Wednesday, July 27, 2005

I like to go out dancing, my baby loves a bunch of authors

So, being as this is still a relatively young blorg, I'm still pretty excited to see who is visiting my site and how they got here. So needless to say I was intrigued when I saw that at least one and maybe two users got here from Google by typing:

"Jian Ghomeshi Hipster"

This makes my head spin for two reasons:

1. That somehow this combination of words has led people to me, I suppose because of this posting.

2. That there is at least one person out there who has spent some small part of his day drilling down into links that came up by typing "Jian Ghomeshi Hipster." Is this an ironic query, or maybe an indignant holdout Moxy Fruvous fan?



Update: Since posting this, it has come to my attention that Jian is a member of the controversial group "Artists Against Racism." Never one to ignore the tough causes, word is that he is also a secret member of "Artists Against Stab Wounds," "Artists Against Pointless Slaughter of Kittens and Strawberries" and "Artists Against Dying Sad and Lonely."

Franz Ferdinand returns

So there's a posting of Franz Ferdinand's alledged next hit, recorded live last month, on their website. Do You Want To (Or Do You Want It, according to the ID3 Tag) is hilariously rock-star, including the lines "I woke up this morning and said 'I've gotta make someone love me today,' and now I know it's you...Lucky-lucky, you're so lucky!"


There's one problem - I don't think that I like it very much. Maybe the live version just doesn't do it justice, but somehow I can't imagine getting super-excited when this eventualy comes on the radio. I feel like my worst fears about Franz Ferdinand's one-hit-wonderfulness are about to come to fruition.

I hope to high heaven that I'm wrong, because I have had a lot of fun dancing to these Scottish fellows' music in the past...despite the fact that their show that I attended at the Docks was an inaccessible, crowded, sweaty waste of money with bad acoustics and a balding ponytailed crazy-dancer hitting me with his flailing limbs every time a drum roll went off. Damn you, The Docks.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Let me revise that

So given the relative unlikelyhood of any of you cheap bastards getting me a Dyson sphere for my birthday (am I really asking for that much?) I've revised my wishlist. Now I want one of these.


Also, Fatty is keeping his word and still passing me little bits of amazingness. Like this. It's creeperific, don't show it to your kids or they'll be forever afraid to look each other in the eye.

Monday, July 25, 2005

Just in case you need a summer project

For all you idle mad scientists out there: know that someone has gone to the trouble on doing a feasability report for you on different methods for destroying the Earth. My favourite is the Von Neumann machine method, a staggering 80% plausability.

On an unrelated note, I've decided what I want for my birthday.

Best. Pickup. Ever.

Hats off to my friend Tania. Today is her day.

Tania has been riding the bus downtown to work from Scarborough every day for quite some time now, and back in May one particular bus driver started to catch her eye. Apparently he looks like Viggo Mortensen, but he's from Pickering. Last Friday they started chatting and today - you guessed it - she asked him out.

The good news is that he said yes. They're going out tomorrow.

The bad news is that now Tania has a burden of proof on her shoulders - Steve (that's his name) almost certainly thinks that she's a borderline madwoman, so now she has to show that, despite the fact that she is the type of person who would ask her bus driver out on a date, she's actually a sane and lovely person.

My fingers are crossed for ya, Tania.

Update: Bus driver man turns out to be not worth the effort. Shame, but hey - we're still proud of Tania for her brazenness.

Erm, so let me get this straight...

I have finally got around to calling and changing the mailing address that I have on file with my credit card company, mobile phone, etc (and yes, Sarah, that includes the Saturday Globe). So here I am calling my credit card issuer and everything is going hunky-dory thus far. Then comes the question:

"Mr Stringer, now that I've changed your address I'm going to transfer you to one of our promotions workers so that he can tell you about an absolutely wonderful service that you aren't yet taking advantage of!"

I didn't even have time to protest before I was put on hold, where I sat for no less that three minutes. Realizing that I was done everything that I wanted to do already and that I was basically sitting on hold so that a telemarketer could pick up the other end of the line, I should have hung up, I know. But something deep down inside me made me stay on the line. Some primal, optimistic instinct kept telling me to wait, just a little bit longer, because maybe it really will be an absolutely wonderful offer that could make my life happier in a Swiffer-esque manner.

