"I've never heard of that before"

It's never reassuring to hear that from your doctor. Your doctor should at least have some suspicion when you tell him something is wrong with you, not say "hmm, I've never heard of that before."

Let me tell you another thing... the internet will make you paranoid. The internet is breeding hypochondriacs. With all that information available at the touch of your vaguely phrased Google search you will find many many sites telling you that you are very very ill.

Regular readers of this here blog will recall my regular ramblings about my regular illnesses. Surely, one would think, that my blood's turned to sand or something, like in the Andromeda Strain (frickin' cool movie that), but no. I'm just hyper-exposed, methinks, to germs via work, public transit, and 5-year-olds. But my latest trick had nothing to do with boils or sore throats or fevers or diarrhea, but instead, a sharp and poignant shift in body odor. Not all body odor, mind you, but one armpit. One armpit that one day (my first day working the Fan Expo, to be precise) decided to elicit a twinge of a vinegar/formaldehyde/ammonia-like odor.

At first I thought it was the t-shirt, fresh from the factory, that I was forced to wear as serviceman behind the convention tables, but it was there the next day, and the day after that. Deodorant/antiperspirant would cover it up but it would smell the moment I showered it off. I could scrub and scrub with no effect. Some days were worse than others... and by worse I mean there were more odoriferous emanations that would traverse from beyond the safety of my being and fill up a room with the sweet, sweet smell of staving off decay.

I at first thought it might be a side effect of the antibiotics I took for my boil, but no... I stopped taking those about 10 days before the odor arrived. I looked it up on-line, remembering that a sudden change in body odor could be indicative of something more serious. Like kidney or liver disease. Or diabetes.

Erm... only, I don't have any other symptoms for those, just one stinky armpit.

Needing to book a physical anyway, I called the clinic and was given the option to wait another month or wait another two months. I chose the one-month option and decided, well, it could wait a month. But then, one day, at work, the odor was overwhelming me, and I forgot to deodorize, and I said "never again". Well, with my pro-active attitude I waited another week and the got my ass into the doctor to see what was wrong, thinking, "my health is important".

So, I tell the doctor what's wrong and he gives me the puzzled look like I'm a freak (he didn't even ask to smell my pit... what's up doc?). He hems, he haws. I tell him that the internet was no help, except that it mentioned some serious ailments that could cause a shift in body odor... but no, there's no blood or discolouration in my urine, and my thighs haven't swelled and there's no abdominal pain, and I don't have jaundice, and I went for a run this morning without trouble and I sleep fine without having to pee every forty minutes etc.

He hems and haws again and says it might be a bacterial infection in my armpit...

Any tenderness?
No.
Any cracks in the skin?
No.
Do you shave your armpits?
No.
Do you use deodorant regularly?
No.
Have you used an antibacterial soap?
No, I use my friend's soap
(here, he actually did a squinty look at me an told me I shouldn't use homemade soaps because they're high in fat and sugar content or something or other... I got a little cross with him, as he was talking out his ass... all-natural as opposed to chemical, yes thanks. And anyway, I've been using these for a year now without issue, and in fact, beneficial results tyvm)
Well, try an antibacterial soap... get (scritch scratch on the doctopad) this over the counter and use it on your pits and groin for a few weeks... and maybe use deodorant to keep yourself from sweating and stop any bacteria from culturizing (paraphrased).

So there you go. In summary:
1. doctors don't know everything
2. don't trust what you read on the internet (wait, does that invalidate #1?)

I'm apeeling

No, that subject line is not a self-affirmation of the Stuart Smalley variety, but rather a literal statement of the status of my hands at the moment. For the past five days starting at the tips of my fingers and slowly working its way down to the palms of my hands in erratic fashion the surface dermal layer of my hands has been peeling off... well, I've been peeling it off, but you know, it's hard to resist the urge when you see that little bubble of dead skin there.

It's not a dryness issue... I've been moisturizing like mad the past few days and the only thing it does is make it harder to peel the dead skin off. It's not pretty, and it is kind of annoying. I think it's a result of the antibiotics (for the boil, now a bald spot on the back of my head) working their way out of my system, as they were a dermal-targeting medication. Either that or I scalded my hands on a steering wheel the weekend before last and it's just taken a few days for the skin to react (less likely). Anyway, not really much to worry about methinks, just kind of gross and frustrating.

News of sorts

Revue Cinema Open House This Weekend!

August 11th from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.
Be one of the first people in your neighbourhood to visit your old friend, The Revue. there will be popcorn, drinks, prizes, ice cream and lots more.
400 Roncesvalles Ave. 5 minute walk south of Dundas W station. For more information, to get involved, or to donate, please visit RevueCinema.ca

The Spa Treatment

Mon ami, la FreakGirl, est ouvrir un spa:
Holistic Facial & Massage -- Approximately 1 hour (usually a little longer), $35.00
Reiki - Approximately 1 hour - $35.00

Contact Joan via The Faery's Tub (and buy some lovely bath products whilst there)

Hair club 4 men

So the boil rapidly depleted after the first day of antibiotics and has been not so much a nuisance anymore. Of course, I couldn't stick to my 4-pills-a-day regimen on the long weekend even if my life had depended on it... but I'm back on schedule now. The skin around the area is drying out too, which makes it itchy, so it's slightly unpleasant but I manage to ignore it.

Unfortunately, all the hair has started to fall out of the spot where the boil was. It's not quite a visible bald patch (yet) but yea, there's nothing more distressing than clumps of hair coming off in your hand. Oh well, fingers crossed at it growing back.

Concentration shot

Really can't focus today.

In from Amazon:

The Super Friends: The Legendary Super Powers Show - this was the mid-1980's version of the Super Friends show that they spun a wicked toy line out of. The voice actor who plays Darkseid used the exact same voice for Dr. Claw in Inspector Gadget so it's kind of silly. I haven't seen this show literally since I was 8, so I'm really looking forward to having my memories tarnished. Hopefully there's special features containing the classic "You Decide" action figure commercials.

Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law Season 3 - more goofy, rapid-fire, kitschy cartoon courtroom inaneness from the cat with the beak.

The Tick vs. Season 2 - Another full season of Tick, less an episode. Never watched these when they were first on, so I'm still catching up on all of the references used by friends.

Double, Double, Boil and Trouble

Landing late in the evening yesterday didn't make it very convenient for heading to the clinic to get my friend Pustulio checked out, and whilst arriving before closing I was informed that no further patients were being seen (sonuva...)

I did pick up another little nuisance on the flight home, but still not as bad as the throat infection or the boil. That boil is a bother, brother.

Aden let me sleep in this morning (bless her) and I headed for work by way of the clinic first. A short wait and the doctor asked what the problem was. "What, you don't read my blog?" A truncated version of the above story was given and he proceeded to dismiss the various infections and the many months of continued illness and targetted the boil, which was fine by me since that the most pesky and prominent of my problems presently.

Unfortunately he dealt with it with all the tenderness of a four-year-old at a Fisher Price playset, poking and jabbing and squeezing... ow, bloody, ow. He also said my lymph nodes were swollen, likely as a result of the boil, and that I'd need to take anti-biotics. Flip.

He didn't really say what the anti-biotics would do, except that it should help clear it out. Whether that means it assists the boil in coming to a head (where a little white node works its way to the surface of the skin to eventually act as transport for rupturing, which I think will wind up looking very "Alien"-esque if/when it happens... I would not want to be around me at that time ) or if they kill the infection so that the boil dissipates, who know. The anti-biotics are for general skin condition treatments so it might actually help out one or two other areas by proxy, which is a bonus. Unfortunately, last time I was on anti-biotics it knocked the hell out of me an I don't think I've ever recovered.

Also, in telling a friend about my vacation/sick time away from work, he mentioned that he's heard athletes use a misting nasal spray to lubricate their nasal passages when flying so that they don't get dried out and infected, which is similar to what happens to me in air conditioned rooms and on buses and airplanes. I asked the pharmacist about this and he directed me to Rhinaris which is a glycerin mister which should help keep my nasal ways nice an moist.

Meanwhile, Ibuprofen is the only thing that helps ease my neck and boil discomfort, and it does a pretty damn good job... when I remember to take it. Grr.

I'm a basket of fun...

Actual positive vacation bits to come :)

P.S.: Oh, and mom, remember that thing on my lip in high school that you like to remind me about from time to time? Turns out that was a boil too.

Purgatory

You know that place that exists between heaven and hell... some call it purgatory, I call it the past 5 days in San Diego.

Oh, it's been heaven, quite blessedly, having a handful of (much desired, much earned, and much needed) days off from work, taking a vacation with the beautious and sexiful Aden (whose patience with me has known no limits) and the city of San Diego, including the fabulous Balboa Park Inn where we stayed, has been incredibly hospitable... welcoming even. And even though the 2007 Comic Con wasn't anything above expectations, but it was still great to finally get the gumption up to go, and I made plenty of contacts for the Rack Raids pipe to explore in the near future.

So what could possibly put a damper on what, by all means, should be a top notch vacation (which also included day trips to Sea World and Coronado Island for some sun and sand)? Well, it's only as complex as I wan to tell it but here goes:

Longtime readers will be quite familiar with my somewhat decayed immune system in the past 10 months or so. I don't think there's been a month since last November that I haven't been sick. I think the longest stretch between colds I've had was the nasty one around my birthday (June 1st) extending through to just before going to the cottage 2 weekends ago. 6 weeks max, without some sort of cough or flu.

By the end of the first cottage weekend, 3 weekends ago, I was feelin' ok again, and said so, but I didn't knock on wood, and 2 weekends ago, after a fun-fest of canoeing and windsurfing I was less than my normal yet again. I wasn't sure what it was at first. I had been bitten by a good 30 horseflies while attempting to windsurf, and afterwards I was pretty itchy... not as bad as mosquito bites, but quite noticeable. One was on the back of my head, and it started out as a nusanced itch on Sunday last week and then a small bump on the back of my head on Monday.

After running around town with Aden on Monday (okay, not running, but a LOT of walking) I was pretty worn down anyway, so Tuesday, I chalked up my soreness and fatigue to that. Plust that bump on the back of my head was growing, and was getting pretty annoying, still slightly itchy. I left work early to get some packing done, and walking home, I noticed my fatigue had grown as had my soreness. Sitting down at home, pondering the lump on the back of my head, I realized that in addition to the minor annoyance, I had the flu... the tell-tale signs were there. One day before my vacation. Shit.

Hoping and praying for a 24 hour bug, I hopped into a warm bath, got some sleep, had a good sweat out, ate a hearty bowl of soup, had another nap and sucked up enough energy to pack and head up to Aden's house. Downing some fruit and energy bars, Gatorade and other energy and vitamin suppliments, I actually felt quite fine. Sleep was rough (another hot sweat) as the napping earlier in the day left me not so sleepy once a few hours were had. We were up at 5am to catch our 8:30 flight and, though kind of groggy, I did feel okay, if a little logi.

