Day Two with Snake, Rooster and Pig

Day two started much the same as day one. Snake wanted to play as soon as I got in the door. I don't mind playing so much as long as it doesn't involve me moving. I said, "just let me finish my coffee" while wishing Timmy's sold it by the litre. I could only prolong the inevitable for about 15 minutes before I had to get on the floor and play Arthur Goes to the Library. The floor is a terrible place to sit. As much padding as I have on my ass it's not enough to make the floor comfortable. My legs fall asleep, my back aches because it's got no support and getting up requires Herculean effort. Snake, who's as flexible as an actual snake, of course, has no issues.

While playing, the miraculous happened. Rooster came over voluntarily and sat on my lap for a little bit. As I've mentioned before, Rooster is the cutest almost two year old in the world and likes me about as much as I like vegetables. This is the girl who, on more than one occasion, has nearly gotten me arrested by screaming at the top of her very powerful lungs when I've tried to give her a hug. Thankfully it's not just me. She seems to hate all men although she tolerates her father. After breakfast, when Auntie Ox was feeding Pig and Auntie Monkey was showering Uncle Dog took Rooster so she could get accustomed to him. The theory is that the more time she spends with Uncle Dog, the more she'll become comfortable with him. Rooster screamed for 30 minutes with one 2 minute break for air. If she stays like this in her teen years her father will have no worries about dating.

During the afternoon we went to the Science Centre. I hadn't been since I was a kid and it was much better than I remembered. It wasn't very crowded so Snake was able to try just about everything she wanted without waiting very long. They have an exhibit where you can test your grip strength and another where you can test the speed of your karate chop. I'm as weak as a kitten but have the speed of a cheetah. Another exhibit tests the force of your landing after a jump. Kids jump off a platform about 2 feet high and are supposed to try and land as lightly as they can. The display will tell you the force you landed as a multiple of your weight. The average was about 6 times their weight, Snake came in at nearly 12 times her weight and one big plodding oaf of a kid registered a whopping 21 times his weight. The only thing there was a line-up for was the bobsled simulator. All the children going on were accompanied by an adult so I had the intention of going on with Snake. While waiting in line Auntie Monkey was kind enough to say, "are you gunna fit in that?" Well, it was a distinct possibility that I would not, or if I did, I wouldn't be able to get out and I'd have to wear a bobsled simulator home. With a line-up of people behind me I didn't want to risk it so I let Auntie Monkey go instead.

We met back up with Uncle Dog, Auntie Ox, Rooster, who was taking her nap, and Pig, who spends most of his day sleeping or eating (how I envy him) but does take time out to charm you with his smile or make a grab for your eye. Uncle Dog and Auntie Ox also figured out how to use my camera and decided to take a picture of Pig every other second (every second would have been overdoing it).

The day ended much like yesterday with me going home and passing out.

Day One with Snake, Rooster and Pig

I've decided to give my pseudo-nieces and pseudo-nephew aliases based on their Chinese zodiac signs. I have absolutely no belief in Chinese zodiac (or any other astrological, psychic mumbo-jumbo for that matter) but I liked the sound of Snake, Rooster and Pig so that's what I settled on. Coincidentally though I'm a monkey and the description is spot on; "you are a fat cranky bastard who doesn't believe in psychic mumbo-jumbo".


Before I even had my shoes off Snake wanted to play foosball, Rooster eyed me warily and Pig was having a great time grinning and absorbing his surroundings. Not that his surroundings were any different than any other day but I guess at five months there isn't a lot else to do.

I tried to get out of foosball by saying "did Auntie Ox say it's okay?" Auntie Ox (not her real name) is also known as youngest sister and mother of Pig. Auntie Ox was no help this time; "sure, there's time for foosball before breakfast." We played foosball until breakfast was ready. I won, but just barely. After breakfast Uncle Dog and I took Snake out to the park to try and burn off some of her energy. Unfortunately it started raining so we headed back and played school. Snake was going to be the teacher and I would be the student. She asked who I wanted to be. I said "Eddie" she said "you're Gordon".

During "recess" we had to play indoors because it was raining outside. We played what is possibly the most multifarious game ever invented. Arthur Goes to the Library is basically the card game Concentration with lots of Arthur propaganda surrounding it.
There are:

• 16 business card sized pieces of cardboard that look like little Arthur books
• 16 cards that match the Arthur books above
• 16 cardboard cut-outs of Arthur characters
• One spinner that has the faces of the 16 Arthur characters above
• A display stand to hold the "books"

You spin the spinner and whichever character it lands on you guess which book they are standing on. If you guess right you get to take the book out of the library. The person with the most books wins. This is actually a great game. It was able to keep Snake entertained for longer than I've ever seen.

Now it was time for lunch; Auntie Ox, Auntie Monkey (middle sister) and Snake made sushi while Rooster covered her face and hair with yogurt. After clean-up time we went over to Uncle S and Aunt L's for swimming (I got tired of animal names and while Uncle S and Aunt L are great people we only spent a few hours with them). Unfortunately it started raining during swimming and while the kids were wet anyway we were a little concerned about the possibility of a lightning strike. We watched The Incredibles inside and S&L's son gave me quite a compliment; "you're just like Mr. Incredible . . . except not strong". Thanks kid, you're just like Brad Pitt except without the looks or talent.