Needless to say, when "Ray" finally picked up the phone, I had built this up, it was going to be something big, I could feel it. So when he started explaining the Customer Registration Service to me, let's just say that the word "dissappointment" doesn't come close to what I was feeling.

Here's how the Customer Registration Service works. First, you hunt around the house and your property for everything that you can find of value to you and your family. Examples he gave were passports, stereos, cars and other credit cards. Anything with a traceable number. Then, for only $24/year, I can take all of this important information and give it over the phone to Ray, who would stick it in my file for handy-dandy reporting of theft if anything was ever stolen.

Does anyone else have alarm bells going off in their heads right now as loudly as I do? Why would I want to give all my existing personal information to my credit card company (who already know waaaaay too much about my life as it is) so that they can stick it in a computer somewhere, all on one easy-to-access place? Do they really believe that I think that this would be a safe and logical thing to do?

Maybe next my bank will offer a new service where, for only $10/month they will write my PIN on the front of my bank card, paint it neon green so that you couldn't possibly miss it and then leave it sitting on the street at the corner of Spadina and College. For an extra $2/month they could leave a note attached to it detailing how to use a bank machine, just in case it's accidentally picked up by a time traveller from the 70s. They can call it the Multi-Customer Secure Access Service or something.

As promised:

The fart joke:

What do you get if you eat beans and onions?
Tear Gas.

And the poop joke:

In a city park stood two statues, one female and the other male. These two statues faced each other for many years.

Early one morning an angel appeared before the statues and said, "Since the two of you have been exemplary statues and have brought enjoyment to many people, I am giving you your greatest wish. I hereby give you the gift of life. You have 30 minutes to do whatever you desire." And with that command, the statues came to life.

The two statues smiled at each other, ran toward some nearby woods and dove behind a couple of bushes. The angel smiled to himself as he listened to the two statues giggling, bushes rustling and twigs snapping.

After 15 minutes, the two statues emerged from the bushes, satisfied and smiling. Puzzled, the angel looked at his watch and asked the statues, "You still have 15 minutes. Would you like to continue?"

The male statue looked at the female and asked, "Do you want to do it again?"

Smiling, the female statue said, "Sure. But this time YOU hold the pigeon down and I'LL poop on it's head!"

---

For those of you who I still haven't alienated yet, I hereby promise: no more poop and fart jokes to come for a while.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Raise a Little Hell

Ok, so I continue to be spited by Promo Girl in my pursuit of a CBC retro t-shirt, despite the fact that I've sent in the correct answer to her riddles no less than three times this week alone. That said, I'd like to go on the record and risk my reputation on the following bet, despite the fact that I'll still be spited by blasted Promo Girl:

Randy Bachman is the mysterious voice on the phone.

How do I know this, you ask? I'm basing my guess on 3 simple facts:

1. Randy Bachman was the victim in a previous crime, which would make him an unlikely suspect.

2. Randy Bachman HATES world music. Actually, this isn't a fact...I don't even know this for sure...but I mean, this is Randy Bachman we're talking about here. Can you see him in a drum circle at Hillside? I didn't think so.

3. The answer to the final clue in this contest was "Raise a Little Hell" by Trooper. And guess who produced Trooper's self-titled first album?

Randy Bachman. That's who.

(Get it? "And guess who produced..."? Guess Who? Oh c'mon now, people.)

In This Corner, in the Flouncy Skirt and Bowler Hat...

A prize goes to anyone who can find me the rules to this game that Sarah has sent me an amazing picture of:


Is she wearing heels? Is that hot?

Take your time, Shelagh Rogers

Want to know why I'm in no hurry to have Shelagh Rogers back on Sounds Like Canada, despite the fact that her laugh is like sunshine to your ears, Sarah?

Because her replacement, Kelly Ryan, has said the word "car" five times in the last hour - whoops, make that six - and she says "car" like I've been accused of saying it, as if it's spelled caer. You know, just like your lowered-truck-with-purple-tinted-windows-drivin' cousin from Barrie says it.


Now I just have to figure out how to get her to say "bagel" on air.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Google Moon!

Google is the best company ever. And I'm not just saying that because they host this site for free for me and everyone at Blogger.com. I'm still kicking myself that I didn't buy any stock when they went public. If I'd put my money at the time into it I wouldn't be retired or anything...but let's just say I wouldn't be dissappointed, either.

And now, here they've gone and proven yet another suspicion of mine - zoom in until you hit the maximum zoom level at site C and you'll see what I mean.

