Archive for the ‘ Anecdotes ’ Category

Ooze

There’s something unique about seeing a quantity of something that used to be inside you come gushing out at high velocity.

Take the average person – if you ask, they would probably describe themselves as a complex organism involving many systems actively reacting with one another to sustain themselves.

But really, they’re just a very large bag of blood.  You too by the way.  The blood is there, waiting, under the surface, for any opportunity to explode outwards! Kablooey!  Blood everywhere!

I learned about this today.  Thank you Dr. Blood Tester man.  What will tomorrow bring?

Tilley Hemp Hat!

I dunno, I feel like I finally accomplished something this weeked.

I’ve been going through my daunting list of things to do slowly but surely, and yes – I’ve been getting things done, but the big elephant in the room was the simple fact that I had no way to carry things on my trip. I mean, I could have shown up in Australia with all my shit in a garbage bag, but I hear that the sanitation department is pretty good over there, and I don’t want to turn my back for a second and have a couple of surley Australians throw my shit in the back of their truck.

SO: I got a cool little bag!

But that’s not all. I’m bringing sexy back.

My 100% Canadian-made Tilley hat is hella-sweet, AND its made of hemp. What’s your hat made of? Oh, that’s right – you don’t even wear a hat! You don’t think its cool.. you think hats should be relegated to people from the 1920′s who had nothing better to do with their heads than put them in silly protective covers. Well, maybe I don’t have anything better to do with mine either. Plus its comfy and blocks out the sun. Which I hear they have in Australia. In fact I hear they have several, or at least it feels that way most of the time. I’ll find out soon myself… in style.

A day starting out with roasted potatoes has got to be a good one.

Heading out after a predrink-laced Irish Breakfast chez ami one, we hit the parade and ami two promptly got hit on by two girl cops. He wasn’t having any of it though – all they got out of it was his happy green beer bottle. But, we had discussed earlier how beer bottles had some phallic symbolism going on, so whatever – if you want to read into it its right there.

Of more importance, since it happened to me, is the following: Now we all know that advertisers love to walk around during the parade and hand shit out. Well they should probably take into account that most of the people that they hire to do this are fucking lazy in the first place and would rather be drinking with the rest of the crowd. That’s where I came in. Some lazy dude extends his hand to me, and being polite, I extend mine. I feel something heavy hit and look down… I was now the proud owner of about a hundred Irish Springs body wash coupons.

Feeling entrepreneurial, I started tossing coupons up in the air, letting them fall on the crowd. However, being hard cardboard stock with sharp corners, the crowd wasn’t very happy about it. Either was one of the girl cops that got hit. No evidence, no foul though.

Instead I turned to windshields and did my Irish duty spreading the message of clean smelling bodies everywhere. So if your car was around cresent street sometime today, the douchebag that tagged your wiper was me. You’ll thank me when you’re smelling like a flowing river of water, I’m sure.

I still have about 40 left of them. Still need to decide on a project that requires at the very most 40 cards with a perforated segment. Something will come. And in the meantime, I can educate myself with the wisdom contained upon them:

Lesson 1: At the end of the day, who decides if you’re charming or not?

Answer: GIRLS

The Blind Leading the Sighted

Last night, after way too many years of being repressed, I finally broke free of the social stigma and ate with my hands. It was sloppy, slurpy, and a whole bunch of other adjectives that start with the letter ‘s’.

There is a fairly new restaurant on St-Catherine and Guy that’s quite the sensation back in europe, where the idea first took hold. No, I’m not talking about the idea of eating with your bare hands. That distinguished form of eating sadly went the way of the dodo a little while back, ever since dental hygiene became more prevelent and teeth started being sharper and more painful on wayward fingers in your mouth. What I AM talking about is a place where the gimmick is.. eating in the dark! Pitch black, to be precise. You know that type of dark that if you open your eyes real wide and just stare, you end up seeing little flashes of light in your vision because you’re trying to make out something, anything? Yeah, that type of dark.

You start out in the anteroom near a bar and some lockers for your things, where you can look at the menu and order your wine for your meal. As there are actual menu items listed, you can choose any one of those, but for the more adventurous there is an enticing “surprise” option where you don’t know what you’re about to eat! Naturally, the idea of knowing beforehand what I was going to be eating was just another piece of information that we needed to deprive ourselves with, for the simple fact that if you’re going for the experience, there’s no point in helping yourself cheat.

So we both ordered and after a few minutes our waiter came out and introduced himself. We were to hold his left shoulder and so on, like a train so that he could guide us to our table. I don’t think I was ready for how really dark the place actually was. We are so innundated by light sources, pretty much everywhere and anywhere we go, that to be in a place that actually is deliberately and actively stopping light from entering is a very rare event and is something wholly unfamiliar to most people. The entranceway to the eating area is staggered with the anteroom, with heavy black curtains, so no light came in when we entered. As we walked, our waiter kept calling out “Attention” to make sure that the other waiters knew he was coming with customers in tow. His voice was actually a little shocking – after losing your sense of sight when entering the room, your ears seem to automatically enter super-mode, and a break in the intial silence felt deafening.