After dinner we returned to Uncle Dog and Auntie Ox's place, got the kids ready for bed and then I went home and passed out exhausted.

Get in Line, Jerkwad!!!

This irritates me probably way more than it should but it seems that the majority of the population no longer knows how to form a line. The Tim Hortons in the building where I work has two entrances, two cashes, two painfully slow cashiers and about 8 other people milling about behind the counter refusing to make eye contact with customers for fear they'd have to take an order. For my Colombian readers Tim Hortons is a large coffee and doughnut chain in Canada. That's right, I'm huge in Colombia (well, 6 visitors so far).

I've painstakingly drawn an exact replica of the Tim Hortons restaurant for your viewing enjoyment.

Okay it looks pretty crappy but you get the gist of the layout.

Now this is how I think people should line up:
Yes, those little circles are supposed to be people who are all exactly the same size and have perfectly round heads.

This is how they actually line up:

Ridiculous. When you see a red guide rope why do you think it would be a better idea to stand right in the path of everybody who has already gotten their coffee and are now trying to get out. These people must have taken a course with my father who has the incredible ability to stand in the most awkward spot at the most awkward of times. I'm certain he'd stop a funeral procession to ask a pallbearer if he's ever seen "Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death". Also, after a parade of people holding coffee have tried to squeeze past you saying "excuse me" maybe you'd clue in that you're in the way.

It's not just at this establishment either. The McDonalds across the street has to have one of the most inefficient setups I've ever seen. It's like they designed it to provoke animosity among the customers. When I was a child and went to McDonalds you chose a cashier and waited in that line. If there were six cashiers there were six lines and if you picked the slow one you'd bitch about it to whoever you were with or just stew silently. Now, people stand about 6 feet away from the counter and when one cashier becomes free they all stampede to that cash. Then the whole process starts over again. Also, when I was a child, you would place your order, and step to the side, so the person behind you in line could place their order. When it was time for them to step to the side your order would be complete, you'd move out of the way, they'd move to your spot and the person behind them would place their order. It was a beautiful system. Now, the cash registers are so close together that if you attempted to move to the side you'd step on the person at the next cash. Even if you were able to step to the side the orders aren't filled fast enough for you to get out of the way before the next person steps up. What we're left with is a crowd of people waiting for food mixed in with a crowd of people waiting to rush to a free cashier. Nobody that approaches has any idea who's waiting for what so the question "are you in line" is repeated like a mantra.

The way people line up maybe I am in line and don't know it.

Looking Forward to Babysitting

This weekend I will be helping babysit two of the most wonderful children that have ever set foot on this planet. No, I’m not going back in time and babysitting myself at two different ages. If I may be frank, I was an absolutely adorable child (diametrically opposed to my cantankerous self now) and it is very difficult to pick the ages that I was most delightful but if I had to choose I’d say; one and a half when my impish grin melted the hearts of all who passed by our balcony as my father lovingly swung me by my ankle over the side of it, and seven when I debuted my Walter Crankcase (Cronkite) impression to the amusement of my schoolteachers.

But enough of the reminiscing, let’s get back to my pseudo-nieces, as I like to call them. It’s a complicated story but I’m very close friends with three sisters and I like to refer to them as part of my family. They affectionately refer to me as “that guy” as in “what’s that guy doing here?” and “I thought we weren’t speaking to that guy anymore”. The eldest sister and her husband have two girls; aged six and almost two. The six year old is one of the most energetic children I’ve ever met. She plays all sports, often at the same time, plays drums and piano, has an uncanny talent for foosball and is probably working toward her commercial pilot license during her spare time. I know all children are energetic but I worked at a summer camp for five years and we would have a new crop of 60 – 70 kids come in every two weeks, so trust me, I’ve seen a lot of kids and this one has a lot of energy. Unless she has to do something she doesn’t want to. Then, of course, she moves at the pace of a turtle meandering through molasses. The almost two year old barely tolerates me. She is mommy’s girl and if mommy is not around she will grudgingly go to one of her aunts but if they’re busy and she has to go to one of her uncles (I’m generously including myself in that group) it’s time to put the earplugs in and let the wailing begin. She is super cute though and if she thinks you may give her food her opinion of you increases exponentially.

The parents (i.e., eldest sister and her husband) will be dropping the girls off at youngest sister and her husband’s house on Friday. I really should have just given them aliases. Using their real names is out of the question because middle sister is extremely paranoid and thinks that if her name ever appears on the internet hackers will steal her identity, move into her apartment, kicking her out on to the street in the process, and when she tries to get help from friends, family or the government they will all refuse and possibly send her to prison or a mental asylum because she has no identity. Come to think of it, the mental asylum at this point might not be such a bad idea; but, I’ll leave that topic for another day.

One final point, and I would be remiss not to mention this, youngest sister and her husband have an absolutely delightful, four month old, cute as a button boy. I look forward to seeing him but cannot refer to it as babysitting because his parents will be there. Also, his parents are reluctant (emphatically refuse) to let me babysit because four month olds aren’t supposed to play with starter pistols. And, I’m supposed to know this?

