I'm Glad That's Over

Yesterday we threw a 60th birthday party for my aunt. I hate organizing parties, and even more so when it's a surprise party. Don't get me wrong, I like being sneaky and lying to people, but making a party a surprise adds extra information to keep track of. You no longer just have to get your guest of honour to a certain place at a certain time but you have to have a background story of why you're going there that must be believable and also enticing enough to make the person actually want to go, or at least feel obligated to go. Even though I get stressed out doing this sort of thing I did it for my aunt for two reasons. One, she deserves it. She's the one who always organizes the parties in the family and keeps in touch with everyone. All in all, very thoughtful. Two, she reads this blog so I'd better say something nice.

The story I came up with to get my aunt to the party was that it was a rally for the Relay for Life. My aunt is a breast cancer survivor (that's another reason why I do the Relay and an especially good reason you should donate to the Canadian Cancer Society. On the right side of the page, there's red text saying "My Personal Page", this will lead you to the donation page. Thank you) and she is participating in the Relay this year. Fortunately she agreed to go to the "rally" so the ruse was working thus far.

As I mentioned above, I dislike organizing these things and I think it's because I'm really no good at it. I have the attention span of a gnat with ADD and can't keep track of all the things that need to be done for a successful party. If it were left entirely up to me I'd have everybody sitting on the floor in my apartment fighting over a half eaten cheese sandwich and the cake would consist of a yellow highlighter placed squarely in the middle of a Vachon Joe Louis. I much prefer that somebody else does the organizing and just tells me what to do. Luckily (and surprisingly) I have friends that thrive on organizing and are no slouches when it comes to telling people what to do. The organizer extraordinaire is Jabberjaw. She created an itemized list for me that I would have been lost without. The other immense help for this party was my friend Yangalicious. She made a ton of food including a beautiful teapot cake (my aunt likes tea).

The Party

The plan was that I would pick up my uncle and brother at 11:30am, drive them to the location, help setup and then leave to pick up my aunt and bring her there for 1:00pm. My car was quite packed with all the party supplies; plates, cups, decorations, table clothes, coffee maker, water heater, beverages and a box with six bud vases and one large vase, each containing flowers and water. I picked up the flowers the night before from Jabberjaw who had done a lovely job of preparing the flowers and packing them in an empty diaper box that mockingly had "no messy leaks" printed all over it. She had prefilled the vases so that the flowers wouldn't die immediately. The problem was that about a fifth of a second after I picked up the box the six bud vases tipped over and emptied their contents on the bottom of the box causing a messy leak. I managed to get the flowers home without incident and refilled the vases to keep the flowers fresh; but the bottom of the box was now very fragile. I had this box sitting on the floor of the front passenger seat. As my uncle got into the car I tried to warn him about the delicate condition of the box bottom just as he lifted the box up by it's sides and the six bud vases again tipped over and soaked the floor mat. My uncle turned the box upside down and used the relatively dry lid as the bottom. When we arrived at the party room my uncle grabbed the box by it's sides and the bottom (which was actually the lid) flew open, tipping the bud vases again. There was little water in them this time but the flowers did scatter over the car floor.

We went up to the party room and started setting up. Because of the flowers incident we were running a bit late so we scrambled a bit to setup. I left to pick up my aunt leaving the remainder of the prep work to my uncle and brother. As I left I asked my uncle to tell my brother (because he wasn't there at the time, not because we weren't speaking to each other) that I had brought my camera and to take some pictures of our aunt when she comes in so we can immortalize the look of surprise on her face.

I picked my aunt up at about 1:00pm and we were supposed to be at the party at that time. I had requested on the invitation that if you could not be there before 1:00pm to please come at least 15 minutes later so we wouldn't run the risk of bumping into each other entering the building and ruining the surprise.

We arrived at the building at around 1:20pm. The security guard that would normally let us in was doing his rounds (I think this means he goes to the stairwell to smoke) so I called Yangalicious to let us in. As I was on the phone I saw my cousin coming into the building. This was a potential surprise ruiner and even worse I couldn't blame my cousin because it was my lateness that caused the fiasco. I stepped in front of my aunt to block her view and signalled with my eyebrows for my cousin to make a run for it. I was on the phone remember and wanted to be subtle which is why I didn't use my hands to signal plus I'd been doing a lot of eyebrow exercises lately and wanted to put my effort to good use. My aunt, being nosey, sidestepped me and came face to face with my cousin. The cousin was sharp enough to make up an excuse about visiting friends in the area and that calamity seemed to be averted.

As this was happening I got ahold of Yangalicious and said we needed to be let into the building. She said, I'll send your brother down. I didn't think my brother was a really good choice because I was pretty sure my aunt would recognize him and that also might ruin the surprise. Plus, I asked him to take pictures and it's pretty hard to get a good shot of the surprised look on someone's face when you're standing behind them. But, this was at the same time my aunt and cousin were talking and I wasn't thinking straight. My brother gets off the elevator with a huge camera around his neck, my aunt says "Hi P-Dub (not his real name) are you the official photographer?" Again, we dodge a bullet as she thinks he's taking photos for the rally.

