Xiao Pangzi

Attention span further shortened

2011-07-09T07:52:00.002-04:00

When I think of my blog, I feel guilty, because if Xiao Pangzi were a child, or kitten, or even a house plant, I would have been charged with failing to provide the necessities of life.

I think it is safe to say that I have abandoned Xiao Pangzi, even as I have picked up a new follower (hello to stickthatinyourjuicebox!).

Just as my failure to become fluent in Cantonese compelled me to become equally incompetent in French, I have decided to camouflage this social media atrophy with a Twitter account: twitter.com/xiao_pangzi.

So, I invite you to follow along, and if that fails, too, I'll try something more groundbreaking (ie homing pigeon, dinner conversation, etc).

Latest obsession: BIXI Toronto

2011-05-19T13:43:00.013-04:00

As a bike owner who lives about seven kilometers from Yonge and Dundas, there does not appear to be a reason for me to buy a BIXI Toronto membership. Why pay to use a communal bike in a service area of 2 km by 4 km in the downtown core when I can use my own bike at will? Luckily, I won a BIXI membership, so I had nothing to lose and everything to gain when I received my key fob shortly after the BIXI Toronto launch on May 3.

Since adding the BIXI fob to my key chain, the bike share program has crept into my daily life with ease. While walking to the Eaton Centre, I came across a BIXI station, and it suddenly occurred to me that there was one at Yonge and Dundas, too. So, I hopped on a BIXI bike and the commute to my destination became shorter and more enjoyable than I had anticipated.

Another day, two friends and I were going out to dinner; two of us had bikes, one of us did not. Normally, our choices would have been to walk our bikes, or bike ahead, leaving our friend to catch up on foot or by streetcar. A BIXI station at our starting point, and another right across the street from the restaurant meant that my bikeless friend could ride with us, and not have to worry about locking up the bike once we reached our destination.

A BIXI membership has brought me a level of convenience that I never dreamed of. However, the system is not without aggravation. More than once, I have wandered frantically with my Bixi bike in tow, searching for a station to park it with limited time. The paper map that came with my key fob lead me to a non-existent station once, and the smartphone application has failed to give me the exact location of stations.

The BIXI bikes are heavy as tanks. This makes the bikes durable, but it also makes me look slow and clumsy; with the slightest tilt, the bike succumbs to gravity. Using the "speedy" third gear, I frequently cringe at the annoyance of the cyclists who pass me. On the plus side, I do not fear riding a BIXI bike without a helmet, because the low speed and ramrod straight posture I assume while riding equal safety and vigilance.

At first, I had my doubts about bringing a bike share system to Toronto. Having seen them in action in Montreal and Paris, I did not think Toronto citizens or infrastructure would support it. Yet, as an unexpected BIXI member, I can vouch for its convenience and practicality, and hope for its rapid expansion.

Welcome to the lair, part 2

2011-04-06T13:31:00.004-04:00

I have been a terrible blogger of late, and yet, I have managed to gain two more followers. Adhering to the promise of a welcome wagon, I salute Marlene and dilo3xpp.

Marlene is Brazilian, and enjoys Portuguese poetry. dilo3xpp appears to be into photography, electronic scraps, and Apple computers. I won't hold that last one against her.

It will be hard to cater to your interests, Marlene and dilo3xpp, especially since I have been such a lazy blogger. Poor NeroFiddled has not had his love of beer satisfied while following Xiao Pangzi.

I'm going to hope that you have a burgeoning interest in Toronto, and my latest obsession, biking in Toronto. I also watch a lot of TV and movies, and like to complain about public transit in Toronto.

If you have any requests, I welcome them. More blogging in the near future...hopefully.

You're dead to me, Robin Hobb

2011-02-11T13:05:00.004-05:00

Previously, I relayed my obsession with some of Robin Hobb's earlier books. In spite of my searing disappointment with the ending of Hobb's Tawny Man Trilogy, I decided to give her Soldier Son Trilogy a try.

Shaman's Crossing - Book 1 of Soldier Son Trilogy
Reminiscent of Assassin's Apprentice, this is a beginnings book. We are introduced to Nevare Burvelle, who is also the narrator. Unfortunately, Nevare is stupidly obedient and dull, to boot. He stoically endures abuse from humans and supernatural forces, then manages to see the end of a series of painful trials due to dumb luck. The book ends with Nevare happily ensconced in the status quo, dreaming of marriage to a boring girl.

Forest Mage - Book 2 of Soldier Son Trilogy
Whereas Book 1 was dull and painful in turns, Forest Mage is like militant fat camp propaganda. Nevare spends the entire book being called a fatty and trying to prove that he has no control over his obesity. He bungles his way into being accused of murdering a prostitute and necrophilia, which the mob is eager to believe, because he is fat. Nevare is supposed to be a forest mage, but he really only commands his power in the climactic final scene, before severing ties with his few loyal friends. What a loser.

Renegade's Magic - Book 3 of Soldier Son Trilogy
Unread.

Joe has been reading Hobb's latest, the Rain Wild Chronicles, and he says that there is a lot of whining in that one, too.

Robin Hobb, you had a good thing going with The Farseer Trilogy and The Tawny Man Trilogy, but you appeared to be in such a hurry to finish the latter that you tacked on a false happy ending and made me want to cry. Now, you spend your time and energy writing about long suffering, boring protagonists who can't seem to get out of trouble except by the mercy of dumb luck.

Until you choose the rewrite the ending of The Tawny Man Trilogy, I will not be reading your books, any more.

Friday Night Play List: hot docs

2011-02-11T09:32:00.008-05:00

During my time away from Xiao Pangzi, not only did I watch a lot of TV, but I also viewed numerous documentaries on Netflix, because their movie selection leaves much to be desired. I can recommend two that continue to prey on my mind.

Dear Zachary (2008)
I won't include a hyperlink to the film's website, because it is best viewed without much prior knowledge. The documentary starts out as an ode to the filmmaker's late friend, Bagby, and a cinematic portrait for Zachary, the baby boy who will never know his father. Matters are complicated when the baby's mother is charged in the brutal murder of Bagby. The story takes dramatic turns that are shocking and heart wrenching, yet the most astonishing outcome is a testament to the power of love.

Cropsey (2009)
An investigation into a classic Staten Island urban legend that challenges the notion of monsters and community responsibility in their creation. A truly creepy film that only grows more frightening as the truth behind the fables become open to debate.

I like to watch

2011-02-04T12:38:00.004-05:00

I'm back, and let me apologize in advance for the rusty prose to follow. For the past four months, I have been obsessed with weight loss and television. But, enough about my back fat. Here's some of what I've watched since October:

"Top Gear" - Who could have predicted that I would love a car show? I've never even owned a car. Yet, the tomfoolery of hosts, Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond, and James May have made me very, very happy. I still chuckle when I reminisce about Jeremy and Richard propping up James's crippled baby grand with a stack of porno magazines, right before James unknowingly backs a truck onto his precious piano. I can't recommend this show enough, even with the current anti-Mexican controversy.
"Being Human" - I was prompted to watch the original BBC show, currently in its third season, after the American series premiere ended on a cliffhanger. Whereas the American version has felt forced, the UK series has been easy to watch, with great actors and a more charming approach to the exact same storyline as the US show. It just proves the adage that the difference is in the details.
"Mad Men" - After absorbing the hype for years, we finally gave in, and now, I know why busty women are back in vogue and everyone thinks Jon Hamm is hot. The complexity of the characters, and their varying moods and intentions, are what make the show so fascinating. The most recent fourth season was a gamble, and has cooled my enthusiasm for the show. Still, the first three seasons were very watchable.
"The Cape" - The production values are high, and the actors are decent (Summer Glau is working again!), but the show is hindered by a formulaic storyline, and the survival of the hero's family. While the hero is pining for his living wife and son, he is not inflicting violent vengeance, struggling with his morals, nor developing sexual tension with Summer Glau. The jerky circus midget character should get his own show. Such a waste of a good production budget.
"Damages" - This was the drama series that I felt the most ambivalent towards, despite tearing through the first season. Glenn Close's character veers too much into pure villainy, and it is hard to sympathize with a character as naive and bland as Rose Byrne's ingenue lawyer. The first season's dramatic plot twists kept me going, but the second season has failed to latch onto me, despite the hardening of Byrne's character, accompanied by a much improved wardrobe.

I've just started watching "Spartacus: Gods of the Arena", a mini-series created while Season 1 lead, Andy Whitfield was being treated for cancer. Since then, Whitfield has had to withdraw from the show to focus on his health, and I must admit that "Gods of the Arena" is missing a spark without him. All the sex and violence are present, but without a sad gladiator with tiny, leather shorts to anchor them. I can only hope that when Season 2 returns with Whitfield's replacement, the magic will return.

Steven Page: still self-destructing?

2010-10-12T21:42:00.024-04:00

After watching the exclusive W5 interview with Steven Page, I came away with a hatred of Paula Todd's interviewing style and a hunch that Steven Page is suffering from a mid-life crisis and possibly a drug addiction.

The details of Page's personal life prior to the interview are sordid enough. The 40 year old father of three was caught with cocaine in the home of his 20-something year old girlfriend, Christine Benedicto. Post-arrest, Page posted bail for himself and his girlfriend's roommate, but not his girlfriend.

During the W5 interview, Page gave an awkward denial of drug use, and appeared detached in his responses and performance. Page then admitted that the girlfriend he left his wife for was a Barenaked Ladies fan he met through MySpace. However, Page saved the best for his former band mates, spewing resentful vitriol while Todd played the enabler.

Page complained that he felt left out as a songwriter of the Barenaked Ladies, though you could hardly tell by the number of Barenaked Ladies singles, penned by Page, that was played during the show. Page also revealed that he and bandmate, Ed Robertson, were not close friends, which Todd framed as a shocker. Page then whined that while he and Ed were a great song-writing team, it was no longer fun, thus losing the sympathy of anyone who works for a living.

Steven Page is a talented musician, and he should have communicated through his music, especially when the persona that he conveys is such an unsavoury one.

Nuit Blanche 2010: from lackluster to alarming

2010-10-03T11:42:00.009-04:00

I have been fortunate enough to attend every previous Toronto edition of Nuit Blanche, with the exception of the 2009 edition, which I participated in. In every year, there was a mix of excellent and mediocre work, though the majority of the projects veered towards excellent, and the excitement of art lovers was palatable.

The 2010 edition of Nuit Blanche was disappointing for a number of reasons. Increasingly, the organizers and artists are strategizing against the lowest common denominator: loud and belligerent drunks with no real interest in art. The result is a lot of projection work that cannot be grabbed or broken, but frequently fails to capture the attention or imagination of attendees.

And who wants to house rowdy drunks? Indoor project venues were lacking, and former event stalwarts like the Reference Library and the Eaton Centre were conspicuously absent. Attendees were left to perch on folding chairs, braving the cold as they attempted to concentrate on videos that required prolonged attention.

Second in obnoxiousness only to the drunks were the corporate sponsors and vendors. Last year, roasted corn and free energy drinks blended in with a project that brought the carnival to Bay St. Organizers decided to make this carnie element a permanent fixture of the event.

The lineups were as long as one would expect, and one work highlighted this phenomenon: Wait Until You See This by Lili Huston-Herterich and Brad Tinmouth. Normally, I am all for playing a joke on the audience, but it is cruel to make a fool of the very people who have invested their time in your work. The shamed attendees of Huston-Herterich and Tinmouth's work, were funneled by proximity to Chris Shepherd's The Task, where they found an outlet for their sour mood. Shepherd's exercise in futility was mocked by viewers who did not hesitate to speak at a volume that was audible to the artist. They also resorted to that most familiar of insulting refrains, "This is art?"

My list of must-sees was admittedly short, but it included Nuit Market Starring the Toronto Weston Flea Market by Mammalian Diving Reflex. I was a big fan of their previous Nuit Blanche pieces, Ballroom Dancing (2006) and Dancing with Teacher (2007), which made great use of the frenetic atmosphere of Nuit Blanche. When I arrived on site at 1am, all that remained of Nuit Market was the sign. I can only guess that the out-of-control crowds from Yonge St. compelled the artists to pack up early, and as disappointed as I was, I could not blame them. It was at that point that I called it a night.

Tour de Greenbelt: tour de fun!

2010-09-28T12:16:00.006-04:00

When you're in love with someone, you try to spend as much time with them as possible. When the object of your love is a bike, you look for opportunities to go biking.

The Tour de Greenbelt events combine two things that I enjoy: biking in a new setting and eating fresh, local food. We signed up for tours of the Niagara and Durham Region, and each proved to be fabulous in their own way.

Niagara Region
I suspect that this was the most popular of the tours, because the Niagara Region has a good reputation for scenery. The fact that the tour started and ended at Henry of Pelham did not hurt either. There were a few steep hills, but the terrain was relatively flat though a constant head wind prevented a leisurely ride. The popularity of the region meant that we were forced to bike single file to avoid cars. However, the serving of wine and setting of white table cloths for lunch amongst the vineyards gave the whole event a certain cachet.

Durham Region
The event did not start with promise as the weather was chilly, and dark clouds could be seen on the horizon. Riders were met with a massive hill at the beginning of the course then came to realize that it was a symptomatic of a region made of up rolling hills. Yet, we were all in agreement with fellow riders that hills are preferable to head wind, of which there was none. The roads were better maintained than those in Niagara and emptier, allowing us to ride side-by-side, and the leaves had started to change colour, providing pleasant distraction from the hill-climbing. Rest stops featured delicious baked goods (Annina's Bakeshop and Café) and a corn maze (Cooper's CSA Farm and Maze), which was more interactive than the Niagara rest stops.

We are looking forward to next year's event, along with the Tour de Dufflet, whose motto, "Eat more cake, ride more bike" are words to live by.

My cat, Rusty (Epilogue)

2010-08-18T15:43:00.003-04:00

Rusty's recent ailing health convinced me and the family that it was time to let him go. We contacted Millwood Mobile Veterinary Services, for a home euthanasia, and Dr. Behzad Farokhzad was dependable and courteous.

We spent the early afternoon outside in the backyard with Rusty, allowing him the luxury of enjoying the outdoors and the sun. Even then, Rusty was obviously in a lot of discomfort and pain. The outdoors was ultimately where we chose to have the procedure done.

I wrote a premature obituary for Rusty late last year, so I won't repeat myself here. He was not a nice cat, but he was very easy to love.

To basket or not to basket

2010-08-12T22:32:00.024-04:00

I recently acquired the Trek Soho S (seen above) in spite of the fact that I already own a Trek hybrid. My nine year old Trek 7200's 15" frame and seat post shocks allow me to sit ramrod straight and float over most pot holes, thus creating an experience comparable to riding an easy chair. With the addition of a pannier and bottle basket, the easy chair has become a minivan.

In spite of its comfortable and practical ride, I was frequently frustrated by my 7200's unreliable gears and groaned under its weight when I had to lift it. Last month, my wandering eye caught sight of the Soho S - a single gear, aluminum frame little temptress. When the Soho S went on sale at Sweet Pete's, I bought the cheapened little vixen.

Since purchasing the Soho S, I have been riding it almost exclusively. I enjoy how sleek and responsive it is. If the 7200 rides like an easy chair then riding the Trek Soho S is like being carried by a ninja.

Unfortunately, ninjas have no use for a heavy bike lock nor ladies purses. When the purse is too small to accommodate the massive bike lock, the lock ends up rattling on the handlebars. And if a pleasant surprise pops up in the form of a gift or a retail purchase, the Trek Soho S carries it awkwardly, much like a ninja would.

So, now, I look longingly at baskets, specifically, a woven rattan one. I picture putting my bike lock in it or my purse or even a new retail purchase, and my mind is put at ease.

But wait! What of aesthetics? Will such a sleek bike suffer a basket modeled after ones used in the 1800s? I am torn.

My grandmother

2010-08-01T07:11:00.021-04:00

I got the news while checking my voice mail in one of those lifestyle stores. The message from my mother left no room for misinterpretation: "Your grandmother has died." My grandmother popped up in my mind then disappeared. My consciousness expanded to the clothing racks around me, the warehouse conversion, the neighbourhood then rewrote my entire world, a new world without my grandmother's presence.

I am embarrassed to admit that the tears I cry are for myself and not for my grandmother. In the last few years, she has suffered the loss of her once robust health. Hooked up to a dialysis machine twice a day, depending on a cane or walker, experiencing pain in her hands and feet, and repeat emergency visits to the hospital had robbed her of the independence that she valued.

Yet, she was a credit to her generation, the one that survived bombings from the Japanese with young children in tow. She never complained when her world became confined to the four walls of her apartment, the fourth wall made up of boxes of dialysis supplies. Her mind remained curious and her tongue sharp. She laughed at her troubles with exasperation.

