Touch You Last

You play a series of games in a session and a game probably only lasts three to five minutes. So if you play a shit game, that doesn’t matter because it’ll be over soon and the next game might be glorious. For example, today we played several shit games in a row. At one point, we were losing two to five. What followed was glorious game after glorious game, and by the end of the night we won six to five. Rock. Chances are that every single player will have at least one superstar moment. Whereas in soccer or basketball, where you have you couple of star players that get all the glory, in dodgeball even your weakest, nothing-but-heart player can save a game or even an entire night with one good catch. You get to throw an object as hard as you can at another person, and that’s totally okay. I’m pretty good at it

So, Sarah’s pregnant. The reason I say this so cavalierly is not because I’m ambivalent or frightened, but because there are approximately three people I can think of to whom this would be remotely new information. And all the rest of you are thinking, “What the hell took you so wrong to write about it?” Good question. Here is a list of reason why I haven’t mentioned this before, ranked by lameness (starting with not at all lame and ending with highly, highly lame ) We wanted to wait until the kid was far enough along that we felt comfortable telling people about it We wanted to make sure that we’d told all the people close to us in a personal way. I didn’t want to put up a post about it and then go, “Oh shit, we forgot to tell my mom!” (Not that we forgot to tell my mom. Also, not that my mom knows about my blog.) I needed a good picture to post, which involved a vigorous approval process. That went a little something like this: “No. And not that one. Oh, I hate that! Please delete t...

Jorge : Dude, sorry to hear about your site. Dave: Yeah, it sucks. Jorge: Can’t you recover your old template. Dave: No, I sort of… had a copy and... was dumb and then I… I, um… hurm. No. Maybe. No. Jorge: … Dave: Jorge: … Dave: Hey, you’re Captain High Resolution. How does this template look on your screen? Jorge: Bad. Dave: Like how? Jorge: I dunno. It’s like MYNAMEISDAVEMCLEANANDLOOKATMYWEBSITE! Dave: The font’s a little big? Jorge: It’s huge . Loud. It’s just… really loud . Dave: Hmm. Jorge: I mean, it’s all personal taste, but to me it… it looks like a little kid made it. Dave: Yeah. Jorge: Like a kid, like a four year-old kid made it. He actually drew the headings on the screen with crayons. It’s like a four-year old kid with a dump in his pants and a face full of melted chocolate (we hope) has marked up the screen. And he’s screaming. He’s screaming the text as it’s written. DAVE MCLEAN HAS A CONTAGIOUS SMILE, AN INFECTIOUS LAUGH! And he’s getting chocolate on the screen and y...

For a while now, I've wanted to reboot this site. I'd learned (so I thought ) all kinds of web design junk a few months ago while putting together this site , and I figured I could apply it here. But then a) I took a lot of time off after the last project and forgot everything I used to know, and b) I didn't properly back up my old template. And so, we get the wonder that you see now. I'm not just pissed about losing the old design. Actually, not having the old template is going to force me to tinker with this continually under I get something I like out of it. No, what makes Hulk angry is that I had an entirely free night on my hands after I got home from work, and then I immediately turned this site into balls. And then I spent about three and a half hours shoving around margins and recreating my damn blogroll . If you think the place looks like shit now, you should have seen in at eight o'clock. What a waste of a night.

Man, I should really know better than to start dicking around with my template.

When I graduated from grade eight, there were only eight guys in my class: Brady, Bob, Chris, Jeff, Paul, Tony, Steve, and me. We were all close—which I think came pretty naturally , there being just the eight of us—but what was more remarkable was that six of us remained that way even after school, jobs, and relationships brought us elsewhere. Now we’re mostly spread across Ontario, and it’s pretty rare that we’re all in the same place. My wedding was the last time all six of us were together, and since then it’s been just shy of four years. Until last Saturday when we got together for Tony’s wedding. After four years, I think I’d built up some pretty big expectations for how the night would go—and I wasn’t disappointed. We assembled at the church, smiled, shook hands, each of us silently confirming that we all looked equally old to one another. Tony and his soon-to-be-wife Marie took to the altar, flash pots went off, and to the tune of shredding electric guitar it was wedding time! ...

It’s Sarah’s birthday today and every year when this day rolls around, I consider writing a proper tribute. I’ve never done it before because I’m afraid I won’t get it right. When you describe your love for a person, you want it to be unique; no clichés and no one else’s words but your own. And you want to say everything. It’s a pretty easy task to fail at. So rather than try and say it all right now, let’s consider this the first in a continuing series of posts about Sarah. I’ll add to it and refine it over time until I do get it right, however long that takes. What I forget most often—or at least take for granted on a near-daily basis—is how smart she is. And this is funny because that’s probably o ne of the first things you realize about Sarah when you meet her. First, she’s got a memory like no one else I know. If you’ve ever mentioned, say, your birthday, the names of your grandparents, your favourite colour, the first car you drove, anything like that… she will never forget it ....