Touch You Last

Holy crow, so Movie Marathon Six came and went already and I didn’t write a single word about it here. But that’s okay, because I also haven’t written about my kids, the amazing trip we just took, or frankly anything (good or bad) that’s happened in my life for the last six months or so. But I’ve been on Jorge’s site a bunch of times today, and he reports on this little party so consistently and exhaustively that I can’t let him go it alone. Here are the lessons I’ve learned from Movie Marathon 6: When choosing the lineup, trust your gut. This was probably the second worst lineup we’ve ever had. (MM1 was, inarguably, the worst. Some would say MM3 was a stinker, but that’s just the Suspiria/Sunshine stank that everyone can still taste. Other than that, everything played brilliantly.) I’m not saying we watched a bunch of bad movies this year, we just had too many dramas back to back. There was what felt like a six hour block where I felt like people were just pu...

I can still string a sentence together, and I still understand the basic principles of grammar, capitalization, and punctuation, and all that – but writing just seems like so much work these days. I think (I HOPE!) it’s just a matter of being out of the habit, but to know for sure, that would require me to actually sit down and write something more often than every four months. I promise nothing. What’s especially awesome right now: our upcoming cruise, our trial of zip.ca , Sarah’s recent mastery of her Nonna’s eggplant parm recipe, Teddy’s consistent sweetness and enthusiasm, Veronica hitting that everything everywhere is fascinating! stage, Modern Family, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, my beautiful dark twisted fantasy, old cheddar, the fact that VB is available at the LCBO, the lineup for Movie Marathon VI, the Nerdist Podcast , Angry Birds, Toronto Thumbs (despite my lack of participation there, or more likely because of it), Gravitee Wars , Uncharted, and Topper’...

Hey, remember the other day when I was all, "I've got this bottle of Russian vodka, and it's crazy Russian! Like, I will never be able to figure out what it's called. Like, ever !" Upon closer inspection, the name is not that hard to crack. Russian Standard. Woo. This may just be what comes out of the drinking fountains of Russian public schools.

Sarah has smartly captured most of the details of this trip , so let me just add a couple of notes. I am young, fresh-faced, beautiful. I say this because I was carded three times trying to buy booze on our trip. Carded . THREE TIMES. For those of you who don't know or have forgotten: I'm a few months shy of thirty-four. But apparently, I'm the picture of youth. Oh beard-dye, is there anything you can't do? Speaking of booze, we're sneaking a fair bit of it back with us. It's not like prohibition era smuggling--we're not bring back a truckload of whisky in boxes marked "maple syrup"--but we've got a few extra bottles in tow. We picked up Cruzan , which is this delicious and cheap rum that's nigh impossible to find in a non-flavoured variety. I've also got delicious Imperia , Russian vodka that's become an old Vermont liquor store standby. But what I'm most excited about this is other bottle of vodka we picked up, and I can't...

For those of you who’ve already read and were wildly confused by the many posts from last night, here’s some explanation. Our friends Leanne and Derek were in town last night. Close to midnight I realized I hadn’t put up a post yet, so I started writing a quick ‘woo! I kicked NaBloPoMo’s ass’ entry. I stepped away to get a drink (one of many) and came back to find that Leanne hijacked my entry. Then we did a little back and forth posting which we thought was hilarious —problem being, spread out over multiple posts and appearing the opposite order it was written, it made zero sense. So I’ve deleted the older entries and pasted everything into one entry. I’ve thought about outlining exactly who wrote what, but I think that’s more or less evident. (Okay, I will say that everything after 11:52 is not me .) 11:23 PM Really quick post to say: I did it! YEAH, ME! what did you do dave? Did you post? HUH? DID YA!? Also, I did eat A LOT of cookies today. ALSO, I did wear womens panties ...

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! ...

We hadn’t really been away that long, but getting back home last night I had that ahhhhhhhhh feeling—the one I get from having a lot of a good thing but then being strangely glad that that good thing is finally over. Stayed with Sarah’s parents for a day: watching lots of football, playing lots of Oh Shit!, and eating my weight in shrimp and baked goods. Saw the whole Jorge family, complete with Mrs. J., Baby J. and the man himself. (Baby J. is so insanely cute. She has this awesome lean-forward, chest-out, chin-up stance that says check out how awesome I am . Jorge has the same stance, but it’s somewhat less cute.) The bulk of our time away was spent with my parents and 82% of my immediate family. This of course included the McLean Christmas Shooter Party, which was a partial success. Shooters were shot, poker was played, and in the end someone barfed—but that turned out to be my four year-old niece, and it wasn’t an alcohol-induced barfing (so I’m told ). After that, we pop...