As the morning wore on, waiting for the plane, and boarding (for the first time) I felt all right. I'd catch some sleep on the plane, eat a hearty meal in San Diego, catch some sleep at the Inn, then head on over to Preview Night at the Con... or so I planned. Well, as I've known for some time my plans alway go awry somehow, an this time it was as a result of a not so confident pilot.

We took off about 20 minutes late, standing off the runway for 10 minutes as the plane shut down and "breakers" were "reset" (or something) and the captain felt "confident" with the situation. In the air, my rest coming quickly, the lump on the back of my head only slightly bothering me pressed against the headrest of the seat. And then at the 45 minute point the captain comes on the comm again and states that the "situation" has reemerged and that he was "not so confident" anymore and that we were turnin' on back 'round, with information on what was to happen next when we got back on the ground.

It was this extra two hours of travel, not to mention an additional hour on the ground that did me in. The snacks we had weren't enough, and I generally started feeling less confident myself about my health. By the time we were announced 40 minutes out of San Diego, my throat had turned raw, my glands tangibly swollen inside. Shit. Not only was I still sick, but this was something quite different from what I was dealing with 24 hours before.

Sunofa.

Over the next day and a half my throat would get so raw, so sore, so incredibly painful and uncomfortable that I couldn't even swallow my own saliva without noticably wincing. I discovered smoothies were my friend, but even then, the citrus that was inevitably in most of them would burn. I was on a steady diet of flu pills, Tylenol, and chewing asparin to hopefully coat my throat with a pain number. All the while thick, dark mucous was finding its way out through a tremendously uncomfortable, unsexy, and uncivilised process of snorting, grunting and hacking. A necessary evil, even in public.

The pain would spread into my ears, usally in the evening, and recede mid-day, probalby as I cleared the mucous out of my head. I was sleeping, well, awfully. Hot sweats were the least of my problems the first three nights, and the lump on the back of my head, having grown, and becoming quite painful, was still nothing compared to the soreness of my throat. As I would occasionally intuitively swallow at some point in the night, the sharp pain would strike me awake immediately and I would attemp some method of releif and soothing, usually from drugs... and then, when the throat was tempered that damn bump would make itself known.

Yeah, I know, good life huh.

My throat seemingly cleared up nearing the end of day three, the previous days all being difficult on the eating front (my throat being so raw, and the pain of eating so difficult, I'd actually developed a Pavlovian aversion to eating, but suffering through it knowing my body needed it regardless). Yesterday I woke up with the ability to swallow, but there was a definite acidic, raw feeling in my throat, kind of like after you've just thrown up. That sort of sensation made eating unappealing, but I suffered through and managed to have a lovely day (full of smoothies, thank you) at Sea World. Every time I would swallow with any regularity, however, it would jostle loose some of the nasties living in my head, and I would repeat the snort/hack procedure to clear it loose (invariably tearing stuff out of my throat and sinuses, perpetuating the raw sensation but not nearly as sharply as when it was inflammed) That lump was, well not throbbing, but making much of my neck sore, and persisted in making for another uncomfortable night's sleep.

Today, well, I could eat fine, with a hint of that acidicness in the back of my throat but still clearing things out though. The bump on the back of my neck is actually causing soreness on my neck muscles and tendons, which means it's now a serious problem. Looking it up on line and, yup, it's a boil. I'm getting that puppy lanced with furious swiftness when I get back home to the land of the free (health care) I assure you, even though websites say if you give it two weeks it will resolve itself (eventually rupturing on its own... ew).

Oh, yeah, and I'm also going to get some blood tests done and figure out why my immune system is so messed up like it never was before (I didn't have a day off from school for three years straight during high school, so what happened?)

Bleh.

Coming home tomorrow. Boo and yay at the same time.

Biz Kill

I'm still having an awful time, staring the clock down as I await the first of three long weekends (it will turn out that 4 of July's 5 weekends will have been extended ones for me, hooray... of course that 10 day work week sucks some donkey ass but I digress). I've picked up yet another little bug, which seems to be my lot in life this year. I'm 100% sure that it's as a result of air conditioning though. I'm blown on directly from the vent at the office, and I had the A/C running in the bedroom overnight during the sweltering summer days of Sunday through Tuesday. This time it was a mild sore throat which has gone away but has led to a slight cough and some goodgey bits coming from my sinuses. Rock! Anyway, with the temperature calming down once again, and a couple weekends in milder territory, plus lots of vitamins and rest and relaxation, I should be right as rain until I come back into the office and repeat it all over again. Sigh.

And no, it's neither Pontiac Fever nor Legionnaire's Disease, but thanks for asking.

GAK (AKA the Man of Many Travels) arrived for a brief stayover, having departed Tokyo the previous Thursday, landing in Vancouver, flying to Thunder Bay on Saturday, in Toronto on Tuesday, off to Cambridge Wednesday, and departing today for Finnish lands, the country where he quite wants to be. Apparently their mountains are so lofty and treetops are so tall, Finland, it would seem, indeed, does have it all.

With GAK's visit we went to the Stonegrill on Winchester, a place Aden and I had been eying for a while, and I honestly didn't know what to expect. If you don't know about the stonegrill (the Australian cooking stone), it's basically a flat rock that's heated to 700 degrees and your meal is placed on top, whence it's brought to your table and you cook it yourself... yeah, it's kind of weird to pay more for something you cook yourself, but it's part of the experience, and it was a great experience. The small menu was honed to the items that best suit the stonegrill, and the tapas (pron. tay-paws) is equally small but exquisite. GAK and Aden both had steak (thick and tender), while I had calamari stuffed with chorizo, savory bbq sink-your-teeth-into-the-bone ribs and a fresh chip selection (potato, arrowroot and taro)... delicious.

For dessert, we had Persians which GAK had brought back from Thunder Bay. Over the next three days the dozen buns'n'frosting were shared amongst people who'd never had them before, each expressing delight at the pink'n'cinnamon flavour (yes, pink is a flavour). Astute geeKent reader will remember Persians from a 2004 entry...

Tuesday also brought joy to the extended family back in T.Bay. My brother from another mother's brother (thus being my brother too) had his first younglings extracted from the belly of his significant other... world, meet Leo and Sol

Congrats to Rick and Miia.

This post has taken me -3- days to write.
I'm finally getting a day off. Whoo.

Super Tedium

Ow. Ow. Ow.
That's the sound I make when I type or use a mouse. After spending 18 hours click, click, clicking away on the mouse this weekend (boring workstuff I wont get into) my thumb and forefinger on my right hand are experiencing some technical difficulties. Okay, not really, but they are a little stiff... I'm going for a massage on Wednesday and I'm making sure that at least half of it is spent on my hands, wrists and forearms.

After much repetitive stress inducing (on not just my hands, but eyes too) I swung out to see the (quite surprisingly entertaining) Transformers movie. I found the quick-cut frantic editing a bit jarring on my weary eyes, but overall an entertaining film. What I found more intriguing though was the trailer for the unnamed JJ Abrams project (codename "Cloverfield"). Yep, a trailer for a film that doesn't even have a name yet, and it was flipping brilliant as a teaser, and if that's the style of the movie it's certainly going to be interesting (think Blair Witch Project but with Godzilla instead of ghosts and the city instead of the woods).

update: official site-ish, plus Ethan Was Right and Ethan Was Wrong and a CHUD.com write-up

After the movie much discussion was had about our childhood (or teenaged) Transformers experiences. I'd never been much of a Transformers fan having never watched the cartoon, although I saw the movie once as a kid and again about six months back. I never had many Transformers toys, either. I was more of a He-Man and Star Wars junkie. Anyway, we were trying to figure out if the Decepticons in the film were mostly new (we all knew Megatron and Starscream, but weren't familiar with the others... turns out most if not all were new versions of old names) and I recalled having a really cool transforming tank when I was cool. I knew it's name started with a B or a D but I couldn't remember him, and it wasn't striking any recollections within the more hardcore Trans-fans I was with.

It was all Army green, die cast, and kick-ass.

When I got home I immediately went to the internets and checked out various Transformers sites but none of them had the one I was looking for. Rooms asked if maybe it wasn't a Go-Bot, but I only recalled Go-Bots being rinky-dink tiny things. After 40 minutes of empty searching my pillow beckoned...

This morning, a note from Rooms popped up into my in box, and it looks like he was right: Destroyer

I loved that thing. Even after I lost its removable cannon and its treads and one of its feet...it still kicked ass. I was going to say that the larger-sized die-cast Super Go-Bots were way more awesome than Transformers, but after seeing the others (including Psycho whom I also had) I realized that they were pretty lame robots comparatively.

Fire breather

I've been getting better, so to speak. I'm still coughing, but my nose has stopped running, which is good, and I can hear again which means my sinuses are clearing out, and that's good too. I've been blowing and coughing out chunks'o'fun so I'm a real treat to be around these past couple of days, and when the tickle strikes, well, my coughing fits look like the human equivalent of when a cat tries to bring up a hairball. It's awesome.

I've been sleeping soundly though, not waking up to cough or anything... well, soundly may not exactly be right. Tuesday night I was awake every two hours to have a drink of water before going back to sleep, and the past three days I haven't slept in past 7:00. Today I went back to sleep for an hour after 8:00 but that's because I drank some Buckleys on an empty stomach congestion loosener when I got out of the shower... not recommended, kids.

When I go through my coughing fits, usually after sitting up from laying down, or standing up from sitting, I wind up getting pretty dizzy. Today this has left me very lightheaded and I feel like I'm drunk...more tipsy than incapacitated inebriation, but it's really quite fun, and a nice way to be at work.

I went to the clinic to get checked out and the Doc said that my cold has pretty much dissipated (no fever, my glands aren't swollen, my throat is clear, etc), but that I have a lung inflammation. She said that my cold coupled with environmental exacerbations like smog and whatnot have contributed to it... so I've been given a steroid puffer to take for the next 10 days to clean me up. Not working yet, but hey, at least I'm enjoying the ride now.

(I Feel Like) Holy Hell

I took a bus out of T.O. yesterday to go visit my Dad's side of the family, with the folks down from T.Bay and my aunt in from B.C., I was looking forward to two nice days with the family-at-large. I would have went earlier, like Friday, had not this cold I picked up on Tuesday been ever pesky, but as it was Monday was a holiday in the UK and US and other offices around the world so it seemed like an opportune time to have a day off.

Well best laid plans get frigged in the arse by a bag full of mosquitos, because after I arrived at my Grandmother's house I just felt worse and worse and worse as the evening progressed. I woke up this morning with a sore throat and a tight chest, a wicked nasty cough, runny nose, sinus pressure and a killer headache. When I left yesterday morning I had a slight cough and that was it.

So I slept an extra couple of hours, doped myself up, and got back on the bus for home. My nose was running off my face the entire time... 'twas pretty gross. When I got home, after having a sneezing fit (a Graig-record of 17 in a row) I ran a hot tub and crawled in where I soaked for over an hour.