So, you see, I cry because I will miss her. The woman who used to ram me into the wall in order to win a foot race to her apartment is long gone, but other losses are more keenly felt. The sight of her curly white head in the back passenger seat of my parents' car, which preceded the playfully sarcastic greeting, "How kind of you to have lunch with me!" to which I would always respond, "That's the kind of person I am." Our shared fascination with how fat my cousin, her granddaughter, had become. "Your cousin, she doesn't like to move but she likes to eat," was her blunt assessment. Her ability to speak to anyone in the limited English that she had learned in her 60s, though she chose to mock my husband in her fluent Cantonese, "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you? I could insult you and you wouldn't even know" to which my husband would nod agreeably. She gave the impression that old age was something to look forward to because you could get away with so much.

I will cry a bit more, especially during the funeral, then I will carry on because it will honour my grandmother's lifelong resilience. My grandmother was rather unsentimental about death, announcing the passing of a friend or relative with her singular use of the English word 'ended'. In that vein, I end my public display of grief here.

Yeuk Lan Chiang

1919-2010

Friday Night Play List: "Burn Notice"

2010-07-16T10:19:00.017-04:00

So far, this summer, when I am not occupied with food or writing fiction, I have been catching up to the current season of "Burn Notice", an excellent show on the USA network.

It is hard to understand why a smart series like "Burn Notice" has failed to gain the attention that dumber shows like "The Mentalist" are thriving on. The only explanation that I can think of is that it is a cable-based program without the budget for flashy production or promotion.

The title refers to the firing of Michael Westen (Jeffrey Donovan), an American spy. Left in limbo in Miami without funds or resources, Michael survives on odd jobs helping ordinary people in over their heads, while attempting to return to Government duty (Note that I am in the middle of Season 2 so Michael may already have discovered the reasons behind his firing in the current fourth season).

Michael's practical approach to mayhem is one of the appeals of the show. Like MacGyver, Michael needs only a screw driver and a paper clip to take on armed thugs. Throughout the show, his calm voice-over schools viewers in the efficient art of covert ops. In spite of his wits and physical prowess, Michael is handicapped by personal baggage that makes him more of a weirdo than a slick operative. When confronted by overt emotions, Michael becomes hilariously robotic.

Michael's oddness is only amplified by the company he keeps. Helping Michael out are Sam Axe (Bruce Campbell!), a former Navy Seal, now a gigolo surviving on the kindness of women, and Fiona Glenanne (Gabrielle Anwar), an ex-girlfriend and former member of the Irish Republican Army who functions like she is still in a war zone.

A note to nerds: if the presence of Bruce Campbell on the cast does not win you over, know that the show has featured guest appearances by two cylons: Lucy Lawless and Tricia Helfer.

In Canada, "Burn Notice" is playing on the Super Channel (whatever that is) or on a torrent near you.

Hopefully, a new low

2010-06-30T09:08:00.010-04:00

I went for my annual check up recently and the doctor confirmed what I already knew.

Me: So, I think I gained some weight since last year, because I was injured and...
Doctor: Ha! The excuses are already pouring out! (reads scale then my file) Well, you did gain a little weight. That's okay.

My doctor's sudden return to sensitivity signaled that I had become a subject of pity because a weight gain of almost 10% is not "little".

Fortunately, I'm not the only one getting tubby, and since victory over others is a great personal motivator, I challenged fellow fatties to a weight loss competition. Our progress, or lack thereof, will be documented in a blog: http://thinspirationxxl.blogspot.com/.

So as not to appear callous, we have tacked on a charitable element to the endeavor. Spectators are asked to bet on a competitor, pledging to donate an amount of British pounds, equivalent to the amount that the competitor loses, to his/her associated charity.

A foreseeable end to the competition was suggested by Royal Pinguo so, sometime in September, the biggest loser will be revealed...then beaten with pork hocks. Stay tuned!

Hard at work

2010-06-15T12:51:00.037-04:00

Contrary to what my meager blogging may indicate, I have been busy writing.

After mastering the art of generating strong opinions within a lunch hour for the last five years, I decided to make myself more respectable by attempting to write fiction. My last foray into fiction writing was back in high school, when I was heavily influenced by J.D. Salinger. This was not a good thing. So, I signed up for an introductory writing course with the University of Toronto's School of Continuing Studies. It worked for Vincent Lam, so why not an underachiever like me?

My class is made up of people who work in finances, mothers doing it for themselves, and a party clown (not a derogatory statement but a fact). The writing is equally eclectic: the Muslim women use lush prose to describe the clash of East and West, the party clown wants to be the next J.K. Rowling, and a segment of the finances division has failed to meet the project deadline. Of the two remaining financial workers who did hand in their final project, one offered a story worthy of Harlequin, and the other modified a personal travel blog entry.

The latter student's year in Australia has been a well of inspiration with rapidly diminishing returns. Her stories run the gamut of traveling through Australia to encountering ticketing problems while attempting to leave Australia. In one story, the gender of her main character was changed but he still pranced to yoga class and traded bitchy looks with a travel agent.

The in-class workshop, during which the class offers compliments and constructive criticism for a single student's work, is one of the best aspects of the course. Still, it has made a strong case for the idea that procrastination does not make for good writing. In the first few weeks, the compliments flowed freely, but as we approach the end of the workshop schedule, a tension has descended on the party. The class struggles to find the bright side of what they have read ("You have a very original narrative voice.") and temper their criticism ("I don't understand what is happening here...here...and here.").

After my workshop, I edited furiously in order to meet the submission deadline for the Random House Creative Writing Award. Whatever the outcome, I am hooked on this new respectability, and the promise of fame and cash prizes will drive me to write long after my lunch hour is done.

More little gladiatorial shorts coming soon!

2010-06-08T12:25:00.004-04:00

My favourite blog tells me that Season 2 of "Spartacus: Blood and Sand" will be shooting soon as its lead, Andy Whitfield, is now clear of cancer.

Whitfield will have until October to fill out his tiny gladiatorial shorts.

Woot woot!

Tour de Dufflet: do it now!

2010-06-06T00:45:00.016-04:00

A part of Toronto Bike Month, the third annual Tour de Dufflet sounded like our kind of event: bike to all three Dufflet locations in one day to receive refreshments and delicious baked goods at each stop.

Joe and I, joined by Royal Pinguo and Flocons (who blogged about this, too), started at the Uptown location because gravity would carry us to the two other stores. After paying the $5 registration fee, we were presented with a Tour de Dufflet water bottle, an 'Eat more cake' button, then offered a choice of water or lemonade, plus any cookie or bar of our choice. Wow!

At the Uptown location, I chose the Lemon Lime Coconut Bar ("Tangy lemon lime filling and chewy coconut on a buttery, shortbread crust"). At the Downtown location, it was a German Brownie ("Coconut, walnuts & chocolate cake with a gooey layer of more coconut and walnuts combined in a buttery vanilla icing"). Finally, at the Beach location, I celebrated my saddle sores with a Lemon Meringue Euro Tart ("Tangy lemon filling in our Euro-style crust, topped with a cloud of meringue")

As we biked across the city, Tour de Dufflet offered unexpected attractions and detours. It became a real estate tour as Royal Pinguo and I admired the million dollar homes we passed, then a shopping tour when we arrived in the Queen West area, and, finally, we expanded the menu when we decided to stop at T&T Supermarket for all-day dim sum.

Having sweet rewards to entice us to bike across the city on such a beautiful day was a great experience. Tour de Dufflet ends June 30, but there is word of a cupcake tour, which has Flocons dreaming of something more manly like a hot dog stand tour - the quickest ride to obesity if ever there was one with a hot dog stand at every corner. Ride on!

Examples of self-hate

2010-05-25T18:05:00.005-04:00

I have heard it remarked that Jews who own Volkswagens are self-hating. I would like to add to the controversial list of self-haters with two more recent entries:

M. Night Shyamalan - You are an Asian American director who has chosen to bring to the big screen a well-loved animated series that bases itself on Asian culture. The obvious answer is to cast Asian actors, but no, you choose white actors for every major role with the exception of the villain.
Geeks who enjoy "The Big Bang Theory" - Geekdom is finally cool because geeks like Joss Whedon and Sam Raimi are in control. Yet, you choose to watch a sitcom that depicts geeks as socially awkward caricatures. Sure, the characters make geeky references but why not watch a comedy that makes references that only you would understand and respects you in the process? Try "Chuck" or "The IT Crowd".

Whatever works

2010-05-14T11:34:00.008-04:00

Since taking on a vegetable and fruit binge regiment, our household seems to be hardier. However, nothing lasts forever, and Joe brought home some sort of illness from work last week. He had aches and chills, then a cold and cough combination. About a week later, my body gave up and decided to join in on the fun.

As usual, neither of us have any intention of visiting a doctor. Joe's ailing enters its second week and he relies solely on our single box of Contac Complete, of which, only the limited supply of Nighttime pills provide any relief.

I have decided to take the opportunity to explore alternative methods of self healing.

Alcohol - I, once, successfully made a cold disappear after an evening of beer drinking. Ever since that single occurence, I have been unable to duplicate the results. Mostly, when I drink alcohol, my cold gets worse because I become dehydrated, but in an alcohol induced haze, at least I become indifferent to how terrible I feel.

Junk Food - Greasy food definitely makes any illness worse by adding vomiting and diarrhea to the list of symptoms. But, what about sweets? I stuffed myself with turkish delights (from Turkey) and a few chocolate chip cookies last night. This morning, no improvement. Bonus: no weight gain either; my sweets binge appears to have made up for whatever weight loss I might have suffered otherwise...in back fat.

Echinacea - I have read various reports debunking echinacea as a natural cold remedy, which I am prone to believe because herbal remedies don't go with my wardrobe. However, when my co-worker offered me echinacea tea, I couldn't resist. As of this moment, it appears to have worked. My throat no longer feels scratchy, sore or flemy, and my nose is no longer runny. Admittedly, my cold symptoms were just beginning, so my immune system might just have rallied itself. Until the results can be duplicated, consider them unscientific...then generalize that assessment to this entire exercise.

Lost opportunity at Spadina and Dundas

2010-05-11T11:16:00.009-04:00

A new repertory movie theatre is coming to town: Toronto Underground Cinema will take over the long defunct Golden Harvest Chinese cinema at 186 Spadina Ave. Only love can drive the guys behind the Cinema to enter this volatile market, lovingly refurbishing such an inconspicuous venue in the same neighbourhood as that corporate branded multiplex at Richmond and John, and the new TIFF venue at King and John.

When I first heard that a repertory theatre was being unveiled in the Spadina and Dundas area, I instantly pictured the initial site of the Golden Harvest cinema, located on the north-east corner of the intersection. This was where my parents brought me to see Jackie Chan movies, and for a child, the venue's stadium seating was preferable to the subtle incline that dominated cinema design in the 1980s. It was clear that the seats were original to the venue as they were upholstered but made of wood and painted bright orange. Orange seating aside, it was easy to see that this was once a grand venue with chandelier lighting and a huge domed ceiling.

Thanks to Wikipedia, I have since learned that the Golden Harvest cinema was originally the Standard Theatre. It started out as a Yiddish theatre, then a burlesque theatre, before becoming the theatre of my childhood. The theatre was boarded up when Golden Harvest moved to 186 Spadina Ave. and a dollar store now takes up the stairs and former lobby.

I've entered the dollar store once and stared at that wall that barred even a peek into the theatre, wondering about the state of the orange seats and the chandeliers. I would have paid full admission regularly to revisit the cinema of my childhood.

Sporting Life 10K post-mortem

2010-05-03T19:44:00.011-04:00

So, I actually succeeded in meeting my Sporting Life 10K goal, stumbling past the finish line in just under one hour. However, my elation ended when records revealed that this was my slowest Sporting Life 10K ever.

Otherwise, the race was a good experience with ideal weather conditions (16C and overcast) and staggered start times, which prevented the congestion that plagued previous events. If only the event organizers would improve the look of their dri-fit t-shirts.

The short-lived afterglow smothered by disappointment has, in turn, been consumed by a nagging need to prove myself. The Toronto Challenge 5K is a favourite of mine because, at $20, it is so affordable. My personal best on the course is also my fastest 5K finishing time: 24:20. I will attempt to beat this time on June 13, 2010. As in a mid-life crisis, the fitting response to a new low is an outrageous new high.

A solution to the bystander effect: pay it forward

2010-04-28T13:00:00.020-04:00

The bystander effect has been in the news recently thanks to a mugging in Toronto and the death of a good Samaritan in New York. In both cases, witnesses did very little to assist those in need.

It is pointless to act outraged and claim moral superiority because everyone, at some point, has passed the buck. I cannot even recall how many times I have passed a homeless person lying on a grate in the middle of winter, without checking to see if s/he was even breathing.

Ever since I learned about the bystander effect in my first year Psychology class, I have always assumed that I might not get the help I need if I was ever in danger. This is not to say that there are no helpful people in society. In fact, with such a spotlight on the bystander effect, I believe that people are bound to be more proactive, if only for the next little while.

However, if faced with danger, it is best to make your predicament someone else's problem as well:

If you're being attacked, start breaking windows or damaging merchandise. Now, the store owner will definitely call the police.
If you're being mugged, grab someone's purse or wallet and start running after the mugger. Now, you have an army of dubious support following you. Avoid taking anything that might slow you down like laptops or groceries lest you get overtaken before you reach your mugger.
If you are being abducted, drag someone else along. Two heads are better than one, and maybe s/he will have friends that will work harder than yours to find missing people.

Since it would appear that I am advocating criminal behaviour, I will insist that I'm kidding (kind of). Unfortunately, the bystander effect is emblematic of urban life, and until Kick-Ass* becomes reality, everyone should be prepared to become their own little antihero.

*That's an awesome movie, and the apathetic bystander character is topical.

10K training update + Okay Okay Diner

2010-04-26T14:19:00.013-04:00

Activities over the last five weeks suggest that I've lost that hunger to beat a predetermined race finishing time and beat my body into submission in the process.

I have run about twice a week for the last five weeks, but the runs have been sloppy affairs; 30 minutes here, 8 km there, mostly by myself but occasionally accompanied by a disgusted Joe. I finally went for a run with a group of over-athletic overachievers last Thursday, during which my eyes roamed desperately for a red light. The only person who approves of my floundering is Flocons, who is pleased to find a fellow advocate for pit-stops at fast food chains along the route.

Traditionally, I have not done well in the Sporting Life 10K, in spite of the downhill course, because I tend to train poorly over the winter. In light of my history, prior and recent, I will be very happy to finish the Sporting Life 10K in one hour. In anticipation of disappointment, I am going to look forward to the next race. Which one to do next?

Hunger had nothing to do with my experience of the latest stop on my Leslieville culinary journey.

Okay Okay Diner (1128 Queen St. E.)
Their pancakes were amazing: fluffy but with substance and packed with flavour. Hence, shoving the flapjacks into my cake hole at record speed was no chore, as my lunch companion and I attempted to eat our way out of the freezing patio as quickly as possible. Still, I wish the pancakes came with some sort of accompaniment like fruit or vegetables, even if it would have prolonged our suffering.

Cyclists: the new urban cowboys

2010-04-20T08:52:00.006-04:00

I've always been proud of how hard core cyclists are in Toronto. Even in the midst of a blizzard, you can always find a cyclist trying to stay upright in a snow drift.

Now, with the good weather, cyclists are out en masse and, unfortunately, some are acting like a gang of roving delinquents, thumbing their noses at the rules of the road.

I understand that stopping then starting a bicycle is work. It's not like simply releasing then pushing the acceleration pedal of your car. However, if passengers are attempting to board the streetcar, or pedestrians are crossing the road and have the right of way, cyclists are supposed to stop.

Three cyclists whizzed right through a red light as I was crossing the road this morning. Admittedly, my tone was not congenial when I pointed out the red light to them. One cyclist responded with "We're letting you walk, aren't we?" A fourth cyclist who pedaled past told me to "relax".

It is hypocritical of cyclists to demand respect from drivers as vehicles of the road then flout the rules of the road at their convenience. Granted, when drivers fail to observe a red light or wear their seat belt, the results can be fatal. However, I challenge anyone to feel the impact of being hit by a bicycle at moderate speed or of flying over the handlebars without a helmet before arguing that the rules of the road are merely suggestions of etiquette for cyclists.

Me, my mother and "Steven and Chris"

2010-04-15T16:23:00.016-04:00

My mother does not have any passionate hobbies but she does enjoy watching TV. So, attending a live taping of "Steven and Chris" for her birthday seemed like a great idea. I got us on the guest list for the final show of the season with the hope that car giveaway madness à la Oprah would ensue. However, it was neither as frenzied nor as fabulous as one would hope.

There was the usual tension that sets in when you haphazardly corral a large group of single minded women then create a bottleneck to their common desire - a good seat. Apparently, it was the biggest audience of the season; the unfortunate overflow audience members were forced to sit in the aisle, and vacate their seats after every segment to allow props to be wheeled in and out of the studio. The rest of the audience were seated so comfortably that they barely registered a pulse when not prompted to enthusiasm by the director. The exception to this were the awkward few who insisted on doing the seated two step to the dance music that blared from the speakers in between filming.

