The 28th
Ian emailed me an undescribed link to Amazon.com today and the page it took me to brightened my entire day, generating a level of excitement I rarely experience these days. I’m sure my reaction would have been an embarrassing one had I been in public view.
I have been waiting for this day for many years, the day that Freakazoid! would finally be available on DVD. I guess that day is technically July 29th but still! Season One can be pre-ordered and I will be as giddy as a schoolgirl until it arrives by post. You know, when the mailman will leave merchandise I've paid for just sitting out on the step in plain sight, visible for all who care to look, exposed and unprotected for some passing sketchbag or retarded neighbourhood kid to claim as their own while I sleep, unaware that my precious Freakazoid! DVDs arrived only to be stolen by a thieving thief. I really hope that doesn’t happen but perhaps I should complain again to the postmaster to be doubly sure, seeing as this has happened at least three times since I last complained. The leaving packages on the step part, that is, not the thiefy thieving part.
In high school, I’d record Freakazoid! every Saturday morning (along with The Mighty Hercules…still waiting for that to come out on DVD) because it became one of my absolute favourite cartoons of all time after Ian and I caught an episode one morning when he had stayed over. I think we were both obsessed with the show to an unhealthy degree (probably not as much as this dude, though). It had just the right mix of nerdiness, insanity, throwbacks, grown-up humour and mindless fun plus it was usually pretty well animated to boot. I have almost every episode on VHS but they look like shit and only a couple of days ago Cory found a torrent for all of the episodes which I promptly downloaded to find they also looked pretty bad. But now, oh now, I will have Season One in the crystal clarity of DVD in my hands by the middle of the summer with Season Two hopefully soon after that. I’ll be as happy as a little narwhale, especially if the DVDs were to come with a free kazoo.
The 26th
Three days in a row have I been back and forth to Ch’town, this time for two separate events that didn’t involve me wearing a johnny shirt or being jabbed several times with needles. I started the evening off by attending Peake Street Studios’ latest art show titled Obsession, where I caught up with a few friends, perused some nifty artwork, and drank black coffee because I would have felt weird going into Donnalee’s fridge looking for milk.
I stuck around for a bit but decided to head over to The Mack because I didn’t want to miss all of the opening bands for Pat Deighan & The Orb Weavers’ CD launch. The turnout for the launch must have made everyone involved quite happy, and thankfully some people I knew were there. James, Gill, Tammy, and Mike all had a table but I ended up standing off to the side with Shannon and Kate most of the night trying to get at least a few pictures that didn’t turn out in a blurry mess.
I honestly don’t think I had ever seen Pat play a show, maybe a song here and there from behind a dancing throng at Baba’s, but they put on a damn fine show and had tonnes of people come out on stage to jump in for a song or two. At one point there must have been a dozen people on stage and the energy just kept going up and up. It was one of the more fun nights I’ve had in a while and it wrapped up nicely with a satisfying combination plate from The Golden Wok with my fellow West Princers before heading back to town.
The 25th
Tammy drove Mike, Nathan and me up to Ch’town for Saddle River’s gig at The Haviland Club, a show I didn’t want to miss because I felt dumb for missing their show the weekend before only to find out it was the best show they had ever done. If my memory wasn’t so bad I could have been tapping my toes in Tyne Valley instead of wasting a Friday evening playing Scrabulous on Facebook.
They put on a great show tonight with no shortage of jokes, jabs and inter-band ribbing…that actually sounds kind of gross. No SR show would be complete without torturing Tom at least a little. Troy attempted to take Tom’s shirt off but Tom did his damndest to fend him off and still managed to keep playing right along with the song. The ladies did swoon later on though when he opened his shirt for them. The room temperature must have gone up ten degrees because of it, I’m sure.
The 24th
At 9am, under this morning’s dreary skies, I was on the road to Ch’town for my follow-up MRI which is always the best way to start one’s day, I always say. Upon arrival they had me suit up in the traditional hospital garb that included ill-fitting, salmon-coloured pants, and take a seat so they could prepare me for what inevitably was to come next: the insidious needle for dye delivery. I’ll never get used to needles, never, not ever.
The nurse began the ordeal with needle #1 and apologetically informed me that the vessel ruptured and she’d have to try again. Me having very poor veins for this type of thing, she looked for another spot and at this point I was starting to sweat and feel ill. Needle #2 was a repeat of needle #1, then both needles #3 and #4 in my other arm were more of the same. It was horrible. I was cold, sweating, dizzy, grey in the face, and my vision went white. I seriously thought I was going to puke so they decided they’d get me lying down in the MRI dealie for the first part of the test, hoping I’d feel better by the time they had to come in and maliciously inject me with the dye.
Lying down was a much better idea because when she stuck my arm with needle #5 and missed while I was prone the blood didn’t have the chance to drain from my head. Had I been sitting instead of lying down when she followed her botched attempt by saying “I’m going to get a nurse” I’m relatively certain I would have passed out. Go get a nurse!? Ms. Five Times Ain’t a Charm, pardon me, but aren’t you a nurse? Because I sure as hell wouldn’t have agreed to be your personal pin cushion had I know you were anything but!
