Monthly Archives: February 2010

guess where i’m going

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I may not be attending any sporting events during the Olympics, but I somehow still get to go to all the good stuff.

Cypress Mountain offered a special deal to people willing to buy passes to the shortened season: live with the fact that you can’t use the hills for all of February, and get two tickets to a Victory Celebration. Josh, Shan and Reilly all bought season passes, and collected a total of 6 tickets. They asked if all the tickets could be for the same night (you weren’t allowed to specify which night you wanted; they were distributed at random), and were given 6 for the one night where the performer hadn’t been announced yet: February 15th.

Not knowing who was performing was a minor bone of contention as we scoured the internet for any clue. The 15th is Quebec night, but VANOC didn’t necessarily stick to the celebration province when picking performers. As of right now, we still have no idea who will be the musical guest this evening.

Then again, who cares – we get to attend the ceremony that will give Canada the first gold medal earned on home soil.

WOOOOHOOOOO!

It’s funny – I don’t give most of a damn about sports of any kind, but there’s something seriously fantastic about watching your country kick some ass surrounded by friends. We all watched Alexandre Bilodeau win last night, and we cheered as though we had any idea what we were looking at; as if we understood the rules and scoring and minor mistakes made by others that gave Bilodeau the glory. We were totally into it, and all our natural cynicism was set aside to be truly excited for the skinny guy on skis who is apparently better than the rest of them. It was awesome.

And tonight, the night where medals for only one event are being awarded and for all we know Nickelback could be headlining, we get to be there in person as they raise our flag and Canada gets their first home-grown gold medal. I could not be more excited and thrilled that I get to go – even the thought of the national anthem (the proper one) being played and sung by thousands is making this snarky hipster nerd a little choked up with emotions.

I haven’t yet had much time to join my city in Olympic celebration, but that all changes tonight. I’ll be spending much of this week downtown, standing in lines with the best of them – I think I almost understand what this is all about, and I choose to cast off the shackles of jaded oppression and throw myself into the party. GO CANADA GO!

Internet Olympic Hilarity: Renee happened to be on the Wiki page for the silver medalist from Australia, and captured this seconds after Canada won and seconds before it was removed:

oh snap! (click for big)

sharing is for chumps

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There’s a BOY in my BATHROOM and I HATE IT.

RENEE IS HERE! At long last, her exile in the frozen land of Ontario has come to an end and she is in her rightful place amongst the plaid-and-fishnet wearing punk fiddlers and tree-leaping hippies. She starts her new job at UBC on Monday, and will be staying with us until the end of the month. It seems accommodations for February are mighty hard to come by, so I get a roomie for two weeks as we wait for the rest of the world to clear out of our back yard. YAY FOR ‘NEE! I am delighted she is here, even if it means I have to let Ed use my bathroom until March!

I spent most of yesterday chasing the torch around East Vancouver on my scooter. I traveled to several locations to check out the crowds, but didn’t venture past Renfrew – I wasn’t in the mood to be swarmed by protestors, as Lola doesn’t offer much in the way of protection from angry mobs and/or zombies. People are funny when they’re excited – they’ll cheer for just about anything, myself included. I like cheers. People should cheer for me more often.

We watched the opening ceremonies at Sparta last night with the gang, and it was fun seeing it for real. Also awesome was the Twitter feed while the show was on – there was some comedy gold going on last night, and we took turns reading out the more hilarious comments and laughed ourselves silly. I was planning on posting some of them, but my feed doesn’t go that far back – boo! You’ll have to take my word for it. The running commentary was just great, and it actually added to the overall fun of the opening ceremonies.

I’m off to get a haircut and perhaps take in some of the destruction apparently going on in downtown Vancouver. This is probably the only time in history I’ve wished that I had a Hummer – I would like to run some stupid people over, and Lola just wouldn’t do enough damage right now.

Pictures later!

i’m leaving ed

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.. for this guy:

i am so aroused

Last night I went to the Irish Heather for their Long Table Series dinner for the first time. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but it was AMAZING – so much so that I’ve already made a second reservation for the 21st, and am covetously eyeballing the menu for another night. If you haven’t been to one before, I highly recommend it – it was one of the best meals I’ve had, and the price is absolutely ridiculous. We left such a huge tip the waitress came by after to say thank you again, but the price of the meal is so insanely low I felt guilty for paying it.

