The 31st

I worked like mad all day and evening to finally launch Nathan’s re-designed site and Saddle River’s new site. Between my procrastination, some setbacks, and a lot of designing, production work and CSS/coding headaches, both site launches came right down to the wire. I’m just glad they’re both live and are working as they should. For a change I’m actually pretty happy with how they turned out.

With sites launched, I rushed out to Jill and Troy’s with Nathan to hang out for a bit at their New Year’s party. I ended up playing foosball for the first time and I like it quite a bit. It’s sort of like air hockey but not nearly as fun…or dangerous (depending on my opponent). Between the foosball fun, hanging out with fine company, and seeing the dogs (Atticus is crazy and Catherine is funny and runty), I had a pretty good time but, unlike many other New Year’s Eves, I actually had options for things to do, places to go and people to see. I decided to head back in town with Nathan and Melissa to visit Andrew and Ryan’s.

When we left earlier in the evening, the snow had just started to fall which left everything with a nice dusting over it on the way back in town. We got to Andrew and Ryan’s just in time to count down to the new year with noisemakers and champagne—the whole lot. There was some foolish dancing in the other room, the snake was brought out at one point and I forced myself to touch it for just a second. Jack the dog was super cool and friendly as usual, it’s just too bad the weather couldn’t have been the same as Jack. It turned into super crazy winter outside and after some awkward weirdness with a drunken Jean who uncharacteristically seemed to be picking a fight with Steven, some people decided to head out into the blizzard for home. Pat drove Troy and Carol home to K’town—a drive that must have sucked and been nerve-racking because even the short drive I had back into town to drop off Neil and get back to the house was crappy and slow-going. There was snow everywhere, crazy high drifts and whiteouts, and the wind was nuts. Needless to say, Melissa crashed here instead of finding a way back out to the country.

The 30th

Sitting in my office today, I heard a car horn outside so I looked out to see a car parked in front of the house and then Jean running from the car up to the front door. He rang doorbell then took off running when I went out. This is typical, classic Jean behaviour. When he’s not doing things of that nature he’s drawing manga wangs in the snow or throwing fast food garbage on my lawn. He eventually came back, both him and Cory, and I hung out with them for a while and with Melissa too when she stopped in for a visit. Lots of people are home for the holidays, I’m sure there won’t be any lack of people to hang around with.

The 29th

At Gail’s excellent and intriguing recommendation, yesterday I made French toast using her delicious orange-cranberry egg nog loaf instead of regular ol’ bread, and I’m pleased to report that it was two slices of awesome. No syrup needed for this stuff! It combines two great things: breakfast and dessert. A combo that is very tough to beat, in my opinion.

It turns out that every night of the holiday season doesn’t need to be foolish, thankfully. It’s been two movie nights in a row as opposed to drinking, parties and going out. Last night, Shawn, Greg, and Neil Forbes came over to hang out. We watched some Batman cartoon when Kyle and Jason showed up to brighten our night with their Ellsworth cheer. Tonight, started off with some China Star with Sharon, Nathan, Shawn and Greg, and then us fellas rented Confessions of a Superhero and Louis CK’s stand-up. He’s been one of my favourite comedians for a long time and his stuff had me doubled over in painful, tearful laughter. The other movie, not so much. It was good but the material was sad/pathetic, baffling, creepy in parts, funny in others, but mostly sad/pathetic. It would seem that superhero costumes mostly enable creepy, weirdo behaviour more than any sort of acts of superheroism.

The 27th

I managed to get up in time to go to the market this morning. I ran into Carl, who I hadn’t seen in a while, and chatted for a bit. John and Gail weren’t there so I wasn’t able to get a Café Americano but I did get some sushi and that’s about it. I already have so much stuff from the market at home that I can’t get through a bag of potatoes and carrots in enough time to get more by the next week. I could stock up on sushi, though, that’s for sure.