The real nurse came in, and I immediately felt that this woman looked to have some years of experience in the nursing profession and a reassuring bedside manner. She would know how to deal with someone with pudding for arms on the verge of an anxiety attack, she must. Well, she missed too, and I lost all faith in the medical community. Thankfully, attempt #7 saw the needle successfully find purchase in my uncooperative vein and I was pumped full of dye while they looked at my brain on-screen and pumped Guns ‘n’ Roses through the headphones. I’ll take the dye, you can keep the GNR.
The 23rd
Nathan had a couple of comps to go see Hot Toddy at The Jubilee tonight and even though I had planned on an exhilarating evening that would have seen me sorting through a year’s worth of receipts and invoices, I decided that taking a free ticket for live music was a much better choice than spending the entire night doing my taxes.
Since they expected a small turnout for a Wednesday show, The Jubilee decided to essentially turn the stage around, having the band facing away from the theatre and set up the backstage area like a club. The setting was definitely a more intimate one and had a vibe that would have been lacking in sparsely populated rows of soft seating. It didn’t feel like I was at a show in S’side, more like I was at The Guild in Ch’town or some small club like some I had been at in Ottawa. It was a great idea and hopefully they’ll continue to do it for small shows from now on.
Hot Toddy were great, as expected. I had seen them once before a couple of years ago, facing the house then, and Thom Swift at Contact East last year so I knew I’d enjoy the show even though I couldn’t see the band all that well from where I was sitting. They really know how to keep the crowd engaged and have a very personable stage presence, giving lots of details about the songs, the music and their instruments. Other than knowing I like seeing them play, I know that resonator guitars sound awesome and that playing a song in 19/8 time hurts my brain…a lot.
The 21st
Today turned out to be one of the nicest days so far this spring and, seeing as I had a logo to design, I decided to get out of my office and spend as much time as I could thumbnailing some ideas in my sketchbook out on the back step. Being able to go sit outside again to enjoy the fresh air and a bit of sun for a few hours was something I missed a lot, especially after that whore of a winter.
Between thumbing through design mags and desperately trying to come up with a solid concept for a logo that was already long overdue, I took a few minutes to fill up the bird feeders since they had been cleaned out over the winter because I sure as hell wasn’t going to be traipsing through all the damn snow we had every two days to fill them back up. Though, for the benefit of the cold, little birdies maybe I should have. In any case, it didn’t take the sparrows very long to find the seedy feast I had set out for them. One little guy started investigating the ground around the barn where some seed had fallen and he quickly zeroed in on the jackpot hanging above him. He sampled the offering, bounced up the barn roof to the peak and called out to his buddies. I now know the sound of a sparrow’s meal call, he chirped it out from the branches for everyone to hear but I think that me sitting on the step kept all of his winged pals away.
Other than the sparrow calls, the only other calls I could hear were those of Hobbes through the open kitchen window, the kind where he bawls to be let outside. There was also the bawling I could see him mouthing silently from my bedroom window. After his outdoor adventure the other day he wouldn’t be going outside any time soon, especially since he's too fat for the harness and leash I bought for him so he can’t run off.
The 19th
I made a mistake by having Gail’s goat cheese and pesto on toasted sourdough bread as a late lunch. In fact, I made a mistake by having lunch at all seeing as the plan for dinner was to hit The Royal Tandoor’s buffet for a curry fix. I didn't realize we would be eating there so early and so after driving up there with Mark and Shawn, and eating to over-capacity the drive back was painful. For two reasons actually: 1) due to the significant butter chicken and na’an bread deposit in my gut, and 2) because of the horrible music Shawn and Mark decided to play through XM Radio for their own amusement. If only everyone would just listen to a flavour of CBC, you know, to make me happy instead of random shit.
The 18th
Hobbes bolted outside this afternoon so he can do whatever the hell it is he wants to do outside. He mostly hid under the house but I spotted him creeping around the side of the house and chased him out into the backyard. The little bugger annoyingly kept just out of reach and then dashed off into the neighbour’s yard, squatted over a pile of leaves and took a piss. I should have grabbed him then but getting to him required me to go back in the house and swap slippers for sneakers so I could pass through the mess of branches and leaves. I also didn’t want an excitable, jailbird tabby to continue pissing (potentially on me) once picked up from the ground.
When I caught back up with him he was staring down a neighbourhood kitty who was peeking around the corner of the fence. The other cat took off as I got closer and Hobbes just looked up at me and made one of his kitty grumbles. But when I reached down to grab him he went completely gonzo and freaked out at me. He nearly bit my finger off, flipped over onto his back and let out a startling cat scream like I’ve never heard before. Then he was off again, racing and bounding back into our backyard. After I caught up to him it was like nothing ever happened and he came back into the house without so much as a peep or an ounce of resistance.
Normally I would have been pissed that he led me on such a chase and left dozens of muddy cat prints on things in my room but after his freak out session he sort of just shocked the frustration out of me. I would hate to see what he would have done to my arm had he gotten his claws into me.