Steven and Chris only revealed themselves to the audience when they were cued to do so before the cameras. There were sweet nothings and hugs for a special few, but the rest of the audience were pretty much ignored by the hosts until they were ready to bid us farewell. If I were to choose the friendlier half of the duo, it would have to be Chris, who was entertainingly flamboyant, even in between takes.

Perhaps the disconnect between the hosts and the audience was caused by the wall of cameras that separated us. An overhead monitor showed audience members what was happening a mere 15 feet in front of them. Add the set ups for each segment, which lasted longer than a commercial break and inflicted audio torture what with the aforementioned dance music, and I found myself wishing that I was watching "Steven and Chris" in the comfort of my own home.

My complaints are all my own and probably don't reflect my mother's experience. When guest chef, Lynn Crawford, showed up to promote her new show, "Pitchin’ In", I was a little alarmed at how excitedly my mom laughed and applauded. It is not a side of my mother that I am used to since I failed to become a doctor or any professional of note.

Seeing how much my mother enjoyed herself, I soberly suggested attending a live taping of "CityLine" in the future, which my mom said would be agreeable to her. The things I do for love.

More gastronomic delights and our new favourite in Leslieville

2010-04-05T12:43:00.013-04:00

Over the weekend, we made two stops on our fantastic gastronomic journey in Leslieville:

Gio Rana's Really Really Nice Restaurant (1220 Queen Street East, Toronto)
The giant paper-mâché nose above the restaurant entrance may remind Torontonians of its previous location at Yonge & Eglinton or the American Express TV commercial. However, this was my first experience of the Italian restaurant, which has a surprisingly limited selection of pasta on its menu. Instead, the chef's focus is on seafood and meat.

We were all really (really) happy with our meal though I found my portion size on the small side; my lamb was very juicy and flavourful while Joe's osso bucco was tender and delicious. However, the desserts were to die for: the goatcheese cheese cake was just perfection while the tiramisu was the best I've ever had - light, both in texture and taste, yet still rich with flavour.

Leonidas Belgium Chocolates and Cafe (5 Coady Avenue, Toronto)
Strolling around in nice weather makes one susceptible to tasty summer treats so when we noticed the trash can shaped like an ice cream cone outside Leonidas, we ran for the front door. I usually prefer the creamy flavour of ice cream to the lighter texture of gelato but Leonidas's raspberry coconut and Tiramisu flavours were creamier than any gelato I have ever had. We have a coupon for a 1 litre tub of Leonidas gelato, which I had scoffed at previously but now, am simply biding my time for an opportunity to lock myself in with said tub and possibly the first season DVD of "Spartacus: Blood and Sand".

And the furniture store that will save us from Ikea:

G.U.F.F. (1142 Queen Street East, Toronto)
Joe and I discovered this used furniture store while they were in the midst of a moving sale, which we took advantage of to acquire a task chair with chrome legs ($45) and an industrial console table ($95). With their grand re-opening on April 3, Joe and I couldn't resist buying a full length mirror in a solid wood frame ($95). From the many 'sold' signs attached to the merchandise on display, it appears that G.U.F.F.'s reasonably priced vintage furniture has a high turnover rate.

Le cry

2010-03-31T15:15:00.010-04:00

I bought a fabulous pair of Vivienne Westwood / Melissa shoes (seen above) while in Bangkok back in December, and have been waiting for the an opportune moment to show them off. With a high of 13C forecast today and no rain in sight, I thought the moment for my shoes to shine had arrived. Unfortunately, like a party thumb trap, the shoes have tightened in direct relation to my mounting despair. The Melissa company website states that their product "does not really stretch – any type of give will be negligible."

I will experiment with tights, baby powder and possibly foot binding in a bid to keep these shoes. If all options fail (or not) I will console myself at the One of a Kind Spring Show & Sale (March 31 - April 1, 2010) by buying some stylish clothes to draw attention away from my limping. Nothing works quite like cracking open the wallet for frivolous purchases to fan away the tears.

Running eastward and eating westward

2010-03-30T15:29:00.008-04:00

My very first run since July 2009 was a 5K commute to my weekly class at the National Ballet School. With a concrete finishing time, I ran 2/3 of the way before running out of steam and dragging myself with purpose the rest of the way. My cramping feet made me more awkward than usual during class, but my classmates gave me and my sweat drenched clothing wide berth.

It took me three days to recover from that first training run but, soon, Joe was using my runs as an excuse to explore The Beaches, a neighbourhood that I usually avoid for fear of being abducted by locals and forced to work as an au pair. The area is actually quite charming at night, in the absence of double strollers being pushed by coloured nannies. I never noticed the Fox Theatre before and will definitely make it a pitstop on a future date night.

When we're not stumbling eastward, Joe and I chomp our way west along the Queen East culinary strip. I will record our gastronomic experiences periodically on this blog. The journey so far:

Edward Levesque's Kitchen (1288 Queen Street East)
I mistook this place for a diner because their kitchen is on full display at the front of the establishment. Hence, it was only after we had asked to be seated that I realized our paint stained clothing was not appropriate for the venue. Our attire was paired with loud and inappropriate comments on my part that were politely ignored by neighbouring patrons. Unfortunately, I don't remember much about the food itself except that it was tasty though not a revelation, and surprisingly filling for the portion size. I welcome my dining companion, Fiona to elaborate on the culinary merits of the restaurant, and, hopefully, not my social faux pas.

The Friendly Thai (1218 Queen Street East)
One of the more stylish branches of the restaurant chain that provides Torontonians with a dependably tasty source of Thai food. Joe had a noodle dish and I had the Vegetable Green Curry. Both of us went running for the washroom at Canadian Tire about an hour later.

The Leslieville Diner (1168 Queen Street East)
This was the consolation prize after we discovered that The Ceili Cottage was closed until 12pm on a Sunday(!). The place appeared to be run by a Quebecois family, as evidenced by their accents and the Habs posters on the wall. It was also a magnet for customers who speak French, wear Hab caps or Quebec flag t-shirts, which was representative of four neighbouring tables. The service was good but the brunch was rather pedestrian. Unfortunately, this was no Lady Marmalade (see previous review).

How to blend into Leslieville

2010-03-25T11:55:00.006-04:00

Liev and Naomi: "This Leslieville neighbourhood feels right. Too bad we're Hollywood stars who can afford better than a mere $450K house."

Having settled into our little house in Leslieville, Joe and I ventured forth into the neighbourhood to survey the area. We quickly became aware that we were lacking the key characteristics of a local:

a coffee from Red Rocket Coffee
a dog
a baby in a Bugaboo or a stroller of equal prestige and price point
a pale complexion

All of these will prove challenging to acquire, even the first one since Joe drinks bargain coffee and I drink milk.

Of course, I'm being bitchy; Leslieville already feels more comfortable than our previous abode, which was practically becoming a university dorm. It's nice to find a wide selection of good restaurants and boutiques within walking distance, which is what enticed us to the neighbourhood in the first place (see The Leslieville Guide). We're slowly eating our way west, and the selection of wares are similar to what can be found on Queen West, but at more affordable prices.

The commute to everything, even the supermarket, has not proven to be a great hardship. Traveling on the streetcar to work has allowed me to just sit and listen to CBC Radio One for a longer period of time than my previous 12 minute walk - something that is tantamount to a spa experience in my mind. The supermarkets are further than a five minute walk but there is so much more selection at lower prices.

As the weather gets warmer, my assumption is that our experience of the neighbourhood can only improve since we will make forays into Ashbridges Bay or sit on a patio nearby. We will become true locals, even without a coffee, a dog, a baby and a bottle of SPF 100 in tow.

From zero to 10 in six weeks

2010-03-19T13:30:00.009-04:00

In a previous post, I had promised to sign up for the Mississauga Marathon 10K as a rally in the battle of the bulge. Since that bold public statement, I have not only failed to register and run, but I gained weight when the stress of preparing the new house and moving made me turn to bad food for comfort.

Fortunately, opportunity knocked twice:

Flocons invited me to join him in running the Sporting Life 10K, a terrible race with too many participants but a rapidly descending course that will make everyone's times better than they should be.
The current issue of Runner's World has been deemed the "Weight Loss Issue," an enticement that instantly had me reaching for my wallet. The magazine includes an 10K training plan that requires a mere three runs per week for six weeks.

Coincidentally, the Sporting Life 10K takes place in roughly six weeks. I will take this as a sign that I am destined for a showdown with myself on May 2.

The last time I drastically increased my running distance within a week, I was shocked by my drained complexion and suffered an increased susceptibility to colds and other annoying illnesses. "Running is supposed to make me healthier," I moaned.

This prior run-in with the hazards of over-training has not deterred me from becoming excited at the prospect of punishing myself over the next six weeks. A cautionary tale of how not to train, to come.

A 'Yes!' and a 'No!'

2010-03-10T09:35:00.002-05:00

A warning of possible radio silence for the next while as I strap my home onto my back and shuffle east to Leslieville.

In the meantime, I direct you to the blog I wish Xiao Pangzi could be, Stargazing by Malene Arpe. Two items of note today, copied and pasted directly from Malene's blog:

David Cronenberg and Viggo Mortensen team up again From Monsters & Critics: "The star of the darkly intense The Road is in talks to play Sigmund Freud in The Talking Cure, according to film site buzz. Digital Spy reports Mortensen will replace Christoph Waltz as the founding father of psychoanalysis following a scheduling conflict involving Waltz. Mortensen will again work with director David Cronenberg, who directed him in A History of Violence and Eastern Promises with Naomi Watts. The key story line in the movie is the conflict between Freud and theorist Carl Jung, who will be played by Michael Fassbender. Their dramatic relationship, indeed, is portrayed as giving birth to psychoanalysis. Keira Knightley, according to the buzz, may just make it onto the couch as an 'unstable young woman'."

Damn "Andy Whitfield, who plays the title role in the Starz Original series "Spartacus: Blood and Sand," has been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma. The British-born actor will begin treatment immediately. The network says the cancer was discovered during a routine checkup as Whitfield prepared to begin shooting the second season of the action-adventure series, which is filmed in New Zealand. Starz said Tuesday that production has been postponed while Whitfield undergoes treatment. According to the network, doctors say the cancer was detected in its early stages and is "very treatable." AP.

For rapid weight gain

2010-03-09T11:57:00.003-05:00

Between the stress of work and the new home, I find myself eating rather indiscriminately. Consume left over pasta salad twice a day for four days straight? Why not? The result is predictable.

If you are ever in a weight gain competition, include the following on your grocery list:

instant noodles
Häagen-Dazs
whatever else adds poundage quickly in the sumo wrestler rolling level of We Love Katamari. The game designers had it right.

A paint primer

2010-03-01T12:26:00.010-05:00

For three weekends in a row, Joe and I have been painting our new house. It's a tiny house, one that has elicited descriptions like "cute" and "cozy" so this non-stop occupation comes as a surprise to us.

The crash course in house painting has made us cynical experts so I pass along some product reviews that we may all benefit from our unexpectedly extensive knowledge base.

Behr Premium Plus Ultra
This product is supposed to save both time and money by serving as paint and primer in one. We actually used the product on both primed and un-primed walls; Behr Premium Plus Ultra Drywall Primer on the darker walls, and none on the dark beige walls. The primed walls required two coats whereas the unprimed walls required four so I question the marketing claim. The paint consistency is quite thick and sticky, hence even application of the paint required attention and extra elbow grease. Add to this experience the unexplainable blue vein that kept bleeding through the creamy white on dark beige and you have a promise from Joe that we will never use Behr again.

Benjamin Moore Moorestyle
Professionals are a fan of Benjamin Moore and we understand. We purchased a dark and a light colour in the mid-range line, and applied the paint to walls primed with the Behr Primer. Like the Behr paint, two coats of the Benjamin Moore were applied on top of the primer, but the experience was completely different. The Benjamin Moore paint went on like butter and the ease with which we achieved even distribution made us feel like skilled professionals. A second coat of the lighter colour was not really required but we decided to apply it anyways, since we had half a can of paint left and nothing to use it on. Our contractor refers to Benjamin Moore's top of the line, Aura paint as "angel piss"; we can only dream of a paint job that is comparable to receiving manna from heaven.

Valspar Ultra Premium Color Changing Ceiling Paint
A friend recently recalled the nightmare of painting her ceiling in which she was foiled by neck cramping and the inability to tell which areas had already been covered. The moral of the story is to hire a professional to paint you ceiling, as she did. For Joe and me, the take home message was to buy a ceiling paint that goes on purple then changes to white as it dries. The Valspar Ultra Premium Color Changing Ceiling Paint does indeed change colour, though it initially did so too quickly to serve us much good. After a more heavy application of the product, we were able to avoid looking like a repetitive French farce. The paint is more watery than either the Behr or the Benjamin Moore paints, but appears to do the job of evening out the colour of the ceiling in one to two coats. However, the worst aspect of the Valspar is the pungent odour; in contrast, both Behr and Benjamin Moore paints are subtly sweet smelling, which has its own disturbing health implications. In combination with the neck strain, the Valspar made me nauseous and I passed out in the middle of the job (thinking that it was cute that I was taking a little nap, Joe simply continued loading the Valspar onto the ceiling).

Up next: how to lose and alienate friends in the process of moving.

Excitement at the door continues

2010-02-18T11:58:00.008-05:00

We have received three deliveries from Front Door Organics so far and it has been very satisfying. To date, we have consumed almost everything that was sent to us, including unfamiliar vegetation like collard greens and celeriac. Unfortunately, a grapefruit, a few beets, and a parsnip shriveled up before we could muster the enthusiasm to eat them. The second delivery grapefruit currently sits dejectedly amongst the more popular fruits in our crisper.

Based on the three boxes of organic fruits and vegetables that we have enjoyed, I can conclude that organic means undersized as many of the produce are smaller than what I am used to seeing in the gleaming aisles of the local supermarket. However, the freshness of the fruits and vegetables has only improved the taste of our lunches and dinners, hiding our lackluster culinary skills. This only confirms what I have long suspected about professional chefs and their insistence on fresh ingredients. With a fresh organic apple and some BBQ sauce, you, too, could be Bobby Flay.

Public shame in place of self control - Part 2

2010-02-10T13:10:00.003-05:00

The results of the "How should I punish myself?" poll are as follows:

Harry's Spring Run Off 5K (April 3) 25%
Mississauga Marathon 5K (May 15) 25%
Toronto Women's 5K (May 30) 25%
Toronto Women's Half Marathon (May 30) 25%

Gee, thanks.

Equally fruitless were the comments that alternated between responders prodding their own fat or encouraging me to maintain the status quo.

So, I'm going with none of the above and signing up for the Mississauga Marathon 10K on May 15. It starts at 6:30pm, which is a bonus for me because I am not a morning person. For now, I predict that I will finish in under an hour, but I may aim for a more competitive time if shamed into doing so. Training kvetching to come. Stay tuned!

Welcome to the lair

2010-02-08T17:36:00.003-05:00

It has come to my attention that my blog has acquired a follower: NeroFiddled. Well, hello, there! That brings my official blog follower numbers to one.

This development both excites and alarms me. I had always assumed that friends were the main consumers of my blog, but now, with a stranger in the fold, and an American to boot, I'm hesitant about the content of my future blog entries. The last time I had an American follower, he was a Californian who gave up reading my blog when it became apparent that it was mainly about things he couldn't relate to, like the cold, Canadian businesses that screw me over, and CBC Radio.

It is heartening to see that NeroFiddled probably found me through my friend's blog, Beer is the Reason, and not the most common search term that funnels readers to my blog, "hentai robots".

I see that you're into art, NeroFiddled, which will be easy to cater to because I love art. Feel free to request other topics for me to wax poetic about, especially if you have a keen interest in my self-improvement, Toronto, or Canadian businesses that screw me over.

Let me now state for the record that I will single out each and every one of my future blog followers, creepily researching their interests using Google, in order to keep them satisfied. You have been warned.

Quick notes on radio and Mt. Tremblant

2010-02-08T12:52:00.008-05:00

Matt Galloway on Metro Morning as of March 1
I am a big fan of Andy Barrie, current Metro Morning host on CBC Radio One, and his calm but inquisitive style. So, when it was recently announced that Barrie would be "abdicating" the position, I had my suspicions that Matt Galloway, current host of the drive home show, Here and Now, would be his replacement since he was the most frequent substitute for Barrie. It turns out that my fears are correct.
I tend not to listen to Here and Now because, while I find Galloway intelligent, I do not find him engaging. Galloway has a detached air about him that will not be easy to listen to, first thing in the morning. I can only hope that Galloway warms up in his hosting style with his move to Metro Morning.