Right now I only feel like 6 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag, which is better than the 10 pounds I felt earlier, but yeah, still stretching my seams. I'm heading back to bed shortly, because, golddang, this sucks.

Lessons

1) If your immune system is already compromised, sequestering yourself in a confined space with dozens or hundreds of people (like a bus, subway, or airplane) isn't the best of ideas.

2) Playing scratch cards in the tub is messy...

3) In the microwave, the bowl tends to get hot, the soup not so much.

The New Flap

Okay, I'm totally with the FG Rampage on this one, tentacle rape is a manga/anime convention that needs to stay a manga/anime convention... we don't need that thoroughly disturbing aspect invading North American superhero comics, thank you very much.

SLG Publishing editor Jennifer De Guzman has an interesting take on the whole thing.

Interestingly enough, tentacle rape in Japanese illustration can be dated back to an 1820's woodcut called The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife (source: Wikipedia). Disturbo!

Under the weather

Completely unrelated to cephalopods, I've picked up a cold of some sort. Well, more of just a dry, light cough and some mild fatigue, but damn, with the nice weather hitting Toronto in full force, sick is the last thing I want to be. Not to mention the folks are coming round for a visit (or I'm heading out for a visit) soon... sigh. Well, could always be worse.

Losted

Lost had its 2 hr season finale last night, and, well, the dual of the 3rd season epics between Battlestar Galactica and Lost is over and Lost trumps it hands down. Both shows are off the air until January, but Battlestar I don't really even care about whereas Lost just left me hanging in the best (and worst) possible way. I want more now, now, now, but I guess I can wait (I kind of have to). What a flippin' trip though.

If you're a sci-fi/genre fan and not watching this show, you honestly have no idea what you're missing. It's the king of setting up the pins and knocking them down only to reveal more pins behind them. It's a constant guessing game as to what's going to happen. If you're a fan of the obvious, this isn't your kind of show. Vagaries abound, better than any show before it, it knows how to pose three questions for every one it answers. It's a 2000-piece Jigsaw puzzle where the picture is nothing but blue sky and all the cuts are the same... oh it's endlessly frustrating, but you divest yourself into it, and the rewards of progression through each episode are well worth it.

It's certainly not striving for sophisticated (as in politically charged or even remotely topical) entertainment, but the layers and layers of storytelling that are going on, the number of balls being juggled at once, the demands it asks of its audience, for a mainstream show, is incredible. I'm so impressed. Soon I'll bust out season 1 and 2 again for a revisit, by the time I finish those, season 3 should be out on DVD and hopefully, when that's finished, there'll only be a few more weeks before season 4.

Damn.

Nosebleed

Huh... I had a nosebleed this morning. I don't usually get nosebleeds... in fact, this was the first non-trauma-induced (often from clearing out the excessive nosehairs) nosebleed I've had, just an honest to gosh, out of control nosebleed. Weird.

they made it

Vancouver Canucks v. Anaheim Ducks
Go!

Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight

Aden and I have tickets to the Queen musical "We Will Rock You" tonight, going for a sexy dinner beforehand at the Senator(?). I'm wearing my new leather soled boots (they're so awesome, and yes, I'm such a girl) and I'm happy. I like to have a splurgy night out once in a while.

Hail to the king baby

The campaign of the Aquamen to replace the Supermen on my desk at work is nearing completion. All that remains of the Supermen is Supergrover, 1950's Superman Robot, and Beppo the Super-monkey (along with a tin Superman lunchbox).

What's nice about Aquaman is he seems to come in many different flavours, which is more than can be said about ol' Clark Kent (sorry cuz'). My co-worker has the hawts for Aquaman... she's got a thing for blonde men with big muscles.

Statements include:

"ooooh, look at the muscles"
"Oh, he's so cuuuute"
"wow, look at those legs"
"I should get some of these for (her son), but really, for me"
"I wish I were a witch and I could make him real..."

(in a related story, this episode of the Rack explains my non-comic book reading coworker's reaction perfectly, derived from the flap over Citizen Steel's package)

Now, if these were in front of her on her desk, everyone would know why... I'm not really sure what my excuse is, other than I'd love an orange scaly tunic.

Find Good

Eyes.
Teeth.
Hair.
Body.

These, and not in that order (they arrange differently depending on the person), are the most difficult parts of our lives to attend, and what I mean is finding a good optometrist, a good dentist, a good hairdresser/stylist/barber and a good doctor are things that often plague us to the point where a few bad experiences will put us off them for a very long time, perhaps even beyond the point at which we find them necessary.

the eyes

I found my eye doctor in Toronto relatively quickly, and have been exceptionally happy with him for the past 6 years. He's friendly and always reassuring, and he exudes confidence without any sense of arrogance or pretension. My optometrist in Thunder Bay was kind of an a-hole, and I stopped going to him after he started ripping me and my dad off for my contact lenses ($75 dispensing fee my ass). For a while, maybe 3 years, I was just picking up contact lenses at various optometry centers, in Wal-Marts or Costco. It wasn't until I moved to Toronto and found Dr. Leung that I even felt comfortable getting new glasses or seriously contemplating laser eye surgery. After this happened Dr. Leung eventually convinced me that laser surgery would be a drastic improvement on my life, and, over two years after, it still ranks in the top 3 of best decisions I ever made. Dr. Leung rocks.

I have a friend who hates having anything done to her eyes... no eyedrops, no puff of air glaucoma tests, no bright lights. She literally hates the whole procedure. I worry Aden's wee one (who's currently down with another eye infection, a throat infection and a gnarly 2-week-old cough) is going to have the same reaction in later years, since there are screams bloody murder any time Aden needs to put eye drops in. The little one also has a hyperactive response to bright lights, sunlight especially. But putting anything near the eyes, or if water gets in them, watch out. This kid needs to have swimming lessons and learn some head dunking and a bit of the chlorine sting to toughen them up a little. Worked for me. I had no problem sticking my finger in my eye daily when dropping contacts in.

the head

Meanwhile, my childhood trauma means I hate getting my hair cut. It's one of the things from my younger years that still sticks with me, and I hated going. I remember being around 5-years-old and my dad promised to buy me a X-Wing Fighter (well, maybe not specifically that, but that's what I had in mind) if I went to the barber shop, and I sat through that haircut, hating every minute of it. And did I ever get that X-Wing. I say thee nay.

As a pre-teen I was awkward, monstrous 80's glasses hiding half my face, absurd 80's long-bangs or other "trendy" hairstyles done less for fashion (which I had nary a clue about until, maybe 5 years ago, and still am somewhat iffy on) and more for lack of haircut desire. I had for the longest time a side-part with the most absurd of cow-licks which would flap in the wind and drive me crazy (one point in grade 11, I grabbed hold of that cow-lick and snipped it off, leaving a semi-bald patch amidst my long hair). When I was a teen I was even more awkward, sporting a middle part throughout much of high school and at one point allowing my sister to butcher my head, which is captured for all eternity in my grade 11 school photo.

I used to go to the barber in County Fair Plaza in Thunder Bay, a place run and patronized mostly by old Italian men. The only haircut they were good at was a buzz and/or brush cut, anything else was asking too much of them. Then one day they got an honest-to-gosh hairdresser in there, a guy who could actually cut and shape and style. Sure he would lean into you awkwardly while cutting your hair but the price you pay for something decent done to your follicles. He wasn't ever really around much though, and when I finally steel myself up to getting a haircut, well, I go right then and there with no delay and get it done with, otherwise it'll be a few more months before I get back the resolve to do anything about my mane.

Since moving to Toronto I've had a bit of an adventure in hairstyle. For the first year I decided to try out one or two of the hairdressers on Roncesvalles near home, but I was really not satisfied with either cut, having to actually fix up one haircut myself at home. My home-brew actually turned out pretty nice, and so I wound up buying myself a hair cutting kit, including shears and proper scissors. I clipped myself a couple of times, once really nicely, twice kind of disastrously. Eventually, I took to shearing my head down to stubble (actually it was within the second month of blogging) which I enjoyed doing for quite some time... but I got tired of it after about two years and sought out a hairdresser, finding a new place to get it cut and eventually the best hairdresser I ever had.
I never knew his name.
And his salon closed unexpectedly.
And I couldn't find him again.

I only ever had three haircuts from him, but I loved every one, even at +$40 it was so totally worth it each time, even if I didn't like it initially, it always looked good a few days and weeks later. I could trust him to know what he was doing and to do something interesting to my head. After the unexpected end of that relationship, I started doing my hair myself again, manifesting itself as the "Diabolik" cut... which I loved, but found very difficult to sustain without frequent clipping.

After the shear-n-beard growing experiment of 2006, I finally found a place to call hairhome in the Terminal Barber Shop. I've been there three times, they treat me well, they cut my hair pretty nicely (even if I can't really trust them to do anything creative), and they can work a mean straight razor. They take the time to give a good cut, which I appreciate. And it's not exactly 40 bones either.

the mowf

Oooh, I don't like me some dentists. I don't hate the dentist since I've become pretty numb to the shock and pain of oral treatments, but a gentle dentist makes all the difference. Had a great dentist, Dr. Robertson (?) growing up, and he was fantastic with a great staff of hygienists and
receptionists, lots of toys in the office and mom would always take me to Bourqs Drug Mart in Victoriaville after for a toy. It made it quite easy on me. I always hated the fluoride treatments though... they made me gag like nobodys business, especially when they'd stick the goo inside the rubber teeth and pop those in your mouth with the suction thing between them and a drool tray below your chin. I was a mess of slobber and tears every time. God I hated that.

I didn't have any problems with my teeth, no caveties, until I was a teen and my molars grew in. Deep pits mean I couldn't properly clean them out with a tooth brush and cavities formed. Oh well, not my fault. I sort of stopped going to the dentist in University, except one time to get my wisdom teeth checked out (and subsequently extracted). I even chipped a tooth once post-university and never did get my mouth checked out in case something was seriously wrong.

I think I went through a six-year (more?) span between 1998 and 2004 before I went to the dentist again, this time finally choosing one at random near my house on Roncey. The hygienist was pretty cool, but the dentist was awful, with no chairside manner, and getting the cavity filled in that I had was a horrendous experience. I didn't go back, even when they called me for my scheduled check-up. I told them I'd call back. I even got a Christmas card one year from him, but ugh... i wasn't going back there.

It was Aden prodding me about getting my teeth cleaned and checked up (she's a religious every-6-months-er) that I finally asked about her dentist. She likes her dentist, whose receptionist also happens to be her mother's best friend. Her dentist's daughter is also a dentist who looks after the wee one's teeth (with nary a complaint)... so I inquired a little more and finally had my first check-up in over two years.