Meet me there...I'll bring the crackers.

Oh Roman, you crazy cad, you

Ok, is it just me or is it totally messed that a man who has been hiding from US authorities since the 70s after pleading guilty to raping a 13 year old girl and 5 other felonies can not only be allowed to continue releasing blockbuster, critically acclaimed movies and be eligible for (and win) Oscars...


...but on top of that, can now sue a US reporter for accusing him of having sex with another woman on the way to his wife's funeral. Apparently Polanski is concerned that the article is "particularly hurtful because it dishonors my memory of Sharon, that's not the way I behave." Um, right. Because everyone thinks so highly of your moral standards, Roman. That whole 13-year-old rape thing? Just a "most unsightly blot" on your reputation.

And the fact that you can't actually go to Britain to testify...so you're presenting your case via video link so that you can't be extradited for that whole rape thing...well, that's obviously an injustice against you.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Texans have too much time on their hands

Ok, the Munsters were kinda cool. Ok not really, but people who are old now seem to think so. That said, this is definitely going one step too far.

Not that I don't encourage that sort of thing.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Colour Me Impressed

I have to admit that when I found out last night at 10:30pm that there was a work crew showing up at the house at 9:00am today to tear all the windows out of the house, and that they'd be done installing fancy new energy-saving windows before they left at 5:00, I was nothing short of entirely sceptical. What with the trouble that we've had with our electrician lately, the degree to which it has disrupted our lives and the fact that i work at home during the day...well, let's just say that I was less than thrilled to hear that we were going to have major renovations done to the house the next day while I worked.

I say to you now, with God as my witness: my faith has been restored. Actually, restored doesn't even begin to describe the sense of awe and wonder that Igor and his brother Ivan have given me with their inhumanly fast work crew. It's 4:00 now and they're in the final caulking stage of the job and will in all likelyhood be gone by 4:30. So yeah, if any of you are living in Toronto and you need some new windows installed, I will pass you on to Igor and Ivan. They rule the scene.

Also, their names are Igor and Ivan. Even if they totally sucked and did a poor job, you'd have instant movie-quality dialog when you cursed them for their shoddy work...like "Damn you Ivan, I curse the spirits of your ancestors," or "A pox on you Igor for your incompetent windowship."

Yet another post about cute things that are not Natalie Portman

It's true, the machismo factor of my blog is wilting in the presence of all these posts concerning kittens. That said, here comes another.

So we got some kittens on the weekend. I've still not found my digital camera since the big move, but when I do I will put up a few shots of the as-of-yet-unnamed critters. So far my investigations into their habits have revealed the following:

Kittens Like: Sleeping, hiding in corners, walking on my keyboard, wet food that smells like gross and eating paint chips and drywall bits that the electrician left on the floor as a parting gift.

Kittens Hate: The Shop Vac that I brought up to rid the room of paint chips and drywall.

Further results to follow.

Also, name suggestions are welcome. The all-black one is a girl, her brother is a grey tabby.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Fear, thy name is "Laugh"

I don't understand what's going on over there at Microsoft that they let this through the filters.

Try it: if you're running MSN Messenger 7 on Windows, there's a new "feature" called Wink that has nothing to do with winking, but that allows you to send another user a huge and awful animated graphic overlay that there is no apparent way to stop. If you've got your speakers turned on, you get a wicked blast of noise, too.

And if you pick the Wink titled "Laugh" you get the most god-awful frightening image that has ever graced my computer screen:


This thing is supposed to be cute? Amusing? Funny? Well, it's kinda funny, but only when you're thinking about the reaction that it must be getting in the office of the unwary victim that you're sending it to.

I'd call it definite competition for the second-most frightening image that has ever graced my computer screen:


...but the genius of the timing for this shot more than makes up for its hideousness. Just look at the face on that guy in the middle! Beautiful!

Forget Dodgeball

This is the new hipster sport of the summer.

Any corporate sponsored competition that involves a headless goat carcass stuffed with sand is bound to be popular with the kiddies.

Damn you, Promo Girl

That CBC Retro T-Shirt will be mine. I swear it will.

I know who Edward Cornwallis was. I know where his statue is. I emailed my correct answer in, and even gave it to Sarah so that she could enter (it was her birthday yesterday, after all). But did I win?

You'd better watch yourself, Promo Girl.