After a little bit more choo-choo-choo-ing with our waiter, we arrived at our table and managed to sit down. I tried to get a feel of our table and the general sitting arrangement, and as far as I could tell we were sitting on a half-circle table that seemed to be attached to others like it in a row, with another half-circle row facing us. Of course, it was pitch freaking black and anything that I tried to imagine in my head could very easily have been very, very different from reality. I then turned to my lovely date of the evening (well, turned to where I assumed she was…) and we started having a conversation completely in the dark. And its different. Because normally you have all these facial cues to know the reaction of the person you’re talking to from what you just said, here, there’s really nothing but to listen to what the other person has to say, and take your cues from that. And it therefore becomes a much more interesting conversation, simply because you’re listening so intently to the other person. It also doesn’t hurt that the whole self-concious thing is competely thrown out the window, because no one else can see you either. So you’re in a public setting, but you have the most privacy that you can hope to get. For example, another couple was sat down just in front of us, and really, they were probably no more than 2 or 3 feet away. But we couldn’t see them, and vice versa. So the personal space that is usually required for people dining is just not needed, and you just carry on as if they weren’t there. It was quite surreal.

And then there was the food. The appetizer came, and after fumbling around to find our forks we attempted to jab whatever it was on our plate. I tasted tomatoes, lots of tomatoes, some lettuce and some sort of cheese… and it was good! The hardest part was using the fork to actually poke something that was left so you could eat it. Which is why we did away with them for the main course..

The main course was really really good – but that may just be my taste buds overcompensating for the lack of a visual experience. It turned out to be filet mignon and mashed potatoes with some veggies, and the meat was already cut up into small pieces for us. It was covered in a delicious sauce that tasted even better coming off of my fingers than I could have imagined. Also, grabbing a glop of mashed potatoes in your fingers is a delicious feeling that allows you to understand what playing with your food is really all about.

Finally, dessert was a smooth chocolate ice cream, a la fingers. All I can say is that I’m glad their napkins are thick.

An awesome experience, an awesome evening, great food, great idea. I would go back!

P.S. I’m having a major spam problem right now, so comments are currently being moderated before showing up! Sorry!

Father Dan

You know, a funny thing happen to me on my way to school the other day…

No no no. Wait a second. That’s not how it went at all!

OK, lets try that again.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

… and suddenly, I realized that yes, I was interested in substatial long distance savings!

What?!

OK, look, this is going nowhere. FOCUS. …FOCUS, PEOPLE.

A priest, a rabbi and a hare krishna walk into a bar…

Ahh.. there we go! Finally a little accuracy.

+++

So tell me. What do you get, if you take 1. University; 2. Bioinformatics; 3. Me; and 4. Beer?

I can tell what you may be thinking. But sadly no, this story is not the enthralling version of the story of how I managed to drink my way through an undergraduate degree. But really, that one is the nuts anyways. Rent it sometime.

The answer, dearest, uh, you, is quite simply the most obvious thing in the world. Starts with an ‘M’, ends with an emarassing drunk uncle, and has a whole lot of white in between. Marriage my friends! The answer is marriage. Marriage, marriage, the wonderful fruit, it makes you fart it makes you toot.. Well, I may be out of practice with these classic theme songs. But how? How is this possible?

Well, as I mentioned in my wedding speech (ahem), it turns out that the field of bioinformatics is quite literally responsible for getting two of my good friends started on the path to their eventual unionismism (uh, sic?)! Quite simply, using myself as the ignorant patsy, the experiement carried out involved inviting two friends, strangers to each other but otherwise only strange to me, out for a drink one night to a bar during my ugrad days. And the rest, as they say (and as I said, see awesome wedding speech), c’est l’amour! They met and went out and la la lee dah its wedding time!

Did I mention I wrote a speech for them?

Well buckle yourself up, there’s more.

I… married them.

It was so appropriate that the person who introduced them to each other perform their actual union, that I couldn’t possibly say no to their request. Also, I did it for the simple fact that when I play "I never" in the future I can certainly pull this little feat out of my hat.

So we went up to the cottage, the happy couple rowed to shore in a little boat, I did my bit, and voila! In the eyes of the quebec government everything’s smooth.

Not that I’m bragging, but damn, did I do a good job. You know, it actually helped that half of the people there didn’t quite understand the speech I was reading since it was in English. But far be it for me to raise my own roof.

So there – another couple happily served. It does occur to me that my talents may now very well be in demand among my friends.

I’m printing some business cards.

p.s. Oh yeah.. check it out.. my site isn’t dead.