The hygienist was utterly cordial, and then I had the full x-ray and thorough inspection done by Dr. Z, and damn was she thorough. And fun. I can't say I've ever had fun at the dentist but Dr. Z is so bright, cheerful and a bubbly personality that she seems genuinely excited about teeth and oral health care. She had nothing but positive things to say about my teeth and gums and general mouth health (although the typical "floss more" did come up) even though two minuscule cavities popped up on the X-rays. I'm going back next week to get those fixed up, but damn if I'm not actually excited to do so.

the rest'o'me

Doctors. I had a great pediatrician in Dr. Molson (whom I used to get confused with Dr. Robertson, because Molson sounds so much like "molar") who had hair in his ears, I fondly remember. Apparently I was a clumsy and frequently sick child, so I probably saw him lots before I can remember, but he treated me well.

I stayed fairly healthy throughout high school and university, missing very few days of school (although sleeping in was always a problem), I think not missing a single day between grade 9 through 11. I was proud of it at the time... Anyway, I hadn't really much need of doctors for most of my blossoming life, and thus had no fixed doctor. I went to the clinic at Lakehead once for... something which I don't even recall anymore (probably skin condition), and it wasn't until Toronto that I found a doctor to, well, kind of call my own.

At my local medical center there's one doctor I prefer going to, but a couple others who are just as good (and a couple who kinda suck). I've been there a lot over the past few years as my body's metabolism slows down and gets accustomed to the Big Smoke... sometimes they were fruitless visits, other times just for prescription renewals, and sometimes for things that I was a little paranoid over, and sometimes for necessary evils. I've never had a bad experience there, and I've got the place pretty figured out for wait times, and the good doctors are really good, and I've gotten comfortable with them enough as to not feel (too) awkward should they need to do anything... uncomfortable to me. Which is good. It's nice to have that covered.

otherbody

Meanwhile, my massage therapist is amazing. She's fixed me up many many times and is doing so right now. She rules, she's so damn good at what she does, and she always leaves me with helpful tips for proper stretching and means of avoiding such strains or pains in the future.

The ducks, they're in a row it seems.

If you're searching for a good Dentist, Doctor, Optician or Massage Therapist, I can direct you to some of the best people who've ever touched or looked at me in wholly inappropriate but completely medical ways.

Chimichanga mamma

Twice over the past five months I've gotten a nasty kink in my neck which is very specifically located and only hurts when I move my head in a very specific manner (back and to the right, magic bullet style). I think a lot of the problem has been the ergonomics of my desk at work, which had my monitor to the left of me while I sat head on. Add to that the occasional influx of end-of-quarter stress and a not-a-twenty-something-year-old-body-anymore, and voila, instant neckache. The pain in the neck (as it were) would go away after the stress period was over and a relaxing couple of days were had, but the third time this cropped up... around the beginning of March, well, it just hasn't gone away yet, and it seems like no matter how I stretch, it still hurts.

My massage therapist has always preached to me about keeping regular massage maintenance on the bill for once-a-month. I know she's right and not just trying to get my coin, but still, I thought I was above that. But no, she was right, I was wrong, and five months since I last saw her I'm finally going back, head held low (and to the right a little), for a little TMC (therapudic massage care). I've got a month's worth of appointments booked, as I realize it's not just my neck by my shoulders and back as well that are causing the problem (it's all connected, hip bone's connected to the thigh bone y'know).

Bah. This is what getting older's like isn't it?
Curses.

Ridabik

Spring is here, although inside work it feels like winter. It's not A/C time yet, whiskey tango foxtrot? But as spring has sprung and sprung it has, it's time to get back into physique. No more chowing down on the sour cream and onion chips twice a week with a litre of Fresca in my hand, a couple of cookies on the table and a hockey game before me, nope, it's Special K and rice pilafs for me, along with much expended energy (there are lies in this paragraph).

Aden an I made our first bike trek of the season up to North York on Friday after work. I had been dreading the ride for a good 8 months (ever since Aden had told me I'm going to have to do it with her), but the sun was shining, the weather was mild, and the traffic wasn't as insanovision as I had thought. The hills going uptown weren't nearly as treacherous as they were made out to be either. It helped that Aden went at a pace which meant I needed to reign myself in (instead of going full out as I tend to do) and thus not exhausting myself 20 minutes in. It was a good 70 minute ride which surprisingly didn't tax me as much as I thought it would.

We rode back downtown this morning, and if there's anything to be said about having someone to bike with it's that they motivate you to suit up and get out into the potential thunderstormy streets in 4 degree weather at ten to eight in the morning. It's the last thing I'd do for myself. But it took about 35 minutes to get in and another 20 to shower and preen myself for the day. Within an hour I was at my desk, sitting in my chair much earlier than I ever do. Of course, I'm hungry as all hell by 10:30 but a pear and some hot chocolate (like I said, it's freezing in here) help quell those cravings.

The next two days give us quick 10 minute jaunts over to BOBTown and back, unless we would rather the 30 minute walk which would provide more exercise. The good thing about biking home, though, is bypassing all the stores that are too easy to go into when you're just walking past.

big belly blurgh

It seems that intestinal illness strikes just as massively nasty weather systems hit the city.

Three weeks ago I got food poisoning as overnight Toronto got "call in the army"-levels of snow that crippled the city. Last night the city suffered a deep freeze (things were snap-crack-a-poppin' on the BOBTown rooftops, and it was crazy, sounding like gunshots) which, according to the radio this morning, resulted in -28 degrees (-42 with windchill), meanwhile, Aden got a happy dose of the stomach flu.

I wasn't certain how I was feeling this morning, my stomach juggling its contents inside for a bit, but settled down, eventually. I trucked into the workplace halfway through the day, working from home to start.

Turns out the CN Tower, for the first time ever, was dropping deadly ice, causing the city to cordon off the area and shut down the Gardiner Expressway for much of the morning. Yes, that cold.

Life is fun.

Recovery (intestinal) track

In looking over this site's info on food poisoning, it seems to me that that's what I had, although what kind of food poisoning, I don't know and where it stemmed from I can't say either.

Today is acceptable, although it feels like I have an uncomfortable truce forged with my stomach. My sister recommended some helpful suggestions like yogurt, lots of fibre and nuts and seeds to help clean up my innards. I'm hoping it works. I realize that although I didn't eat much yesterday, much of what I did had some sugar content in it, which I realize now is not a good thing. So I'm on a new plan of attack, which hopefully will work out.

I got an urgent message from my keester at 6:30 this morning and have been up ever since, so I'm tired and a little cranky.

Fallout lad

The day after the duo-directional evacuation of my internal digestive systems, I'm still (obviously?) not 100%. While verily I feel normal in the head (which is in sharp contradiction to my in-and-out of consciousness act of yesterday) my stomach still argues with me, although not quite the wailing banshee that it was the night previous.

I actually managed to score a full eight hours of prime Morpheus territory last night, which is good in that I felt rested, however all is far from better. My stomach perpetually burbles, and there's a fizzyness to my burps which I find hard to explain. Anything I eat doesn't hang around for very long, and generally I'm uncomfortable, not to mention the fact that occasionally I release a gaseous weapon of mass disgust-ion (there's many reasons why I worked from home today, and respect for my neighbours topped the list).

Anyway, still not certain what caused all of this, but I'm hoping it wasn't anything contagious. Aden certainly wasn't affected, other than her concern for me, however I just got word from her that the wee one has to leave day care due to diarrhea. Hoping it wasn't anything transmitted from point A to point B. But then, her brother also has been sick as of late which may have some impact on the scenario.

I'm hoping less disgusting topics can be broached in the coming days.

the (nor)walk of life

I'm paraphrasing, but the basic gist of then Radio Escapades, now CBC Radio 3 podcast host Grant Lawrence was that he was buckled over on all fours, spewing hot vomitous from one end and spraying wet feces from the other. Grant, back in 2002, had contracted the Norwalk virus while out of the country, and it didn't sound like a pleasant affair.

My sister, a few years ago, also had a run-in with the pesky virus, which can be fatal if you get dehydrated. I'm not saying that what I had last night was Norwalk, it may well have been food poisoning or a stomach bug, but in any case, it was one of the worst nights of my life.

Aden was a trooper through all of it, and whatever affected me only seemed to get to her in a very mild dose. I don't think my stomach felt right for the previous two days, but it was climbing into bed last night, finally calming down, that I noticed it. There was a sharp pain at the front of my belly but without any cramping, certainly nothing like the sensation of diarrhea. The pain felt more like that when I drink a potent orange juice and the acidity doesn't sit right... but this was even more confined and direct.

I felt fatigued, and tried falling asleep around 10:30, but I was having difficulty getting comfortable. After an hour I decided that whatever demons were living in my stomach needed to be released, and it didn't take much provocation to get them out. I felt a little better but not much. I felt very very cold, and there was an awkward stiffness crawling up my spine. I managed to sleep for half an hour before I woke up, realized what was happening, and hit the toilet expunging everything I thought I had in me. I drank two big glasses of water, trying to keep my throat from getting acid burned and hopefully to settle my stomach. I crawled back into bed. Aden was pretty concerned, and I couldn't do much but apologize. I was shaking uncontrollably, my back a wreck of pain, my legs fatigued to the point of pain. I laid down but every position was uncomfortable. My bowels screamed.

I went back to the toilet and evacuated, but in the process my stomach churned and I had but one option to bound towards the sink as a high-pressure spray of the water I drank earlier completely left my system. My nose ran, tears streamed down my face, and I could barely stand I was shaking so much. I drank some more water, another couple of huge glasses. They didn't sit right but I knew they needed to be in there. I told Aden I needed to take a hot shower, hoping to cease the shivering. After twenty minutes the shivering stopped, but I needed to bolt from the shower and regurgitate the water I drank.

I toweled off, drank more water, bundled up and went downstairs to put the kettle on, hoping that the normally stomach soothing mint and ginger tea would help. I stood in front of the fireplace, keeping warm in the drafty apartment, sipping my tea, and drinking another glass of water. I grabbed a blanket and sat down on the couch, hoping that if I slept sitting upright I could actually rest.

About 4am Aden came searching for me, returning with a comforter. She asked if maybe I could come back to bed, I said as long as I could sit up then there shouldn't be a problem. I went back to bed, but again, my exceedingly sore back and exhausted legs weren't allowing comfort nor rest. And then my bowels screamed again. Repeat of the previous situation. All was lost, I felt defeated. I didn't drink nearly as much water, and Aden and I switched locations in the bed. The clock said 6:40.

The alarm went off at 7:27, I had slept the entire time. My body was underneath an array of coverings: a bath robe, a towel, two comfortors, a couple quilted blankets, a pillow, a bedsheet... all covering me in different locations. Aden got up to leave for work, the skylight coated with last night's heavy snowfall kept the sun out. I tried to go back to sleep, the radio alarm still going, half conscious, half asleep. At 9am I called into work, hoping that they wouldn't think that I was just being lazy about walking into work after such a heavy snowfall and on another bitterly cold day.