Please, No Bad Language

Google AdSense is a branch of Google that pays people to display ads on their website. Google will search your website and display ads on your site that are relevant to the content. The ads come from another Google branch called AdWords. This seems to be a win-win situation. Let's say I own a company that sells hockey equipment. I want to advertise to people who are interested in hockey and ideally, play hockey and therefore need equipment. Google searches sights that have signed up with AdSense and if they have hockey related content my ad gets placed on that sight.

This sounded like easy, if little, money to me. I'm not sure how much AdSense pays but I think it's something like a penny a click. At the torrid pace people visit this blog I would have enough to buy a small coffee at Tim Hortons in 2015.

Once I signed up the first ad they put on my blog was something about funds for the Gulf war. What an excellent match of content with advertisement. There's nothing about Gulf, Guelph, golf or war on the blog. It all turns out to be a moot point anyway because today I received an e-mail from AdSense saying they rejected my application due to "inappropriate language". That seemed a little jingoistic. I only know one language and they didn't even tell me what the appropriate language was. Later I realized they weren't being biased against English but the inappropriate language was swearing. How fucking stupid. This is the gathering place for foul language. The internet is where swear words go to hang out and smoke, probably. It's a shame though; I really could have used that extra four cents a month.

That's Art?

My brother will find something on the street, on the subway, under a couch, in a restaurant booth or any other random location you can think of, bring it home, clean it (sometimes) and create “art” out of it.

Some of the pieces he currently has, as named by me, are:

Ridiculous Rubber Man in Glass
Absurd Mouse in a Pipe
Red & Black Geez-us
Ludicrous GI Bear

I wouldn’t describe him as a pack rat necessarily. He doesn’t keep the stuff because he thinks it may have some use in the future or for sentimental reasons. He keeps it for its dubious aesthetic value. By the way, have you ever helped a pack rat move? If so than I’m sure you’ll agree with me that these people should be repeatedly beaten using some of the worthless items they’ve made you carry. If you want to clutter your apartment with absolutely useless crap, that’s your choice but don’t make me move empty paint cans and broken cinder blocks to your new apartment. And while I’m on the subject of pack rats and moving why don’t pack rats pack. I’ve been to places where it looked like the move was a surprise to the residents. Do you really think it’s necessary to start that 5000 piece World’s Hardest and Largest Jigsaw Puzzle right now? How about putting your stuff in boxes and marking it fragile instead of throwing your priceless collection of Bay City Roller glasses circa. 1974 available exclusively from K-Mart in a garbage bag and telling me to “be careful, they’re irreplaceable.”

Back to my brother’s art. The problem is he’s right. Thanks to Marcel Duchamp they are pieces of art.

In 1917 Duchamp, a French artist, entered a urinal into an art exhibit and titled it Fountain. He signed the urinal R. Mutt. In 2004 Fountain was named the most influential modern artwork of all time. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/4059997.stm

I’m not disputing that it is the most influential modern artwork of all time. It may very well be. It certainly caused a stir in 1917 and reputedly broke barriers between high art and low art. Its purpose, at least partially, was to liberate the art world of its pretension. Good job Duchamp. Here’s an extremely pretentious quote explaining the meaning of Fountain:

However, "a urinal elevated to the level of a work of art cannot, under any circumstances, be considered as something 'neutral'" Ramirez also offers a highly sexual interpretation of the piece. Because it embodies characteristics of both sexes, he argues that the urinal is neither masculine nor feminine, but "bisexual". Despite its obvious male connections, it also has feminine aspects; it acts as "a receptacle for liquid effusions of different kinds: showers, natural waterfalls, perfumes, etc". Others also support this gendered bisexual interpretation. Greben notes the bisexual nature of Fountain when she writes that: Duchamp "wittily positioned the phallic receptacle on its side to suggest female genitalia”. http://arthist.binghamton.edu/duchamp/fountain.html

Hmm, I wonder if he actually placed it on its side because the bottom is rounded and it’s very difficult to balance that way. Come to think of it the urinal is actually placed on its back. Clearly this says something about the male position of control during intercourse while the powerless woman lies on her back. There’s probably something about golden showers in there too but I’m no art critic.

Duchamp’s goal of breaking down barriers between high and low art was achieved and now everything is considered art. The winner of the 2001 Turner Prize (a prestigious art award) was Martin Creed. Here is a description of his prize winning entry:

For the Turner Prize exhibition, Creed has decided to show Work # 227: The lights going on and off. Nothing is added to the space and nothing is taken away, but at intervals of five seconds the gallery is filled with light and then subsequently thrown into darkness.

This happens in my apartment everyday.

The prize money at the time was £20,000 (over $40,000 CAD). In 1997 a replica Fountain (the original having been long lost) sold for $1,762,500. If everything is art how come when I flick the lights on and off at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) I’m escorted out?

If any one is interested in purchasing some of my brother’s art the bidding starts at $25,000.
For more information on artsy urinals please see www.urinal.net.