Mont Tremblant
I visited Mont Tremblant, for the first time, over the weekend and it was amazing. The runs are numerous, lengthy, scenic, and, even on a Saturday, uncongested. While nature has been kind to the area, with spectacular views and perfect snow conditions, the people behind the operation are savvy. From the speedy lifts, to the convenient village retail, to the free parking, everything has been done to prevent stress and foresee to visitors' needs. If Blue Mountain is looking to compete with Mont Tremblant, they have a long way to go.

Public shame in place of self control

2010-02-03T13:10:00.004-05:00

Ever since the new year, I have been struggling to get back into a healthy exercise routine. As much as I enjoy looking passable in a bikini, the fact is that I don't spend a lot of time scantily clad in public. Winter clothes are heavy enough to smooth over fat rolls, feeding into my illusion that everything is okay while I am busy feeding my chocolate craving.

But, everything is not okay, and it's time for an intervention. Public shame will compel me to exercise because the pleasure of working out does not provide enough incentive.

I'm going to sign up for a running event, publicly state what time I expect to finish in, then kill myself to meet expectations. For me, the stick has always worked better than the carrot.

Interventions require a circle of friends to smother the target with caring. I invite you to vote in the poll on the right as to which race I should register for. Help push my soft junk back on the wagon.

Moved to distraction

2010-02-02T12:59:00.015-05:00

I am a regular viewer of American cable television shows that make the most of their channel affiliation by flaunting sexual content; shows like "True Blood", "Dexter" and, when it was still on the air, "Rome".

Recently, I started watching "Spatacus: Blood and Sand," which gained buzz early on when its network ordered a second season before the first episode had even aired. Writers were giddy with puns when describing the explicit sex and violence featured on the show. Being the seasoned voyeur that I am, I failed to heed their warnings.

The only reason why I can recall the plot of the first and second episodes of "Spartcus" is because they follow the standard fall and rise of a hero: a Thracian warrior crosses the Romans and is sentenced to die in the gladiatorial arena only to survive and find hope for freedom as a gladiator. Otherwise, the episode details are a blur of rock hard abs and slow mo thrusting.

Producers, Sam Raimi and Robert Tapert are longtime purveyors of super ripped torsos with more family friendly fare like "Xena: Warrior Princess", "Hercules: The Legendary Journeys", and, currently, "Legend of the Seeker". With "Spartacus", Raimi and Tapert have now become peddlers of soft porn. Conversational scenes all eventually lead to explicit, and frequently gratuitous, sex scenes. Full frontal nudity makes an appearance at least once every episode, but audiences are kept busy with heavy helpings of tits and ass.

I frequently lost track of conversations because I became distracted by Andy Whitfield's tiny gladiatorial shorts, or Lucy Lawless's butt, or Extra # 2's penis. Then, when I would ask Joe to rewind so that I could actually comprehend the words, he would refuse on the grounds that he did not want to view the sausage factory again.

I would like to re-watch the first two episodes of "Spartacus" but Joe will not join me (sausage factory), and sharing the experience with anyone else might be as inappropriate as showing them a dirty magazine, but could re-watching the show by myself be construed as pervy?

Two marathons, one city

2010-01-27T12:50:00.002-05:00

City bureaucrats, who probably do not run, have decided that Toronto needs only one marathon event a year and organizers will have to bid for that right as of 2011.

Having run both the Toronto Waterfront Marathon and the Toronto Marathon (half-marathon), I have plenty of opinions to share but I'll try to keep it succinct.

The Toronto Marathon may have come first and possess a heart-warming mandate of being "grassroots" but the Toronto Waterfront Marathon is just a more exciting event. There is nothing exclusionary about the Toronto Waterfront Marathon hosting elite runners; if anything, seeing the elites fly by is motivational for tortoises like me.
The Toronto Waterfront Marathon is better situated on the calendar. In the years that I have run the event, late September has consistently offered perfect racing weather. In contrast, I have been deterred from running The Toronto Marathon due to its October timing, and the two times that I have run the event, I struggled with the freezing temperatures.
I would love for Toronto to continue hosting two marathons, with the Toronto Marathon moving to the spring, but if I had to choose one, my past actions make the decision easy: my money has gone repeatedly towards registering for the Toronto Waterfront Marathon.

Quick Toronto reviews

2010-01-26T12:32:00.011-05:00

Lady Marmalade
We are always on the lookout for a good place to brunch and Lady Marmalade (898 Queen St. E.) was amazing, in spite of the cold, half hour wait outside that we endured before a table became available.

I had the "kung foo" organic tofu scramble, a questionable brunch menu item but delicious, nonetheless, due to the fresh ingredients and loads of flavour. Joe had the brie, avocado & bacon eggs benedict, which was cooked to perfection.

I think that we have found a replacement for Cora, which will no longer be within walking distance when we move, and has been going downhill in food quality recently.

Come Up To My Room
This alternative design event has been held annually at hipster hangout, Gladstone Hotel, for a few years now but the 2010 event (January 21-24) was my first. Right away, I was reminded of why I have avoided this event for so long. There was an entry fee of $8, which felt a bit steep for such a small show. Hipsters, more interested in socializing in the hallways than actually seeing the work inside each hotel room, clogged the exhibition.

The standout of the show for me was the room of Richard Unterthiner and Paolo Ferrari. A completely mirrored walkway lead visitors into a cocoon-like white room with a mattress beneath the feet, sheets fitted snugly all around and words hanging like mobiles from above; a robotic voice conveyed apprehensive thoughts. For the brief moment that I had the room to myself, I was entranced and it was breathtakingly simple to allow myself to become absorbed in the piece.

Also very well executed was Julia Hepburn's sculpture featuring the intricate dioramas of a sleeping bird's nightmare; they hung like lanterns above the bird's bed, its chest rising and falling under the blanket.

The room of Maggie Greyson, Christine Lieu and Phoebe Lo featured an archive library of sorts in which friends and acquaintances placed mementos in canning jars tagged with a short explanation. Visitors were encouraged to take a memento in exchange for one of their own. A sweet idea that contrasted sharply with the cash grab plinko game set up next door, where the artists requested $5 for two tries at winning prizes. Participants won either a tiny clown pin or a white peanut, though all were aiming for the big prize of a ceramic figurine. When asked where the money earned would go towards, the artists lamely answered art supplies.

The rest of the rooms were either underwhelming or poorly thought out. In such a crowded, small venue, some pieces were just too obscure and provided little assistance in an environment that encouraged ADD. The most amateur project of the show had to be the piece about germ phobia. The paper mache spores looked too much like a school craft project and the pile of salt meant to evoke purity just looked like an afterthought. For a show with such buzz and a mere 11 featured works, one would have hoped for a higher batting average than 27% awesome.

Legion: no New Moon

2010-01-24T09:18:00.021-05:00

Having enjoyed the magic of New Moon recently, I decided to try my luck at another horrendous looking film, Legion. My hope was that it, too, would provide lots of unintentional comedy. While there was crap aplenty, a black hole of verbosity in the middle of the movie made it feel like cinematic molasses.

The premise of Legion is that God has had enough of our "bullshit" and decides to wipe us off the face of the earth with the help of his angels. The lone exception is the Archangel Michael (Paul Bettany), who falls to earth, cuts off his wings and raids weapons from a Chinese toy shop (?!) in order to protect the unborn bastard who is the only hope for humanity.

One can only speculate that budgetary constraints prevented a mass extermination of the human race from being presented in all its CGI glory. Instead, the audience is stuck in a desert diner to watch stock characters die unceremoniously, and come to the conclusion that the wrath of God is underwhelming.

God sends minions, sporadically and one at a time, who are easily killed by the human weapon of choice: bullets, then a wall of pestilence that does nothing more than irritate humans back to the diner, and a 'legion' of zombies that cannot actually kill the baby who is the ultimate target of the assault.

Archangel Gabriel (Kevin Durand) is dispatched to do the penultimate deed, with the help of his trusty spinning power tool mace and bullet proof wings. Yet, awesome-looking Gabriel is delayed by skinny, wingless Michael, then struggles to catch his targets in their escape car, even after the car flips over, three times. It is at this moment that you realize that Gabriel and God must be up against formidable foes since both mother and baby survive the accident without a scratch nor even a pause.

The parade of incompetence would be entertaining if the characters didn't insist on being so predictable and repetitive in their dialog for long stretches between action sequences. Thus, Legion is equivalent to a 45 minute lecture from your parents broken up by 5 minutes of attempting to shoot tin cans off a fence, and missing.

One could argue that when the story narrated at the start of the movie is repeated at the end, it means that things have come full circle. However, that would indicate progress, which is sorely lacking in this boring turd.

Hong Kong and Bangkok

2010-01-20T12:51:00.009-05:00

We booked our trip to Hong Kong and Bangkok months before we even considered buying a house, so when the day to depart finally arrived, Joe and I were caught unawares in the midst of a bathroom reno. As a result, there was none of the usual anticipation or preparation. Frankly, the whole vacation is a blur of sweating, eating and buying.

A view of Hong Kong from Kowloon side at night.

Hong Kong highlights

It was refreshing to be in a city of night people. Hong Kong only really comes alive at 10am then goes strong straight into the night, every night. As a result, we felt no guilt about sleeping in before visiting even tourist attractions. Arriving anywhere anytime before noon is a safe bet.
The air quality is terrible in Hong Kong with a constant grey haze hanging over the city. The city is also not good for claustrophobics nor people with high blood pressure what with people rushing all around you on tight streets and an over-abundance of stimulation. I showed my age as what used to energize me now makes me want to sit down and take it easy.
In the course of a week, we experienced only two sunny days, one of which was spent at the idyllic village of the filthy rich, Stanley. It was great to have public bus access to a tropical beach so close to a world class city like Hong Kong. However, on the overcast 18C days, a good portion of the locals wore winter coats and furry clothing. Meanwhile, Joe and I considered the weather ideal conditions for enjoying our hotel's outdoor pool, having suffered swimming in Canadian lakes in the spring time.

The floating market (aka tourist trap on water)

Bangkok highlights

The high quality and low price of the food is one of the main reasons to visit Bangkok. Even at high end malls, full meals could be had for a few Canadian dollars; eating on the street cost even less. Instead of junk food, locals buy handy grab bags of fresh cut papaya, pineapple, strawberries and whatever else was in season, for less than $1 CAD. This explains why the local population is consistently skinny, even the policemen in their tight black uniforms, regardless of age.
The locals also demonstrate an amazing sense of style that had nothing to do with labels, though high end designer clothes were readily available. Local designs showed an affinity for draping fabric, which is chic and very in vogue with Western designers. I found myself excitedly buying affordable local designer clothes because they will work as well in Toronto as they do in Bangkok.
The worst part of Bangkok were the tourists. On the innocuous side of the spectrum were the faux hippies; the brokers and students on vacation who have decided to wear flip flops, wife beaters and dread locks. It marks them out like idiots, considering how stylish and urbane the locals tend to be, no matter what the weather. The more troubling visitors are the sex tourists; the older Western male hanging out with a much younger Thai girl or boy. My visit to Pattaya Beach was marred by repeat sightings of hairy, beer bellied white guys in Speedos, clutching either a beer or a young local. Both kinds of tourists show absolutely no respect for the local populace.

We intend on returning to Hong Kong and Bangkok though our next stay will probably be shorter than a week. Just as Hong Kong customer service has improved considerably in the last decade, in reaction to growing competition from Singapore and Shanghai, Bangkok will have to decide which type of tourist they wish to cater to: wholesome shopaholics like me or hairy sex predators. Make your choice, Bangkok.

Excitement at the door

2010-01-13T13:18:00.007-05:00

Animals continue to enjoy relative safety from my mouth Mondays to Fridays, as my weekday vegetarian lifestyle continues. My diet consists mostly of tofu products and frozen vegetables, with only the occasional infusion of fresh fruit and vegetables. Our poor supply of fresh produce is due in part to ignorance ("How do you cook this?") and a reluctance to gamble on the unknown.

With a new year, we have decided to throw caution to the wind and sign up with Front Door Organics. FDO will deliver a box of pre-selected fresh, organic fruits and vegetables to our door, once a week or less frequently.

This week, we can expect to receive:
1 pound of Yams
1 pound of Beets
1 head of Cabbage
1 bunch of Broccoli
1 Grapefruit
5 Apples - mixed variety
4 Pears, Anjou
5 Bananas - Fair Trade
2 pounds of Tangerines
3 Avocados
1 bunch of Collard Greens
1 unit of Lettuce, 'Summer mix'

A common complaint amongst subscribers to the service is that food often went bad before they could consume it. Thus, I hope that my hatred of waste will compel me to shovel a wide variety of delicious and nutritious fruits and vegetables down my cake hole, and Joe's pie hole, too.

We have yet to receive our first package but I predict that it will feel like Christmas morning, but without the bloating, and the pulling of hair and gnashing of teeth. Stay tuned!

The lost weekend

2010-01-12T13:01:00.005-05:00

Faced with the prospect of a weekend without anything scheduled, Joe and I started racking our brains for possible activities: snowboarding, buying a snowboard, visiting friends, what to do?

As Saturday loomed, our stressed increased and we found ourselves wide awake on Saturday morning, ready to do something. I thought of exercising and decided to have a sensible breakfast in preparation. Somewhere between pouring the milk over the All Bran and putting the cereal bowl in the sink, I started playing Dragon Age: Origins. The end.

It was quite delightful to lose myself in a PC game with only a definite end time of Sunday night. Fortunately, unlike hard core Korean Starcraft players, we took breaks to eat, sleep and watch movies such as:

9 - To be clear, we watched the animated film about a post-apocalyptic world and not the musical about a libidinous filmmaker. 9 does a good job of setting up a depressing future and characters to root for, but offers little else. The characters are stereotypical and underdeveloped, and the climax is muted because if the resolution had followed logic, it should have been more ruthless. An entertaining movie that ultimately disappoints by not going as far as it should have.

Zombieland - While 9's muted reception was understandable after viewing, Zombieland's lack of popularity is surprising. This is as good of a zombie film as Shaun of the Dead, with a loser protagonist most fanboys can relate to, and all the hilarity that encounters with the undead can bring. Woody Harrelson is especially good as an asshole with a talent for zombie killing. Not to over-hype the movie but this is essential viewing if you have even a suspicion that zombies could be in your future.

Products that work

2010-01-01T11:32:00.009-05:00

Nokia E71 - I am of the old school that phones and the internet should not mix but my bigotry was thrown out the window during our recent trip to Hong Kong and Bangkok. Mobile access to free Wi-Fi was a security blanket in exotic lands... or simply a tie over until the next attraction whenever I got bored. In the age of mobile multitasking devices, we need never be ignorant nor bored.

CLR - Watching the calcium deposits build up on my retainers over the past decade has been a nightly source of scientific curiosity and horror. I finally decided to throw caution to the wind and dunk my retainers in CLR. After a half hour soak and some scraping, my retainers are almost as good as new; the sensation of smooth plastic in my mouth is vaguely familiar. Happily, I have not shown any ill effects from placing a CLR treated object in my mouth, and because I never let anything go to waste, that little bowl of CLR solution also lifted the psychological burden of seeing calcium deposits in my kitchen sink, the dish drying rack and the bottom quarter of one shower stall panel.

Dupli-Color Scratch Fix 2 in 1 - Joe and I were recently thrown into a tizzy when I scratched the side of our rental car. It seemed that we would be at the mercy of the rental company when a professional fix appeared far fetched but we decided to gamble $9.99 on a car paint touch up pen. Add some strategically placed mud splotches, and the closest parking job possible to a rental van, and the end result has been savings.

Random thoughts at the end of the decade

2009-12-31T12:04:00.009-05:00

It's too much pressure to try to sum up the past decade. At the top of my head, I would say that technology has been the most revolutionary thing about the 00's (I don't even begin to know how to say that); more specifically, the internet. It has changed the way people do business, interact with each other, and even think. For instance, I know that my attention span has been tragically shortened, thanks to the internet.

However, it was thanks to the efficiency of the internet that I was able to Google a random thought that lead to three years of college in the most impractical of studies, plan my wedding, and most recently. search for a house. The internet has made me the vague approximation of a normal adult that I am today.

I look forward to finding out how technology will exert its svengali-like influence over my life in the coming decade (oh please, let it be cyborgs). Happy new year!

Friday Night Play List: one week extension

2009-12-22T15:57:00.006-05:00

I'm back from Hong Kong and Bangkok, just in time for Christmas madness. We visited a lot of malls, in both cities, where Christmas music and decorations were always in the background, but the festive season never registered with me due in part to the warm temperatures and occasional palm tree. So, Christmas is currently overwhelming, along with the jet lag.

In the coming week, I expect to add another layer to the back fat that I acquired in Asia, so until the next post, I offer this evidence that Madonna can still power a party. It is worth noting that it is great music to exercise to.

