Accounting assignment: done. Time to relax for a few days.

Nellie’s friend Jenny arrived Friday night, and we’ve been on the go since. Rebel House Friday night, wandering around the neighbourhood Saturday (where I spent too much money at American Apparel and m0851), then quaffing several at C’est What with lots of other folks (our old friend KG was also in town), finally ending up with street meat in hand at 2:30 AM. This morning, once everyone was feeling their oats, we walked on over to the Duke of York for some brunch. Since one of us wasn’t feeling her best, we stayed in front of the TV the whole afternoon, watching the Raptors beat the Lakers & Kill Bill: Volume 2 and waiting for the Oscars to come on.

Have I mentioned how much I hate Starr Jones?


Was there really confusion about Canada’s role in the US missile defense shield plan? I couldn’t figure out what would possess Frank McKenna to say that we were already part of it, making his first public act as ambassador to the US a blunder. But a week ago today, The Economist had labelled the Prime Minister “Mr. Dithers”; did Mr. Martin, in an attempt to counter that perception, ask his buddy Frank to lob him a softball?

Is Frank McKenna the new Jeff Gannon? Anybody know if the former NB premier owns any gay porn sites? Or any porn sites, really.


Just got M2 and I two tickets to see The Arcade Fire in April. As much as I hate them, I have to give Ticketmaster props (or ups, or whatever they’re called this month) for redesigning their site. It only took 30 seconds to get from the first screen to the confirmation page.

This radio thing might actually take off

I haven’t listened to music radio in years. I stopped listening to The Edge in 2001 when it became a constant loop of Creed & Nickelback (and thus, about as edgy as 1% milk). The only radio I’ve heard in the past 4 years is the occasional shot of CBC.

But now, after reading about the promise that internet radio is fulfilling at last, I decided to check out the link Duarte sent me a few days ago. About ten minutes ago I fired up woxy.com. So far they’ve played “On The Edge Of” by Low, “Catch Me Up” by Gomez, “Tear Off Your Own Head” by Elvis Costello and “Wake Up” by The Arcade Fire.

I’m converting all my CDs to MP3. I plan to listen to radio only through the internet. Viva la revolution.

update: Arcade Fire just finished. They’ve moved on to the Flaming Lips. I could be here a while.

"Let's go. Mummy's on the roof. Bring whisky."

If you haven’t seen Falling Angels (imdb | rotten tomatoes) (and I assume you haven’t, since it’s Canadian), you should. It’s based on a Barbara Gowdy novel that I’d never read. It was funny, but included the deep dark secrets and hidden shame that seems to be requisite in Canadian novels. Its characters were quirky (also a must-have for CanLit, apparently), but not ridiculous. It had angst, sex, black humour, LSD, twins, home renovations, 60s kitsch, sapphic undertones and bomb shelters.

What else does a growing boy (or girl) need? Get out and rent it. I say we reward Canadian filmmakers when they make a good one.