I Might Believe in God

I’m an atheist. I have been for quite some time now. It’s not a bad way of life although I do miss singing and dancing in the Baptist choirs of my youth. I think in anybody’s life there will be an event or events so life altering that they cause you to reevaluate your beliefs.

For me, one of those events happened today. I’d heard there was a company in Biel, Switzerland that manufactures an incredible product for stripping wood and was trying to find the name of it (good cover story) when I happened across an article entitled “Jessica Biel’s strip contract”. The gist of the article is that Jessica Biel will play a stripper in her new movie Powder Blue and has agreed to bare her breasts and buttocks (apparently People magazine is big on alliteration). This was the sign I’d been waiting for. Tears of joy ran down my leg. But wait, was this a test? The god I’ve read about is quite fond of jerking people around. Better check the commandments and see if watching a naked woman on a big screen while drinking margaritas and shouting “shake what your mamma gave ya” is a sin.

1. The Detroit Red Wings are the greatest hockey team. Thou shalt worship no other team.
2. Thou shalt not take Steve Yzerman’s name in vain.
3. Thou shalt eat the red smarties last.
4. Sean Connery is the one true Bond though Daniel Craig makes a good false idol.
5. On escalators thou shalt walk on the left and stand on the right.
6. Thou shalt put the left foot in, thou shalt pull the left foot out, thou shalt not shake it all about. 7. Monkey see, monkey do.
8. The salad fork shalt be placed beside the napkin on the left.
9. Thou shalt not kill unless it’s rush hour and the car ahead of you is making a left without signaling leaving you to try and cut into the right lane while 70 cars buzz by.
10. Don’t make me break my foot off in yo ass.

I was clear with the commandments but couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be a catch. I searched for Powder Blue on IMDB. Dammit, that sneaky bastard. Patrick Swayze is in the cast. That’s like giving somebody a Mars bar wrapped in liver and spinach.

I’m going to hold off on my conversion until the movie comes out and we can see how well the scenes are lit.

The King is Dead

Elvis Presley died 30 years ago today. I’m a fan of young Elvis. I think he had a great voice and a dynamic personality. Old Elvis on the other hand was kind of nuts. What I really want to discuss though is the myth surrounding his death. I don’t know if anybody believes that he is alive today. Elvis would be 72 now and while that’s not terribly old it’s not the kind of age a guy who ate deep fried everything would normally live to. I’m going to assume that everybody agrees that Elvis is dead at this point. Now, let’s look at the evidence that he didn’t die 30 years ago. These are taken from http://www.elvislives.net/. Remember, they've had 30 years to come up with valid reasons Elvis did not die and these are the best they've got. I’m only going to discuss the first five because I tire easily.

1. ELVIS IS IN THE WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM
Most people know about Elvis’ famous meeting with President Nixon. What they don’t know is that during this meeting Nixon issued Elvis Presley a DEA badge, a clue that Elvis was helping investigators with a major case and later had to enter the federal witness protection program. It's ludicrous to believe that the DEA would have issued a badge to someone not working for them, even Elvis Presley.

Elvis collected badges. In exchange for the honorary Drug Enforcement Agency badge Elvis gave Nixon a Colt .45 revolver. This sounds like a smart trade on Nixon’s part. It is ludicrous to think that the DEA would have issued Elvis an actual DEA badge. Making Elvis a drug enforcement agency officer would be like naming Britney Spears as head of the Child Protection Agency.
The honorary badge held about as much clout as my Franken Berry Junior Monster Patrol membership card.

2. ELVIS' NAME IS MISSPELLED ON HIS TOMB.
Elvis’ father, Vernon, misspelled Elvis’ middle name on the grave—Aaron instead of Aron, as his mother named him. This is a sign that Vernon Presley knew that it was not his son in the tomb.

Elvis spelled his middle name as either ‘Aron’ or ‘Aaron’ depending on the combination of pills he took that morning. I do believe it’s possible that Vernon Presley, Elvis’s daddy, simply thought, “maybe I don’t want to look like a backwards-ass, cousin-fucking, hillbilly anymore and will spell my son’s middle name correctly on his gravestone.”

3. PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE CORPSE DON’T RESEMBLE ELVIS
In 1977, the National Enquirer paid a third cousin of Elvis to smuggle a mini-camera in to the viewing of Elvis’ body. The resulting picture was published in the Enquirer, and caused shock waves among fans around the world. The eyebrows, chin, and fingers all looked unlike Elvis.

I’ve never been autopsied or embalmed myself but I think it probably takes a lot out of you. I’ve seen pictures of me after a bad crabcake and wouldn’t say they accurately represent my true beauty. Incidentally, autopsy means “see for yourself” which I think takes things a little too far. There’s a big difference between
“daddy, do yellow and blue really make green”
“see for yourself son”
and
“daddy, does your heart really beat 70 times per minute?”

4. THE COFFIN WAS TOO HEAVY
The coffin weighed 900 pounds: Elvis is known to have been overweight at the time of his death...but not that much. The only plausible account for that weight would be if the body was a wax dummy and there was an air conditioner inside the coffin to keep the wax dummy from melting.

