Holy crap…so, here’s hoping the gentleman’s ok, but if the worst should happen…could Cheney be charged with manslaughter? I mean, I suspect that at the first sign of indictment he’d just crawl back into the Blue Lagoon, but still, it’s an interesting situation.
C’mon already, wouldja?.
I’m very full of chocolate-and-champagne-soaked pears.
Stupid Blogger…I tried to post this Saturday but it didn’t work, so it’s been sitting in a tmp file on my desktop for three days. Also: stupid me for forgetting about it.
We finally got to see Transamerica (imdb | rotten tomatoes) last night, which was a must-see before the Oscars given what we’d heard about Felicity Huffman’s performance. She lived up to the billing too; it must’ve taken an incredible effort to walk, move, act and react like a man who was trying desperately to become a woman. And for a woman to be confident enough in herself to take a role that requires you to play a man trying to look like a woman…that must be on the rare side in Hollywood. Good for her. If she doesn’t win the Oscar, something is seriously wrong with the academy.
CBGB moved into their new house today; we went over and had dinner with them. Couple of drinks too, to wind down the day and help GB forget about painting. We got Vietnamese from a nearby place called Mi Mi, which was pretty damn good…pork, shrimp & chicken, beef and chicken, some with rice, some with vermicelli. There were some spring rolls and sugar cane wrapped with shrimp and some other big salad roll-y things. Anyway, it was all good, especially when mixed with a Hacker Pschorr weiss bier.
Yay, Jen Heil. Boo, Atlanta Thrashers.
It’s funny how, despite studying Shakespeare throughout high school, it’s only recently that I’ve caught on to what iambic pentameter is.
I despise Plaxo. It was a bad idea when it was called Infotriever, and it’s still a bad idea.
The difference between chocolate with 70% cocoa and chocolate with 85% cocoa is substantial. And not just math-wise. 85% tastes…powdery. 70% tastes smooth. Ladies and gentlemen, I think I’ve found the sweet spot. So to speak.
OK…I’ve managed to hold off on making fun of Cheney for the whole shooting thing…the White House delay in reporting it, the blame-throwing, and the, you know, shooting of an old man in the face. But the part that really gets me is this ranch they were hunting on: you drive up to a spot where a bunch of birds — who’ve been raised in pens and had their wings clipped — are placed, you get out of the car and you shoot them. How fucking sporting. Just when you thought Cheney couldn’t be any more of a shit, he goes and one-ups you.
[UPDATE] By the way, The Daily Show was a tour de force last night. Crooks & Liars has the video.
Oh, by the way…
Apparently this is how my brother sees me. In South Park terms, anyway.
He’s done drawings of a few of his friends as well, but the funniest one is our other brother. I howled when I saw it. Killer.
Inside Deep Throat (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was an interesting documentary. I’ve not seen the titular film, but apparently I’m the only one…it’s the most profitable film ever made. It never gets tiresome to watch a small segment of society throw a complete spaz about some Valhalla of decadence that’s sure to bring society crashing down around our ears, only to see it become completely mainstream a decade later. See suffrage, abolition, inter-racial dating, same-sex marriage, women showing their ankles in public, Elvis’s hips, etc., etc.
I hate figure skating. It’s boring, the scoring system is incomprehensible and corrupt, it just looks fucking goofy. So when I came home from work today and flicked on CBC’s Olympic coverage, I was annoyed that I had to wait out the last few minutes of the “pairs long program” or some such. But I saw something that blew me away…a Chinese skater, who can’t weigh more than 90 pounds, fell so hard after being thrown that she landed in a splits position (hello, groin pull), smashed her knee into the ice and rammed into the boards. Everyone thought for sure they were done, but she actually managed to fight through it and complete the program. She managed to do some more jumps and throws and stuff, and lo and behold they win the silver medal. Pretty frickin’ tough for someone who weighs about as much as my leg and competes in a sequined skirt.