Shawn and Luke came over and we jammed for a bit, which mostly turned out to be songs that sound like or turned into songs by other people. I went to Pizza Delight with Shawn and Greg where Melissa, Amanda and James joined us. All of us except James went to Dooly’s after that to determine which one of us sucked the most at pool. I’m not sure who won that title but the title for Getting Sucked Into Something He’d Rather Avoid went to Shawn after he ran into some guys he worked with at the Superstore and had to deal with one, super-weird dude telling a bunch of fucked up stories and acting like a freak all night.

We went to Greg’s afterward to hang out, and by the time we left there was a solid sheet of ice over everything so Melissa and Amanda crashed there instead of risking the drive home. Smart decision. I figured the short drive home would be fine, which it was. Thankfully I didn’t hit anyone or anything and no one hit me. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be on the highway, though, with that death coating over every square inch of the outdoors.

The 26th

I picked Morgan up to go up west to my grandparents’ for Boxing Day lunch, Calvin jumping up on the table to say hello while I was there. Dad and Mom drove up in the truck with the smelly dogs, and when we got there, just to be difficult, each of them went outside one at a time. The two dogs that is, not my parents. For some reason, Khaly just chewed on icy snow while she was outside. Maybe she was thirsty. All I know is that it’s funny to watch a dog eat a little snow bank.

Every year “Santa” leaves everyone a little stocking full of goodies with their name on a little piece of paper pinned to each one. It used to be a pretty big race upstairs to get them when we were little kids but it’s much more orderly and quiet nowadays. Less shoving anyway. Morgan did act like a child though when she stole my Slowpokes and replaced them with her Macaroons. Good thing I’m not fussy.

Speaking of being little kids at Xmas, when I was five years old or thereabouts I drew and cut out a drawing of Santa, and every year since, without fail, my grandmother hangs it from the shelf in the kitchen. Not exactly one of my better efforts but I suppose it has its charm. I think the mustache I was going for might have been more towards the petit handlebar or Dali style than anything else. I do like the alternating colours used for the “Ho Ho Ho” type treatment quite a bit, though.

I gave Mom and Morgan a ride back in town, but stopped in to see Morgan’s tree first and to play with Calvin for a bit. He didn’t seem like he wanted to play very much. I get the feeling I was interrupting something.

Mark called to get me over to his place after I got home to work on tunes on the computer with him and Shawn. He had a Korg touch pad thing that was horribly unresponsive and a new Korg synth that Shawn used to talk like a filthy robot. The next logical thing to do was to spend some time shooting Mark’s new high-powered BB gun. I want one. Bad.

Shawn came over later and we ate some tandoori wings before going over to Greg’s, who was having a bunch of people over to his place for a party. There was a tonne of snacks and chocolate that I made myself sick on. It all mixed so well with tandoori wings. After some people left to go to other parties and whatnot, I drove Mark, Nathan, Shawn and Greg to The Heritage and then went home because The Heritage is not the place for me, especially during the Xmas holidays. Not long after we parted company did they call to be picked up, Shawn offering to buy us all egg rolls that we could eat over at Greg’s which was great because I love free egg rolls and dislike drunk people in my house. Shawn got fifteen egg rolls for four of us…he ate seven of them.

The 25th

At the ungodly early hour of about 8:30 a.m., I awoke to go over to my parents’ place to open gifts and drink my coffee in a bleary-eyed half-sleeping state. It turned out to be quite a nice, mild day, the sun breaking through the clouds and blue sky in the west. When I got to the house the two mutts were outside in the backyard. I played catch with them using snowballs and Khaly, as it turns out, was pretty good at catch. I wasn’t expecting that since they’re both pretty dopey dogs when it comes to stuff like that.

Every year we’re all lucky enough to get lots of nice gifts, it was just too bad my brother couldn’t be home again this year for Xmas. I tried setting up Mom’s coffee maker without any printed instructions but that didn’t work out very well at all. We couldn’t figure out how the hell they expected someone to set the thing up or figure it out without instructions. They must have accidentally missed this box during packaging, we thought. Someone must have returned this unit and forgot to put the instructions back in, we thought. Nope. Turns out she had just set them aside after opening the box and forgot about them.