My back and legs still a mess, I drew a bath with epsom salts, and noticed, before I climbed in, that I was at least able to keep some water down. The bath helped relax my pain, although, not completely. I drank glass after glass of water, occasionally tossing some Gatorade mix in to boost the electrolytes and assist in rehydrating. It was about 3:30 when I realized I could tempt fate and actually eat something... dry cereal my food of choice.

I was on the couch in and out of consciousness all day, taking a half hour to check in with work and handle some of the emergencies to the best of my concentration, but rest, and lots of it were really what I needed. I feel insanely groggy still, and sore in places, but I'm not doing too badly. I might be able to make it into work tomorrow, but we'll have to see how my energy levels are doing.

Definitely not something I wish to repeat though.

Bloody sodding 'ell

Sick again!
AGAIN!
This is, what? the fourth time since I got back from London... four colds in six weeks. Crap. What is wrong with my immune system? I was freaky stressed all to hell last week, so I know that much of me was compromised from that (in a bizarre waking dream I thought I had chipped a tooth from the grinding/gnashing of teeth... it's happened before).

So I'm on the recovery belt again, complete with some Cold & Sinus pills, vapor rub, lots of vitamin C (I havn't stopped popping them for six weeks), and a Lemon+Chamomile tea. Hopefully this doesn't stay very long, cause I want to be healthy for my big do little-to-nothing weekend (irony).

Like an old man

This Eurofever that clasped hold of me in London has been hard to shake. None of my usual routine things, such as plenty of liquids and megahot baths has yet warded off the peskiness that it is. The bug has gestated over the past week, transforming from it's sore throat/ears to a general goodgey malaise to its weekend iteration which saw me in coughing fits as I lay down to sleep and hacking up of the gross stuff in the morning.

I took Friday off work (well did a stint of work-at-home) after my morning coughing fit managed to strain a muscle in my side (around my rib) making movement difficult, coughing, laughing or sneezing painful. I polished off Scrubs season 4 (review soon) while also getting some reading done

> BOOK REPORT INTERRUPTION <
Book: QI:The Book Of General Ignorance
Purchased: November 12, 2006
Cost: £9
Pages: 304
Start reading date: November 19, 2006
Finished reading: November 23, 2006
Total days taken to read the book: 5
Average reading speed: 61 pages/day

The QI: Book Of General Ignorance is a book of trivial facts which most people get wrong. Well, it's not always what most people get wrong, but rather more nitpicky answers to things people usually think are right (tallest mountain in the world vs. highest mountain depends on measuring from seabed to peak or base of mountain to peak) as well as a lot of interesting things (like Robin Hood's tights were originally red) which allowed me to play Cliff Claven annoy Aden for a few days in a row. A fun read from John Lloyd and his "Interesting Questions" team (they have a game show called IQ in the UK as well), with a British slant naturally but there was a surprising number of Canadian and Australian tidbits amongst the UK and US chunks as well.

>END OF LINE<

Saturday I kept my keester on the couch from roughly 8:30 am to 9:30 pm, erecting myself only to get more tea or food, warm up my hot pad, or got for a pee. In that time I managed to plow my way through Season 2 of Lost, which I will review later, but have to say is in the top three of most addictive hour-long shows ever (Battlestar Galactica and Buffy: The Vampire Slayer are the other two... I'm sure 24 comes in right after, but I've never watched it, so I can't really say). I need to catch up on Season 3, desperately.

Yesterday, after my morning hackfest, I made my way uptown to join Aden and her family for a big double birthday celebration for her grandfather and grandmother (84 and 83 respectively). I was in miserable condition, but had a great time nonetheless (the healthy slab of roast beast certainly helped as did the just-like-grandma-makes slice of apple pie, yum!). Last night I had my worst coughing fit yet, and it took a good 20 - 25 minutes to calm down from it. Slept like a log though. Sore throat this morning and that generally goodgey feeling all around, but I've actually been okay since sitting down at work.

I need to ask Joan more about that chocolate thing cause it didn't work for me...

Eurofever

Back from London after the 12-day/12-night stint, and guess what? I've got Eurofever.
No, it doesn't mean I've fallen madly and obsessively in love with Europe or the British countryside (or cityscape), but rather I'm sick and I'm not happy.

When mi hombre GAK returned from his multi-month Eurotrip, he too returned with the Eurofever, although his took a pretty nasty turn of caughing and snarfling and a general sense of malaise (well, not really, he was still a pretty active little bugger for a guy who was pretty damn sick and requiring of the anti-biodes).

My Eurofever hopefully won't result in needing of the little pink pills but, as of now, my throat is sore and my ears hurt. I'm not hacking or sniffling (well, not sniffling due to anything other than weather), but I am uncomfortable in my own head right now and that's not cool by me.

Lumpy part deux

part 1

Went for an ultrasound to get the ganglicistumor thing on the back of my hand sonically scoped out. I did a little pre-ultrasound last night and ran the record player needle over it, but I got no results save some noises that'd make Aphex Twin cringe.

The ultrasound guy was heavyset fellow with a thick Packistani accent. "Where does..." he said, not finishing his first thought, "what does hurt?"
I held up my hand, pointy to the lumpy bit that rests between my index finger tendon and a protruding, greenish vein.
"Ah kay. No. Follow me then." He was going to ask me to strip down and put on a gown, but thought the better of it.

He pointed me to the examination table, and moved the paper wrap to give me a "fresh" place to sit. He had me show him again where the problem was, and I held out my hand.
"This?" he said, playing with it.
"Uh huh."
"Ahmmm." He continued playing with it for a few seconds, before pressing a few buttons on his console, shutting down the lights and lubing up his scanner.

He ran the scanner across the back of my hand for about 15 minutes, not really sure what he was looking for. He said he couldn't distinguish between the lump and a vein, but he kept at it, before stopping and printing off a roll of sonogram pictures.

He pointed some things out to me but said, "There's no blood vessels to it, so it's not a tumor. Probably cist. But, this, this didn't show anything much."

Weee. Tax dollars at work. I'm off to a hand specialist next.

Lumpy

Went to the clinic today to have a lump on the back of my hand checked out. I first noticed said lump on Thursday while chatting with some coworkers. I wasn't in the midst of saying "I know xxx like the back of my han... hey! what's that" (but it'd be funny if I did) but my friend was in mid-speech when I said "What the hell is that!" She stopped cold and said, "what's wrong" and I showed her the back of my hand and said "Look". Along the tendon from my left index finger (but not directly on) there's a cylindrical mass that doesn't hurt, is kind of soft and moves around somewhat loosely (I was playing with it, showing my coworker, which caused her to completely girlify and say "Ew, stop it"). It acutally looks like the oft-bulging veins, only it's not that greeny colour that my veins have.

I thought at first that it might be a herniated tendon from the underside of my hand, but really I don't even know if that's possible or what it means. I showed another coworker and she asked me if I banged my hand recently. I couldn't remember and, besides, this wasn't bruised. I decided to let it be for a few days (over the camping weekend) and wait and see if it was still there on Tuesday.

And seeing as today is Tuesday, and it's still there, no larger, no smaller, I went into my local clinic to have it looked at.
"Huh," said my doctor.
I laughed.
"Does it hurt?"
"Nope."
"Huh," he said again...
"Might be a ganglion...huh. (Pause) Maybe it's a cist..."
He started playing with my index finger.
"Well, it's not attached to the tendon... and it's cylindrical... ganglions are usually round...and on your wrist. (Pause) Huh."
I kept laughing. He sounded so puzzled.
"It's not like a tumor or anything. Are you worried about it?"
"Not really, it hasn't morphed into anything nasty in the past few days, nor has it gone down at all, so I just figured I'd get it checked out."
"Huh," he said, poking at it again. "Well, let's send you to the hand specialist. Oh, and let's do an ultrasound."

Perhaps overkill, but I rarely get to entertain the Ontario medical system (not like I don't have friends and family who more than compensate), so I'm looking forward to resolving the "M dorsum L hand (?ganglion)" mystery.

dooley

Sometimes my calves get so tight and/or fatigued that I quite literally feel ill to my stomach. Often it gets so bad I can't sleep well and no amount of stretching really helps. Could it be a buildup of lactic acid poisoning my system, or is it just some psychosomatic trigger? I often have dreams where I'm running, but my legs are so tired that I actually run in slow motion, more like I'm M.Piedlourde or my shoes are made of gooey tar. These dreams usually involve me trying to run away from something. Last time I had a dream like that I was performing parkour throughout the Montreal Forum, trying to escape Shawn and Marlon Wayans who had been given the task of killing me. I managed to outsmart them (naturally) but in my flight it took me forever to run around the block. It was a fun - but very weird - dream.

Odour Adore

A friend turned-recent bohemian (well, he's still a friend despite his bohemian-ness) has taken to letting his manstink loose in public, and the women seem to be swarming him like blackflies to a bull moose's behind (!?). I noted this to a ladyfriend today, mentioning how the mansmell wasn't exactly the most enjoyable of scents I've experienced, but she said, "Well, that's because you're not a girl."

So my question is, ladies who read my blog, do you find manstink attractive. We're talking dewy warm-day man-sweat as opposed to stale, rank, cabbie odour. Is this something you're drawn to? Or is it at least something that creates a lasting impression (and has there been good or bad impressions?).

Perhaps, like pheromones are used by the female body to attract males, maybe man-musk is the same. And perhaps I can't tell it as anything other than stink is because it's an opposing scent and on primal level it's threatening to overpower my odour and thus my chances of coupling.... Thoughts one and all?

We spend so much time trying to contain, mask or eliminate body odour, but could it be that it is actually what nature intended us to use in our forages through the human sea in search of coupledom?

Hillbilly Jesus

Let's talk moustaches, specifically my moustache.
Ach, a picture's worth a thousand words...

adage

You know that saying "I know [whatever] like the back of my hand", well, I just noticed scars over both the index and middle knuckle on my left hand. I don't know how they got there, but they've probably been there a while.

Physiquealupdate

On the ride home on Tuesday I noticed that my bike wasn't perhaps as healthy as I'd led myself to believe. With the strong headwind, I needed to upshift, only to find that I couldn't, since it sounded like something winging my spokes if I did. I looked down to notice my derailleur poking into the rear wheel, closer and closer to the spokes the higher I shifted. Um. Oh shit. Well, i thought it would be an easy fix, so I took it to the bike shop and they informed me that, unlike most new bikes, the derailleur was mounted to a bit that was mounted to the frame... non replaceable (not with ease anyway). He said "I can try to bend it back, but it's like a pop can tab, and the more times you bend it back and forth it's eventually going to break off". I told him to give it the ol' College try.
Ten minutes later, he came back. Prognosis was good... all fixed. I paid my $5.75 and was out the door.

