Let me tell you what I love right now: Rogers Cable. It’s not often that you’ll hear someone sing the praises of one of their service providers, but watch me. The reason: because they added Turner Classic Movies and the Independent Film Channel to our package, unprompted and at no extra charge. It’s like they bugged our house to find out how the could make me happy. (They didn’t throw in HBO too, because that would have been too obvious.)
Right now I’m watching Paul Newman not have sex with Liz Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and it’s awesome. Earlier, I caught Inherit the Wind and Cabin Fever, and waiting in the queue I’ve got Waiting for Guffman and All the President’s Men. I may never leave this apartment again. Dinner for Five is fantastic, too. It’s a show where Jon Favreau and four random celebrities just shoot the shit over dinner and drinks. It not bad when everyone gets along and seems to be on the same wavelength, but it’s way better when someone nuts is at the table. Someone like Billy Bob Thornton, who’ll tell a story that’s entertaining at first but suddenly plummets over a cliff straight into Nutso Valley. “So this movie was a disaster, just not at all what it should have been. Two weeks into shooting I walked up to that director and said, ‘You son of a bitch. This piece of shit movie is a piece of shit.’” Everyone laughs. “I said, ‘If this tanks, I will kill you. I will physically kill you. And I’ll shit on you. Before and after I kill you. Then I will go to your house fuck all your pets. All of them. Literally.'” Frozen smiles; everyone sliding away from the table.
I’m also loving Sleeman’s new India Pale Ale. Shit’s tasty! It’s a bit like Leffe Blonde—and if you haven’t tried either of them, go try both. Now. I’ll be here when you get back. This post is turning out to be one plug after another. For the record, I’m not trying to score free swag. That said, if John Sleeman wants to send a crate of brew my way, I’ll probably go the gracious route.
Right now I’m watching Paul Newman not have sex with Liz Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and it’s awesome. Earlier, I caught Inherit the Wind and Cabin Fever, and waiting in the queue I’ve got Waiting for Guffman and All the President’s Men. I may never leave this apartment again. Dinner for Five is fantastic, too. It’s a show where Jon Favreau and four random celebrities just shoot the shit over dinner and drinks. It not bad when everyone gets along and seems to be on the same wavelength, but it’s way better when someone nuts is at the table. Someone like Billy Bob Thornton, who’ll tell a story that’s entertaining at first but suddenly plummets over a cliff straight into Nutso Valley. “So this movie was a disaster, just not at all what it should have been. Two weeks into shooting I walked up to that director and said, ‘You son of a bitch. This piece of shit movie is a piece of shit.’” Everyone laughs. “I said, ‘If this tanks, I will kill you. I will physically kill you. And I’ll shit on you. Before and after I kill you. Then I will go to your house fuck all your pets. All of them. Literally.'” Frozen smiles; everyone sliding away from the table.
I’m also loving Sleeman’s new India Pale Ale. Shit’s tasty! It’s a bit like Leffe Blonde—and if you haven’t tried either of them, go try both. Now. I’ll be here when you get back. This post is turning out to be one plug after another. For the record, I’m not trying to score free swag. That said, if John Sleeman wants to send a crate of brew my way, I’ll probably go the gracious route.
Comments
Dave is smoking crack.
One thing I noticed since moving to Ottawa is that there are FAR fewer illegal satellite dishes. I believe that it is the proximity to the CRTC headquarters and the CRTC secret police (which I am making up).
We will never get HBO here. Nor Showtime. We have TMN/Movie Central.
There are no illegal satellite dishes in Ottawa because the black market things are cheaply made and the incredible freezing cold of the National Capital Region cracks them like pollutant-weakened eggshells. Besides, people only watch CBC here. It's the law.
I think you're going to have to change your last name, there, Captain Swag...
The new John Sleeman India Pale Ale is quite good. I tried some in Guelph at Mrs. J's Grandaddy's birthday bash, and we all agreed it goes down smoother than cherry cough syrup.