rizzo after Rydell High's oldest teenage student.

Winter's on the way and my one good deed's out of the way. Unfortunately, there's been no sign of the other two cats. I'm choosing to think that they've been adopted rather than having become part of some other creature's happy meal.

It will take me a while to fatten her up and to figure out shipping options and costs. To be on the safe side, order your mittens now for arrival by Christmas.

Location Location Location

2008-09-02T14:46:00.004-04:00

Today at work attached to all of the washroom doors is a notice from Weight Watchers.

"Lose Weight At Work - We'll Come To You"

I can lose weight in there without anyone's help thank you very much and if you do decide to approach me while I'm in there, I'm calling a cop.

Sad Songs

2008-08-31T22:21:00.004-04:00

Someone recently found my blog by searching for "passion of the chairs". And I thought my life was boring.

Information Exchange

2008-08-29T10:43:00.004-04:00

There is ongoing construction near my office building and as a result, there are security guards and construction workers accessing and egressing this building frequently.

This morning as I walked through the concourse toward the food court and hash brown heaven, I saw two construction workers stopped by one of the big plant boxes that dot the indoor landscape.

The older guy said to the younger one pointing to a cluster of flowers -

-Ya know what that is? That's hibiscus. The younger one nodded.

A couple of other construction guys were coming up behind them right then and one of them offered some clarification -

- It's a fucking azalea you moron!

People helping people, that's what it's all about.

Do I Have To Hand Out Cigars?

2008-08-28T07:39:00.005-04:00

There are few things I'm really good at. Right up there on the list though, is rampant personal consumerism. Taking me by more surprise than my credit card bill is the fact that now, I seem to have fallen in love. With a machine.

For a couple of weeks now, I've been cooing and calling my shiny new iMac 'baby'. I haven't heard back on my request for parental leave at work yet but I'm a patient man, I learned it from working with a PC.

Through several operating systems now, I've heard Mac fans sing the praises of their magical computing machines and now I understand. From box to desktop took all of 5 minutes and since then, there's been not a hint of concern from my whisper quiet baby.

Rather than go on like an ex-smoker insulted by a whiff of stray cigarette smoke, I’ll just say I’m happy to have had some quality time with PCs over the years but move over, there’s a new kid in town.

A Proud iMac Daddy.

I Met The Walrus

2008-08-24T13:54:00.005-04:00

I was catching up on my The Hour video podcasts and was really glad to catch a segment with Jerry Levitan who in 1969 at the tender age of 14, finagled his way into John Lennon's hotel room in Toronto and snagged an interview with him.

To hear Jerry talk about the experience was hilarious but to see the animated short film that's been made about his experience was incredible. The film is called I Met The Walrus and is in contention for an Oscar.

If you have 9 minutes, watch the segment from The Hour first and then have a look at the actual film which is about 5 minutes long.

If you don't like either, as always, my policy is: your money back!

Hardcore Logo

2008-08-21T17:35:00.011-04:00

I've always enjoyed the way Google plays around with the masthead on their web page. By replacing one or more letters with an object that fills in for the letter, they keep things interesting.

When other corporations go for an effect like this, it doesn't always hit the mark. The bank I use, Scotiabank, is sponsoring the AIDS Walk For Life in September and has advertising all over town.

Someone had the idea to try and tie the red AIDS ribbon we're all familiar with into the bank's logo. I may be the only one who sees it this way but that second 'a' in their logo now looks more like an 'o' if you ask me.

All I see now is Scotiabonk AIDS Walk For Life! Oh my.

The Kitten Whisperer - An Audio Post

2008-08-17T09:27:00.012-04:00

Yes, I've decided that this should now be an all kittens, all the time blog. Click my GCast audio player on my sidebar to hear why.

Compression of the Dale

2008-08-11T18:15:00.006-04:00

In case you missed it in the comments a few posts back, after I rattled on about Honeypot's balancing act getting into her dee-luxe above ground pool with a smoke and a drink, the talented Sans Pantaloons came to my rescue and sent a link to this picture he did. Click on it for a more glorious effect.

If I ever write a book Sans, I hope you'll be there to help illustrate it.

Spitfire

2008-08-09T11:44:00.008-04:00

Last night I went to see Kathy Griffin who has finally stopped ignoring Canada and swept into town to share the love. After an introduction by way of a clip compilation from her various stints in TV and movie land (X Files? Really? Pulp Fiction? I'd forgotten about that), she kept the sold out and wildly appreciative crowd at Massey Hall laughing for a solid 130 minutes.

After ragging on us for being a bunch of socialists with free health care and having a boring prime minister, she launched into some fine and fiery skewering on the differences between Canadian and American Idol, trashy reality shows, young Hollywood, old Hollywood, George Dubya and her many strange encounters in the celebrity jungle.

There were hilarious stories about Oprah and her boyfriend Gail, Justin Timberlake, Tom, Katie and their Asian baby, Nancy Grace, Miley and Billy Ray, Pamela Anderson, PETA, Janet Jackson, Larry King and dozens of others worthy of our derision.

One of the things I really enjoy about Kathy (I call her Kathy) is her rare gift for making it seem as though it's just you and her, sharing stories and secrets. I know she was just being polite in pretending to include the other people there. She only had eyes for me.

Thanks for a rollicking performance and one I won't soon forget, my body is still racked with pain from laughing so hard. Come back anytime Kathy and if for some reason you decide not to, well, you can suck it!