Wednesday, I was excessively sore, mostly on the thighs and upper gluts. The soreness only really apeared when I got up from a sitting position or walked up or down stairs. But it didn't hurt at all biking (again, a strong tail wind to work, a heedy headwind going home)... I did a lot of stretching before I took off for run number two, and even still it was like fire.... it took about five minutes to settle into the pace, but when it was all over 25 minutes larter I was barely noticing any soreness. 20 minutes of stretching segued into a hot epson salt bath, and today I'm feeling barely any discomfort.

My thighs are a bit sore, but everything else just feels powerful. This must be what getting into shape feels like.

Oh sNap

Napping is one of the weirder cravings of the human body, and just one of many arts I havn't mastered. Whenever I have a nap I wind up sleeping for too long, waking up groggy, a little sick to my stomach, and quite hardly refreshed. "They" say that 20 minutes is about the longest one should nap for, as it allows your body just enough time to recharge without going into dormancy... or something like that. Proper napping techniques correlate to increased alertness, accuracy, and productivity... and man I could use all three.

One of the genius things I've discovered is my alarm clock has a napping feature. One push of the button and I got me a 20 minute cowntdown to get it done. I'm still yawning though.

Strange encounter

A weird beard side effect, I suppose, is you get people who think you're, well, "into stuff" asking you for said "stuff". Why just this morning a rather bewildered middle-aged gentleman with an accent which I can only describe as "Eastern block" asked me: "Could you help me out with some deadly science?" He made a toking motion and I wasn't sure I heard him right and said "I'm sorry, I don't understand" and took out both earbuds. "Deadly science" he said, holding the "sssss" at the end of the word this time, once again making the toke motion. "Ah, no. Sorry" "Is alright" he said, beginning to look lost again.

Deadly science, huh?

The beard post

The beard is officially 5 weeks old today... here are random thoughts on beards, beard growing, and my beard:

* Whenever I grow a beard I think of that Hitchcockian Kids in the Hall sketch where a guy catches a fish and grows a beard only to have the beard take over his life. In the end he throws himself off a balcony and when his shattered body is revealed, the beard is gone!

* Yes, my beard feels like a symbiotic life form and not an actual part of me

* Beards only itch as they start to grow in... the first four or five days

* My beard acts as a wind barrier, and I like the feel of the wind as it blows across it

* I'm sure kissing with a guy with a beard feels weird, but it also feels weird for me

* I think about shaving it every day

* For the past week or so I've been overheating under the beard, and wishing I could take it off sometimes. I notice it even moreso if I've been drinking

* I've yet to get food stuck in it, but the moment I do it comes off

* I think I'm special because I have a beard. I'm not exactly sure how special, but it's a total novelty and I love referring to the beard as if it were another being ("the beard and I will be at that party")

* I'm oddly proud of it...

* Stroking the beard is now a nervous twitch

* I'm almost so used to it that looking at pictures of me without it look odd

* initial reaction was along the lines of "Havn't shaved in a while?", but now most people say "I like the beard, it looks good on you"

* I like the grey hairs that are on either side of my chin... I wish I had more there (just like on my temples)

* I'm in maintenance mode with the damn thing now, which means daily clipping of the wild and scraggly parts. I need to decide if I'm keeping it or if it's coming off (I've been telling people for the past three weeks "next Friday") and if I'm keeping it I need to invest in some "tools" to groom.

* One of the fun parts of having a beard is shaving it off into various facial constructs. Dave Gorman talks about this in his Googlewhack Adventure book, and how he drew little diagrams to maximize the number of formations he could make... I've never made diagrams, but one time I grew a beard and each day for 5 days trimmed a piece of it to obtain a different look.

* Sometimes I feel like a different person

* At Rooms birthday party I think I insulted a friend's date by saying (jokingly) "Y'see, I grew the beard to subliminally tell all the ladies out there that I'm a verile manly man, full of testosterone. Dark, rugged and mysterious. 'Who's the man behind the beard,' they ask." Anyway, turns out he can only get splotches of a beard and he seemed almost wounded by my comment. But then he had the cute girl on his arm and I was goin' solo that evening, so he wins regardless.

* I have one friend at work who keeps vowing to shave me in my sleep. I tell her that's hot, but she just wants the beard gone. I think having a woman shave a man can be very sensual and seductive. Having a lady go at your face with a razor requires a lot of trust and intimacy... some day my ladyshave will come.

* When I think of beards I always think of the beard growing contest episode of Cheers. One of the best episodes ever ("Aah. Wolfman!") I think Rebecca offers to shave Sam, seductively, which is probably where the above fetish stems from for me, since I had the hots for Kirsty Alley back then

* Being "in beard" feels like being incognito... kind of like being a different person. It's like clothes for your face, it can change your attitude.

* I understand why some girls with really long hair just keep it growing... it's part fear ("what if I don't like it shorter") and part competitive ("let's see how long I can grow it") and part curiousity ("what will it look like tomorrow")... I feel the same way about my beard

* you don't realize how many people have beards until you start noticing who else has one as well, and naturally comparing yours to theirs.

* while the rest of me may be devoid of ego, I think my beard has a huge fucking ego...

* I have to use conditioner on my face when I shower now

* the underside of my jaw is now at birdsnest/wool consistency

* comparisons so far have been: GI Joe (and not just myself), Jim Caviezel ("Jesus, but more the Count of Monte Cristo"), Jason Lee (circa Chasing Amy), George Clooney (circa Siryana), and Sam Roberts

* A large part of the reason I did the photoshoot with Rannie was to photodocument the beard. He did a great job (the image above is extracted from one of his).

I don't care about the hair we share

Three days, three different people (consisting of two different genders and two different sexualities), and three different conversations about body hair, and no conclusions drawn.

We all have body issues, don't deny it. Some of us want to lose a few extra pounds, some of us want to lose a lot of extra pounds. Some of us want to tone up, some want to bulk up, and there's even a few of us who would like to just be heavier. Weight issues, generally, are changeable (I know it's much more difficult for some than others), but there's some things, genetics, which aren't. Facial features, body structure, height, eye colour, hair colour... yeah, you can use cosmetic or clothing to change them but at the end of the day, when the clothes and makeup come off, you are who you are, and seriously, you need to deal with it and accept yourself for who you are.

It's not easy, I know. I've been struggling with body image issues for a long time. I had taken to sauntering around the house in my underwear in grade 8, sort of like my dad would if he just woke up and was planning on going back to bed again. But my sister would tease me because I was a pudgy kid, a bit roly-poly, and it wasn't long, after a few teasings that I started to be embarassed about myself, and became self-conscious about, well, everything. From my glasses, to my haircut, to my changing pubescent body. I've been the same belt size since grade 8, so weight hasn't really been an issue over the past xx years (and I use "xx" not because I'm ashamed of my age, but because my brain is tired and I can't do the math).

In grade 9 a girl was telling me I was attractive, if only I didn't wear glasses. I got contacts before I returned to school in grade 10. I don't remember exactly when I started doing it, but I started plucking my unibrow around then as well, because the cro-magnon thing just isn't cool (I remember an interview with Billy Zane, and he discussed how he plucked too, which made me feel better). And as if I were Jason Bateman in TeenWolf Too, my legs... oh god my legs got the wolfen. They are frickin hairy... and I was/sort of still am embarassed to wear shorts. A friend at work two years ago said "Oh god, Graig, you're beastly!" And it's true, in one of my recent conversations, a friend in the same "situation" said he's been referred to as a satyr, and I laughed, because I have too... although perhaps self-referential.

Yeah, that hairiness below the waist, well, to me at least, it's not attractive. While women have been getting self-concious thanks to the demons of marketing and advertising (I noticed on the streetcar the other day a woman flipping through an Chinese language entertainment tabloid, and the bulk of the beauty ads featured white women in it... just didn't seem right) it's only recently that men have been seriously targeted about body image. And I don't care what they say, every man would ideally like to look better. We may not think about clothes and appearance in the same way that women do, but we are becoming more conscious of it. And body hair is a big part of it.

Did anyone see Alien: Resurrection? Yeah, shit movie considering the talents involved, and the scariest part? Dan Hedaya's tank-top exposed hairy shoulders. Seriously, that early scene in the movie where Nick Tortelli pops up on screen with his greying shoulder hair got the biggest rise out of the theatre. And lest we forget poor (well, not so poor anymore) Steve Carrell actually getting waxed in the 40-Year-Old Virgin... dude almost had his nipple ripped off. Not cool. And then there's Troy... Eric Bana and Brad Pitt playing two hairless Greek men? Yeah right.

I remember when I first realized though I might have an issue with my lower region hairyness, not everyone else did. A first-year university friend was always complimenting me on my attractiveness and occasionally making jestfully lurid comments towards me, and one day walking up the stairs ahead of her she said "you got nice buns".
I laughed uncomfortably. "Um, thanks"
"Are you smooth or hairy." Which yeah, didn't make me any more comfortable.
"Uh, hairy."
"It's all good," she said.
Which was comforting.

A few years later I was watching the Dean "Superman" Cain hosted Ripley's Believe It Or Not and they were doing a piece on this woman who could read peoples fortunes based on their ass. The most difficult part, she said, was reading men, because their bums were so hairy (and then the gypsy giggled like a Japanese schoolgirl). These sort of "hey, I'm not the only one out there" revelations are satisfying, although I still think that the whole body hair is kind of gross. But others, ladies, have disagreed, stating it's rugged, manly. That's kind of a classic 70's view of the male body, much like the heavy woman is a very 17th/18th century view of the female ideal. I mean, who was the hot shit in the 70's? Burt-fucking-Reynolds that's who, and have you seen that Cosmo nude spread he did. The man is an ape... but the ladies loved it, and I think that's probably still their top-selling issue of all time. And then there's Tom Selleck offering up his moustache rides...

But these days, men are waxing themselves to be, as Stephen Colbert said on the Report last night, like an eel from the neck down. Asian men have it lucky, if Japanese wrestling is any judge, as there's not a fleck of hair on their bodies (except that one dude in Calamari Wrestler...) and perhaps I'm just idealizing... some of my readers can set me straight on that if I'm wrong. I'm not sure why the body hair repulses me so, but it does, and it's probably the thing I least like about myself... but at the same time I'm extremely proud of my beard growing skills... trade off I guess. And I refuse to wax or shave, as that's just (in my case, high) maintenance and, really, shaving... man that itches when it starts stubbling back in... (oh, and for the record, if my lady doesn't want to shave her pits or legs, she don't have to, because I sure as shit aint doin' it for her). I'm just going to limit my exposure of such elements of myself to the world. Although, when I was doing the photoshoot with Rannie earlier this week, I was almost proud to be showing off my natural state of shoulder and chest hair (although I'm not that hairy up top, it's just errant).

I think my favourite moment of coming to terms with my body as it is was years ago when David Duchovney, in the peak of his X-Files hotness, was on The Late Late Show with Tom Schnider. They were talking about his transvestite role on Twin Peaks and Tom asks "Did you have to be... shaved" and David said "Yeah, but only halfway down my thighs... so I'd be at the gym and taking a shower and the guys would be like 'who's the man in the fur shorts'".
If sexy Fox Mulder has lower torso hirsuteness, then I'm not in such bad company.