I am not in the slightest bit biased because they served me Diet Coke in a glass bottle instead of the standard alcohol pairing, but it was really frickin’ good:

the glass makes it classy

I had so much more I wanted to say, but I am so stupidly busy that I am kind of thinking about coming into work tomorrow anyway, just so I’m not drowning next week.

AHHHH!

super gonorrhea

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Disease was a fact of life during World War I. Unsanitary conditions, miserable environments, and the best medical technology 1915 had to offer did little to keep disease and infection at bay. Throw in a nasty plague or two and you’ve got a lot of people contracting horrible things above and beyond the standard trauma inflicted by war.

Some men were afraid. Others accepted it with a quiet dignity. And some .. well, some ran out and dove crotch-first into the first dirty scrimmage they could find.

Last week the government sent me another ominous-looking package. Inside was a thick bundle of photocopied paper – my grandfather’s military records from WWI. I had submitted some forms online late last year asking for additional information, then forgot about the request in the throes of real life. Archives Canada came through for me though, and provided me with a wealth of information about a man whom I had no idea existed even two months ago.

Medical records from 1914 are a funny thing. Everything is written out by hand, and a lot of it is barely legible. It gave me a lot to process and think about, but ultimately raised even more questions: where was my grandfather stationed (figured that out; he was in Boulogne France)? How did he get injured? He was shipped back to Canada from England in 1916, but died in Montreal almost a year later – what did he do during that time?

I tried to decipher the photocopies of the almost century-old paper, and found some new information I hadn’t known before:

  • My grandmother’s name was Edith, but she went by her middle name Jane
  • My grandfather was an electrician before he enlisted (or was drafted – how did that work in WWI, anyway?)
  • He had black hair, light brown eyes, and a “moderate dark” complexion
  • His handwriting was eerily similar to my dad’s
  • He spent a lot of the war in various hospitals
  • .. BECAUSE HE CONTRACTED SUPER GONORRHEA THE INSTANT HE SET FOOT IN FRANCE

It wasn’t even that my granddad got gonorrhea – anyone can do that – but that his gonorrhea was so bad, he spent seventy days in the hospital recovering from it.

What kind of Super Mega Ultra Ninja Whore do you have to dally with to get a wicked never-ending case of Super Gonorrhea?

I know this is technically tragic and sad and the waste of a young life, but I can’t help but be doubled over with the delicious inappropriate hilarity of it all: my granddad fought the war with his wiener, and caught Super Gonorrhea for his efforts.

All giggling aside, the timeline is actually kind of depressing:

  • Enlisted on 08/13/14
  • Declared fit for overseas duty on 08/28/14
  • Assigned to the 14th Battalion on 09/21/14
  • Spent most of October having sex with diseased women
  • Admitted to hospital on 11/13/14; diagnosed with Super Gonorrhea
  • Discharged on 01/22/15; more or less recovered from Super Gonorrhea
  • Admitted to hospital on 06/04/16 with the wounds that would eventually take his life: “gws spine” (he received gunshot wounds to the back which severed his spine – appears to have been diagnosed with paraplegia, but would have some movement in legs and toes noted throughout the records)
  • Wrote out his will on 09/05/16, leaving everything to his wife
  • Sent to Liverpool on 09/29/16
  • Admitted to another hospital on 09/30/16
  • Sent back to Canada 10/05/16
  • Officially discharged on 09/10/17 – reason: deceased from GSW; died in Montreal at 10:25am

That part is sad. I don’t like thinking about how he died – I’d much rather imagine him strutting through the streets of France, picking up loose women by the tankful and having an excellent time of it all. After his bout with Super Gonorrhea, you’d think he’d have learned his lesson – not so, if these records are to be believed. He was admitted to the field hospital at least 3 more times suffering from more Gonorrhea (regular kind, not super) before being seriously injured, and eventually shipped back home.

I never knew my grandfather, but his legacy of Super Gonorrhea lives on – not in me, because I am fairly certain I am Gonorrhea-free – but I will raise a glass to his memory and be satisfied that his love of loose women was not lost on his son OR his son’s (second) daughter. I, my father, and my father’s father will continue to whore our way through history wherever we are, all for the honour of the Welsh name.

