Saturday, February 28, 2009

Some Thoughts On Hair...

    Everywhere today I see women with hair that is totally baked. Over-processed, over-straightened, over-worked and over-coloured. Some lids look so parched that smoking around them could prove to be hazardous. Then untold dollars are spent on various conditioners, potions and snake oils that claim to repair the damage done. When exactly did having curly or wavy hair become such a crime anyway? I remember when women wanted wave in their hair (the Toni) and who can forget that kinking iron from the late eighties-- bizarre...

      I watched Heaven Can Wait this morning--a classic...

      I've seen it all come and go over the years and I'm aware that it comes down to fashion, style and trends, but does the world really need another straight-haired blond? And what is the fascination with being blond anyway-- do they really have more fun? One thing I know for sure, I dated a couple of true blonds and I had less fun. "Straightened" hair usually looks straightened and big bucks are spent on some fairly hideous colour jobs (esp. some reds and blond Asians). It would be refreshing to see a trend toward more people sporting their natural hair shade and texture with the proper cut. Maybe add some subtle highlights or a little colour to hide the grey--as always, less is more. But then what do I know? I'm just a guy...

Friday, February 27, 2009

Thursday, February 26, 2009

I'm Feeling Plegm-Boyant...

  "If you have a cold and you take something for it you have it for 7 days."
   "If you don't take something for it you have it for one week."
  • I've got that scratch in my throat--a cold coming on,
  • I always try to fool myself at first in the morning.
  • It's not a sore throat, it's just a little raw from a night,
  • Of sleeping with my mouth wide open--but I know.

  • The annoyance of the cold is that you feel grim and squalid,
  • But not grim and squalid enough you can't go about your business. 
  • Unlike it's cousin the flu, which has you flat on your back,
  • In an almost euphoric state on the couch, watching daytime T.V.

       When I was searching images I came across a website called Sneezing Beauties...

      And just when you think you've seen everything...

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

How To Make A Fake Album Cover...


          " Nothing is said that has not been said before."

To Do This:

1) Go to
The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2) Go to
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3) Go to
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4) Use Photoshop or something similar to put it all together.

   I don't have photoshop but you get the idea. Billy-Les-Chanceaux is some place in France and I used the whole quote because it made a great title.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

The Transistor Radio...

     When I was a wee lad (7 or 8) and had been jolted awake by a nightmare, I would run down the hallway to my parents room seeking solace. I was usually met by my Mom's voice echoing back out of the darkness with,"Go back to bed, you just had a bad dream" and Dad saying, "As long as you're up can you get me a glass of water? And make sure you let it run a while." Very comforting.

     One night after a bad dream and now aware that a trip to my parents room would be to no avail, I went to the kitchen to retrieve the transistor radio we kept on the kitchen counter. I'm not even sure what drove me to do it (ball shrinking fear) but was glad I did. Mom's Dad had given her the radio as a gift. It was small (about 4" by 6"), made from white plastic and was wrapped in a tan leather case with little holes punched where the speaker was. Still shaken by the nightmare I crawled back under the covers, pulled them over my my head and turned the radio on low so Mom wouldn't hear-- to this day I remember the song that crackled out of that tiny speaker...

     That tune was so appropriate and it was remarkable how that music completely pacified me and drove away the demons that had terrified me earlier-- it was the first time in my life I remember feeling a deep sense of comfort (until I later found my hand, well not my hand exactly and vodka). I drifted off to sleep to that AM radio station (probably LG 73 or 1410 CFUN) and when I awoke in the morning the radio was gone. My intention had been to return the radio to the kitchen before Mom got up-- I was scared I would catch shit for using  it and running down the batteries but nothing was said. I figured I dodged a bullet.

    We got a bigger (but maybe not better) radio for the kitchen and I inherited the classic-- that little radio served me well for years until I eventually got a new one for Christmas. If you've read any of my other blogs you'll know that music had been a part of my life since I was three years old or so but a whole new level of the magic, meaning and power of music had been discovered that night. That last line sounds pretty sappy but it's true... 

     On a bit of a sidebar it seems funny to think of it now with all the different ways there are to hear music but for years AM radio whether it was in the house or the car was pretty much the only vehicle for hearing new music...

Monday, February 23, 2009

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Six Words To Describe Yourself...

    ...was a feature I saw in the paper the other day so I gave it a go-- only it seems most of the "words" I came up with are hyphenated...

   It also allowed alternates...


    It turned out to be more like 22 words, I might want to add "indecisive" or "complicated."

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Why Is It I Never Have Any Pleasant Family Dreams??