So these days, I'm not furry and proud, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be ashamed of my natural state. Until they build those machines that they had in Andromeda Strain that both decontaminates and defollicizes (I think I made that word up) I'll just let the bulk of it be.

Drawn and quartered

Oh, that wasn't the most brilliant thing I've ever done, but it certainly was worth it.

Y'see, ever since grade school, ever since I saw a picture of that dude atop a horse with both their skins peeled away, I've wanted to see Gunther von Hagens' work. When I found out that the "Body World 2" exhibit was coming to Toronto at the Ontario Science Center, I practically wet myself. When it started on September 30th, well, my life threw itself into a bit of turmoil around that time so I know why I didn't exactly get to it, but then, late last year, my sister and I made a pact to go to it. We were supposed to see it before Christmas but schedules and whatnot didn't work out, and they never really did since.

This weekend was the last weekend for it, so it really was do or die (well, that's a little extreme, do or don't time, I guess). CBC Metro Morning told me it was running 24 hours all weekend, and I was wondering who would bloody well go to the Ontario Science Center at 4:30 am.
Well, me, for one. My sister for two. Her partner for three. And the hundreds of others in the lineup that we saw there this morning (including Sloan's Chris Murphy).

I went on-line yesterday to check out some info about the show only to find that it proclaimed limited tickets were available for midnight to 7:30 am viewings. Upon further exploration we found the only block of tickets open were 3:30, 4:00 and 4:30. Ouch. There was a bit of hemming and hawing about whether any of us would make it up and out that early, but with the alternative of missing the exhibit and feeling like asses as a result, we set the alarms for 3:30 and put in an appearance.

The place was packed, lineups were abundant, and the gross-out factor dissipated by the time you passed the third table display of plastinated organs, bisected, vivisected, sliced and peeled.

An utterly fascinating display. I appreciated the amount of work that must go into all the various exhibits as much as the exhibits themselves. My absolute favourite was the rows of jars containing only arteries, taking the shape of an arm or foot or face, red vessils floating in water. Visually beautiful.

I got tired of the posed bodies after a while, but some of the neater exhibits using full figures were the drawer man (with blocks of his body cut and pulled out, exposing the cross sections), the ringed man (with different depths of cylindrical sections removed from his body) and the cross section comparing an obese person to an average person, emphasizing the strained organs.

I would say go see it, but it's over. Check the Body Worlds site for the next leg of the exhibits. Edumicational and morbidly entertaining.

Traveller's Comfort

My mom came to town this weekend with my sister and her partner, which is always nice because she buys me things. Oh, and she's my mom, that's nice too... :)

She was heading out today to the Tournament of Hearts in London Ontario via Via Rail, and so I was escorting her to Union Station to make sure she found her way all right. Unfortunately, when we got there we were an hour early, and on top of that the train was delayed 40 minutes. So we found a bench and lounged.

Fine, we had some time to kill. But soon the 40 minute delay became an hour delay, and then a 2 hour delay. I enjoyed spending time with her, people watching and watching the pigeons freak out the people we were watching. The funny thing is my mom had an 8 hour delay the week before in Chicago for a transfer flight from Buffalo to Phoenix, and her luggage was lost for two days upon return (and mangled somewhat when returned). She's got the travel jinx.

I left her in a very very long line for boarding. I've not taken the train myself ever, so I had no idea that all those delayed passengers would've stayed there, sitting on the floor, grumbling away. I don't doubt she's getting on the train, just she would have practically been first in line had we went to the boarding queue when we got there.

Meanwhile, I just got a call from the New Zealand travelling GAK who regailed me with elements of his lovely time in the land just North of Down Under. He too was waiting for a late passenger transport at the Christchurch airport. A surprise call but pleasant nonetheless. I still seethe with envy.

the most wonderful time of the year

I love winter because I love women in winter clothing. I love watching ladies roaming with their rosy cheeks and red noses, hair peering out from under toques, mittens and scarves concealing hands and neck. I think women are most beautiful in winter clothing, able to accessorize as much or as little as they like, able to hint at their strengths and hide any of their perceived flaws. Forget summer, where belly shirts and short skirts reveal waaay too much, I like the excessive tease of winter. What's she hiding? Even doffing a hat or pulling off a glove is like an innocent, unsexualized strip tease. Intriguing, encouraging, fascinating. I love the face... back when I used to draw, I would most often just draw faces, and I would study faces. Winter clothing is built to accentuate and display the face. Toques, scarves, turtlenecks, collars, hoods are all there to frame the face, highlight it's unique characters, and the brush of cold across the cheek, rashing it red or bronze and drawing lips brighter makes every face more beautiful. Oh Winter, why must you go?

In case you missed them

Filecloud has all 6 episodes of the great new BritCom the IT Crowd available for free download (not torrents either)

Beardo

Yes, I have me a beard.
Yes, I do look like GI Joe.
No, I'm not going to shave it because you don't like it.
I'm in fact going to get it professionally shaved off in a week or so.
I can't say I grew it for that exclusive purpose, although a professional straightrazor shave was one of the reasons I did grow it out (if you're going to get it done, might as well go all out).
I also grew it because I wanted to see what I look like with a beard. The answer? Old school GI Joe.
Here's what I learned though:
Men - other guys like the beard and are impressed with it and conversation almost always segues into shaving it into different facial hair formations (the fu-manchu or handlebar 'stache is most often mentioned)
Ladies - they don't like it. They say beards are scratchy. They're telling me, I itch like I gots fleas.
The other thing about beards is if you're not going to keep it kempt, then you need to dress nicer and cleaner, t-shirts just make you look like a grubby basement dweller... hey, who you callin' grubby?

(Separated at birth?)

more beard pics:::

The Poopsmith

After yesterday's storm (started with thunder and lightning, then freezing rain, hail, snow, sleet, blizzard, whiteouts etc etc and sunshine late in the afternoon), it took only two hours this morning to clear off my sister's driveway. Okay, 4/5 of the drive were cleared in about half an hour, it was the foot of the drive (where the city plow had left a two foot bank of dense, heavy, ice-filled snow) that took forever. Quite the workout though. And wouldn't you know it, just as I finish... it bloody fookin started snowing again.

I don't actually recall the last time I've had to shovel a driveway, having not lived anywhere with a driveway since 2001, and methinks I'm glad.

Waits and Measures

I don't have a scale at home, so I rarely know my exact weight. I always just assume I'm floating around the buck-sixty mark, and I usually am. That's been my stable weight for just over four years. Before that, since, oh, the late 80's, I'd been hovering around the 150 lbs. point. It was all the routine biking that I did in Toronto that packed on the additional ten, five per leg.

When I got to Barrie last week, I checked myself out on the bathroom scale, and as I expected I was 161 lbs. Since then I've noticed a slow but steady increase over the past week to today's 165.5 lbs., which is a new high for me. Is it all the bad food I've been eating (and I've been bored so I've eaten a lot) or is it all the exercise I've been doing (long walks with the dog, situps on the inversion table, chinups on the basement I-beam, the 30 minute jogs, and the 2 hour shovel)? A combo of both.

I know once I return to Toronto and my usual diet of late breakfast, small lunch, and lazy supper, not to forget my routine 10-6 intertness, I'll be back to my normal weight in no time.

What's Up Fatlip

Rule #1: We do not talk about Fight Club
or
The hazards of dog wrestling
or
Next on Montel: "My pet beats me"

damnest brighton

The IT Crowd viewing has now been restricted to UK users only. But Lying In The Gutters has the direct download link to Episode 4. Intuitively, here's the direct link to episode 3

Aims of the sicky-head

Felt it coming on Monday (probably as a result of my non-food eating/3-hour journey through gribblies-central Ikea on Sunday) and tried to stave it off with the echinacia and vitamins and copious amounts of tea and water, alas, the bug got me and I took yesterday away. The day was spent chilling out, drinking pots of tea, watching The Flash and Calimari Wrestler on DVD (reviews to come), monitoring the work I was missing for emergency situations, and playing some City of Heroes. I always feel guilty for taking sick days, but today I feel better for it, although I'm still drinking way too much and peeing all the time.

I also got a massive case of the munchies last night, and spent the majority of the hour between 11pm and 12am munching down on cheese (mmm chevre) and crackers. Odd that.

Ellis don

Warren Ellis is a grumpy old man in training, a cantankerous old fart waiting in the wings. He's also one of the comic mediums best and most prominent writers, and he's obtained and maintained a huge on-line following through is various web efforts like the old "Warren Ellis Forum" and the current The Engine. He's also got a plus-sized mailing list of tens of thousands where he writes nuggets of surl like this:

Doesn't Stephen Harper look like the kind of actor a US or US-but- produced-in-Canada TV show uses as the bad guy when they can't afford a British actor?

(Which, when David Warner is still working, is kind of unimaginable. But still.)

You know the kind of guy. Grey hair, so white you can practically see through his skin into his circulatory system, with the kind of unblinking half-glower that let's you know that no matter what he's talking about, he's actually thinking about shoving pregnant lesbians tits-first into a woodchipper. He's the white guy in the suit whose last job was sitting behind a big desk condemning Tia Carrere to death in an episode of RELIC HUNTER.

Paul Martin should never have let on that he was desperate. And now he's in the bin and you're ruled by the guy who plays Creepy Vice-President in Sci-Fi Channel shows.

He's crotchity, but I still like him. Go buy his books. "Nextwave" and "Blackgas" both debut on stands today. The first issue of "Book3: Ultimate Extinction" came out last week (both Book1: Ultimate Nightmare, and Book2: Ultimate Secret are out in trade). "Fell" and "Desolation Jones" come out often enough and his Apparat Singles Collection came out two weeks ago. His infamous "Transmetropolitan" is still available in 10 handy collected editions.

blog tv

The loverly Freakgirl has entered into the realm of multimedia anti-star, as a snippet of her blog was turned into a, erm, blipvert (to steal from Max Headroom and for lack of a better term) on CBC's Zed TV (enter in "freakgirl" in the search string, click on "watch" and violin! there you are).

Congrats!

dateup

The basement is still a mess, no word on when the drywall people are coming in. Colour me frustrated.

serenity

This morning as I was walking into work I saw two pigeons standing on a manhole cover drinking from the shallow pool of water it held, their heads slightly touching. It was very cute.

silly things to do

by me - 25.01.06

find a pen, stick it in your ear, but not too far. Just far enough that it stays in.
Find another pen... well, what do you know, you have another ear. Two more pens will fit nicely up each nostril too. Now take great care not to trip or fall onto anything or else you'll wind up hurting yourself. For the coup de gras, shower yourself with eraser shavings (you may have to make your own eraser shavings, and it's simple... find an eraser, and start erasing until the eraser is all gone or else your fingers are cramped and bleeding). Science is fun.