My grandparents came over for a bit, as is the custom on Xmas morn, and the dogs hovered around them looking for attention as usual. Winnie also glared at me through the back door looking for attention and barked at me to come out at play. After all of the foolish gifts were opened, I had had a bite to eat, and the company left, I came home, took a nap, then went back over for a big, delicious turkey dinner with plum pudding for dessert. Gawd, I love plum pudding drowned in brown sugar sauce…submerged in brown sugar sauce. We usually open Xmas crackers every year but they seem to have really cheaped out on the toys they include inside compared to when I was a kid. At least they still snap and come with dumb paper crowns.

After stuffing myself, I picked up Neil and Greg to go to Dale and Debbie’s, meeting up with everyone else who was invited to their get together. We played some Monopoly, Dale won. We ate cheesecake and enjoyed the heat only a wood stove can provide. One of their cat’s sat in kitchen with its tongue sticking out…for a long time.

The 24th

I made a big batch of chocolate macaroons to give away as Xmas gifts today. Everything is always last minute with me it seems, especially around the holidays. Afterwards, I went to Mom and Dad’s for dinner with my sister, Jason and my grandparents. I don’t think Mom knows the definition of overkill seeing as she felt she needed to include all of the following in ONE meal: lobster, chicken pot pie, and prime rib roast. The beef gravy with onions was perfect for dipping bread into, not that gravy isn’t usually suitable for such things but this year it seemed especially suited to it. Oh, and let’s not forget Mom’s classic Xmas Eve dinner staple: stuffed potatoes. If it wasn’t for all of the other ridiculous amounts of food being served at the same time I’m pretty sure I could eat a dozen of them.

Dad was going to make duck but didn’t get home in time. I don’t know if the lobster, chicken pot pie or prime rib replaced the duck in the line-up, or if it was to be a fourth addition to the meal. Dad told me about how fatty duck is and how two fat glands need to be removed and the fat drained off while cooking by stabbing the skin. If duck had been cooked, the plan was to save the fat to cook the potatoes in. All I can say is that I hope next year duck is on the menu with dem potatoes.

And what dinner would be complete in the Hutchinson household without some form of foolish dessert to wrap things up? Mom made an ice cream sandwich dessert, and I can honestly say with 100% certainty that it was the most delicious and droolworthy dessert I have eaten in my entire life. It was like all of the happy points in my brain exploded at once from the satisfying flavours and textures. If I were on death row I would request that that dessert be my entire last meal. Well, maybe not entirely. I’d request my mom’s Seven Layer Bars for dessert.

So, after eating like a pig, I got back to the house where Nathan had family and friends over, and there were more sweets and meat pies than you could shake a stick at. I question why anyone would want to shake a stick at them, though. Of course, I didn’t want to be rude and not eat anything that was being offered up. I figured I might as well keep this train to Diabetesville going.

I fear I might not wake up for Xmas morning because there’s a solid possibility that I may lapse into a food-induced coma. Maybe Santa will bring me a stomach pump. I’ve been a good boy this year.

The 23rd

Tonight saw Shawn, Greg, Sharon, Nathan, Mark, and I taking part in the annual viewing of A Christmas Story. What a fine and grand tradition it is. As a result, more sweets arrived in the house…not that any more were needed after the foolish amounts that were dropped off by Sharon the other day. Foolish but delicious.

I recently ordered a set of graphic designer tools and for some reason the set came with a surprise mystery bonus gift. Housed in its faux velvet-style slip case was an 8-in-1 tool that came with this dubiously-titled survival card. I’m now thinking that this card is more of an advertisement and that ”survival card” is the poorly translated name of the tool itself, as it’s a flat, rectangular device. That would make sense considering the poor but funny translation on the rest of the card.

