Now this is more like it. Warm-ish, springy weather. Daylight savings, as much as it interferes with my sleep, makes the day longer. Thankfully there was nothing left of the nasty rain/snowstorm on Sunday as it washed itself away, so practically all snowdrifts are now gone and a few trees are actually making a stab at budding.

Favourite time of year. If only I were back in Nova Scotia, I’d be standing outside my dad’s sugar house right now, letting maple steam fall all over me. Trust me, that’s a pleasure that one simply can’t explain, only experience.

What brand of psychosis is it that makes some people think it’s ok to play a radio in their cubicle?

My wife has finally lost her nut. She’s drinking Perrier from a champagne flute.

We picked up our tickets for Hot Docs today. Since four of the five we saw last year were about the Iraq war or the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, we made an effort to stay away from such violent topics this year. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against (film) violence, and all five of our documentaries last year were top-notch, but we just wanted to mix it up a bit. And so, we settled on the following:

• The Cross And Bones
• The Devil’s Miner
• Murderball
• Street Fight
• The Thin Blue Line

The festival starts in about three weeks. If you live in Toronto and haven’t checked out Hot Docs yet, get in.

Spring, my ass. It’s snowing like a bitch out there; today ranks right up there with the nastiest winter days we had all year.

It’s supposed to be 7, 10 and 12 degrees tomorrow/Tuesday/Wednesday. Thus, I won’t be going outside again today.

• I’ve wanted to see Shake Hands With The Devil (imdb | rotten tomatoes) for a while. My wife’s read the book, and some friends of mine saw it earlier this year. There wasn’t much new information, even for those of us who haven’t read the book; the historical events are well known. What really comes across is Romeo Dallaire’s frustration with the bureaucracy and hatred of politics. Watching some slimy Belgian suit take potshots at Dallaire at an innappropriate forum was disgusting, as was the laundry list of casual hand-waves with which the UN dismissed the genocide. If, by the end of this 90-minute documentary shot ten years after the fact could frustrate me that much, I can’t even imagine how it felt for Dallaire and his soldiers.
• Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was, on the other hand, a hilariously dumbass remedy for all that bitterness and frustration. Stupid, often ridiculous, occasionally juvenile, and constantly funny; we laughed like a idiots. Maybe it was just because we needed comic relief. Or maybe the movie was just well done. Go rent this. Seriously. No April Fool’s or nothin’.

Now I remember why we haven’t been to the Bedford Academy much lately. Four of us — myself, T-Bone, Stanzi and Nellie — popped in for a quick drink last night after work. Practically every table in the place was reserved, so we couldn’t get a good table. Then when our first round of drinks arrived there was no celery in T-Bone’s ceaser (despite the menu saying there should be); inquiries to the server were met with, “yeah, there’s no celery”. Great, thanks. We ordered some appetizers; Stanzi’s flatbreads were completely stale so she sent them back. After a looooong time with no waitress sightings, she finally brought our second round. My Amsterdam nut brown was like water; the other two beer drinkers at the table confirmed that it wasn’t just a problem with my taste buds. I just couldn’t be bothered to send it back.

We left after about two hours, and most of the reserved seats were still empty. We’d seen our server maybe four or five times.

Won’t be going back there anytime soon. With Fieramosca next door and The Duke across the street, why should we?

(from Bruce MacKinnon at the Chronicle Herald)

These are truly the last days.

Having seen this (with my brother, in London 2002), I have to wonder why someone would steal one of the exhibits. Seriously. The fetuses were…unpleasant.