     I was wasting time early this morning on facebook when one of my friends messaged me asking what I was doing up so early. I've always been an early riser (up at 5 or 5:30 most mornings) until lately I've discovered I like to sleep until 6:30 or so. What jolted me awake prematurely this morning was a nightmare I had about my Dad. In the dream I had framed a bunch of my photos and was entering them in an art show-- I felt proud and was trying to show them to him. I had them spread out on the bed in a room I'd never seen before and he would barely even look at them. Then he started nonchalantly tossing them aside like they were trash. I started yelling at him,"You never cared about me anyway, you never even showed up at any of my games when I was a kid!" Dad looked cold and unconcerned but I felt glad I got it out. Then my eyes snapped open and I couldn't get back to sleep-- those 4AM classics have a way of sticking with you for a while.

    This episode made me think later in the day that of all the nightmares I've ever had most of them involved family in some way shape or form. Cell phone calls from the dead, grandparents alive again and me trying to help them or make peace (break old patterns), trips back to my childhood home in the dark basement, Mom glaring at me like she's possessed and lest we forget a cool blue Satan crawling under the covers at the foot of the bed (not that he's an actual family member). Me, deep seated emotional problems? Nah, couldn't have...

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The Real Story Behind...

     A few years ago, could be eight or ten, I'm really not sure, I stopped by a buddies place for a beer after work. It was a sunny afternoon and as I pulled into the driveway behind his truck I noticed that somebody had written "Honk If You're Gay" with their finger in the dirt on his canopy window. I don't make a habit of doing these things but for some reason I rubbed out "Gay" and wrote in the now infamous "Knob"-- giggling to myself as I did, it just seemed so natural. For some reason "knob" has always been fun for me to say, as well as beandip, crab-cakes, crack-pipe, chicken boy, pot cake and Walla Walla Washington-- I'm easily amused.

     The only really funny thing I've ever seen written in the filth on a truck was the phrase, "I wish my wife was this dirty", but I digress. The saying, "Honk If You're A Knob" amused me so much I went to a hardware store and bought some of those metal letters with the adhesive on the back so we could have bumper stickers. I think there were three of us that stuck them on our vehicles and it turned out to be hilarious some of the reactions we'd get. I would forget I had the stickers on and would be driving down the highway and hear a "bee-beep" behind me. I'd be wondering what the hell they were honking at until they pulled up beside me and flashed the "thumbs up" sign. We'd have a chuckle for a sec and they'd continue on--I couldn't tell you how many times this happened over the years, folks willing to admit to their "knob-ness." One time I was stopped at a light and this kid about 14 or 15 on foot yelled at me, "I'm a knob!!" 

    Anyway, a couple of years ago I decided to have some real bumper stickers done up. A friend of mine is a printer so I awarded him the contract. I only wanted a dozen or so but it turned out that the material he needed to print the stickers on only came in these big sheets so I would have to order a minimum of 150-- of which I still probably have 130, so if anybody wants one let me know...please.

     The only thing that still troubles me as I write this...should I have spelled Knob without the "K"?


Monday, February 16, 2009

All I Can Say Is, Wow...

    I was listening to the radio at work today when I heard the city of Vancouver has come up with a brilliant new plan to clean up the city. They are going to start ticketing and fining people $100 for jaywalking and/or spitting on the sidewalk ($200 if you get busted doing both?And what about the honky hanky?). I don't have a problem with that really but are you freakin' kidding me!? This coming from a city that supports one of the worst drug problems in the world with the advent of the safe injection site? News flash people, heroin and crack are illegal drugs and now we're going to start fining normally law-abiding citizens for jaywalking? I don't know if anyone has been to the downtown eastside lately but it's the zombie addicts that wander blindly into traffic and throw up, urinate and defecate on the sidewalks of our city, spitting is the least of the worries. What's the fine for that? And if you were going to ticket junkies they obviously don't have the funds to pay the fine. Like I said, I don't have a problem with it really if there weren't such bigger fish to fry. I suppose the thinking must be, "We've got to start somewhere, so let's ticket people for jaywalking who are rushing to get to work because a bum spit on their car while he held them up in traffic."

    While I'm on the topic of spitting there's one more thing, well two actually. I walk around Vancouver quite a bit and if you want to see some world class spitting head to Chinatown and observe some professionals at work. Nothing like watching a 90 year old Chinese man or lady hork up an oyster for all they're worth and deposit it at your feet while waiting for the light to change. I've also noticed that teenage girls like to expectorate as well for some reason--attractive. And I just heard on the news there have been 11 gang shootings in the last two weeks...

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Saturday, February 14, 2009

B. Diederich...

"It Seems Like We Spend The Best Part Of Our Time Together Saying Goodbye"...

     I just finished watching one of the best movies ever. Actually the word "best" doesn't really do it justice. I saw it for the first time when I was a kid and it had as profound effect on me then as it did today. Up there with To Kill A Mockingbird and Breakfast At Tiffany's as three of my all time favorites. Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift are perfectly cast in the lead roles. 

     Ah, the pain and the pleasure of true romantic love--the hope and hopelessness of it all...