Finally, we get to the room, walk her in, everybody yells surprise, my aunt nearly has a heartattack and I run downstairs to grab my cousin and let her know it's safe to come up now.

My brother said he managed to get a few shots of my aunt looking surprised so it wasn't too bad. I later went to take some photos and realised that I hadn't put a memory card in the camera so even if my brother had captured a shot worthy of a Pulitzer it would have been for naught. In his defence he's never used a digital camera before so he had no idea that something was amiss. Good thing he wasn't the official photographer though.

After a rocky start the rest of the party went well. There was one awkward moment when my aunt and uncle (incidentally they're brother and sister not husband and wife) we're talking about two elderly women who lived with the family before my uncle was born. He said, "why don't you tell the story of how they came to live with us" to which she replied, "no, I don't really want to get into that" so he proceeded to tell the story that the day the sisters found out my grandma and grandpa would take them in was the same day one of the sisters decided she was going to kill the other and then commit suicide if they didn't find a place to live that day. Nothing like a jaunty tale of murder/suicide to get people in the mood for fun. I asked my dad if he could recount a few stories from his years fighting in Vietnam to get the party really rocking.

I think the most surprising thing about the surprise party is that I didn't end up punching anybody in the face, or getting punched in the face.

I'll end with a picture of the beautiful cake Yangalicious made. Yes, it does say Happy Bithday. She made it very late at night and can certainly be forgiven for missing one letter. If I had made the cake it would have read "It had to be a teapot, eh, assface?"

My Goal - nay, My Mission

As many of you know it's been my lifelong goal to find a cure for cancer while simultaneously winning "Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest" (in your face Takeru "Tsunami" Kobayashi. NOTE: I recognize that Joey "Jaws" Chestnut is the current two time defending champion but Kobayashi won the event six consecutive years and therefore it is him that I'm gunning for.)

Over the years I've come to realize that I probably won't be able to do both and have consequently focused on finding a cure for cancer. Unfortunately, there's only so far common household chemicals, medical equipment scavenged from a broken down Somalian hospital and a fourth grade education can take you, which is why I hedge my bets by participating in the Canadian Cancer Society's Relay for Life each year.

The Relay is a 12 hour overnight event (7pm to 7am) in which teams compete in a variety of physically, mentally and spiritually gruelling challenges in order to eliminate one another from the competition and claim bragging rights for the entire year. Halfway through we break for tea biscuits and a brief sing-a-long.

Okay, I lie, the Relay is a non-competitive fundraiser for cancer research in which the teams stay overnight and walk around a track lit by luminaries in memory of or in honour of cancer victims and survivors. It is both a remembrance of those who have passed away from cancer and a celebration of how far we've come in finding a cure.

The most poignant part of the event, in my mind, is the Survivors' Lap in which over a hundred cancer survivors complete the first lap of the night as their names are called out. The other event participants line the track to applaud and call out encouragement as the survivors pass by. The vast variety of people that comprise the survivor group reminds me of how cancer touches us all and the outflow of support and enthusiasm is inspiring.

The truly good news is that you can join thousands of other people and support this very worthy cause without even leaving the comfort of your own home.

Click on this link (Relay for Life) and then choose the "Support David" button.

Donating is safe and secure. While all amounts are greatly appreciated, a donation of $20.00 or more entitles you to a tax receipt. For a donation of $55.00 I will bring my guitar over and entertain you with a series of Irish sea shanties and dirty limericks. For a donation of $100.00, I won't. Seriously, you don't want to know what I'd do for a donation of $100.00 or more.

I've lost three grandparents and my mother to cancer. If you haven't been affected by cancer in some way you are very lucky indeed.

Thank you.

Three Mind Blowing Unrelated Theories

Sanity Check
I have long held a belief that you can test a person's sanity by putting them on a streetcar and counting how many times they change seats. The more times they change seats the crazier they are.

Obviously, certain conditions must be in place. The streetcar can't be completely empty or completely full. After a lot of trial and error I was finally able to pull the number of 45% out of my ass.

If a person changes seats once or less they can be considered completely sane. Often you'll get on a streetcar and there will be seats open but they're not great seats. A couple of stops in a great seat opens up. You move and take it - not insane. Another seat opens up, you move and take it - insane. The exception is if a situation arises regarding the seat you moved to that was not present when you initially sat down. For example, a person with bad body odour sits beside you, the window or seat breaks, the person sitting behind you vomits on you (although moving seats solve the problem of the vomit presently on you it would at least prevent that particular person from vomiting on you again). If none of these, or a similar situation happens and you change seats more than once you are coo coo bananas.

Why is this considered an accurate test of sanity? Think back to all the times you've ridden on the streetcar or bus and if you've changed seats once have you ever had the urge to change seats again? If you did, did you stifle the urge because you thought people would think you were crazy for switching seats again? If you weren't able to stifle the urge and moved again are you currently reading this on a computer situated in Lord Zokron's Disco Space Pod? Do you think your dog can read minds and makes fun of you behind your back? Are all your clothes made out of bubble wrap so you don't hurt yourself when you go outside?