I would never, ever use an 8-in-1 survival card unless it was an ”intimate” one. I think that goes without saying though. After looking it over, I do agree with their boastful claim in point number two: that it is the best promotional item there is. So good, in fact, that they wanted to put every cent they could into the product itself and, as a result, they found a way to cut costs on packaging by forgoing the notoriously exorbitant fees for apostrophes.

The 22nd

I really hope there isn’t a frozen hobo buried in that snowbank somewhere.

The 19th

I paid a $4 car insurance bill today. The woman said it the was smallest payment she’s ever had to take. I wish that was always my insurance bill instead of just the difference owed on a previous invoice. Bloody insurance. Sharon gave me a tray of delicious sweets, though, so that makes everything better. They’ll be gone in a couple of days though.

At Five Eleven with Greg, Nathan and Sharon, I ordered calamari that had two kinds of sesame seeds in the batter. ‘Twas tasty. The waitress basically ignored us, though, and I didn't get the sweet potato fries I ordered even though I was charged for them. She did admit to ignoring us, which is good I suppose, and she sort of made it up to us by giving everyone free drinks and me a free dessert. English Coffee Cheesecake to be exact. It was unbelievably good, seriously one of the best slices of cheesecake I’ve ever had. It was fluffy with a graham cracker crust, had no dry edge, and used thick chocolate drizzle instead of that syrupy stuff. When I went up to pay she took for-bloody-ever removing the sweet potato fries I never got from my bill but when I got home I realized that not only did she mess up my bill in the first place and then spent forever trying to fix it but she didn't even end up charging me for that bill. She charged me for Nathan’s which was less expensive and which also meant I got my calamari free. Free appetizer plus a free dessert because of a whole bunch of don’t know what do. I’m definitely okay with that.

Trivia at The Link followed dinner and the place was freezing because the furnace was most likely busted. D’arcy showed up, then Michelle and then dozens of youngins poured into the place, crowding around the bar, filling the side room and overpowering the entire restaurant with noise. They made it nearly impossible to hear anything that was being said at the table, let alone trivia questions. This is what happens when everyone is home for holidays: they hear The Link has ultra-cheap beer and think it’s a great place to get a buzz on before they hit The Heritage (which apparently had thirty fights in one night last weekend). As noisy and annoying as all of that foolishness was, though, we still got first place, and I found George mixed in with the yahoos so we chatted a bit about his time in New Zealand.

The 16th

Gail was nice enough to make me some perogies which I cooked up with some onions and hot sauce to eat with leftover mashed potatoes and oven-roasted carrots. Gawdamn they were good. I could seriously fry up hundreds of perogies and spend an entire weekend on the couch pouring hot sauce on them, slathering them with sour cream and stuffing my face with them until I puked up perogi puke so I could eat more perogies.

I also bought an eye-patch today.

The 13th

I was about to leave house today when I saw some dude walking down the street in minus ten degree weather wearing nothing but a t-shirt with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets. In a quick, frustrated and dramatic motion, he pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper from his pocket and kept walking down to the intersection. He slowed, lingered at the corner, looked around, and from inside the front porch I could hear him yell fuck. Suddenly, he turned around and made his way back up the street past the house.

After the weirdo had gone by and was a safe distance away, I went out to my car and headed up the street toward him. As I casually approached (as casual as one can be driving a car), he crossed the street and snatched from the pavement what looked like a white jacket lying in the middle of the street. I sat at the intersection waiting for a break in the traffic and kept an eye on him in my side mirror to see what else the guy might do. While he didn’t curse at no one in particular or make any more flourished movements, he did take a shirt out of the jacket, which he pulled over his head, and then put the jacket on.

This obviously means that at some point he removed both of these articles of clothing, ditched them on the street for some reason, walked to the opposite end of the block to read a note and curse, only to re-trace his steps back to his discarded garments and be on his merry way. Either that or he forgot something and was lucky enough to find some badly needed clothing left by chance or lost on the street by another which could protect him from the winter’s bitter chill.