We’d set Wednesday aside to go and see the Canyon That Is Grand . It was an estimated (and as we would learn, actual) four and a half hour drive from Vegas, so we got up not quite at the crack of dawn but shortly thereafter. We jumped into the glorious Pacifica , grabbed some bad-for-me breakfast, then we were on our way. Sarah said, “Depending on time, we can probably take a detour and go see the Hoover Dam on the way back,” but we soon discovered that the Dam wasn’t a detour so much as it was directly in our path. About forty minutes out of Vegas we were driving over it. We pulled over briefly to take in the sights and point earnestly at Caution signs, then we were back on the road. It was a long haul, but not as bad as we though, and just shy of noon we crossed into Grand Canyon National Park. What do you say about the Grand Canyon? It’s a pretty damn amazing to see. Zion and Bryce are far more accessible if you’ve only got a few hours, but I think the Grand Canyon has the s...

So yeah… dodgeball. Here’s what I want to believe: that I’m just not as nimble as I was when I was thirteen years old. But talking it over with Jorge this morning, we came to the agreement that perhaps I wasn’t nearly as awesome at it (back in the day) as I like to think. Little kids—even the sporty ones or the overgrown, brutish ones—can't throw particularly fast. Playing against grown-ups can be like trying to dodge cannon fire. That said, I don’t want to oversell our competition. They were okay. Far and away the best thrower was on our team. But I would have to say that eight of ten throws, coming in my direction and with any decent velocity, hit me pretty squarely. There are two flaws to my dodging strategy: I start the dodge before the ball has even been released During the dodge, my limbs move like crazy but my core stays in just about the exact same spot Holy hell, did I play some lousy dodgeball. But it’s not all bad news. We won, and by a good margin, which is always aweso...

Here’s an Algonquin trip review interlude. Like this last two reviews: in bullet points. Whereas last year was light on the portage and heavy on the paddling, this year was dead opposite. There was a 2K portage (the idea behind which nobody wants to claim responsibility for). On the way in, I hated it. Also hated: people, animals, insects, rocks, trees—I would basically have clear-cut the whole park if I had the chance. But then the second I took off my pack at the end, life was beautiful and I was ready to make sweet love to nature. I discovered a leak in one of my nalgene bottles at the end of the portage and this resulted in the first time that heavy drinking began before reaching the campsite. It was a container of Jagermeister that, thanks to the sun, was about 92 degrees Celsius. Props go to Dennis, Joe, and Brad for helping me take care of that hot, horrid beverage (although, to be honest, Brad rubbed the bulk of his share over his nipples). The site we ended up on was just b...

I promised these photos ages ago but we only just got them developed. Here is the Warp Core Breach, sampled at the Star Trek Experience in Vegas . Quite tasty, very boozy, all in all a good time... except for when you'd occasionally suck up a nice pocket of dry ice through the straw. That part wasn't so good.

Better late than never… Monday (the 9 th ), the last first day before we left, Justin pitched the idea of visiting Plus 15 . This was not—as you might assume—a put-down related to my morbid obesity, rather Plus 15 is a series of connected walkways fifteen feet above street level that connects various shops, cafes, and the like. We torpedoed that idea though, figuring we could go shopping the next day while Justin was at work. Instead, we availed ourselves of the illegal internets to find local attractions, and Sarah found some info on Drumheller . So, we took our typical three and a half hours to mobilize, and then we were off to dinotown. Originally settled for its rich coal and oil deposits, Drumheller also revea led itself to be rich in rare fossils and dinosaur bones, and these days the city is all about tourism. Driving towards the visitors centre, we were greeted by the worl d’s largest dinosaur , measuring in around 86 feet. We all acted amazed in a pretty ironic fashion, ...

On Saturday, we had our big road trip. We left Calgary (thank Jebus) and drove for an hour before we hit the mountains. Totally, totally beautiful. And the conditions were just perfect—they were still snow-covered, but it was bright blue day which got steadily warmer the further we got from Calgary. (About a week before leaving, Sarah asked, “Baby, are you excited that you’re going to see mountains?” And I was all, “Whatevs, I’ve seen mountains before.” So, every time we came across a beautiful view of the Rockies, someone would mock me with, “Pfft… s’mountains.”) Our first stop was Canmore, where we grabbed a pretty decent coffee and a pretty terrible bagel’n’eggy sandwich. Then we motored over to Banff, which is a good looking city, but tourist-overrun. We stopped at the Fairmont Banff Springs to snap some pictures and walk through the hotel, then we visited the Banff Upper Hot Springs, where all my oozing sores found sweet relief (and almost nobody was Speedo-clad.) Then it was off ...