Madonna - Celebration / NEW SONG
Uploaded by Dritingtofrenchus. - Explore more music videos.

Friday Night Play List: 2 week intermission

2009-12-03T22:43:00.005-05:00

I will be away from this blog for the next two weeks so here are some songs that will hopefully tie readers over until new content appears.

"Best I Ever Had" - Drake

I thought this song was a parody of hip hop music when I first heard it but it is being taken seriously enough to warrant a Grammy nomination (!). Drake reminds me of Alanis Morissette in that both have gained recognition as serious musicians in the US while Canadians can't fathom how a rich kid who was on "Degrassi: The Next Generation"/"You Can't Do That on Television" can have any credibility.

"Stop Me" - Mark Ronson featuring Daniel Merriweather

I love the original by The Smiths but Ronson's soul-inspired remake is surprisingly good.

"See You on the Moon" - Great Lake Swimmers

This catchy song was included on a children's compilation disc meant to relieve their parents of the homicidal thoughts that can come from listening to the Wiggles for the umpteenth time. It definitely ranks right up there with Raffi's "Bananaphone".

"Just Dance" - Lady Gaga

This song has been overplayed and it is still an instant party maker. Lady Gaga's success is heartening after her gracious response to Christina Aguilera stealing her style then claiming not to know if Lady Gaga was even a woman.

Finally, this is for that special threesome, Bella, Edward and Jacob.

New Moon: sparkling young flesh on parade

2009-11-30T13:46:00.019-05:00

New Moon was number one at the box office for a second week in a row and I kind of contributed to that. Technically, I did not pay to see the movie since a friend kindly provided a movie pass but I was in the audience, and, boy, did I have a good time! I laughed until I cried.

I had fears for my safety when I saw the pack of tween girls unloading from a stretch limo outside the cinema but the 9:30pm showing proved to be the smart choice. Half the audience in attendance were also treating the movie as a comedy, including a group who cackled loudly even when the only thing on screen was a character standing in a field, while the other half were probably fans of the series who were too ashamed to express outrage. Nevertheless, we sat in the back row to prevent anonymous vigilante justice from coming down on our heads.

Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) continues to be the worst literary role model for young girls as she spends the whole movie either pining after pedophile vampire, Edward (Robert Pattinson), or sending mixed messages to underage werewolf, Jacob (Taylor Lautner). Ageism is added to Bella's many neuroses on her 18th birthday as she expresses fear of looking like a "grandma" to the perpetual 17 year old, Edward or acting the "cougar" to the 16 year old Jacob.

New Moon takes any cheap opportunity to have an overly ripe Lautner parade around topless: a cut to the head, a heavy rain shower, joining a pack of werewolves. The fact that the movie sexually objectifies men would be refreshing if Lautner was not truly 16 years old, thereby making any viewer over the age of 19 feel like a pedophile. The alternative is Pattinson, a safe 23 years old, but whose skinny, pale chest drew sounds of pity rather than desire from the audience.

I will admit that the bigger budget is reflected in a better looking movie, but more importantly, New Moon exceeded my expectations, which after the first movie, were quite high. The second installment delivers all the inane conversation and psychotic wish fulfillment of the first one but adds young flesh and romantic suicide to its list of goodies. How can anyone hate this series?

Better than Christmas

2009-11-26T12:49:00.006-05:00

The One of a Kind Christmas Show and Sale starts today and runs until December 6.

My response towards this event has been muted because the recent acquisition of a house means I won't be able to run around the Show like a kid on Christmas morning. I have decided to go to the Show anyways but have already demonstrated more restraint than usual by choosing to leave work early instead of taking the day off. The prospect of being forced to purchase something at the Show both thrills and worries me. If there is no followup to this post, readers can assume that finances have not been 'unexpectedly' diverted.

Home Hardware - fail

2009-11-18T13:15:00.010-05:00

As a downtown inhabitant, my reaction towards big box stores tends to be contradictory: I rail against their wasteful parking lots and sometimes shoddy customer service and yet, I plan day trips into the suburbs in order to explore the wide range of products that big box stores offer.

Recently, two fruitless expeditions to Home Hardware reminded me of the frustrating retail status quo that existed before the dominance of the big box stores; you would search for equipment or supplies at your local hardware store only to find out that they did not carry it and could order it in for you with a projected delivery time of a few weeks.

I found out that an item that we needed was on sale in the Home Hardware flyer (priced at less than $20). I took the flyer with me to Wiener's Home Hardware (432 Bloor St W, Toronto), and was told that they did not carry the item, but they offered to order it in for me. I turned down the offer, assuming that I could easily find the item at another store. I then went to the College Home Hardware (306 College Street, Toronto) and was again told that they did not carry the item. This time, they did not even bother offering to order it in.

There are still two more Home Hardware stores within walking distance but I am quickly losing patience. It is ridiculous of Home Hardware to advertise an item that two of their downtown stores do not even carry, and never even considered stocking, if only for the duration of the sale or the holiday season.

In contrast, a recent visit to Lowe's (Warden Ave. & Eglinton Ave. E., Toronto) required a 30 minute bus ride but was made worthwhile by a helpful employee named Mycal who gave us an equivalent product at the sale price when the sale item was out of stock. Wow!

I usually prefer to purchase items in boutiques and smaller stores because they tend to carry unique products and it feels good to support local businesses. However, when it comes to a hardware chain that markets itself as a neighbourhood store and functions just as inefficiently as one, I prefer to put my money in big box stores.

Latest obsession: Dragon Age

2009-11-16T08:14:00.011-05:00

BioWare has invested heavily in advertising so chances are, anyone who watches TV has seen the ads for Dragon Age: Origins, which are pretty enticing. However, I remained skeptical because the last time I played a RPG (The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion), I became frustrated by the plodding story line, weak characters, and realistic consequences of being a kleptomaniac.

I started playing Dragon Age: Origins last night and, next thing I knew, it was 2am. Besides looking gorgeous, the game can boast engaging characters - even the minor ones - interesting dialogue, and a well-paced storyline. Touching on a personal pet peeve, the outfits have not been ridiculous, though the hair styles could be improved.

While Joe and I were playing the game, on two separate computers, I noted aloud that it was the first time since September that we were able to completely forget about house related worries. Joe had no response because he was too busy killing darkspawn.

Quick note: I can accept Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 as entertainment and I can even understand lining up outside of big box electronic stores the night before the game's release, but who are the idiots who decided to dress up in battle fatigues while waiting outside of Best Buy at Bay and Dundas? Playing at war while Canadian troops are dying overseas is borderline tasteless but dressing up like a soldier to show your enthusiasm for a war game during a time of war is the tipping point. Congratulations, COD cosplayers, you are officially ignorant douches.

Old and hot

2009-11-09T10:03:00.011-05:00

Between the declining health of my son (read: cat), Rusty, and the acquisition of a mortgage, I feel the need to focus on silly things so you have been forewarned about this post.

I have been sporadically watching "Battle of the Blades", the CBC competition show that has paired retired NHL players with retired figure skaters. What sounds like a freak show arena has actually been a surprisingly sexy showcase of mature athletes.

For a while, it looked like Tie Domi, the freakiest competitor, would coast through the competition on his hockey skates, having refused to challenge himself by using figure skates like the other competitors. Thankfully, voting viewers came to their senses, and the final three are all deserving of their place. Craig Simpson and Jamie Salé appear to be the front runners due to their combination of good looks and solid performances, thanks to Salé's task master approach. Shae-Lynn Bourne and Claude Lemieux have also demonstrated great chemistry and solid technique.

However, my favourite pair is Marie-France Dubreuil and Stéphane Richer, who were, inexplicably, in danger of being eliminated at the beginning of the series. Dubreuil is unbelievably sensual and she has brought out the romantic side of Richer, resulting in smouldering performances that made me blush at the level of intimacy on display. It has been refreshing to watch sexy men and women in their thirties and forties performing, since the majority of athletic performance and reality television are dedicated to adults barely out of their teens. There is something to be said for mature adults who exude easy confidence, based on experience of both success and failure. Intellectual reasoning aside. when Richer easily lifts Dubreuil's lithe body over his head during a routine, that's hot!

Speaking of old and hot, Viggo Mortensen is doing the press rounds to promote his latest movie, The Road. Joe knew better than to change the channel or distract me when Mortensen was on "The Hour" recently. The actor is a Habs fan, politically aware, and drives himself into Canada to promote his movie. Intellectual reasoning aside, that nude bath house brawl in Eastern Promises was hot!

My cat, Rusty

2009-11-05T11:47:00.006-05:00

My cat, Rusty has been in questionable health this past year, having developed diabetes and the neurological damage that can accompany the disease. When his condition deteriorated rapidly this past week, we rushed him to the vet and was forced to seriously consider euthanasia. The need to make a life decision on the spot was traumatizing, to say the least, and in the end, we decided to take Rusty home in order to make a clear headed decision. Fortunately for us, Rusty appears to be doing better with a higher dose of insulin, as he is eating, sleeping and moving comfortably for the time being.

To say that I was devastated at the prospect of losing Rusty would be an understatement. While I am able to maintain control of my bodily fluids, I thought that I would share what has made the last 14 years with him so enjoyable.

The thought has occurred to me that if Rusty were a human, I would not like him very much. Without a doubt, he is a handsome cat, and he appears to be very aware of it since he maintains his coat impeccably. However, Rusty has a trigger temper and suffers from the absence of a sense of humour, which has often made him a source of amusement. When laughed at, Rusty becomes indignant, lowering his head slightly and pulling back his ears. The next step is for him to stand up slowly and display his body in a threatening manner. It is at this point that I usually smack his bottom, then laugh some more. No matter how many times he has been teased, he always appears shocked to have been insulted this way, his eyes widening and his whole body thrown back slightly. He quickly starts swearing in his own language. It is usually at this point that I have to encourage him to walk it off, before the situation escalates to violence (ie Rusty attacking my ankles).

Rusty's short temper, especially with visitors, is infamous, but few people have been exposed to his gentler qualities. Rusty has always preferred being petted on the head. Though he dislikes having his body touched, he will patiently tolerate it after running to greet you at the front door. His need for dignity and independence should not be confused with an antisocial nature. He enjoys hanging out with people, just out of reach, and will act sulky (ie refuse to greet you or be petted) if he is left alone at home for more than 12 hours.

Rusty was briefly an outdoor cat. In one summer, he brought back two mice and a robin still flapping in his mouth. However, after staying out until 6am one night, my mother vowed never to let him out again. I regret that Rusty did not have a more stimulating life. When he was younger, he was always trying to get someone to play catch with him, dropping a stuffed mouse in front of you and whining about it. However, the activity was always more work than the usual game of catch since you had to both throw and retrieve the mouse; Rusty would only exert enough energy to 'kill it' then position himself expectantly for the next throw.

I took Rusty from a friend's litter at the age of five weeks, and have often taken his presence in my life for granted. Now, as Rusty enters his twilight years, I expect to adopt another cat sometime after he is gone, but I doubt that I will know another like him again.

A weekend in Montreal

2009-10-27T11:59:00.019-04:00

Thanks to the VIA Rail 60% off mea culpa, I was able to get a discounted ticket to Ottawa in August and Joe and I were able to visit Montréal this past weekend for just over $100 per person.

While the travel time to Montréal was longer than a trip to Ottawa, the experience was more pleasant due to our preassigned seating in Comfort Class. Comfort Class entails more leg room, an overhead compartment that is accessible from your seat (though some passengers still insisted on standing in the aisle while putting away their bags), and better head support. A satellite issue also resulted in complementary Wi-Fi for all passengers, which pretty much guaranteed five hours well wasted.

As usual, Joe and I walked until our feet hurt all three days that we were in Montréal. Here's a brief recap of our tour.

Saturday
Heavy rain and a midday arrival in the city made us decide that we should 'take it easy' but our concept of the phrase differs from most other people. Joe and I had an average brunch, the highlight of which was a half-pint of Boreale beer. I had raved about this brand to Joe after my last visit to Montréal about seven years ago only to be let down by the six pack that I had hauled home for his tasting pleasure. Boreale from the tap still failed to live up to my golden memory, but the bitter taste dissipated with each drink and the aftertaste proved to be very clean.

We explored Rue Sainte-Catherine, starting in the bustling shopping district with all the usual brands (H&M, Futureshop, Old Navy, etc), passed the Université du Québec à Montréal, looked around the student friendly Quartier Latin, then stopped by La Grand Bibliothèque, whose gift shop featured an inordinate amount of Tintin products. Actually, Tintin products could be found throughout Montréal.

That night, instead of going out, we stayed in our hotel room to watch UFC 104. We are ashamed to admit how lame we were but we really enjoyed lying on the king size bed, watching men beat the crap out of each other.

Sunday
We stopped first in Chinatown, which boasted a charming pedestrian only street, and bought some Vietnamese subs for lunch despite the fact that they were more expensive ($3) and less tasty than the equivalents in Toronto. We then spent a whole afternoon exploring Old Montréal's attractive buildings and cobblestone streets. We were pleasantly surprised when Notre-Dame Basilica allowed visitors in during their Sunday service, and Joe was quite impressed with the interior of the church in spite of his pagan ways. When we arrived at the Marché Bonsecours, we inadvertantly came across a bi-annual designer fashion sale, La Grande Braderie de Mode Québécoise. Only in my wildest dreams had I hoped to find Eve Gravel clothing while in Montreal and, without planning to, I bought a skirt that I had been lusting after at a discount!

For dinner, we ate at St-Hubert, a chain that once competed with Swiss Chalet in Toronto but now only reigns supreme in Quebec. Joe had never eaten at St-Hubert so we gave it a try and Joe's conclusion was that it tasted like Swiss Chalet.

Monday

As attractive as Old Montréal had been, I was not been impressed with Downtown Montréal, which featured many 'Louez moi' signs in empty store fronts, and extensive fields of parking lots, where buildings had been torn down. Fortunately, we saved the best for last when we visited the Plateau-Mont-Royal neighbourhood. We had our best meal in the Plateau at Universel Déjeuners et Grillades (3630 Rue St-Denis), which we knew was promising from the large number of hipsters dining there when every other establishment was either closed or empty. The Plateau was a combination of Queen West and the Annex but spread over several blocks. It was great to finally find a vibrant neighbourhood full of local colour, characteristics that were sorely missing in much of Downtown and Old Montréal.

Final thoughts

I found myself happy to be home in Toronto, even after a train ride that lasted two hours longer than it should have. Montréal is similar to Toronto in many ways, superficially because Toronto's fashion sense has caught up. Customer service is pretty much on par with Toronto, which is to say that it was usually mediocre. I'm not sure if part of the reason was that Joe and I are anglophones though that would explain but not excuse the poor service. However, Montréal beats Toronto in some respects; the pedestrians are crazy fast to the point where I found it hard to overtake people in front of me as I usually do back home. Montréal pedestrians have to be fast because Montréal drivers are aggressive, but pedestrians are ready to throw down when necessary, as we witnessed first hand in the middle of Sainte-Catherine. The upside of Montréal's widespread urban decay is the amazing graffiti, which can be found not only in the safety of alleyways but also on main streets. No crappy, half finished black and white tags for Montréal; everything was multi-coloured and energetic.

Like an obstinate child

2009-10-20T12:31:00.003-04:00

Watching some reality television recently, I was annoyed by two instances of attractive blonds who whine like children when the going gets tough.

"Dancing with the Stars" contestant, Joanna Krupa was doing an elaborate lift and smacked her wrist against the floor during the dismount. She then whined, "I don't want to do this" before stalking away sulkily.
A preview of next week's "Amazing Race" showed a blond contestant refusing to go down a steep water slide, which was mandatory to advance in the competition. "I don't want to do this!" she cried. Her male partner then screamed at her for potentially losing the $1 million dollar prize.

It has never occurred to me say "I don't want to do this" whenever I have been faced with a dangerous or undesirable task. Even the phrase "I'm not doing this" would elicit more respect since it indicates an independent decision. Perhaps if I was cuter, I, too, would have the confidence to regress to childhood, knowing that chances are good that I'll eventually get my way.

Latest obsession: dirt bags

2009-10-19T12:48:00.007-04:00

During our recent house hunt, financial constraints limited our search to up-and-coming neighbourhoods as opposed to established ones that had been cleaned up and made desirable by artists, who were then sent packing to deacidify the next rough neighbourhood.

Because Joe and I are cautious home buyers, we tried to find neighbourhoods that were clearly on their way to gentrification. The biggest clue was a yoga or pilates studio side by side with a dirt bag establishment, and the key to identifying a dirt bag establishment was the grouping of working age adults standing outside in the middle of a weekday.

I have become fascinated with the dirt bag's communion with the great outdoors. Not only do they insist on standing outside, regardless of the time or weather, but they are also frequently seen riding around on SuperCycle bicycles. One can only speculate where they are so determined to get to since the only other time I see them is hanging around outside of taverns or greasy diners.