Chinese Girls Run for No Reason
First, I'd like to point out that I haven't noticed this only when I'm approaching a Chinese girl. Trust me, it's not only Chinese girls that run screaming if they see me headed in their general direction.

When I say "run" what I mean is, the legs move double time but the body as a whole moves at the pace of a brisk walk. I believe this is accomplished by reducing the step to half of what it normally is, please see the following illustration:

The legs on the right look skinnier because of the increased speed.

The reason I say it is for no reason is they only give the illusion of speed without getting anywhere any faster. I have no idea what this all means but the evidence is beyond dispute.

Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation is Incorrect
Newton's law states that every thing with mass is attracted to everything else with mass. The greater the mass and the closer the objects the stronger the force of attraction.

In putting this theory to the test I've come up with the exact opposite results. As a man of great mass one would assume that the closer I stand to someone the more attracted they would be to me - this is not the case. Sometimes I'll stand right behind a woman, so close I can smell her hair and she can feel my hot breath on her swan like neck (sorry, I guess "really close" would have sufficed). Not once has the woman become more attracted to me. 98% of the time the woman will move away (the other 2% are decrepit). 100% of the time I will be maced and/or pepper sprayed. I don't recall reading anything about that in Newton's law.

Things that Really Chafe My Ass

I thought "chafe my ass" was a much more popular saying but when I Googled it I only got 40 hits. I guess that shows how out of touch I am with the youth of today.

While I'm going to write about things that irritate me this is by no means a complete list; only the things that have irritated me most lately.

Button Pressers (literally and figuratively) - People who press buttons after they have already been pressed and a light clearly indicates they have already been pressed. At an elevator is a good example. I press the button, the little light indicates that it has been pressed and an elevator is on its way, you, look at the little light and then press the button again in case I didn't do a good enough job. Do you think you have magic fingers?

Door Standers - I think I've already mentioned that my father has the uncanny, preternatural ability to stand directly in your way no matter where you are going. This ability increases exponentially if you are carrying something heavy and are in a hurry. If you were carrying a heavyset man out of a burning building my dad would appear through the smoke, block your way, and ask if you had a chance to watch "The History of Verbal Communication through Mime" because the host had a haircut that reminded him of you when you were eleven.

Door standers are not as good as my father, of course, but they do aspire to his ability. I have noticed this particularly on the streetcar lately where some people are drawn like magnets to stand in the doorway. I can understand this behaviour on a crowded streetcar but not when there are other options. Some of them are so self-absorbed that it never occurs to them that other people are on the streetcar and may want to get off. It boggles my mind that we let people like this out in public.

Smoking Door Standers - At first I was going to say that I hate smokers; but, that would be too general even for me. However, I do hate the smell of cigarette smoke and am happy that you are no longer allowed to smoke indoors at public establishments. This however does present a problem as the smokers all huddle by the door and anyone who walks in or out has to carve a path through the miasma.

Bicyclists - Again, I can't say that all cyclists irritate me but I have seen very few that follow the rules of the road. My view is, if I have my right turn signal on and you try to pass me on the inside, you deserve to be run over, or, at the very least be forced to wear those ridiculous shorts to a formal function. I admire cyclists for their commitment to the environment but stop freaking complaining about how you should be treated like an equal vehicle on the road if you sail through stops signs, ride on the sidewalk, pass on the inside, ignore red lights and pass open streetcar doors. You can't have it both ways (unless you're bisexual and you're not, you're a bi-cyclist).

Motorists who don't use turn signals - There's nothing that burns my toast more than pulling behind somebody in the left hand lane only to have him turn on his signal as soon as the light changes and then I have to try and get in the right lane to go around him. I realize that on occasion you'll pull up to a light, be lost in thought about what a deep fried Mars bar surrounded by Honey Crullers and then deep fried again would taste like, and then snap out of your reverie and flick on your turn signal much to the vexation of the motorists behind you. However, the number of times I've been behind somebody who turns on his signal the second the traffic light turns green leads me to believe that some people just don't know what signals are meant for. They are used to signal your intentions, and here's the key part, in advance, so other people can act accordingly.

It doesn't help to tell someone the chair has wet paint as she sits in it; or his drink has a bug in it as he takes the last mouthful; or the girl he likes is actually a guy as he . . . well you get the idea.

Two Things

A few weeks ago I went to Ottawa for Winterlude. They had just settled a transit strike and I noticed a sign in an adult entertainment store window that said; "Free lube to all OC transit workers so they can go F**K themselves." I thought that was very generous.

A couple of days ago I received a phone call where the person asked if they could speak to Salim. I said, "I think you have the wrong number." Why couldn't I have just said "you have the wrong number"? I've only been living in my new apartment since October but I think I would have noticed another person living there by now. I suppose I could have said "he's not here right now" which would have been true but a little misleading. One day I may have a Salim in my apartment (although I'd rather have a Salma) but the chances are very slim that it would be the same Salim this girl was looking for.