How do they know how much the coffin weighed? Was there a weigh station at the funeral home? 900 pounds does not seem excessive to me. I know it looks like the only plausible answer is that there was a wax dummy inside and an air conditioner to keep it from melting but let’s think about this for a minute.
a) Coffins weigh a lot on their own. Elvis was not exactly known for his subtle taste, and not that he picked the casket, but I imagine it was one of the more elaborate models available.
b) How would they run the air conditioner? Batteries. People probably would have noticed an electrical cord hanging out the end of the box.
c) Why would an air conditioner weigh more than a 6’ tall heavyset man. Air conditioners that cool spaces 5 times the size of the coffin weigh less than 100 pounds.

5. COL. PARKER’S STRANGE QUOTE
Col. Tom Parker, Elvis’ manager, said in a press conference shortly after Elvis’ death: ‘Elvis didn’t die.The body did. We’re keeping up the good spirits. We’re keeping Elvis alive. I talked to him this morning and he told me to 'carry on.’ Is it possible that there was a double entendre to those words: that they had literal truth to them that no one suspected at the time?

This is pretty much the same type of thing that is said anytime someone dies. The body has died but the spirit lives on. Here are some quotes, taken entirely out of context, from the eulogies of The Queen Mother, Pierre Trudeau and Marilyn Monroe. These quotes prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that these three people are still alive and in hiding.

The Queen Mother
Her passing was truly an Easter death -- poised between Good Friday and Easter Day. In the light of the promise that Easter brings, we will lay her to rest knowing that the same hope belongs to all who trust in the One who is the resurrection and the life.

Pierre Trudeau
We have gathered from coast to coast to coast, from one ocean to another, united in our grief, to say goodbye. But this is not the end. He left politics in '84. But he came back for Meech. He came back for Charlottetown. He came back to remind us of who we are and what we're all capable of.

Marilyn Monroe
I cannot say goodbye. Marilyn never liked goodbyes, but in the peculiar way she had of turning things around so that they faced reality - I will say au revoir. For the country to which she has gone, we must all someday visit.

Thanks Travis

The New England Journal of Medicine has recently published an article linking obesity to one's social network. The full article is here (http://content.nejm.org/cgi/content/full/357/4/370) but I think the following quote states all we really need to know (plus, the article uses really big words and I didn't want to tax myself):

"A person's chances of becoming obese increased by 57% . . . if he or she had a friend who became obese in a given interval . . . Persons of the same sex had relatively greater influence on each other than those of the opposite sex."

This news comes as a great relief to me. For years now I've attributed my pudgy physique to lack of exercise and a diet consisting of ice cream, bacon and doughnut batter (usually separately but sometimes combined). This study reveals that obviously one of my fat bastard friends is to blame. I racked my brain trying to think who it could be and came up with Travis, who I met in 4th grade. Travis and I were not particularly close, he did not become obese in the time I knew him (he was obese when we met) and I did not become obese until well after we'd lost contact but I really can't think of anybody else who fits the bill and it feels so good to be able to blame my problems on someone else, so Travis it is.

Unfortunately this news also causes some distress. How many people have I made fat over the years? And, how many have they made fat? How many people will refuse my friendship now because they are worried about turning into a tub of goo? My goodness, it's like a big fat unstoppable snowball.

Back to the Grind

For those of you who have spoken to me or seen me recently this information is old news but I did arrive home safely from Vancouver. For those of you who haven't spoken to or seen me recently, thanks for caring. Would a phone call, a quick visit, an invitation to play miniature golf have killed you?

I haven't done a whole lot since returning. I did get my haircut yesterday which was a bit of a mistake. I don't have an elaborate hairstyle. I get it cut fairly short, leave it a bit longer in front, and use carpenter's glue and candle wax to keep it from sticking up everywhere. I don't know if the woman who cut my hair was inept, lazy or malicious but she shaved my head leaving only a long patch right in front. I've seen this haircut on other people and didn't care for it. I would usually egg them. The Brazilian soccer player Ronaldo had the same haircut at one point and nearly got kicked off the team. I told the woman to just shave the entire thing. I would rather look like a maniac than an idiot (although some people have told me I often look like both).

Days Seven & Eight

Yesterday we went to Granville Island and Chinatown. Granville Island is really cool. It, like Pike's Place Market, is very similar to the St. Lawrence Market except on a larger scale and with, what looks to me, fresher food. I didn't buy any of the fresh food because I have nowhere to store it and I didn't want to carry it around all day. I did however buy a maple ice cream bar from Roger's Chocolate. Roger's Chocolate started in 1885 and has about 10 locations in the Vancouver area. They were listed in just about every guide book I looked at as the number one place for chocolate. Ahnes has never heard of them. She doesn't get out much.

The Vancouver Chinatown is similar to every other Chinatown I've ever visited. Stores crammed with wares for ridiculously low prices. Eleven shoes for $3.00. Not pairs of shoes mind you, just eleven shoes, various sizes. They have a couple of funky little shops interspersed among the Chinese stores.

We went to a charming little restaurant for dinner. I believe the name of it was the Keg. I think that's about it for day seven.