A crass individual would guess that the dirt bag is riding a bike because his DUI charge won't allow him to drive and he spent his cash advance at the tavern last night thus barring out public transit as an option so he is using his friend's bike to get to court on time. That crass individual might be me.

Online inspiration for the house poor

2009-10-10T17:05:00.003-04:00

As I sit at home to prevent myself from spending money, I have found some great websites for home decorating ideas.

The Selby

A photo blog capturing the homes of creative types. One of my favourite interior decoration books is Living Large in Small Spaces by Marisa Bartolucci, because it features stylish homes occupied by real people as opposed to sterile, art directed spaces. The Selby is the more current and constantly updated version of the book so, of course, I'll be using it as inspiration for my own house.

Desire to Inspire

A photo blog of inspiring home design. More traditional in its approach to interior design than The Selby but at least it saves you the cost of buying a home design magazine.

Lovely Listing

This was recommended to me by friends who naturally assumed that I would find people's disastrous taste in interior design amusing. And I do! However, I prefer design that moves to the beat of a different drum (even if it resonates solely in one's head) to cookie cutter, tasteful home design.

Now, I can relax...no, wait...

2009-10-08T12:34:00.017-04:00

With the launch of Google Maps Street View for Toronto, house hunters can now do even more research from the comfort of the home they want to leave. This really useful tool would have alerted us to problems in the neighbourhood of a few listings that we have visited. Unfortunately for us, the day before Street View was launched in Toronto, we bought a house. I will hereafter refer to our house as The Big One.

In the hours before staying out all night for Nuit Blanche, Joe and I decided to spend a relaxing afternoon visiting open houses. The attractive semi-detached that was at the top of our viewing list was as beautiful as the listing had promised but it was also crawling with buyers who had crazy in their eyes. Without a doubt, the listing price was low and would contribute to frothing at the mouth and itchy chequebook syndrome.

While wandering away from the dream house, we came across an open house notice for The Big One. It was a listing that we had already written off because its starting price was $40,000 higher than the dream house. Apparently, everyone else had, as well; the Big One was completely empty. We noted that The Big One was well executed, though not as perfect as the dream house, but, what really sold us was the private lane parking and the backyard dominated by a cedar deck (no lawn mowing!).

On the night of the offer presentation for The Big One, we encountered something unprecedented: zero competing bids. In a real estate market where bidding wars are regularly driving prices to 120% of the list, we managed to get The Big One below asking. Joe and I were in a state of shock after signing the Purchase and Sale documents; we went for a drive and we returned with massive debt.

The shock continues as we sit in the condo that we never really wanted to leave and contemplate a considerable downgrade in our lifestyle for the next 25 years. I blame low interest rates for the insanity of it all. Fortunately, we can comfort ourselves with the news that the dream house ended up selling for $28,500 more than The Big One (115% of list). It was a predictable outcome; the key was the crazy in the eyes.

Recap of a never ending night

2009-10-05T12:53:00.014-04:00

Please see here for the official recap.

To that, I would add some less PR friendly anecdotes.

The visitors were actually quite hilarious. One guy rode the bike in a kilt then insisted that pedaling was "easier in a skirt". Another group of men, wearing top hats and cradling a poodle, screamed sexual innuendos to each other while pedaling, like "My stream is bigger than yours!" and "Pump harder!" However, families with young kids were in steady attendance right up until 10:30pm, which made me regret not installing at least one child sized bike.

I suspect that there were more than a few alcohol fueled individuals as some got way too excited over their results ("Look at my lightbulb! Loooook at it gooooo!"). Yet, the behaviour never got so rowdy that I was forced to intervene and the pedal generators were surprisingly hardy.

My greatest source of worry turned out to be technical malfunction. The decision to leave the invertor batteries at half-charge in order to allow cyclist to charge up the fountain was a bad one. There was never enough pedaling to power up the batteries sufficiently. I found myself desperately cycling whenever a bike became available in order to prepare the battery for an actual visitor.

My thighs and seat were soon exhausted from the exertion but my adrenaline kept me going strong, without the assistance of caffeine, from 4:30pm to 7:00am. I ate whenever I remembered to but never actually felt hungry. Another basic bodily function that was absent for my entire stay at the park: the urge to urinate. That's right; I did not hear the call of nature for over 15 hours.

The event was a good experience, and made up for the months of drawn out stress. I had vowed never to do this again previous to this past Saturday but a good ending can bestow a rosy glow on prior memories.

P.S. I wore thermal tights under track pants with zippered venting panels on the side. On my torso, I wore two dri-fit t-shirts under a thermal dri-fit top then my waterproof jacket from Iceland. Finally, I chose to wear my waterproof hiking boots with excellent arch support. The outfit was a good choice as I pretty much stood the whole time and was drenched during the thunderstorm.

The anticipation is driving me insane

2009-10-02T13:05:00.005-04:00

The sooner Nuit Blanche is over, the better. I have not had a good night's sleep in the past week and a half, due in equal parts to adrenaline and the cold from hell.

Last night, I become convinced that the car housing my entire project would be stolen or broken into while slept, so I pretty much didn't. My cold symptoms came back with a vengeance, but I eventually passed out. When I did regain semi-consciousness, I became convinced that my head was a deflated bike inner tube and that my breathing kept the pedal generators going. As I struggled to breathe through my nose, my whole head spun like a bicycle wheel.

You have been forewarned. See you all on Saturday/Sunday.

Dress to impress or to kill

2009-09-30T12:38:00.008-04:00

Now that the planning and organizing of my Nuit Blanche project is almost over, my mind is left to dwell on more superficial logistics, like what to wear for the duration of the event.

Here is the list of activities that I will be engaged in during Nuit Blanche:

standing
cycling
wading in a fountain with 1.5 feet of water
walking
running (possibly for my life if things take a turn for the worst)

Standing around in near freezing temperatures for more than 12 hours limits the wardrobe selection. If I were to be strictly practical, I would wear a water-proof parka, cozy sweat suit and hiking boots with arch support. But, how freaked out would attendees be to meet someone who looks like they're suffering from cabin fever during an urban art event?

Feel free to leave outfit suggestions in the Comments.

By the way, that's Charles Ray in the picture. His outfit looks innocuous enough but he actually handmade every part of it: jacket, shirt, pants, shoes, and even the glasses. He was aiming to be a modern day Robinson Crusoe. No, I will not create my outfit by hand, with only three days before the event.

Nuit Blanche 2009

2009-09-29T12:28:00.009-04:00

The 4th annual Toronto Nuit Blanche will take place this coming weekend, starting at 6:55pm on October 3 and ending around 7:00am on October 4.

In previous years, I plotted out my course with military precision, to ensure that I squeezed every last bit of art out of the event. This year, I have only one project on the agenda: my own. I hope to check out nearby exhibitions if my project slows down at any point during the night, but my experience of 2009's Nuit Blanche will probably be myopic.

Friends have been loathe to commit to visiting my project, perhaps due to timing or because they hate art, so I can only hope that I find comfort in the kindness of strangers.

Latest obsession: bad dancing

2009-09-23T12:51:00.006-04:00

Two sessions into my ballet class and friends are already expecting twinkle toe routines on demand. Unfortunately, I have learned nothing more than correct posture and prancing to count (or not). Introduction to Ballet is exactly where I belong, with my classmates showing about the same level of coordination and musicality. Last week, my smile spread to Joker-like proportions as I watched everyone destroy the art form, before I followed suit.

As lacking as my dance skills are, they do not sink so low as to swing back up into the 'entertaining' category like the current season of "Dancing with the Stars". I would tune in for Chuck Liddell alone but Tom DeLay is exceeding all expectations. Watch the video below and keep tissue handy for the tears.

I am Malene Arpe

2009-09-19T19:36:00.004-04:00

I have been a fan of Malene Arpe since her days as a columnist for Eye Weekly back in the 90s but it was only when she started her Stargazing blog with The Toronto Star that I realized that we are practically the same person. See the evidence below:

She is nerdy enough to give updates on the TV adaptation of George R.R. Martin's Game of Thrones; I love the series.
She adores Viggo Mortensen; I dream of Viggo Mortensen, too (no proof on this blog but, ever since Lord of the Rings, it is true!)
She posted a mash up video of "True Blood" with Depeche Mode and labelled it "Overwhelmingly awesome"; I cannot agree more (here and here)
She lives on internet detritus; I am a cultural bottom feeder, too! (see any part of my blog)

Admittedly, the evidence that I have provided is scanty, but I believe that Arpe is the more successful, cooler version of me. Joe cannot believe that two of us exist in the same time continuum.

You can't beat crazy

2009-09-16T12:14:00.012-04:00

Joe and I thought we were being clever by entering the real estate market recently in order to take advantage of the low mortgage rates. Of course, when everyone else in Toronto is doing the exact same thing, our actions cease to be clever, or even sensible.

In the week and a half since we started our house hunt, we have made two offers and in both cases, we lost out to the crazy rich (aka "eccentric"). The first house, a 100 year old semi-detached that was well maintained but definitely required $30,000+ worth of work, went for over half a million dollars; 129% of the asking price. The second house, a slightly younger semi-detached that was recently gussied up went for 112% of the asking price. Considering that the new wall-to-wall carpeting covered a world of trouble yet could not muffle the extremely squeaky floor, the absence of a home inspection condition was an "eccentric" choice.

We begin to despair over ever finding a well maintained and well located property that will not be immediately snatched up or fought over by the mysteriously wealthy. The media outlets are now reporting strong GTA home sales yet it was only back in March 2009 that Toronto Life was touting a "Buyer's Market" on its cover. I begin to wonder about the credibility of any 'high' and 'low' reports made by the media, including the state of the economy and Lindsey Lohan's career.

The slough through the Toronto real estate market will continue, at least until our locked-in mortgage rate expires.

Two ends of the spectrum

2009-09-14T12:34:00.005-04:00

A quick review of excellence and mediocrity:

Excellent: Cabbagetown Festival - The Festival took place this past weekend and for the second year in a row, I found it excellent. The food is cheaper than what is offered at comparable street festivals like Taste of Little Italy, and far less crowded than Taste of the Danforth. The accompanying Riverdale Park Arts & Crafts Festival is surprisingly high in quality, with many vendors that you usually see at the One of a Kind Show, participating in the Festival.

Mediocre: Crank: High Voltage - Possibly the worst movie that I have ever seen. Seemingly written by a stupid, oversexed teenager, the movie features ADD editing style, gratuitous nudity and violence, outdated racism, and callous misogyny. Some might claim that this is a parody of the action movie genre of the 1980s, but that would require irony, which is absent in Crank: High Voltage. The movie pretty much wallows happily in its own filth.
Usually, I laugh at bad movies (Twilight is currently my favourite comedy), but only a psychopath would find amusement in the explicit depiction of a gang member cutting his off own nipples or a stripper's large breast implants leaking from bullet holes to the chest.

Because I don't get enough excitement

2009-09-10T12:54:00.006-04:00

In addition to preparing for an art event and starting ballet classes, I decided to take on another hobby: house hunting! After seeing Vicki purchase the house of her dreams, and hearing of other friends joining the hunt, Joe and I decided to do it, too (yes, monkey see, monkey do, ha ha ha).

It has been a whirlwind three days since we first made contact with our real estate agent, and we have already seen four properties. We would have seen more but the real estate market appears to be picking up again with listings being taken off the market just as we request a viewing; one house was snatched up on the first day of listing.

Hopefully, as I become an old pro at this, I will stop dreaming of houses and waking up to a racing heart at 6am.

Vive le veg!

2009-09-03T10:54:00.003-04:00

I submitted my story of temporary vegetarianism to the Toronto Vegetarian Association (TVA) a while ago in the hope of winning a prize. The prize has yet to be received but my story has been posted! I think the fact that my story is at the very top of the page is very promising, n'est pas?

25th Anniversary Vegetarian Food Fair
September 11-13, 2009
Harbourfront, Toronto
Free Admission

TVA will be launching phase two of the Veggie Challenge, which involves going vegetarian for 25 days. That sounds like a challenge, TVA! I'll let it stew in my mind until September 11.

An anonymous rant...hopefully

2009-09-01T12:33:00.005-04:00

At the risk of being discovered by Google, I am going to rant about an art event that I am slated to participate in, without actually naming the event. In short order, the experience has been a test of my patience.

Submitted my proposal a few days before the deadline in February but never received the 'automated confirmation'. Ended up having to bother the organization on the day of the deadline before receiving an affirmative.
Awaited the organizers' decision on my proposal, which was supposed to be issued by the end of March. Waited until the middle of April to contact the organization regarding their decision. Organizers responded at the end of April to say that my sponsor had bailed on me and so they had assumed that my sponsor would tell me the bad news. In reality, my sponsor had not bailed on me and it was a case of miscommunication between the organizers and my sponsor. Organizers welcomed me into the event with open arms.
In spite of a month's delay in delivering the good news to me, the organizers still expected me to meet the content submission deadline within the first week of May. In a mere week, I submitted all project information for the media, found a new venue for my project, and applied for the relevant permit.
By the end of May, I had done the research on the equipment needed for the project and gotten the quote from a supplier. I requested that payment be issued by my sponsor, despite feeling that I was way ahead of schedule. Little did I know that the supplier would not receive the cheque until mid-July, and, after cashing the cheque, the supplier would go on a month long holiday.
I finally received the equipment on August 20. Now, with just over a month before the event, I will have to complete the project and begin promoting it furiously. However, I have recently discovered that I am not listed properly on the event website.

I supposed things could be more stressful. For instance, I could be a high profile individual charged with criminal negligence causing death. I will also comfort myself by thinking that the chances of me creating another project of this magnitude in the future are low. Crochet and other relaxing crafts are the way of the future.

Friday Night Play List: For the love of Flocons

2009-08-28T12:29:00.009-04:00

Flocons was kind enough to take over Friday Night Play List during my internet rehab. I didn't even know that anyone reads my Lists so thanks, Flocons, for being the single follower of my media suggestions. So, this double bill is for Flocons; a targeted wag of the finger. Enjoy.

The Hurt Locker (2008) - This intense film, directed by Kathryn Bigelow, was released last year but has been a sleeper hit this past summer. It is an apolitical, ground level look at the chaos in Baghdad and the soldiers who either thrive or falter in those conditions. I figure that Flocons will enjoy this because he likes crazy situations and reckless individuals, as long as he is not the one being reckless.

Kill Bill: Volume 1 (2003) - On the off chance that Flocons has not seen this film, I'm going to recommend it because it has become one of my all-time favourites. It features the hilarious violence that Quentin Tarantino is known for and has stood up to repeat viewings. I think Flocons will enjoy this because he loves weddings (Uma Thurman stars as The Bride) and he enjoys time travel (the non-linear story line makes you feel like you're being ripped out of the time continuum). Of course, there are the crazy situations that are a staple in Flocons's movie diet.

A weekend in Ottawa

2009-08-26T12:48:00.007-04:00

Thanks to VIA Rail's 60% discount mea culpa at the end of their worker's strike, I was able to visit Ottawa over the weekend without having to resort to a Greyhound bus. The train trip was no faster than a bus but it definitely catered to a far classier crowd (read: no drunken dirtbags reading over the shoulder because everyone had a digital device to keep them occupied). The only book that I managed to finish during 10 hours of train travel was Slowness by Milan Kundera, which was, indeed, a slow read in spite of being a slim publication.

I was charmed by the extensive wild park lands throughout Ottawa and the widespread preservation of historical architecture - both of which Toronto tends to lack. I also had the pleasure of experiencing local businesses exclusive to the Ottawa area, which made the city seem a lot further than a five hour drive from Toronto.

Bridgehead - A coffee house along the same vein as Second Cup and Starbucks, except their coffee is all organic, fair trade, and shade grown.

The Works - A gourmet burger joint that offers endless options for both meat eaters and vegetarians; the menu must be seen to be believed. I had the Portobello Mushroom Cap topped with Curry Crunch on a whole wheat bun with a side of sweet potato strings. Delicious!

BeaverTails - These fried dough pastries can be accessed locally through the Canadian National Exhibition and at Blue Mountain in Collingwood, but I will always associate them with skating on the Rideau Canal during Winterlude. However, eating BeaverTails in the Byward Market on a hot summer night is still a great experience.

Lost Marbles and Mrs. Tiggy Winkle's - Lost Marbles is the grown-up kids branch of the Mrs. Tiggy Winkle's toy store. They carry a wide range of clever Fred products as well as KidRobot collectibles. I bought a mystery Futurama figurine for Joe at a Lost Marbles located in The Glebe, an interesting neighbourhood in Ottawa. (Joe got Fry.)

Victoire - A boutique at 246 Dalhousie St. that features the most amazing clothing and accessories. It hurt not to buy anything, but my personal budget has run into the red for months. Victoire's neighbours are also worth checking out: Workshop (242 1/2 Dalhousie), a crafty clothing store, and Young Jane (203 Dalhousie), featuring vintage clothing like its location predecessor, Attic.