So it’s Good Friday here in Cal-gary, and we’re celebrating the day by having Eggs McMaster and Delicio for breakfast after our traditional ten hours sleep. Later today, we’ll be heading out to Fort Calgary, and then to Yuk Yuk’s. All good. But then, the plan for Saturday morning is to get on the road by seven and check out Field, Banff, and Lake Louise—which sounds like it’ll be a great day, but also has us up and at ‘em a good four hours earlier than we’ve grown accustomed to. Scary shit. A quick summary of some things seen, visited and/or eaten so far: Studio 82 – partook in Justin’s Wednesday ritual of wings and beer with some of his co-workers and friends. Studio 82 has nineteen flavours of wings, of which we tried about six, and of which Salt and Pepper surprisingly kicked ass. Beth , meat-slacker that she is, had a big ol’ plate of fries. Tasty, I think is the word she used to describe them. Calgary Olympic Park – had a quick stop here, largely spent in the Olympic Museum. Got t...

So, here we are in Calgary, which from an architectural standpoint is reminiscent of Toronto in the seventies, or modern day Windsor. We’ve done some sleeping in, some eating, some drinking, some driving, and some rocking out to top-volume Lionel Ritchie—good times, all in all. Things you didn’t know about Cowtown: Cable TV is free Public transit is free (at least within the city core) Every second store is a boot store Liquor stores (not provincially run) are open until 2 Strippers don’t take off their bottoms Now you know.

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 ...

It’s Saturday night, and I’m on the couch, rocking the internet from my laptop (more on why this is remarkable in a second), and I’m watching a show called "Sexy Cam." Well, for the record, I’m not really watching the show; it’s just on in the background. Turns out, it’s just like the Just For Laughs gags show, except that the gags all end with some woman in her underpants. God bless French language TV. So, this is really meant to be a shout-out to Grandma’s Buddy (who doesn’t actually read this, so it’s more for Sarah’s sake). We picked up a wireless router many moons ago, but we (or at least, I) ran into problem after problem with it. Dropped signals, couldn’t connect, the desktop (directly connected to the modem) would shit the bed… When it comes to stuff like this I’m really just winging it, and my winging it was not working . Time and time again. So after months of this GD router totally not working, Sarah’s dad came and fixed everything in about twenty-five minut...

I forgot Leanne in my list of love last night! Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit! Exactly what I said would happen, happened. Me sorry. Me love Leanne. Me miss her.

So, had a New Year's at home, which seemed vaguely unglamorous, but turned out to be one of my favourite New Year's Eve's. It turned out to be a not-unsurprising yet surprisingly love-filled shindig. I think that one of the ways you know that your permanent relationship is real, and full-time, and absolute, is that you keep being surprised by it. If you can have a discussion about the future—and talk about kids, and child-rearing,… and wallpaper, and lawn maintenance, and aluminium siding replacement… and almost cry—then all is good in Relationship Land . Hmm. What would make it better? Let's just name a bunch of people to throw into the mix. This New Year's would ideally have included (note: this is a shit-trap; I will inevitably leave someone HUGELY important out, but here goes anyways) : my brother, my wider family, Jorge, Isha, Beth, Brady, Bill, Blaine, Colleen, Pat, Chris, Steve, Cathy, Kris, Mark, Tania, Tanya, Rob—FUCK IT! There is no way I'm NOT going ...

Really should be a Wasted Time post, but really, I'm only two sheets to the wind so I'm dropping my rhymes here. (Note: there will be no rhymes.) There's a few other things I can promise you there won't be, such as a Best Of list, or a list of my resolutions. Especially the last because, let's face it, the best resolutions are the deep, dark, secret ones. Those of the I'll not be a failure next year variety. All I'll say about the past year is goodbye and good riddance to two thousand and shit (while nothing horrible befell me personally, it was a fucking disaster to everyone I know). You know, I've just changed my mind. This wasn't meant to be a doom and gloom entry, so it won't be. I also wasn't going to talk about 2007 aspirations, but I will. But first I'll get another drink... Now then. I feel strangely optimistic about next year. No, strange doesn't quite do it. Remarkably optimistic is more accurate. Around t...