I prefer to form my own theory for the events I witnessed, however. I speculate that this dude was some nut on a mission. A mission to pound a guy in the face. A guy who had been sleeping with his girlfriend for several months, and was also a guy who he never liked in the first place. This dude, out of his mind with jealousy and rage, rounded the corner and tore off his shirt and jacket to be unfettered by them for the ultimate beat down he was going to deliver. Cold be damned, a spiteful fire burned within him. He was furious. Only an afterthought now were the clothes he left behind him on the street—the very same street where he would find the address he discovered scribbled onto a discarded note in his girlfriend’s home office waste paper basket. At the time, he just happened to see it and thought perhaps it was merely a note about an appointment or a meeting. But when he saw that name circled in a big heart, he knew his long-time suspicions had been confirmed.

The cold, winter air invigorated him. His pulse pounded and his mind raced. He withdrew the note one last time to check the address where he’d arrive to put a guy in traction. He had no reason to read it again for he had stared at the address for what seemed like hours. The address in her bubbly cursive was indelibly burned into his memory at this point. Moreover, he knew the address and knew the address well. But then, as he reached an intersection, he ironically arrived at a cross-roads in a moment of rational clarity. For all the seething rage that boiled within his gut and for all the heartache that threatened to tear his heart right in two, he knew that should be confront his lover’s lover that there could only be but one outcome. The door would open, she would be taken aback, stumble over her words from the sheer surprise of being caught in the arms of another man before shrinking from the shame of it all. But then her lover would jump up—all 230 lbs. of him—and lay a beating on him because he has right big muscles.

The 11th

I have a cold and it sucks.

The 3rd

Here are a couple of recent search terms my stats picked up that brought people to my site: 1) barbershop fellate, and 2) cyst on chicken’s waddles. I get how “cyst” in the latter search relates to something I’ve written about but chicken’s waddles? As for the former…that has to be just about the weirdest place possible to want or receive a blow job. Barbershop BJs? Really? Unless that’s some “thing” or odd euphemism I’m not familiar with then that is definitely some weird and kinky shit. The availability of and the proximity to straight razors in such a location is what I find most worrisome. Who’s giving and who’s receiving is also disturbing because if someone’s going there to blow the barber then that’s one thing, it’s another if the barber is providing more than just a shave and a haircut.

There’s gotta be a barbershop pole joke in here somewhere…

The 1st

Back in October 2001, a little orange and white cat started running out from the trees time after time to meet me when I would bike home from work. I was eventually convinced to take the little guy in after he was given a can of food and he flopped over and passed out right after eating it. His kitty cuteness won me over. He became known as Hobbes, who went from a scrawny, attention-starved (and literally starved) stray who would cling to the screen door wanting inside to a fat, spoiled house cat who pretended like he was starving two or three times a day.

Over the weekend I spent as much time with him as I could because it was apparent that it would be his last. He looked so sick. I felt so bad for him but I tried to do some things with him he always enjoyed. I got out the laser pointer and even though he would watch the red dot zip around in front of him I knew he felt too sick to play. And even though he was weak and tired, when I put him on the pile of boxes he likes to sleep on he still scratched them a bit like his usual weirdo self. I spent last night in bed with my sick kitty sleeping on my chest while I watched TV. I couldn’t let him sleep in the bathroom on his last night so I let him curl up next to me to sleep under the covers all night like he always did.

Today, Hobbes went to vet to be put to sleep. Watching him slowly walk into his carrier, closing the door behind him and saying goodbye to him from the other side of the bars was one of the saddest things ever. I couldn’t bring myself to take him to the vet so my mom was nice enough to take him. Unlike all of the other trips to the vet where he meowed non-stop the whole way there, Mom said he only meowed once.

I sure do miss my boy.