My experience of Ottawa did not consist solely of eating and shopping. We enjoyed the free Sound and Light Show on Parliament Hill, which practically poured maple syrup, Mounties and Bryan Adams from the Peace Tower. The propaganda was so insulting that it became fascinating. This was not my first visit to Parliament Hill but it was on this latest trip that I discovered the tiny estate that houses the fat cats. To be clear, I refer to the feral cats that are maintained by volunteers and donations, and not the politicians.

Give in to the ongoing advertising onslaught and visit Ottawa this summer. Strangely enough, Ottawa residents are being encouraged to visit Kingston. One can only speculate where Kingston residents are being funneled to.

Sweet sweet internet

2009-08-26T12:06:00.007-04:00

I'm back and not a moment too soon! Without the internet, my life felt a little emptier and a lot more inconvenient.

My first frustrating moment came on the first morning of my internet rehab when I realized that I did not know what to wear since I could not check the Weather Network's hourly forecast. So, I stood in my underwear in front of the radio until the weather report came up.

A trip to Ottawa over the weekend suddenly became less predictable since I could not correspond with my friends via email to confirm arrangements. In this case, I resorted to texting and using Joe as a proxy to check my email and Facebook accounts for any important messages.

Joe became my reaching stick as I frequently ordered him to take my place in front of the computer to do what I could not; for instance, look up the band behind "Me, Myself and I," because not knowing the answer to random trivia is no longer acceptable in the age of internet. (The answer is De La Soul.)

The worst part of not being able to access the internet was losing touch with friends. Some people claim that they don't email or have a Facebook account because they are too busy, and now I wonder if they are either too busy to have friends or if they are not really busy at all because they enjoy the luxury of regular face-to-face or phone contact with friends. With growing responsibilities and busy schedules, I find it hard to meet up with friends as often as I would like and telephoning people seems like a presumptuous infringement on their time. Email hearkens back to snail mail, when each correspondent could read and respond at their convenience. And social networking sites like Facebook allow you to keep up with the daily lives of numerous people; to bridge the awkward silence that would otherwise come up when you finally meet up face to face and realize that you have no clue about their lives.

With some new boundaries (i.e. do not check email once every 15 minutes), I hope to enjoy the internet in a healthy and productive manner from now on. I am a recovering internet addict.

Internet rehab

2009-08-19T11:29:00.003-04:00

I laugh at people who are clearly addicted to caffeine; those who experience headaches and general feelings of unwellness when they skip their daily cup of coffee. Unfortunately, the sad truth is that I suffer the same way when I am deprived of regular access to the internet.

The usual scenario in which I experience internet deprivation tends to be while on vacation. Even in the midst of such rousing experiences, I feel the urge to type on a keyboard, check my email and read up on nothing important.

In the tradition of self-improvement through self-deprivation, I will be restricting my internet access to work related endeavors for the next week, starting at noon today. This may well be harder than my previous week-long foray into vegetarianism or even my kichadi diet. However, I feel that it is necessary to force myself to disconnect from the computer and reconnect with real life extracurricular activities.

Just as Renton prepared for his break from heroin in Trainspotting (bucket, beans, porno - check, check, check), I have bought some books from BMV to help me stay the course:
Slowness by Milan Kundera
On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan
Naked by David Sedaris
I am a fan of both McEwan and Sedaris, and the Kundera book looks promising.

Here's hoping that the sweating and suffering can be kept to a minimum. Radio silence starts now.

Latest obsession: Eric Northman

2009-08-18T13:22:00.018-04:00

Eric Northman is the title obsession but, truly, my feelings extend to the second season of "True Blood", which has a mere three episodes left to air.

The show has only improved since Season 1, with quicker pacing, more focused story lines, and further development of secondary characters like Tara (Rutina Wesley), Jessica (Deborah Ann Woll) and especially Alexander Skarsgard's character, Eric Northman. When Eric was introduced in the first season, he was clearly a significant character but Skargard's depiction lacked the intimidation that is to be expected of a 1000 year old vampire. However, the character improved considerably with the premiere of Season 2 in which Eric ripped a man in half then worried that the shower of blood had ruined the highlighting foils in his hair.

My only complaint about Season 2 is that the relationship between the main characters, Sookie (Anna Paquin) and Bill (Stephen Moyer), is starting to become a parody of itself with repeats of Sookie acting sassy and Bill attempting to save her. No wonder fans are frothing at the prospect of Sookie hooking up with Eric, which was made into virtual reality with a dream sequence in last Sunday's Episode 9.

At the 2009 Comic Con "True Blood" panel discussion, Skarsgard was clearly the most popular panelist. If you're going to scream for a hot vampire, let it be for a morally ambivalent 6'4'' man and not some petulant, perpetual teenager with sparkly skin.

Doppleganger update: first contact

2009-08-14T09:57:00.006-04:00

Emboldened by the happy ending of the two Kelly Hildebrandt s, I finally sent a message to mein doppleganger through Facebook. I tantalized her with the fact that we might be related and she responded, pretty much right away.

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that mein doppleganger recognized my grandfather's name because he was the only one of her father's siblings that she was acquainted with. She also claimed not to be weirded out by my extensive knowledge of her life, harvested by Google.

Turns out that previous to our Facebook chat, mein doppleganger was aware of my existence since she, too, often gets mistaken for me. The mistaken identity made sense since her husband attended the same obscure clown college program I did, so many assumed that she held the same hilarious occupation.

We made moves to meet up some time to talk over drinks but have yet to settle on concrete details. However, I am pretty satisfied with the progress of our interaction, and hesitant to take the next step of meeting face to face.

There is a crazy streak in my extended family that I fear is genetic. Already, mein doppleganger has not been fazed by my stalker tendencies, which speaks to a similar mindset. The last thing I need is to add another festering branch to the family tree. We shall see if the spirit of discovery overcomes irrational fear of familial ties that not only bind but choke.

The frustration of watching "SYTYCD? Canada"

2009-08-13T12:41:00.010-04:00

Hopefully, this will be my last post about anything "So You Think You Can Dance?" related because any newcomer to this blog would suspect that I am a pubescent dance enthusiast by now. I just cannot hold back my disappointment over the Canadian version of the show, which started its second season this past week.

In short order, these are my complaints about "So You Think You Can Dance? Canada":

Leah Miller - I find host, Leah Miller disingenuous. When she is not beaming at the camera, she is either acting condescendingly or actively snubbing the dancers that she interviews. Every time Leah shows up on screen, I have to plug my ears, close my eyes and shout, "Lalalalala..." until she passes. That's a lot of effort for a passive pastime like television.
No HD wide screen - This is actually a complaint of Joe's. I understand that budgetary constraints may be behind this decision.
No playbacks - In the American version, when a judge makes reference to a particular move that was just performed, the audience is treated to a playback as the critique is given. The Canadian show just hopes that its audience possesses a photographic memory in addition to an extensive dance vocabulary. Can the absence of playbacks also be attributed to budgetary constraints? I really want to know.
Mediocrity unacknowledged - The quality of the dancers during audition week has been less than stellar. There is an embarrassing lack of polish in their transitions and little originality in their choreography. I suspect that the judges know this because while their words are encouraging, their energy levels barely register a pulse. Even the occasional excited yelp betrays relief that someone has finally shown some potential.

About the only thing I like about the show is judge, Jean-Marc Généreux, who is still a big perv. Unfortunately, the other judges choose to politely ignore this rather than play it up.

Thank goodness the American version of the show will return in September. In the case of this series, I may just have to 'Buy American'.

So I think I can dance

2009-08-07T12:20:00.008-04:00

Just a quick recap of the Season 5 finale of "So You Think You Can Dance?": it catered to me perfectly! I screamed at every encore performance because every single one was a favourite of mine, including the one decent hip hop routine of the season performed by Jeanine and Philip, and the Mia Michaels butt dance. The crowning of Jeanine as 'America's favourite dancer' was more than agreeable to Joe and me, because she is not Evan. Now, we have less than a week to recover before "So You Think You Can Dance? Canada" starts, soon to be followed by Season 6 of the American version in September.

However, I refuse to sit on the sidelines this Fall. After watching four seasons of great dancing, I have decided to climb on the bandwagon and take a ballet class at the National Ballet School of Canada. This decision was also influenced in part by my recent Doors Open tour of the School. Reality will rear its ugly head as I struggle to keep time with the music or work my limbs in a pleasing manner. If anyone needs a clue as to what I might do next after crashing and burning on the dance floor, take note that I also watch "So You Think You Can Fight?"

Bring your boombox and wedding dress

2009-08-03T10:14:00.003-04:00

Cameron Crowe's directorial debut, Say Anything is screening for free at Harbourfront Centre this Wednesday, August 5. I can't wait to watch John Cusack lift that boombox, blaring "In Your Eyes", above his head while I (hopefully) catch a warm breeze coming off Lake Ontario. The 1989 film is a preferable example of celluloid teen romance to the cringe-inducing dialogue and shameless wish fulfillment that Twilight fans seem to enjoy. I would mutter, "Kids these days!" but I've seen grown women in the mob.

On Wednesday, August 12, the finale of the Free Flicks series will screen and the feature is Labyrinth. It was easy to convince friends to mark the event on their calendar but will they wear their wedding dresses as budget cosplay of Jennifer Connelly's character? See you there!

Friday Night Play List: Better than a lap dance

2009-07-30T17:49:00.007-04:00

With one week to go before the Season 5 finale of "So You Think You Can Dance?", I can say that one of my favourite performances this year has been the Travis Wall piece performed by Jason and Jeanine. I have not seen such smouldering since the Dmitry Chaplin samba danced by Danny and Lacey in Season 3.

Unfortunately, one style that has been sorely lacking this season has been hip-hop. The dancers just have not been up to the challenge of hitting hard then flowing with the music. I miss performances like the Shane Sparks routine that featured Dominic and Sabra (Season 3), and the Tabitha & Napoleon D'umo piece performed by Katee and Joshua (Season 4).

Here are the links to the videos on YouTube, while they last:

Jeanine and Jason - Travis Wall

Danny and Lacey - Dmitry Chaplin

Dominic and Sabra - Shane Sparks

Katee and Joshua - Tabitha and Napoleon D'umo

And because I love disco but apparently, few others do, here's one of the few Doriana Sanchez routines available: Brandon and Janette

I'm outside

2009-07-28T18:10:00.001-04:00

...so enjoy this because I certainly did.

Better from a distance

2009-07-24T15:42:00.010-04:00

Second day of Comic Con and, already, exclusives are being released to the wider world, courtesy of the perpetually wired fanboys and fangirls in attendance.

Making use of Comic Con 2009 as a launching pad is the new Joss Whedon production, The Cabin in the Woods. The posters (see second variant and third variant) make me verrrry interested.

However, the biggest buzz is being generated by not one, but two separate clips of ripped boys without their shirts on from New Moon (find them yourself). The female hormones must have run so thick in that screening room that menstrual cycles will align.

As exciting as the cornucopia has been, I can confirm that viewing the images and videos on my computer, over 4000 km away from San Diego, is a sufficient splash guard from the aggressive fans that ruined my fun in 2008.

I wept like an idiot

2009-07-24T14:00:00.005-04:00

Meaningful dance routines are featured every week on "So You Think You Can Dance?" but, this past Wednesday, I found myself tearing up as I watched choreographer, Tyce Diorio's piece, inspired by a friend's battle with breast cancer.

I hate to over hype the performance of Melissa and Ade too much so let me just preface this video by admitting that I cried through Wall-E and Up! - whatever that may tell you.

See the legit video here.

Doppleganger dreams can come true

2009-07-21T16:12:00.006-04:00

As shown in previous blog entries (The Doppleganger Dinner, Doppleganger update), I obsess about a woman who possesses the same name as me. She is back on Facebook but I have not had the courage to approach her.

If only I was as sassy as Kelly Hildebrandt, who not only connected with her doppleganger but is going to marry him, too!

There will be no such happy ending for me and mein doppleganger, since I am not interested sexually in women and any marital relationship could be construed as incestuous. However, even an exchange of pokes on Facebook would be considered a victory at this point. Give me strength!

Aim high or aim low?

2009-07-21T12:47:00.006-04:00

My birthday falls on a Monday this year so I've requested a vacation on that day because, even though I mock Joe for taking the week of his birthday off, I would feel pathetic shuffling paperwork on my special day.

I have two strategies in mind for my birthday long weekend: high end or low end. High end entails taking advantage of a last minute flight and hotel deal. This will cost a few hundred dollars per person, at the very least, but remains appealing because we have never been so shotgun in our vacation planning.

If a good vacation package fails to pop up, then I will aim to spend as little money as possible on my birthday. Months ago, I noted that the Elmwood Spa offers a free three course lunch on your birthday as long as you eat between Monday and Thursday, which I can! There are also free birthday meal offers from Tucker's Market Place, Lick's, and Casey's, as well as free dessert at numerous other restaurants.

I would be happy to hear about any other birthday freebies since this could become a challenge to see how much I can milk a date that my peers are increasingly ceasing to acknowledge.

And it goes without saying that I would love some companionship since eating a free meal is hardly satisfying without a paying companion to gaze at you resentfully.

Disappointment at the cinema

2009-07-20T12:15:00.008-04:00

In an effort to rest my ailing ankle, I have been catching up on the summer blockbusters and it has been steady disappointment since the only highlight of the season for me, Star Trek. Since I don't respect the following movies, there will be spoilers.

Terminator Salvation
Some viewers have complained that the movie is too dark. I had more of a problem with how stupid some of the characters were. For instance, John Connor and the rest of the humans are convinced that Marcus is a machine sent to spy on them but what kind of spy blows his cover by walking knowingly into a magnetic mine field? And I would posit that John Connor is a machine himself: what human survives a metal spike through the heart long enough to be carried then airlifted then operated on? Apparently, the original story had John dying from his injuries and Marcus taking on the guise of John Connor to lend hope and guidance to the resistance. This would have been preferable to the nonsensical Hallmark greeting card of an ending that director, McG bestowed on us.

The Hangover
Male bonding movies usually do a balancing act between boorish and hilarious. For instance, many of Judd Apatow's movies have been pretty funny, even if women end up playing two dimensional support to the male characters. The Hangover features female characters who are either happy hookers or frigid shrews, and worst yet, is not really that funny for all of its contrived wackiness. Throw in a little Chinese man who jumps out of a car naked to mount one of the main characters and an ignorant Black drug dealer, and we have ourselves possibly the most offensive blockbuster of the summer.

Bruno
This movie only wishes that it could claim to be outrageously offensive as opposed to a sad misfire. I was a huge fan of Borat because Sacha Baron Cohen was so successful at catching people unaware in ridiculous scenarios, and revealing his targets' prejudices along the way. Unfortunately, Baron Cohen has become a victim of his own success and is clearly too easily recognized by potential targets this time around. The only time that Baron Cohen is able to create any truly ludicrous situation is in the Deep South but ridiculing rednecks is like shooting fish in a barrel. And I understand the concerns of gay activists regarding the movie's depiction of the gay lifestyle; too often the source of laughter is Bruno's stereotype and not the homophobia that is revealed.

The lost weekend and Anvil!

2009-07-14T13:50:00.008-04:00

The spraining of my ankle coincided perfectly with Joe's wisdom teeth being taken out a mere two days after the accident. I took the Thursday off work to recover as much mobility as possible in order to guide Joe from the dental surgeon's office on the Friday morning. The result was a never-ending weekend of discomfort, soft food, prescription drugs, and rock 'n' roll.

To clarify, the rock 'n' roll experience was vicarious as Joe and I watched Anvil! The Story of Anvil. The documentary charts the struggles of the two 50 year old members of Canadian metal band, Anvil, to recapture the glory of their promising rise to fame in the early 1980s. The story is a hilarious yet touching counterbalance to the winners who claim that all that is required to succeed is to dream big and work hard. More often than not, talented and hardworking individuals toil in obscurity, rewarded only by the exercise of their creativity. Anvil! is worth watching, even if you have the option of leaving the house.

Give-It-A-Tri - failz

2009-07-09T08:40:00.004-04:00

One incident that I failed to mention from my weekend at Pine Haven was the rolling of my ankle. Even with hiking boots, my ankles are weak and less challenging environments, like a set of stairs, have caused my ankles to betray me.

I pushed through the pain with exercise over the weekend and was pretty much recovered when I absentmindedly jumped over a knee high barrier on the way to work yesterday. That was when I landed on the same ankle but on concrete and with as much force as a jump will bring. It was as painful as it sounds.

As I gimped my way to work and then lunch, my injured ankle inflated to cankle-like proportions. When I finally left work early to see my personal physician, she started by suggesting an x-ray, to which I responded by clutching my head and wailing. The x-ray was ruled out since a breakage was highly unlikely, which meant that I was probably suffering from a bad sprain.

