Gord Downie, Smarmy folks and hot dogs

There I was, sitting at home on a Sunday afternoon watching TV, when I got a call from my good friend Chris. Some corporate flesh peddlar had given him two tickets to the Tragically Hip concert going on that night, as a thank you for all the buisiness he had been doing with them lately. Chris and his girlfriend had had a long day and decided they didn't want to go, hence would I like the tickets? Score!! I called up V.T. and we were off to the races!

I'd never seen the Hip in concert before and I wasn't disappointed. Gord Downie was entertainingly goofy on stage for a good part of the show, going off on tangents in the middle of songs and dancing spastically. The Hip were in much better form than their apparently lacklustre performance at the Grey Cup a few weeks ago.

I've come to the conclusion that I prefer being in the company of witty, sarcastic people. Barring that, I like being around cynical, grumpy people. A good proportion of the workforce on our project are contractors. Many of these people exhibit the kind of over the top, forced joviality normally demonstrated by used car salesmen and game show hosts. People like this make me uneasy. Maybe I'm just a freak, but I find it difficult to trust someone who always acts that smarmy. There's just something not...quite...honest about it. It's my belief that if you want to know who someone really is, either get them very drunk or very angry. Luckily, there are a few "real" people around here who display the full range of human emotions. These are the people I try and spend time with.

Yesterday I discovered an essay by Christopher Walken about his love of eating hot dogs. Chris Walken is one hillarious, intense, cool dude. Anyone who would threaten to smash your brains in with a fucking bat if you disagree with his love of hot dogs is someone whom I wanna hang around.

Non Sequiturs

I think my emotional maturity peaked at about age 14. Whenever I see the commercial for Oil of Olay daily facials, I can't help but hear a Beavis and Butthead type voice in my head say, "Heh, heh heh. She said facial."

I turned 34 earlier this month. I'm beginning to think this was the magic date that the warranty on my body ran out. On Monday, I went and lifted weights for the first time in about a year. Since it had been a while, I decided to go with a workout that wouldn't be too intense for my first time. The workout seemed to go ok and I was feeling fine. When I woke up the next morning, it felt like someone had hit me between the shoulder blades and in the chest with a Louisville Slugger. I've been taking those combination pain killers and muscle relaxants the last few days to help out. It's only today I noticed the pain had lessened a little, hinting at some healing going on. Last night after work, I was walking my dog through the field behind my apartment building. We were trotting along a path when suddenly my left foot went in a pot hole, causing it to snap violently inward, leaving my ankle touching the ground. I started screaming out a littany of curses that would make a sailor blush, hopping on my right foot. Surprisingly, after about a minute or so, the pain subsided and I realized I had gotten off easy. A minute later, I was able to walk without even a limp. I got up around 4am to use the bathroom, and discovered I wasn't completely unscathed. I'll probably be limping for the next few days. At least I didn't break anything.

Kim Cattrall's character Samantha has always been my favourite on Sex in the City. Ms. Cattrall also had a small part ten years ago in Star Trek VI. I heard on the radio this morning that during the wrap party for the Star Trek movie, Kim and her boyfriend snuck onto the set for the Enterprise bridge, had sex in the Captain's chair and even took photos. She says since then whenever she hears the words "Captain's Log", it has an entirely different meaning for her. She just gets cooler and cooler in my mind.

I went to the Dentist yestderday for a cleaning. As soon as I sat in the chair, I looked the Dental Hygienist in the eye and said, "Before you start working on my teeth, let's get one thing straight. I can honestly say I floss every day, so don't tell me it looks like I need to floss more often." That being established, she went to work on my choppers. A few times she could see my whole body tense up. She commented my gums seemed a little sensitive. Of course they're sensitive, I thought. You're gouging them with a stainless steel hook!! Is this how hygienists get their shits and giggles? I was informed a gap in the bone and gum had been left behind my left bottom molar when my last wisdom tooth was removed. This makes it pretty much impossible to keep the area clean. She had the dentist come in to look and tell me about a procedure where they can insert a tiny piece of cow bone in the gap, which should cause my body to eventually replace it with my own bone cells and fill in the gap. Cow bone? I didn't even know that was possible. Ah, the wonders of modern medical science.