Hunk of Burning Love

Ok, so anyone who has not yet bothered to disable their MSN Today popup in Messenger has already read this, but that's ok because I just have two quick questions that I need answered:

1. Does anyone think that this is romantic? For real? Because I would expect to get dumped if I pulled this shit on someone. "'Honey, you make me hot,' he told his sweetheart, Malissa Kusiek. 'I hope I'm getting the point across that I'm on fire for you.'" Ok, barf. I may have a reputation for being overly tolerant of romantic tripe but this is so bad that it makes me want to punch this guy in the teeth.

2. When he says, "She wasn't expecting it. She had no clue," doesn't he worry that he's marrying a bit of an idiot? I mean, c'mon now...there were "about 100 people gathered" to see him climbing "a three metre hig scaffold" wearing "a cape doused in gasoline." Way to sneak that one out on her, Captain Subtlety. You obviously had help pulling this off from your trusty sidekick Unexpected Boy. For serious, what the hell did she think that he was doing? Starting a religion?

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Goddamn

It's really hot in Toronto today. Hot, like, above-40-degrees-with-the-humidity hot. Just like yesterday...just like the day before, just like tomorrow.


Days like this, I'm glad that our house sits entirely inside the shade of several large deciduous trees. Thanks, nature. Good on ya.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

17 year-old me hates 26 year-old me

Goddamn. It's a good thing that I didn't figure out how to travel through time until I was 25, because if 17 year-old me had known that I would ever be telling people how good this here new Dwight Yoakam song is...I shudder at the thought.

Let's just say it wouldn't be pretty.

That said, 17 year-old me is lucky that I've become more tolerant in my old age or he might be getting a visit from a mysterious but strangely familiar barber from the future. A bit of helpful advice to all the 17 year-olds and 40 year-olds out there: ponytails are for girls. There are no exceptions to this rule.


And that goes double for you, Steven Seagal.

Note: to actually download the song you'll either need to be a Salon subscriber or watch a quick Flash ad for a one-day pass. Sorry about that. Salon is pretty rock-awesome, so maybe you'll think it's worth the bother.

Philip Seymour Hoffman

I think that I saw Philip Seymour Hoffman in the liquor store on Dupont a week and a half ago, but nobody believes me. I like Philip Seymour Hoffman a whole lot, but I always forget his name.



Ok, I don't like him quite that much. Maybe second base. Yeah, I would probably wear a gold glitter jelly bracelet for Philip Seymour Hoffman. Definitely a yellow bracelet, but only if you disregard the alternate interpretation.

Oh Katie


I'm almost too embarrassed to post this at all, but I feel obligated to now that I've started my Tom Cruise Meltdown Countdown. But be warned, this is starting to get truly spooky.

I feel like I'm watching a cult abduction movie from the 80s. You know, the one where the daughter who has been missing for 2 years shows up at an airport trying to recruit new members for "The Family" and she doesn't recognize her family coming back from visiting Aunt Ginnie in Omaha. At least it's going to get good and exciting soon...I think that we're almost at the "Intervention" scene where Katie gets kidnapped back by her well-meaning family. Then Tom will have his Waco-style showdown with the authorities everyone will go out in a blaze of bazookas and tanks, and Steven Speilburg will be there to over-direct the whole thing into a documentary that will run for at least three hours.

Also, does anyone else find it creepy that doing a search on google images for "tom cruise katie holmes" brings up not one single picture of them together?

Monday, July 11, 2005

Back to the City

Ahh...well I'm back from vacation, and let me tell ya, the world looks a lot different when you're just coming off of nine days at the cottage. For example, I can now see and appreciate the inherent humour in the gaping holes in our walls and extension cords run willy-nilly through the house, heartfelt housewarming gifts from from the electrical contractor who was supposed to be done working a couple of weeks ago. And the holes in the screen in the back window...well, hey, it's not like I'm still in Muskoka where there are actually bugs to come in through those holes.

Water off a duck's back, as they say. Especially since this duck has been "lake-showering" for a week (what, you think that there's a shower to use at the cottage?) and still hasn't found any shampoo to use since he got back.

Also, Fatty's given into the whole blog thing which is cool for you because he's a funny guy and you can now read about AND listen to his world (and comment on it too, as long as you watch your punctuation. It's uncool for me, though, because now that he has his own space he won't be sending me fun things to put up and take credit for here. We hates it when our friends are successful.