I casually mentioned the Give-It-A-Tri and my doctor's eyes grew wide. So, my bid at a mini-triatholon in August is out. If taking an injury before the event was a given, then the timing couldn't have been better since I can request the highest level of entry fee refund at this time. Still, it is disappointing to be forced to quit when so much progress has been made in the past five weeks.

I pray that a similar disaster does not strike my Nuit Blanche project.

Swim training update

2009-07-07T09:35:00.010-04:00

As I enter the halfway point of my training schedule for the Toronto Island Give-It-A-Tri, I can cautiously say that I may survive the swim portion of the race. With the Toronto municipal workers strike preventing me from accessing lengthier public pools, I have been swimming up to 212m in my condo's 10m pool. This has done little to build confidence since Lake Ontario will not have a smooth tiled floor to stand on when fatigue sets in.

Fortunately, I was able to swim in Devil Lake during a weekend stay at Pine Haven campground. The grounds are beautifully situated on a narrow strip of land between two lakes, very close to Frontenac Provincial Park. In a mere day, we were able to see a sloth, a blue heron nest, turkey vultures circling around an unseen prey, a loon with a baby on her back, an osprey snatch a fish from the water, and listen to bull frogs at night.

Swimming in the lake was definitely a luxury in spite of the hard work required to stay afloat; the water was clean and refreshing. I was able to do my scheduled 265m swim twice, but resorted to rest stops with the assistance of a flotation noodle a number of times. I also switched from front crawl to backstroke repeatedly. The latter is not a recommended swimming style for a race since you could easily veer off course. My friend, Tony, serving as my lifeguard and guide, screamed "left" and "right" as needed to prevent me from ending up downstream.

Flocons and I are planning to brave a swim in Lake Ontario to continue acclimatizing ourselves to lake conditions. Lake Ontario will probably be less pleasant than Devil Lake but the fear of drowning can prompt one to do crazy things.

Canada Day drink and run

2009-07-01T22:34:00.013-04:00

With the success of the Run for Liqueur last Canada Day, I decided to hold another beer mile. However, after our donation resulted in the Canadian Liver Foundation selling my information, I decided that the recipient of funds raised this year would be Vicki's Weekend to End Breast Cancer bid.

The 2009 Run for Liqueur was muted in comparison to last year's event, perhaps because most of the competitors still shuddered at the memory. Ignorance was bliss for first-time competitor, Attila, who completed his first lap before anyone else had even finished their first drink. However, by his third drink, Attila was slumped on the ground, because lying on his back made his discomfort worst.

My choice of chocolate soy milk over last year's chocolate dairy milk was only an improvement in the aftermath of the event as my suffering was shortlived but resulted in my disqualification. Joe's choice of Corona and Sleeman's proved to be less successful than last year's screwdrivers. Only Roger took a different strategy in his stubborn adherence to Grasshopper despite last year's disappointing results, and while his time did not improve, his overall ranking did. Ultimately, the only competitor who improved his overall time and ranking was Mike, who credits his nationalistic choice of Molson Canadian for his win.

It is questionable whether I will run another beer mile. In an event where the Masters level starts at 30 years of age, when most running events define Masters as being over 40, I feel that retirement may not be premature. However, I must admit that I am curious to see if a third drink choice will contribute to improved results. Until next Canada Day...

Art for a millenium

2009-06-25T12:23:00.005-04:00

Artist and journalist Jonathon Keats has created the longest story ever told for Opium Magazine. Merely nine words long, the story has been printed in such a way that only long term exposure of the magazine cover to ultra violet light will reveal each word over the course of 1000 years.

Keats's work is a reaction to the quick-click publishing and consumption that dominates the internet and contemporary culture at large. That this work has captured so much attention, along with the slow food movement and the resurgence of craft (ie Etsy), tells me that people may be exhausted by the current speed of living.

Among my pet peeves about the fast and the furious are people who fail to read emails carefully before hitting 'Reply All', and friends who won't read my longer blog entries. Slowing down is desirable but, as a generation brought up on video games, I suspect that only heart disease and other byproducts of our lifestyle will force us to operate at a more leisurely pace.

Best case Monday

2009-06-22T12:13:00.007-04:00

With summer finally arriving in Toronto, I'm finding it hard to go to work. Happily, today is turning out to be better than expected. Both my boss and my immediate supervisor are out of the office. While this scenario is conducive to slacking off, I have actually been productive because meeting a deadline has been compatible with listening to "Q" on CBC Radio, which featured an interview with one of my favourite writers, David Sedaris. I actually laughed until my spreadsheet became blurry, though my co-worker might have perceived sobbing stifled by hastily grabbed tissue paper. The podcast of the interview should be uploaded soon so check it out.

Quick notes on two street festivals that I visited over the weekend:

Taste of Little Italy - A smaller event than Taste of the Danforth that was heavy on food offerings from everywhere but Italy. My friend made a point of eating Italian food at the festival but was disappointed after his determined search resulted in some rather ordinary ravioli.

Big on Bloor - It was unfortunate that this one day festival took place during steady day-long rain on Saturday. The weather meant less crowding for Joe and me but we felt sorry for the sodden vendors, especially the ones without any shelter. One thing that I like about the Big on Bloor Street Festival is that it features up and coming crafters and artists that I do not normally see at bigger events. Eric Cheung had his Orphans Plush sitting in an old suitcase, open to the elements. He came out from the shelter of a store front to give us a whimsical tale about the dolls and explain how he had learned to sew in order to produce them. The Orphans were so appealing and well priced that we couldn't resist adopting one. We named him Walter and discovered that he longs to become a ballet dancer in spite of his footballer's build, which he attempts to camouflage with the vertical lines of his tight sweater.

Latest obsession: The Tawny Man trilogy

2009-06-17T09:49:00.017-04:00

For the past two weeks, I have been sleep-deprived yet felt little in the way of exhaustion because of my raging addiction to Robin Hobb's fantasy trilogy, The Tawny Man series. I had previously attempted to read this series after finishing the Farseer trilogy that precedes it, but gave up, perhaps due to fantasy fatigue. When I recently felt the need to be immersed in something other than non-fiction, giving The Tawny Man series anther chance seemed like a good bet.

Overall, The Tawny Man series has less action than the Farseer trilogy. The same narrator, FitzChivalry Farseer, is now a 35 year old recluse who refuses to be dragged back into his previous life as a royal bastard turned assassin, a role that ultimately required him to sacrifice love and family for the sake of loyalty to the Farseer monarchy. Like its protagonist, the books are more slowly paced and the best moments are the ones that focus on character development and interaction. Hobb's ability to imbue her characters and their relationships with psychological depth and realistic complexity is as impressive as it was in the Farseer trilogy.

Cryptic spoilers to follow.

Book One: Fool's Errand

Possibly the most satisfying book of the series because of its consistent focus on the themes of civil and paternal responsibility. The reader fails to encounter any action until the 1/3 point of the book, hence, some may find the pacing slow but I was absorbed in the reunion of Fitz with the few who know that he lives, especially the Fool, now known as the ridiculously entertaining Lord Golden. A romantic tension between these two male characters becomes palpable, in spite of Fitz's obliviousness to the Fool's subtle affection. The threat of the Piebalds, a militant group originating from a marginalized community, feels very real. The novel concludes with the rocky start of Fitz's relationship with Prince Dutiful and the devastating end of another.

Book Two: Golden Fool

Fitz reacquaints himself with his childhood home, Buckkeep, while attempting to hide his true identity as a royal bastard under the guise of the outrageous Lord Golden's servant. The majority of the story is driven by intrigue brought about by a possible political alliance with a former enemy, the Outislanders, through an arranged marriage for Prince Dutiful, and Fitz's reluctant role in it. The romantic tension between Fitz and Lord Golden builds to a devastating clash that results in the sorely felt absence of the latter character for the second half of the book. This void is partially filled by a riveting sequence in which Fitz engages a group of Piebalds and nearly loses his life, but the conclusion of the novel is marred when the relationship between Fitz and the Fool comes to a dissatisfying impasse.

Book Three: Fool's Fate

Reading the first half of this book was an exercise in frustration simply because of the narrative's unrelenting focus on Fitz's thankless guardianship of half-wit, Thick. Thick becomes the 'JarJar Binks' of the series, nearly ruining the third book by forcing both Fitz and the reader to suffer his idiotic selfishness. It is only when Thick recedes from the spotlight and the Fool/Lord Golden returns that the story picks up again. The plot quickens as Fitz and the Fool face the latter's arch rival, the Pale Woman, and Fitz must seemingly choose between loyalty to the Farseers and his friendship with the Fool in deciding the fate of a long lost dragon. While the conclusion of Fitz's relationship with the Fool is heart wrenching, the rest of Hobb's plot wrap-ups seem overly convenient. Especially disappointing is the afterthought resolution of the Piebald problem. Fitz's life is determinedly set for a happy ending, with the notable exception of his relationship with the Fool, which ends prematurely and without closure for both men - sadly much like real life.

For a more detailed assessment of Fool's Fate, I recommend the review of J.Smith "ladyofthebooks".

I feel a little relieved that I have finally finished this series since it has distracted me from functioning as a productive adult. As dissatisfying as I found the ending, wishing that it had been as ruthlessly loyal to the characters as the Farseer trilogy was, the novels kept me riveted throughout, and I would recommend them without reservation.

Drinking and stumbling

2009-06-15T12:16:00.006-04:00

This past weekend, I ran my first race since the Las Vegas Half-Marathon back in December and it was in keeping with my new, lackadaisical attitude towards running. The inaugural Twenty Valley Niagara Wine Country Run offered 21km, 10km and 4km distances and featured wine tasting stations roughly every 2 kms. I was thrilled to have an facsimile of the Marathon du Médoc offered so close to home.

The race atmosphere was the most relaxed that I have ever experienced. Despite claims to the contrary, personal bests are important to racers and competitive posturing is rampant before the gun goes off. Yet, none of the runners that I saw carried gels nor other nutritional supplements and few exhibited quiet intensity at the start line, since the savouring of alcohol already dictated less than ideal racing conditions. Runners joked about boarding the "elite runner's shuttle bus" and asked for recommendations on which wine went well with Gatorade. The route's scenic rolling hills prompted many runners to simply walk the inclines, especially after leaving a wine tasting station.

The only complaint that I have about the race was the time of day that it took place. Since alcohol cannot be legally served before 11am, all races started at roughly that time. Much of the route was unshaded and it was a hard run under the midday sun with alcohol sloshing in the system. My personal preference would be for the race to be scheduled in the evening, though that may be too much of an inconvenience from organizational and marketing points of view.

The night before the run, we stayed at Silver Birches by-the-Lake Bed and Breakfast. Besides being conveniently located, the hospitality was superb and the amenities demonstrated owners, Paul and Leah Padfield's attention to detail. One benefit of the late race start was that it allowed us the leisure to enjoy the hearty breakfast, which is not normally recommended before a race but provided a good foundation for the wine sampling to come.

Definitely a very enjoyable weekend of bacchanalian athleticism.

Not an infomercial for pillows

2009-06-11T13:06:00.014-04:00

For the first time in 15 years, I am not suffering from a stiff, achy lower back. Why? Because I have discovered the body pillow! Just $99.99! Call now!

Actually, I am just using a regular pillow but it is supporting my upper leg when I sleep on my side and the result has been the disappearance of my lower back problems. Previous to my use of this body pillow equivalent, yoga exercises helped ease the tension in my back but it was a treatment rather than a solution. I am ecstatic with this seemingly magical product, to say the least.

Also making me happy at night is my buckwheat pillow, which I bought at the Christmas 2008 One of a Kind Show from Harvest Pillows. I was inspired to buy this product after using a traditional Japanese buckwheat pillow during my stay at an onsen. It took about a month of restless nights before I became comfortable with the buckwheat pillow, but now, it provides all of the neck support of my previous favourite, the Obus Forme Standard Cervical Pillow, minus the frustration of weakening neck support over time. Joe inherited my old Obus Forme pillow and, despite its slightly degraded foam, it has cured him of the headaches that were brought on by his regular pillow's lack of neck support.

The body and buckwheat pillows are not for everyone but a sleep aid of some sort can cure seemingly unrelated body and head aches. The solution can be as simple as providing limb support using an spare pillow. Wow!

Luminato 2009 = weak art

2009-06-08T13:04:00.025-04:00

Now entering its third year, Luminato - Toronto Festival of the Arts + Creativity failed to interest me in its two previous years. The majority of their events are ticketed performances while their free programming is limited (Correction: by my count, 2/3 of the programming is free). However, I decided to check out the Luminato free visual art projects last Sunday and it was disappointing to say the least.

Red Ball Project Toronto by Kurt Perschke
Essentially a giant ball wedged into familiar city landmarks. On Sunday, it took up the main entrance of Old City Hall; this venue proved to be a more interesting contrast to the giant red ball than Friday's venue, Nathan Phillips Square. The piece easily engaged the general public, encouraging public interaction with the ball from kids and adults alike, but definitely lacked any depth. I worry that a piece like this will be used by those who fail to appreciate contemporary art as an example of how shallow the genre is.

long wave by David Rokeby and Primary Manifestos by Jason Baerg (Luminato Box)
After seeing Perschke's work, long wave's use of red balls appears derivative. Even considered on its own, Rokeby's string of red balls swirling through the galleria of Brookfield Place has the impact of Ikea home design: safe and unobtrusive.
Jason Baerg's Primary Manifestos was Sunday's featured artist in the Luminato Box and its total lack of consideration for the unique venue was off putting. Paintings and a projection that could have been shown in any gallery space did nothing to acknowledge the Luminto Box nor the location. However, I am more inclined to blame the curator than the artist for this sloppiness. With a different artist featured every day of the 10 day festival, one would think that the curator would have chosen more dynamic work that makes use of or references the Luminato Box.

Broken Arrow by Germaine Koh
This piece was hiddent deep inside the darkened Exchange Tower and was overwhelmed by its venue. Koh had moving words projected onto a wall, but the whole piece was barely noticeable above a pair of escalators and on a wide expanse of black granite wall. The result was underwhelming and the message was obscured.

Public art installation by Tony Oursler
Having had some of Tony Oursler's work burned into my memory more than a decade ago, I was disappointed by his contribution to Luminato. When we arrived in the middle of the day, Oursler's piece just outside Grange Park was not turned on. After a sufficient number of confused visitors had roamed around the piece, a Luminato worker finally got up to turn on the visuals and sound. However, it was hard to see anything in the midday light. Ousler's installation would have been better suited to a night time event like Nuit Blanche than a festival that takes place during some of the longest days of the year.

Based on what I have seen, I would characterize Luminato's free visual art offerings as conservative and/or insensitive to its surroundings. If the organizers of Luminato cannot offer provocative visual art in the event's rather limited repetoire, they might as well not offer any at all.

Sucker for punishment

2009-06-02T15:01:00.005-04:00

This past weekend, I watched Flocons participate in the Milton Try-a-Tri, as part of his quest to get fit or die trying. As I watched Flocons and the other competitors flop around like salmon during spawning season, followed by public disrobing, then some random silliness (ie running with a bike helmet on), I thought to myself, "This sport is becoming increasingly attractive..."

I have not participated in a running event yet this year, partly because I do not enjoy running in freezing temperatures, but also because running has become routine. However, with the injection of biking and the threat of drowning, perhaps my will to exercise will be revived.

To test this theory, I have signed up for the Toronto Island Give-It-A-Tri along with Flocons. We will try to support each other over the next 10 weeks of training. If our swimming does not improve by August 15, we will literally support each other as makeshift floatation devices. For once, I can honestly say that I am aiming to finish.

I want this

2009-06-01T23:09:00.006-04:00

I could easily believe that this is a hoax or even an art project but the fact that it is a reality makes me grateful that I am alive in this consumer culture.

Friday Night Play List: In the future

2009-05-29T10:32:00.005-04:00

I am going to go out on a limb and recommend two movies that I have yet to see. Both have gotten overwhelmingly 'Fresh' ratings on Rotten Tomatoes, but more importantly, they both focus on senior protagonists. As the Baby Boomer generation enter their twilight years, advertisers are quick to cater to such a significant consumer population, and senior citizens have become more visible in the media. Only time will tell if depictions of old age will be more like these movies or more like Grandpa Simpson.

Up (2009) - Everyone has seen the trailer with the cute old man, the cute boy scout, and the cute talking dog. What I have only heard about is the touching six minute intro that encapsulates the protagonist's life with his late wife. I fear that I will sob my way through a wad of tissue, like I did with Wall-E.

Away From Her (2007) - Twenty-something year old Sarah Polley surprised everyone with her directorial debut about a couple whose 50 year marriage is threatened by the onset of Alzheimer's. The wife's self-imposed exile into an old age home to prevent herself from becoming a burden to her husband is the stuff of my most realistic nightmares. Worth another box of tissue, for sure.