..of that sort

I've got the achey head today.
Worse than yesterday.
I've been drinking tea virtually non-stop since 10am.
Don't ask me how the two correlate (I'm hoping to flush whatever bug it is out of my system).
Took a the jaunt to the comic-book store at lunch (I bought "Jet Pack Pets"... how could I resist?)
Had a 45 minute massage in the afternoon.
Aaaah.
The massage didn't help my concentration levels any, but it certainly eased much of the tension and pressure in my head.

SILLY THINGS TO DO

Pick a day and spend that entire day talking and responding to people in only lines from Star Trek 4. (eg: "They are not the hell "your" whales"; "Double dumb-ass on you"; "Keyboard. Kow quaint.")
(You may wish to pick another day and spend it watching Star Trek 4 repeatedly, which is equally silly).

Falling Through My Clothes

"The Life Of The Party"

The problem with drinking is you can never be sure that your actions were percieved under the whimsey and amusement they were intended as opposed to just disorderly or annoying.

When I came into work yesterday and someone giggled at me I had to question whether I needed to be embarassed. She responded that if I should be embarassed then she should be too. We decided it better to not be embarassed.

"A Revelation"

Yes, I liked the dancing. My out of shape thighs and calves are not so appreciative. But apparently others were. I seem to recall being loomed over by a co-workers statuesque wife on the dance floor and a demand put upon me to dance with her.

"You dance well," she says, "dance with me." I was reminded of the land of giant women on Futurama who force Fry and pals into "Snoo-snoo" with them.
She grabs my hand and she says "Put your hand on my hip" and then grabs my other hand and puts it on her waist and look nervously at her husband who is gleefully sipping his beverage. I twirl her around a few times before she stops following my lead and we trip over one another. She says matter-of-factly, "you're not very good at this". Thankfully I was rescued by a friend who is equally (actually moreso) sillier than I am and we spun around the floor giggling like mad jackals.

I'm a rather... unusual... dancer in that I have rhythm, but I kind of follow my own internal beat meter. Most women can't really synch with my rhythm (many have tried), so dancing with someone makes for interesting times. Plus when you're trying to lead someone in a dance who doesn't want to be lead, it makes the whole thing that much more difficult.

"Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours"

And yes, I uttered that cheesy refrain to one of my dance partners at the end of the evening after it was just boomed from the speakers. I did it with a smile on my face, and I seem to recall kissing a hand and doing an olde fashioned bow/curtsy, but I think I just did that in my head... probably Pride and Prejudice seeping back into my brain and mixing with my memories. I get hokey like that when I've been drinking. I make sweet and kind gestures to men and women alike, I think to counterbalance to abundance of tomfoolery and lookatmeishness that my uninhibited brain deems socially acceptable.

"Mums the word"

And for some reason I keep getting information doled out to me which I'm typically the next day told to "keep it under your hat". I recall making the "locking the lips and throwing away the key" mime motion at least three times during the evening. I guess I have a kind face:

Zorak: You have a kind face.

Ben Stiller: Thank you.

Space Ghost: The kind you would like to do what to, Zorak?

Zorak: The kind I'd like to chew off and spit on and spit up and stomp on...

Ben Stiller: You know what...

Zorak: I'm not finished yet. And slap. And push. And kick. And... push. And... kick.

"And this morning I woke with everything else (save my mind) just as sore as my legs."

Yes, I hurt Sunday morning. Well, not in the morning. I was still drunk when I woke up in the morninig. I was hungover in the afternoon, but my day was still productive, assembling a crapload of Ikea furniture and moving things all about the apartment Sunday night, vacuuming and cleaning. Monday evening I pressed on and got everything arranged to the point where I was like "hot damn, this's lookin' good".

But all that pushing (seven days of non-stop busyness last week) has taken its toll, wearing down my immune system and allowing in a strange little bug that has my throat all a tingle, my brain rather fuzzy, and me sleepy and sore all over.

Hopefully the light duty of cleaning the kitchen and cutting up the empty Ikea boxes will be quick and I can chill out and relax with Arrested Development season 2, or maybe Aqua Teen Hunger Force vol 4, or Ripping Yarns, or Space: Above and Beyond or any number of backlogged TV on DVD viewings I have.

Or perhaps I'll just sleep.

SILLY THINGS TO DO

Invite some friends over. Fill up an empty 2 litre pop bottles with water for each person in attendance. Sit around the table. Ante up. Start drinking from the bottles of water. Whomever drinks the two litres of water the fastest wins the pot (don't drink too fast or you'll drown yourself, silly). Second round, ante up. Whomever lasts the longest before they have to go pee wins the pot. Bonus round. If the winner's does irreperable damage to his bladder and other organs, the losers will buy him a meatball submarine sandwich.

p.s.

Michelle Yeoh on the Daily Show, tonight!
Awlllllright!

The Art of Snow Walking

Winter changes everything in the big city, including how one travels. I notice most drivers don't really seem to change their habits at all (hence the massive number of traffic accidents reported on first snowfall), but pedestrians fare a little better. It's almost innate how differently we walk when all of a sudden it's cold and we see the snow on the ground. Two days later some sore muscles in my ass and the back of my legs are proof that normal stride is abandoned in favour of something that will keep you upright as you move on down the road.

Winter walking is a much different task then other seasonal walking. There are many factors we must process when we're hoofin' it down the sidewalk:

-what's on our feet? Boots or shoes? What are the treads like? Have we had slipping issues with these before? Have we road tested these things in previous winters?

Today I'm wearing a pair of Caterpillar shoes which have these strange treds which look like they should be rugged and meant for all terrain but get really dangerous on slick surfaces, such as movie theatre floors. So on rainy days I take a little more care, and these days, when I come across a cleared section of sidewalk, I take much more care. In fact, in winter I walk with a much shorter but hurried stride, doing a little pivoting step each time to wear my foot into the ground and ensure that the tread will take to the surface. One of the other things I do is constantly prepare myself for a slip and fall, extending a hand towards something solid to grab onto should my stability come into question. And mentally preparing yourself while your walking, especially when approaching 90-degree turns or steep inclines, is always useful. Being prepared can save you a sore tailbone, a dislocated shoulder, or a fractured skull.

-what's the sidewalk look like? Is it cleared or fresh snow or well compressed? If it's fresh snow, is it heavy or light? If it's cleared, does it look salted or roughed up, or kind of smooth or glossy?

Well compressed snow on a sidewalk is actually tonnes better than a clear sidewalk. A clear sidewalk is much more prone to forming ice slicks, since the tiny remains of snow are exposed to more sunshine and have a greater likelihood of melting and refreezing, especially with salting, forming a (sometimes invisible) slick. And when fresh, loose snow has fallen, it's often deceptive and when walking is at its most dangerous, as it conceals ice but provides no additional traction. Of course, a heavy accumulation of snow will affect how you walk as you'll need to lift your knees up like your drill seargent told ya to in order to make your way through it.

Of course there are other things to take into account, such as distractions (like talking on a cel phone or a beautiful person walking past) or low visibility (evenings or heavy, windy snowfalls with snowflakes stabbing your eyeballs), but if you stay aware of your surroundings, and even more, your footing, you'll have a safe and enjoyable season trudging through your winter wonderland.

Awoo

There's something incredibly beautiful about photographs of dancers in motion. It's something even more interesting when juxtaposed with the comparatively stillness of a rock band behind them.
Yes, Frank has pictures of the Hidden Cameras/Toronto Dance Theatre show and it's lovely stuff.

SILLY THINGS TO DO

by me - 25.11.05

Enter the dragon. When you've had enough of the dragon, exit the dragon. Don't forget to tip your waiter.

mrmbarfle

I'm not really the queasy sort regularly, but, wow, this episode of TLC's Amazing Medical Stories is making be nauseous.

The bit about the guy with the flesh-eating bacteria (they had to cut away the infected skin, making him into a living BodyWorld exhibit), the baby with four legs, the woman who had half her scalp torn away.. all fine, no problem. Gross yes, but not wretch inducing.

But the dude who fell into the cement mixer and had his limbs torn away... ach! They kept showing various body parts that they had retreived and, in one instance, a foot that they had stuck in the fridge in case they could use it for spare parts (and they did, replacing a brutalized thumb with a toe). It was like Saw posters but real. Really gross, that is.

Not exactly the best dinner-eating fare.

Debut

The Daily Show spin-off "the Colbert Report" aired for the first time in Canada last night, and host Stephen Colbert didn't spare us his opinions of Candiana, not one bit.
It's a show still finding its footings, sitting somewhere in-between the Daily Show and Rick Mercer's Report in terms of quality. Colbert has made a nice satire of CNN/MSNBC/Fox News style blowhard shows, and he's got the egotistical attitude down pat (the fact that he walks to his guest instead of vice versa in order to steal the thunder is a hilarious touch).
It could get tired, but then, it might also get better. As it stands, they have a nice formula that works for the show, Colbert just needs to get a little more comfortable in the hosts seat.

let's get physical

Went to the clinic to get a physical, my first ever. All things considered, painless. Helps to go to a doctor you trust, so it's not an issue when he checks your testes for the bad stuff.
"Thankfully," he said, "you're still young enough not to need a prostate exam."
"Someday," I replied wistfully.
Cardiogram, blood test, urine sample, resperatory check, weigh in (161, holding steady for about two years now, I've put ten pounds on since moving to Toronto, mostly muscle in my legs from stairs, walking and biking)... it was all over in a blur, and I really don't get what people's hang-ups are about the whole process.

SILLY THINGS TO DO

by me - 08.11.2005

Pick a coworker to stalk all day. Don't be obvious, just check in on them regularly from afar and make notes. Occasionally hover over their computer and assess what they're working on. Appropriate their desk kitsch for your own. Give them a call and hang up. If they catch on to your sneaky spying and confront you, respond in nonsense like "Roasted butterfly jube-jube" or "enter sophomore blinder clammy". End your workday by buying them a drink, and taking their photo for your scrapbook.

Bum Stomach

Everyone loves a good poo story (hey we've all been there), I've tried to keep it as sanitary as possible:
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In a fit of rage my stomach has decided to give up trying to make proper disposal units for after-processed foodstuffs, instead it's just generating the gurgly mess spew that is the opposite of solid waste matter. What this remarkably disgusting and mildly elusive thing meant to say is: My stomach/bladder/bowels screamed in agony, so I went home.

Y'know when you're not feeling your Ohs with Cheerios and you have to take the transit home, it's pretty stressful and kind of fever inducing. Or maybe it was just hot out. BUt I just missed the dundas streetcar and I was eyeing up the Tim Hortons across the street as an emergency rescue if need be. Fuck it, I said, and I hopped on the spadina car north, ignoring someone I know because really, making awkward chit chat was about the last thing on my mind. My complete and utter concentrati