The 14th
I noticed something that I found a bit peculiar while picking up a few groceries tonight at The Superstore. Advertising 20% off colour cosmetics and skincare for the beauty department on a shelf talker in the deli department amid an assortment of sliced meats and cheeses seems like a rather odd choice to me. Shrink-wrapped packages filled with slices of juicy, seasoned beef or pale, limp turkey don’t exactly lend themselves to making any sort of consumer connection to clarifying lotions, beautifying creams and eye shadow. When contemplating what type of cheese would go best with oven-roasted turkey in my sandwich there isn’t any crossover in my thoughts about what I’m going to buy to reduce fine lines or how long my lip colour is going to last. Not that I tend to think about those things anyway but I’m sure other people must and this type of advertising seems to be better suited in another department with far fewer meaty textures.
The 12th
While having lunch downtown today, gigantic snowflakes started falling, and while they’re pretty and stuff they certainly are not welcome. I’m done shoveling, I’m done. As long as it doesn’t stick around afterwards, I’m fine with the snow making a grand entrance like this. Actually, no I’m not. This had better be it until next winter. I’m serious. Piss off with the snow already.
The 11th
The evening started with a hip of beef buffet at The Link with Laine, Lindsey, Sharon, and Nathan where I ate one plate of dinner and several types of desserts including some tasty bread pudding with brown sugar sauce. The evening ended many hours later with my belly feeling like I had eaten a broken bottle or two.
Between buffets and belly aches, I drove up to Ch’town to meet up with Shannon, Christian and Jenna at The Gahan House where I learned from Shannon how saucy and cheeky Kate Beckinsale was behind the scenes during shooting for Underworld. After they had a pint or two we walked over to Hunter’s to see The Tom Fun Orchestra. I’m not sure who was opening but we only caught their last few songs before Tom Fun’s nine-member line-up took to the stage to crank out a great, high-energy show. I had seen them play out the final night of Contact East last year, blowing the roof off the place, and they brought their big, lively sound with them again tonight.
I don’t tend to listen to much music in the traditional/Celtic vein, which is definitely part of their sound, but they have this huge range of styles put into the mix that makes for a pretty interesting sound. I’m definitely glad I didn’t sit back in a booth all night staring a people’s backs blocking the band. Going right up to see the band play made the difference in turning an okay night at Hunter’s into a fun one. I just wish random drunk people would stop wanting me to participate in random drunk handshakes.
The 6th
Some sad news: Ken MacCaull died at home on the 2nd, which came as a pretty big shock seeing as he was only fifty-two years old. I didn’t know him all that well but I did get to know him and Marcella a bit over the last six or seven years, and it’s hard to believe he’s gone. I feel really bad for poor Marcella, I can only imagine how tough it must be for her dealing with this. I think she was away in Europe when she got the news and rushed home.
The great thing about Ken was when he’d start laughing at something until he was hacking and nearly choking because he found it so funny. He didn’t seem to care if it was inappropriate to laugh or not, in fact, he didn’t seem to care much about what anyone thought and quite honestly would make his bluntly concise opinions known without hesitation. If the person was offended or taken aback then so be it. He might even laugh at that but it somehow always seemed jovial and good-natured. He made caustic cynicism endearing.
One of the funniest images of Ken that came up when talking about him was when he went out and bought one of those Schwinn bikes that Tim’s was giving away in Roll Up The Rim. A grown man slowly riding this big, goofy bike up and down the street, laughing his head off with a smoke in his mouth the whole time. With all of the Tim’s he drank I’m surprised he never won the damn bike in the first place.
I wish I could remember some of the stories he told me on the few drives I bummed off him to Ch’town and back but I have a terrible memory which is a real problem at times like these when you’re trying to remember classic Ken tales. A great Ken-ism did come up, though, regarding marriage that went something like this: “Instead of getting married, here’s what you do: find someone you hate and buy them a house.”
It doesn’t get any more Ken-ish than that.
The 5th
I stayed overnight at my grandparents’ place on Friday, watching Brisko-era Law & Order and a CSI: Miami marathon on Bravo until around 4am or something. I don’t even know why I watch CSI: Miami because I can’t stand Horatio Caine and find it to be the weakest part of the CSI franchise. I guess I watch because it’s easier than reading.
After eating sandwiches, donuts, cookies and crackers all night like some gluttonous, carb-craving sloth, I went to bed and awakened to the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. Those served as my breakfast while I waited for lunch.
We played Queens this afternoon and I got five-hundred and fifty points in one round which is the highest total for one round I’ve ever seen and a crazy high amount for me especially. While that amount is enough to frustrate my grandfather it doesn’t come close to how sour he gets when picking up a whole, long row of cards that he wanted for himself right before his turn. I can’t help but laugh when he gives me the skunk eye and shakes his head in disapproval of my greed.
After supper I had to come back in town for an artist meet and greet down at Shayli Vere’s art studio down at the mall. There was a great turn-out, James provided the music, and I got to chat with a bunch of people I knew…thankfully. I hate going to things like that and not knowing a soul in the whole place. It sounds like she’s going to make it a monthly event which is great because it’s something to do in a town desperate for things to do.