It’s the time of year when everyone (in Canada, anyway) talks about heading south for a vacation, going to Florida or Mexico or Cuba or Jamaica or wherever. I never got this. Our family didn’t take vacations to tropical places — partly because our vacations rarely strayed outside the province, and partly because all five of us burn like dry paper — but I never felt robbed by this. I simply don’t get the appeal of going to a foreign country just to lie on a beach like driftwood. Or, worse yet, dance to endless Bob Marley songs as part of some ungodly resort activities agenda. My one trip to the Caribbean — to Barbados for a friend’s wedding — was quite enough, and would’ve been unbearable except for the fact that more than a dozen friends and family came along for the trip. Our friend also took the time to arrange some off-resort activities for us and held the wedding at another location, otherwise I’d have gone stir-crazy. Had it not been her wedding I would never have gone on such a vacation; now that I’ve done so, I’ve no desire to ever go on another.
I am, however, very much looking forward to this fall’s trip through the Rockies. I’d love to visit Switzerland, Germany, France, northern Italy, more of Austria, more of Scotland, Dubrovnik, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, San Francisco, the interior of BC…and on and on. Granted, there’s nothing terribly exotic on that list, but I’m still fairly new to world travel, so I’m building up to it.
At any given time there’s only a few days worth of food in our kitchen. Living where we live, right in the middle of the city with access to several grocery stores and specialty food shops, we can basically keep a minimum of food on hand and just pick up what we want on the day when we think we’ll need it. We live JIT, I guess. I’m never sure if we’re not grown up enough to have a full kitchen, or if we’re just tremendously efficient. 🙂
It’s a pretty big shift from how I grew up, where we’d buy a truckload of groceries every couple of weeks because we lived about 35 km from a decent grocery store.
Yup, my baby’s 30. We celebrated the milestone in fine style last night, having dinner with CBGB at Luce and spending the night in luxury upstairs at the Hotel Le Germain. Quel decadence.
First of all, the hotel: Le Germain is known as one of the best boutique hotels in Toronto, and it definitely lived up to our expectations. The hotel is gorgeous, from lobby to rooms…far nicer than the Soho Metropolitan. The decor, the raindrop showerhead, the king bed, the high-tech desk chair…the entire room was just perfect. It made for a pretty nice pre-dinner lounge and post-dinner slumber.
And, of course, there was dinner downstairs at Luce. Nellie and I had a drink at the bar while we waited for CBGB to arrive, and once they’d arrived at 7:30 we all sat down to eat. We had a quick look at the menu, but within a few minutes we all agreed that the best option was the tasting menu. And manoman, was that ever the right choice. We tried food that we would’ve never ordered on our own, but hey, what better time to try a whole bunch of new stuff than on a milestone birthday? At the end of the night they were nice enough to print up a quick list of the food (and matching wines) that we were served; it’s incomplete, but I’ll do my best to remember everything we had.
It was easily one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten, and I think the others shared my opinion. I would have never guessed that I’d enjoy lobster bisque or lobster ravioli in squid ink, let alone something called “cod mash”, but enjoy it I did.
The service was fantastic: plates and utensils being placed and whisked in a flash, napkins folded the moment you stepped away from the table, background on each wine from the sommelier. There was a weird mixup with a cheese plate — it was placed on our table, then taken away a few seconds later — after we’d had a few bites — and taken to another table (!) despite our warnings. The servers had a brief but panic attack; we thought it was funny, but I’m not sure that other table would’ve thought so. It certainly weren’t cheap — I’m sure my father felt a chill go down his spine when I signed the bill — but how many times do you get to eat a meal that’s amazingly delicious and completely adventurous at the same time?
The meal had lasted three and a half hours. A final drink at the bar — CBGB stayed out late on a school night just for Nellie’s 30th…thanks guys! — and we retired to that beautiful room.
Pretty sweet.
We just got back from the tail end of Nellie’s birthday celebrations. Short version: dinner at Luce, a stay at Le Germain, shopping at Williams-Sonoma, Ashley & Bay Bloor Radio. That last one was more for me. Anyway, I’ll give lots more detail later.
I watched The Life Aquatic (imdb | rotten tomatoes) earlier this week. While I tend to enjoy Wes Anderson films more than most people I know, I was onside with pretty much all the other fans: this one had a few good moments, but wasn’t as good as Rushmore or The Royal Tenenbaums, or even Bottle Rocket. Still, I think it deserves better than a 51% rating; a substandard Wes Anderson film still has twice the imagination and wit of most mainstream fare.
Il Divo = better dressed Backstreet Boys.
“Nellie it’s your birthday,
Happy birthday Nellie…”
Skirl | Dan Dickinson 