Day eight was the last true day of our vacation as we fly out tomorrow at 7:00am. We had to drop of the rental car by 11:00am so we (I) decided to go to IHOP for breakfast. I had never been to an IHOP before and it truly was a magical experience. A dirty crowded diner with crusty old waitresses reminiscent of the kind you'd find in a truck stop serving massive portions of artery hardening food. I had the bacon lover's special because, based on every Cosmo quiz I've ever taken, I do love bacon.

The rest of the day was spent shopping. I tried to explain to the ladies that possessions are fleeting but they counter- argued with shoes are pretty. I went back to the hotel early and rested my weary bones. We met Ahnes, Charles, a former student of Charles's and a friend of hers for dinner. Charles introduced me to his former student who said, "I'm Minjung from Korea." I replied, "I'm Dave, from my father's penis." That got the evening off to a great start. Her friend Tomoko, from Japan, was rail thin and ate like a horse. Bitch. We went to a Greek restaurant named Stephos which was excellent. Big line-up though so either make reservations or be prepared to wait a bit.

Day Six

A jam packed day full of fun and excitement. We woke up early once again so we could maximize our time in Seattle. I was extremely tired from staying up so late the night before so Rose drove while Joyce navigated. So far during the trip Joyce has been quite happy to sit in the backseat and repeatedly yell out directions or tell us, well after the fact, that we missed a turn. However, when we tried to make her the official navigator she always somehow weaseled out of it. Not today my friend. The border guard was jovial and told the ladies to keep an eye on me. Ridiculous advice really. No one can control me border guard – no one.
We went to Seattle Centre which is the home of the Space Needle, the Science Fiction Museum and the Experience Music Project. As ugly as the Space Needle looks in pictures it is much worse in reality. It looks like the CN Tower’s welfare scamming cousin.

The SF Museum and the EMP are two museums in one building. They are both funded by Paul Allen (the co-founder of Microsoft) and designed by Frank Gehry. The EMP was originally supposed to be composed entirely of Jimi Hendrix memorabilia but Paul Allen had a falling out with the family and it is now an interactive music experience. You can record your own songs and produce your own albums. The same kind of thing you’ve been able to do at the Ex for about 15 years. We went into both museums but only to see the gift shops. In the SF museum the cashier at the gift shop must have thought he’d died and gone to heaven when he got that job. Prototypical SF fan with long orange hair, a scruffy beard and ill-fitting brown polyester clothes. As we walked in we overheard part of his conversation with another one of the workers, “You humans do tend to choose foods based more on taste than nutritional composition”.

We stopped in at McDonald’s for lunch. They have iced coffee at McDonald’s so I ordered one with my combo. I got the large which was a whopping 32 ounces. Is coffee a diuretic? Find out what happens later in the day.

After lunch we headed to Pike’s Place Market which is similar to St. Lawrence Market but on a larger scale. There is one fish stand that is famous for the workers throwing the fish to each other. We watched that for about an hour without ever getting a really good picture of anyone throwing or catching a fish. They did it plenty of times but there are large crowds and it happens so fast that it makes getting a picture difficult.

We started heading back to the car when I had a strong urge to go to the washroom. Strong may be a bit too mild of a term, let’s say a physically powerful urge to go. Went in to the Marriot Hotel where they told me the washroom was down a long hall and to the right. Got there, one stall – occupied. While I was waiting, another man came in. He wanted to go into the stall as well, I told him I was waiting for it, he said okay and left. The man in the stall, hearing this brief conversation, decided be helpful and very slowly give me directions to another washroom. “Make a . . . right out this . . . door, go down . . . the stairs, take your first left and then a sharp right . . .” I didn’t think I had time to hear all his instructions never mind carry them out; plus, the guy who came in and left was probably already headed there anyway. I went in to Starbucks. Yes, of course they have a washroom. It is at the end of a very long hall and you need a pass code to get in. The pass code is 9542766423. Seriously? How about 9999. I happy to say that disaster was narrowly averted; but, in typing that code into the washroom door keypad I’m certain I now know the tension a bomb technician must feel when defusing an explosive device.

Feeling relieved, we headed off to the Museum of Flight. This is sponsored by the Boeing Aircraft Company and was very interesting. A lot of exhibits showing the history of flight, etc. We then went to see Bruce Lee’s grave. While looking for the grave we saw a group of about six Chinese teenagers walking through the cemetery. Let’s follow them I thought. Joyce suggested they might actually be there to visit a relative but I followed my gut and sure enough they led us right to him. I mentioned to them that I was a little hesitant to follow them in case they were there for a relative and I was party crashing a very somber moment. Then one of them pointed to a tombstone beside Bruce’s and said, “that’s my grandfather”. I felt terrible until I realized P.J. Malone was probably not really his grandfather.

Day Five

This was a hell of a long day. We got up early in order to catch the 9:00am ferry to Victoria. Once in Victoria we went to Butchart Gardens. A sprawling 55 acres of every flower imaginable, most of them remarkably delicious. I guess the best way to describe Butchart Gardens is to picture the most stunning garden you can think of and then imagine thirty senior citizens standing behind you croaking in a raspy voice, “isn’t that beautiful, my goodness I’ve never seen anything so wonderful”. Yes you have. You’ve seen 40 acres of the exact same thing. Sorry, went off on a bit of a tangent there. The garden was actually quite nice and while a little crowded not impossible to navigate through.