     There was a comment on YouTube that said," Liz Taylor is so beautiful it hurts." I couldn't have said it better myself-- and I'm not gay but Montgomery Clift... Every time I see him the song The Right Profile by The Clash pops into my head...

     The song is about Mongomery Clift ( A Place In The Sun, Red River, From Here To Eternity, The Misfits), his troubled life and struggles with pills and alcohol. The song references his 1956 car crash into a tree while driving home from a party at Elizabeth Taylor's house-- she saved his life then.
     After Clift's car accident, his face was mangled. He continued to make movies, but had to be filmed from "The Right Profile" to look good...

Say, where did I see this guy?
In Red River?
Or A Place In The Sun?
Maybe The Misfits?
Or From Here To Eternity?

Everybody say, is he all right?
And everybody say, whats he like?
Everybody say, he sure look funny.
Thats...Montgomery Clift, honey!

New york, new york, new york, 42nd street
Hustlers rustle and pimps pimp the beat
Monty clift is recognized at dawn
He aint got no shoes and his clothes are torn

I see a car smashed at night
Cut the applause and dim the light
Montys face is broken on a wheel
Is he alive? can he still feel?

Nembutol numbs it all
But I prefer alcohol

He said go out and get me my old movie stills
Go out and get me another roll of pills
There I go again shaking, but I aint got the chills

Arrrghhhgorra buh bhuh do arrrrgggghhhhnnnn!!!!

Friday, February 13, 2009

haiku 3...

     if not for bad luck
     I would have none anyway
     the 13th? bring it

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Expect The Best, Prepare For The Worst..

     You'd really think I'd know better by now. The other day I had a message in my inbox on facebook that read;
        "Hello how are you doing,
     Would you like to be friends and see how things work out,"
     Well my name is Tina

     Her composition wasn't up to my abnormally high standards (I thought she may have been Russian for some reason) but I liked her pictures and profile info so I sent her this message back;
   "I'm doing alright, you? Nice to meet you Tina, let's give it a go. Hah! I was just thinking, you're not going to hack into my computer now are you?" 

    Once again those feelings of hope and mild excitement awoke in me and I found myself actually looking forward to hearing back from her--she was the first person I'd seen on any dating site or facebook that I actually had some interest in. A few days passed with no reply and the thought hit me (as it has at various times in the past), whenever I hope, I set myself up for disappointment--I know better...

     How many "hopeful" nights spent heading out on the town thinking, "This is the night, I'll meet her for sure" or the insidious thinking of, I'll meet her in a line up at the coffee shop, at the grocery store, shopping mall, Lonsdale Quay, laundry room, hallway, on this blind date etc. Basically setting myself up for failure.

    It got me to thinking about other areas of my life where I experience the hope/disappointment syndrome;
  ~My golf shot is going to be better than I thought it was going to be, even though I'm hoping for the best as I approach my ball or estimated landing area. 
  ~The dropped piece of toast isn't going to land jam side down. 
  ~Whenever I change lanes to avoid a left turner they invariably catch a gap in the traffic and render my lane change completely unnecessary.
  ~ If I shift to the "other" line in London Drugs, the person in front of me is trying to purchase something with no bar code on it and they can't find anyone to verify price.
  ~The cheque is in the mail when I expect it to be.
  ~When I show up to paint someone's house they actually have moved the furniture to the middle of the room and taken all their artwork down.
  ~ The boring guy that talks too much finally clues in to how painful his social skills are and nips his droning in the bud. 
  ~People will be friendlier and refrain from being rude and stupid--I know that's a lot to ask.
  ~She'll take me back after some "time to herself."
  ~The therapy will take, the drugs will work and I'll have my epiphany--I can learn to love anyone.
  ~ I'll spill a white glass of wine.

    Anyhoo, you get the basic idea but this thinking about hope/disappointment, the message from Tonia and Lianne and her haiku posts inspired me to write this;

             there's one thing I've learned
             in my time on this planet
             don't get your hopes up... 




Wednesday, February 11, 2009

I Was Rooting Through A Box Of My Baby Stuff...

          My first pair of shoes...

       And inside the baby book amongst these cards...
    "There's Nothing Like A Baby Son." I wonder what the daughter cards said...

       Were hidden these "racy" vintage postcards from yesteryear. That's some pretty crazy comedy right there...

        The kid in this last one is downright hideous...

         The baby book had all sorts of info about my early years~ family trees, congratulations and gifts, first outing to Gramma's house, sat up alone-5 months, stands alone (still am) 9 months, first words- 11 months, "down dere.", first bottle- Jan 1/59 (still struggling with that one) first Christmas presents etc. But what really got me kind of choked me up was that Mom had saved the hair from my first haircut--cut by Dad, Oct 28 1959. I'm still not sure what those postcards were doing down dere dough... 
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