Whore on, granddad, whore on.

number of days in hospital: 70

it’s like bedazzling ‘o canada’

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My route may have been a little convoluted, but the first official scooter commute of both the New Year and the new house was a success. I dodged a lot of traffic and abused the Olympic Lane more than once (I also cut the post-event Skytrain line last night – I’m already on the VANOC shitlist; I might as well use the opportunity to break as many rules as I can), but I got to work only a few minutes late. If I had taken the bus, I wouldn’t be at work yet – there are incidents going on all over the place, and the buses are backed up and issuing alerts. Transit is going to be an exercise in angst during the Olympics – I just hope the weather holds so I can just scoot everywhere and laugh.

There are a few observations I wanted to add to my list from last night:

  • The individual singing the national anthem has a gorgeous voice, but I did NOT like what they did to the song – our anthem (any anthem, actually) does not need vocal embellishing; it takes away from the overall effect
  • Russia had an impressive string – 3 people long – but the USA had 4
  • Canada’s string may not have been the longest, but it was clearly the best and accompanied by 30 people
  • They weren’t kidding about airport security – be prepared to have your belongings scanned and manhandled, and your person wanded by a 16-year old girl
  • Did I mention that you should be in line already?
  • WEAR COMFY SHOES! The VANOC-approved exit for BC Place forces people to walk to the Main Street Skytrain Station, where you will wait in almost as long a line to get onto a train
  • When I emerged at the Burrard Station last night, there was a 3-piece band doing a banjo/bongo/guitar cover of BEP’s “I Gotta Feeling” – it was kind of awesome

The inauspicious end to last night’s festivities really did a number on my excitement about the whole thing, but hopefully I will get some of my mojo back before things start for real. The torch comes very close to Sparta on Friday, so I will try to get some pictures. Maybe the torch contains my happy. We shall see.

walking the sea wall

keep the secret

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“Keep the secret!” the uniformed man chirped at me as he ceremoniously escorted me out of the Olympics Opening Ceremony dress rehearsal.

I got kicked out of BC Place tonight, for attempting to send a text message to Ed.

We weren’t allowed to have cameras; that was made painfully clear. Cell phones, however, were NOT on the contraband list – and we weren’t asked not to use them. Don’t spill the beans, the Artistic Director begged us. You’re here because of someone else, and that person has sworn to uphold the VANOC blah blah blah. Behave! Or else!

Contrary to everything I wanted to be doing at that time, I DID behave. I tweeted vague observations – along with other people; I certainly wasn’t the only one – and tried to text Ed. I wasn’t breaking any rules, but I got kicked out anyway. Hooray! It wasn’t in any way totally humiliating! Boy, I certainly want to keep the secret NOW!

But I will. Because I promised.

I’m annoyed. Very much so. As multiple people are pointing out, I was warned twice to stop doing whatever it was I was doing – but remember how we weren’t told we couldn’t use our phones? I assumed they thought I was taking pictures, so I didn’t fight it. Honest mistake. Especially since the man who kicked me out said “Do you have your camera? We’re going to go delete your pictures”. Except it wasn’t a camera, and I WAS trying to text Ed. What difference does it make, though? People are going to think what they want. I know what I did and didn’t do, and I know I haven’t uttered a word to anyway. Details are already coming out, but they’re not from me.

I have a list of non-specific opening ceremony observations I wanted to share. I was in a much better mood when I wrote them, but here they are anyway:

  • The Olympics are an exercise in waiting in line
  • Seriously, if you have tickets for Friday’s opening ceremonies, you should probably get in line now
  • It will help if you break a bone and/or have small children – broken people and those with spawn got advance entry, as though I wouldn’t poop myself and have a tantrum too if I thought it would get me inside any faster
  • I hope your tickets were worth the thousands of dollars you probably spent, because they’re going to put you to work – this is Canada; I figure the budget for the opening ceremonies was so small they need the audience to do all the work
  • We didn’t get to see many of the key players, but their stand-ins were very inspirational – I felt like I could hold a fake candle all night long
  • One of the MCs made a comment to the audience about this being the only Canadian Olympic games during our lifetime – what does the VANOC know that we don’t? Also, this is my third Canadian Olympics. Yes, I existed during Calgary in ’88 and Montreal in ’76.
  • They shilled merchandise at us during the pre-show – stay classy, VANOC!
  • I CALLED IT! I totally called it! I can’t tell you what it is I called, but be assured that I completely nailed it!
  • Someone in our row answered the call for more cowbell for some reason
  • I am only half convinced that this entire thing is just an elaborate test of my character. I can’t tell you why, but you’ll know what’s killing me the instant it goes live. Vancouver will definitely be remembered for this, but I doubt it was exactly what they had in mind

The Opening Ceremonies will be very cool. Check it out on TV if you’re able. As pissed as I am, I can’t ignore the fact that it was very well done and it will be a grand spectacle when it all unfolds.