I then had a bizarre experience at an Esso station. I went in to grab a coffee but they only had a self-serve counter. This was okay, I’ve poured coffee for myself on occasion and if I may say so, I get most of it in the cup. The problem was this woman who was also getting coffee was making inane pseudo sexual comments. She called me a “three cream man” and said she liked three cream men. While handing me a lid she said, “are you large, or extra large” and you don’t even want to know what she said up the sweetener. Anyway, I’m meeting her for dinner later.

We then went to downtown Victoria which has some cute little shops and some nice views. Not a whole lot to report here. We had dinner at an Italian restaurant and then left around 5:30pm thinking we might catch the 6:00pm ferry. On the way to the ferry the radio gave a report that the 6:00pm was full and the 7:00pm was filling up fast. This was all I needed to hear in order to drive like a maniac the remainder of the way to the ferry dock. When we go to the dock we didn’t actually realize it and were still cruising along at 110km/hr. A dock worker enjoying a coffee break bolted from her seat with a panicked look in her eye to signal me to slow down. A little man directing dock traffic started waving his clipboard slowly indicating that I should slow down. When he started waving it at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings I thought maybe I should slow down. We got to the ferry dock at 6:15pm – we caught the 9:00pm ferry. Yes, we waited nearly three hours in the car. How did we amuse ourselves? By making fun of the people around us of course. There was one in particular that I’ll mention. A Korean woman, about 25 years old, wearing a pair of leather looking leopard print short-shorts and fur boots. The highlight of the ferry wait was when she bent over to get something out of her trunk. I nearly became a three cream man then, if you know what I mean.

It’s 2:43am right now so if there are spelling or grammatical errors or just plain ridiculousness in this post how about cutting me some slack.

Day Four

Today we went to Stanley Park. What an incredibly massive place. To be quite honest I can’t really remember what we did there. I know we saw a flower garden and some totem poles. The two things that stand out most in my mind are; the girl in the wetsuit and the lard-ass in high heels. The girl in the wetsuit is a bronze statue inspired by the little mermaid statue in Copenhagen. In my opinion neither one is all that spectacular but both seem to be very popular. The lard-ass in high heels was a lard-ass wearing pink camouflage pants and stiletto heels. “I’m going hiking today what footwear should I choose? Something that will make my feet blister and swell and possibly hobble me for life seems like a good choice.”

After Stanley Park we met up with Ahnes and Charles and they took us to a place called Deep Cove. The place looked beautiful from the car window which is how we had to view it because there were no damn parking spots. Since we couldn’t find parking at Deep Cove we went to Mount Seymour. I was quite excited about this because I consider myself something of an aficionado of the adult film series “Seymour Butts”. Well, there were few butts to be found on Mount Seymour. The adventure ended with a trip to Rice Lake. There were hiking trails or some such nonsense at Rice Lake. I decided to skip the trails because hiking is very much like walking except it is usually done uphill in a hot sticky environment with countless insects wanting a taste of your sweet sweet blood. Once the others finished hiking we were supposed to make another stop but I hadn’t eaten for over six hours at this point (I usually go no more than fifteen minutes) and was in an advanced stage of crankiness.

We headed back to Ahnes and Charles’s where Ahnes cooked up another fabulous dinner. Rose would like everyone to know that she drove back to the hotel but was too tired to give me the beating I so richly deserve. Perhaps tomorrow.

Day Three

The day started wonderfully. We drove to North Vancouver and had breakfast at Denny’s. I love Denny’s and don’t get nearly enough opportunities in Toronto to eat 4 pounds of bacon in one sitting.

Ahnes and Charles met us at Denny’s after breakfast then we headed out to Horseshoe Bay to rent a motorboat. There was some talk about renting kayaks but I explained that I went kayaking once and it took three firemen and the jaws of life to pry the boat off my fat ass. Actually I have never been kayaking before but could clearly see that scenario occurring. We set out in our boat and the scenery really was quite beautiful. There were seals everywhere, especially on Seal Rock, where they were to be expected. I, unfortunately, forgot my club back at the hotel but was smart enough to pick out a few choice rocks before embarking on the boat ride. There’s nothing like being on the water during a nice sunny day chucking rocks at seals.

After the boat ride we headed over to the salmon hatchery. I wanted to try and catch one in my mouth like bears do but that’s frowned upon at the hatchery. The salmon weren’t jumping which was unfortunate but even if they were, big deal. It’s not like they’re jumping through anything. Put a flaming hoop in the river and then we’ve got a show. We followed up the hatchery with a visit to the Capilano reservoir and dam.

Finally, we went to Ahnes and Charles’s place for dinner. While dinner was being prepared Joyce, Rose and I completed a very complicated 200+ piece jigsaw puzzle of the entire world (not to scale). I realized that Joyce doesn’t look at the images on the pieces but merely uses brute force to fuse pieces together. She connected South Africa to Russia and was wondering why not all of the pieces fit.