Renaissance's Hierarchy

Is it unrealistic to expect to have a job where you don't use adjectives like "soul-sucking" to describe it? Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful I'm steadily employed. I realize there are jobs out there far worse than mine. I also realize that living in a country like Canada means my standard of living is probably better than about 95% of the world's population. Since I have the lower needs on Maslow's hierarchy taken care of, though, I've come to focus on items in my life such as job satisfaction, which I have to say is sorely lacking. I have a couple of leads on other jobs within my organization which I've made inquiries into. Hopefully I can make something happen in one of them.

On a lighter note, I recently read a quote which demonstrated Einstein's ability to simplify concepts:

"When you're courting a pretty girl, an hour seems like a second. When you're sitting on a hot coal, a second seems like an hour. That's relativity."

Back-to-back Cusack

Saturday night I got together with some friends at Trevor and Joni's place and watched a John Cusack double bill on his 53" widescreen TV. (Not to worry, Scott. Just because your 47" TV isn't quite as big, doesn't mean it isn't also very nice.) We watched Grosse Pointe Blank and then Hi Fidelity, both films which he co-wrote. I've liked John Cusack ever since his roles in Better off Dead, and The Sure Thing. Cusack seems repelled by most Hollywood formulaic schlock, instead going for more offbeat stories.

There were three dogs at the house, and when I arrived back at my apartment, Scout, my Jack Russell Terrier was there to greet me as usual. It never ceases to amaze me how sensitive his nose is. This is a dog who has found a peanut in its shell buried under 8 inches of snow. As soon as he came up to me, he started vigorously sniffing my pant legs, obviously smelling the 3 dogs on me. Then he gave me a look as if to say, "How could you leave me here and go play with those other dogs?" I almost wanted to say, "Well yeah, I did play a little fetch with them, but it didn't mean anything." Hmmmm, maybe I need to get out more.

Stomptastic

My friend Joan took me to dinner and a show last night as a late birthday present. First we went to Friday's Roast Beef house, where we devoured a coronary inducing volume of cow flesh. Moooooooo! After the gorgefest, we went to see Stomp at the National Arts Centre. What an amazing show! Who would have thought that so many everyday items could be used as percussion instruments, such as push brooms, boxes of wooden matches, whisks and dustpans, kitchen sinks, plungers, bits of rubber tubing, zippo lighters, and even folding metal chairs. This was all interspersed with bits of comic relief throughout the acts. There was even some audience participation involved. If you haven't seen this show yet, I highly recommend it. If there's one piece of advice I can give, it's don't sit there shouting out "Hey! Where's all the singin' cats?!". Apparently, the ushers don't have much of a sense of ha ha about that sort of stuff. Who knew?

Oh Bridget, what have you done?

I went and saw the Bridget Jones sequel last night with my friend Joan. I thought the first movie was fairly well done, so I had a certain set of expectations for this one. I was sorely disappointed. In the original, Bridget was portrayed as being halfway intelligent. In this version she was simply an idiot. The movie had only a few schticks which they used over and over again. The most common one being:

1. Something happens to Bridget making her look like a mess.
2. Bridget then walks in on her boyfriend Mark who is with some very important people.
3. Everyone stares at her and she gets embarrassed.
4. Rinse. Repeat.

Hugh Grant had some great lines in it, but it wasn't nearly enough to save this train wreck. Oh well, Joan's taking me out to dinner and then to see the show "Stomp" tonight as a late birthday gift. Could there be anything more fun than watching a bunch of guys make a lot of noise by hitting things? I think not.

And Foot said "Let there be Blog", and there was blog, and the blog was good.

After seeing the blog page of my awesome sister-in-law, I figured I would start keeping a journal of the events of my life. Or if I come to the conclusion that my life isn't really all that entertaining, I'll make up interesting things I supposedly did, so people will think I'm a witty, urbane man about town. That's all I have for now. Stay tuned!