That’s all I was planning on writing, VANOC. Call off your dogs.

decision

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Thanks to everyone who weighed in both here and on Twitter – I’ve decided what I’m going to do.

While I am still bristly at the whole “being censored” thing – I *hate* being told what I can and cannot do – I will not be giving a play-by-play recap of what I see this afternoon. I’m not doing this for the VANOC or for to keep the element of surprise or because I’m afraid of the IOC – I’m doing it for Shan. I would have to jump off a bridge if she lost her spot in the closing ceremonies because of me, and there isn’t much I’d be able to write about if I were paste on the Trans Canada.

Those of you hoping for all the dirt on what Vancouver has in store for you on Friday will have to get your spoilers elsewhere. I won’t write about specifics – and I won’t write about the security measures, because that would probably bring Big Brother down on me even harder than if I were to spill – but like Miranda pointed out, I’ve got ways of sharing information without .. you know, sharing information. I’ll be good. Yes, I was temporarily swayed by the possibility of being a breaking story for once and seeing my hits climb – but in the long run, doing right by people I love is much more important than fleeting e-fame.

delicious juice dot com: we have integrity when we absolutely have to

spoiler alert

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I’m playing by all the rules: I left my camera at home. I’m wearing white. I won’t conduct myself in any way contrary to what Big Brother has posted. I will refrain from taking any cellphone pictures of the TOP SECRET ACTION, and I will keep my clothing on. Isn’t that enough?

This afternoon I’ll be at BC Place, attending the first public dress rehearsal of the Olympic Opening Ceremonies. The ticket is courtesy of Shan, who received them as a perk for being in the Closing Ceremonies later this month. I didn’t think I’d get a chance to see ANY Olympic events, so even though this is a dress rehearsal and likely won’t be the complete ceremony,  I am excited.

I fully admit that some of my excitement comes from being one of a select few who get a sneak peek at what will happen this coming Friday – I’m planning on blogging it, because I blog everything. This is a rare opportunity, and I want to take advantage of it in my usual way: sharing what I see with the internet at large. I may not be able to take pictures, but I can write. Oh boy, do I like to write.

Unfortunately, I’m the devil for doing so.

CTV posted this lovely article pointing figures at we social media types because we make keeping things a secret hard. They don’t see it as sharing, they see it as spoiling: the world wants to be surprised, and I am single-handedly RUINING IT FOR EVERYONE. I am a bad man. I am why we can’t have nice things.

Obviously, I’m on the other side of the coin here – I think the sharing of information is vital and fun, and I try to bring value to my seven readers – a story, an opinion, naked pictures of people I know. I share EVERYTHING, including things that should probably be kept to myself: if it happens to me, I will write about it.  It’s what I do; what I have done for the past 9 years. I get to experience some of the opening ceremonies, so I will share my experiences for those who can’t be there with me. What’s so bad about that?

Everything, says traditional media.

Ed agrees with them, saying I shouldn’t ruin the surprise for those who plan on watching the ceremonies live or on TV. He thinks I should just go and enjoy the spectacle, and leave it off my blog for the greater good.  I’m already full of angst because I can’t take pictures, and now I’m being told I can’t write about it either? Where’s the fun in that?

I can’t trust my own judgment on this, because I am a big fan of spoilers and I hate surprises. I like having some idea of what to expect. I actively search out movie spoilers, and will read plot lines of things I’m watching at that very moment. I like knowing what’s coming. So why *wouldn’t* I “spoil” the Opening Ceremonies? Maybe other people want to know too!

.. but there’s a chance that they don’t, so I’m leaving it up to you: should I blog what I see today, or just keep it to myself so I don’t ruin it for everyone?

I *hate* being censored, no matter how little.

Here is some art. I hope I’m not spoiling it for anyone who has not yet had the chance to walk down Granville Street.

to this day i wonder why i still think about you

sadly, this has nothing to do with the enigma song of the same name

double happiness chicken!

part of the giant mural at the vag