I was informed by Rose while we were completing the puzzle that I have an attitude problem. She said she was going to ‘fix’ my attitude when we got back to the hotel. This seemed to me like a thinly veiled threat of violence ensuing. When she followed up her statement with, “that’s right, there’s going to be an ass-kicking tonight” I knew I was right. Fortunately for me Rose can’t stay up past 9:30pm so by the time we got to the hotel she went straight to be and promised to open a can of whoop-ass tomorrow.

Day Two

We started the day with a hearty breakfast at Bellagio's which is just a few blocks away from our hotel. After that we had to go back to the car rental place because we wanted extra insurance on the car and they had to check that we hadn't damaged it already and were trying to get insurance after the fact. Why did we need extra insurance? Well, let's just say that Vancouver has very strict rules about what constitutes the "right" side of the road. Parking at the rental place was insane and I fully expected someone to sideswipe us while the agent was giving the car the once over.

After leaving the rental agency we decided to do some shopping on Granville Street. When I say we, I of course mean Rose and Joyce because I would have rather stood in a box of broken glass and repeatedly stuck a fork in my eye. We did find a chocolatier who had excellent confections so that made it somewhat less painful.

We then went back to the hotel where Rose met Ahnes and her husband Charles and they all went off to an art exhibit. Joyce and I decided to go check out Gastown. Well, mainly Joyce decided because I was pretty content sitting in my air-conditioned room watching Shanghai Noon (which is the same thing I do in Toronto except without the air-conditioning which makes it so much sweeter). After Joyce asked 18 times if I was sure I just wanted to stay in the room instead of walking all over Gastown I began to think that maybe I did want to go to Gastown or maybe I just wanted her to be quiet. I guess we'll never know. Gastown was okay. The big attraction there is this old fashioned clock that is run using the power of steam. You can see steam pouring out of the clock as it keeps time. The thing is, the steam clock was built in 1977 and has 3 electric motors that along with the magical power of steam help it keep time.

Another Gastown attraction is the statue of the district founder John Deighton aka "Gassy Jack". The origin of the nickname is unknown but his strict diet of cabbage, beans and broccoli probably provide a clue.

After walking around a bit we saw a street fair. Lots of booths, big crowds, music, entertainment the only problem was it was actually a barbecue for the street people of Gastown. Hoards of people lined up for hamburgers. It was a very nice thing for the organizers to do but I was sort of hoping for cotton candy and dart game where I could win a giant stuffed animal.

We met up with Rose, Ahnes & Charles for dinner at the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts. This is the cooking school restaurant where students can get practical experience. The food is usually fantastic and at a reasonable price. Plus, because they are students and sometimes quite nervous it's very easy to rattle them and be unreasonably demanding.

After dinner there was a fireworks show which I had no desire to see but was completely outnumbered so while the rest of the group took off up some treacherous mountain pass (actually it was just a flight of stairs but still quite imposing) I sat on a bench and relaxed and incidentally, caught the entire fireworks show because, and I'm sure you know this, fireworks shoot up really high in the air.

Day One

Before I start writing anything I must mention that I have two travelling companions; Joyce and Rose. I thought I should mention them first because I plan to do a lot of bitching about them and want you to know who I'm referring to.

Our flight was at 7:00am and we planned to get to the airport around 5:00am. I know it's early but I prefer to be early rather than have to rush. I'm more of a waddler than a rusher. I woke up at 3:00am, showered, sweated about 3 pounds off and fried some bacon on my stomach before the cab came (yes, even at 3:30am Toronto is freaking stifling). We picked up Rose and then set off to pick up Joyce. On the way to pick up Joyce my cellphone rang. I didn't recognize the number and thought it was a little odd that someone was calling at 4:15am but I picked it up anyway. It was the cab company giving me the wake-up call (that I declined). A 4:15am wake-up call for a 4:00am pick-up - good job.

I set off the metal detector twice at the airport but the third time was the charm. The plane ride was comfy but no food, with the exception of 4 cookies. Thanks WestJet, I'm still stuffed.

We had to take a cab to our car rental place because the don't do pick-ups from the airport and then they tried to make us pay an airport tax. Apparently anybody renting a car in Vancouver within 24 hours of arriving by plane has to pay an airport tax. We told them we actually got in yesterday and had just been dragging our luggage around for a day.

There are a lot of one way streets in downtown Vancouver and when we first got to the hotel we overshot it and had to circle back. The second time, we were able to pull up right in front of the hotel but than this guy in a van starts backing up and starts motioning for me to back up. I'm thinking, "screw you buddy, who do you think you are", well it turns out he was the valet for the hotel and was just trying to do his job.

We got to the hotel at around 11am but couldn't check in until 3pm so we went for lunch and then walked around a bit. Just what I enjoy doing after waking up at 3am and going on a five hour plane ride.

Finally checked in, relaxed for a bit and then went for dinner when our friend Ahnes.

Incidentally, I've let both Rose and Joyce know that they are competing for the title of "Best Travelling Companion". Rose is currently ahead by a mile and a half.