Category: Al K. Hall

Power shop

patriciaandallegra2007.jpg

Pic is of me and Patricia at the party. Hey nautilus3, recognize that jacket??? (honk, tweet, snicker).
So, between 12 and 2 today, I:

Booked the car and ran downstairs and threw a bag of to-be-recycled clothing in it; drove to Planet Bachelor (having phoned and ascertained that Paul wasn’t there and Keith was) and hung with Keith for about 20 minutes, also unloading two books of Paul’s that ended up over here, taking back Katie’s bag and cleaned clothes and Harry Potter VI and VII AND her volume 2 Strangers in Paradise and a couple of free movie tix for Keith AND Paul’s mickey of Ron Superior which I picked up for him in Santo Domingo; then went over to Highgate to the Liquor Store and picked up Saint Ambroise Apricot (I had no idea it was still available), Stella Artois and Lion Winter; dropped off the clothes at the Value Village on Edmonds and picked up a 20% off coupon; went into the store and picked out 4 dresses and bought 3 (all very frou frou, and one is Allegra brand, so that was a giggle – I had wanted to buy it in Costco 4 years ago and here it was for 6 bucks….), then drove like the hammers for the Bay where I ran up the escalator, located a coffee maker to replace the one I broke (set it on a stove burner and turned the wrong burner dial on, quelle morone), paid for it (and some unscented laundry detergent as an impulse buy at the checkout) and drove home.  I really don’t think all that in two hours is too shabby.

Last night’s party continues to resonate.  They said “eat first” but there were boatloads of food, all really nice substantial appies.  Katie K and I wandered around the Georgia O’Keefe exhibit – the party was at the Vancouver Art Gallery.  She was a remarkable artist, and a remarkable woman, and I think I’m going to look around for a decent bio of her.  I think of all the stuff I saw last night that it was her cityscapes which I found most compelling. I have been trying to think of a word for her style, but I’ll have to use two words instead of one:  recklessly beautiful.

Snide note.  That fecking DJ couldn’t sync a beat worth beans.

The weather today is simply glorious.  I was thinking of continuing cleaning, but I think I’ll go for a walk instead.

Tonight, orchestral music at the Orpheum.  Katie K keeps exposing me to Kultur, and I trot meekly behind, trying like hell to look intelligent or keep up.  Here she is at the party looking glamourous.
glamourgirl.jpg

Great party

Katie K and I had a lovely time at the party, and while we were not technically the last revellers out the door, we did just about close it.  Thanks to the company providing taxi chits (!!??) we got home in decent time, too; I cleared the door at 12:21 this morning.  I danced in high heels and now feel much as expected.
Last night I dreamed that I was a human motorboat, and I could zoom around these amazing crumbling islands full of nesting seabirds at about warp factor five while dolphins and other human motorboats tried to keep up with me.  The worst part was not being able to see where I was going (I could only see where I’d been) but I managed not to hit anything. I suspect this has something to do with my trip to Saona Island.  Happy sigh.

Work work work

I used to have a picture of Kung Fu Mike, figleafed by a laptop but otherwise starkers, which had that title.  I suspect it’s on the old computer back at Planet Bachelor; I must recover it at some point.

I had a very productive day yesterday, having drawn some of my bile during my long conversation with Patricia, and then I had a very pleasant evening with one half of the Minions of Loki, since we ate at the Penny, which is more or less halfway between her place and mine on Hastings.  The Penny is the very model of a Chinese greasy spoon.  I had sufficiency of leftovers for another two meals, yay.

I need help from a Mac geek to figure out why I am having problems with making my RAR or avi files run.  I suspect a compression issue.

Saturday is the company Christmas party…. Katie K and I are going.  She is planning on wearing a dress and getting an updo, which is a lot like saying Eddie Izzard has given up on high heels.  I am trying to figure out how I’m supposed to acquire a second hand tux between now and then; I think it’s more likely I’ll just wear what I wore last year.  It makes me look immensely fat and I have to take the whole thing off to take a whiz, but it’s comfy and dressier than what I normally sport… as Catherine once remarked, “Oh, Allegra, you dress like a grad student” which, considering I was raised by grad students, seems no stretch.  As for the tux, I can picture the William Hamilton cartoon with a woman sporting a tux with no difficulty, which is probably why, besides the expense, I am resisting.  There are apparently going to be Engineers in Tuxes at the Christmas (oh hell, the Company Holiday Cheer) party.  The following Saturday we’ll be going to Katie K’s company holiday buntoss, the biggest difference being there are TWO free drink tokens, and people will be bringing dogs.  I am OBVIOUSLY working for the wrong company.

Daughter Katie’s 19th passed without incident; Dax gave her a handmade plaque with her name on it, so it sounds like he was doing something to improve the shining hour while she was gone.

It’s been quite frosty up here in the mornings; walking to work has been an adventure.

By copy to Chipper, on the subject of Christmas songs, have you ever heard Dominic the Donkey? I think you have to be Italian to be familiar with it; Gianna at work exposed me to it and now I can’t get the little beggar out of my head.  It’s all about how Santa has to deliver prezzies with a donkey because reindeer cannot climb ‘the hills of I-ta-ly!’.  It was a new one on me.

Saturday will be a busy busy day for me, because the Dunnettfolk will be Spitting over at Jan’s that day.  And Spits, as I must explain, are the names those events where Dunnett fans gather and eat and talk and drink and show slides of their trips to Dunnett places (like Iceland and the Orkneys and the west coast of Africa and Cairo and the Crimea and Russia and Bruges).  My father’s eyes glazed over at gather.

Tasteless captions and other stuff

Patricia was over last night.  I tried to feed her, but she resisted!  Garn!  Instead we drank plunty beerz.  And whined.  She has less to whine about than I do, at least in the boy department.  Tonight I see one of the Minions of Loki, and we’ll probably whine like the whiny whiners we are.

Herewith tasteless captions (link removed for security). Not all of them are funny, but there are some gems in there.

No vegetarians need apply

This is a hard bloody place to be a vegetarian in.  They serve meat with every meal.  If you’re a vegan, you’d have to pack your food in – it would be virtually impossible to live here otherwise.

Today, more collapsing gently and beaching.  Plus eating and drinking.  The weather has been gorgeous with the exception of a very well behaved rainshower yesterday.  Katie got a magnificent picture of a jewel green lizard yesterday which I hope to post on my return.

I read her the last 5 chapters of Harry Potter VII and we both cried like idiots.  What’s wrong with me??? I’ve read it already, it’s not like it came as any surprise.

Quelle Journee

I really DID NOT want to go to church today, but I decided, since I had booked the car, that I might as well run the errands and go to church as planned (actually, I didn’t even want to leave the apartment – but I’ve realized that this way lies madness).

SO.

First I get the trip logs out of the two cars at SFU. Then I go to church and cough up my pledge (and a mighty big hairball it was, too, and I still owe for last year). Then I go to Long & McQuade out by the Port Mann, and it’s closed. Then I go to the liquor store on Lougheed that’s open on Sundays and learn (yeep yeep yeep) that Winter Ale is BACK. I will leave it in the fridge for my return from Santo Domingo. Then I realize there is a Tom Lee (OPEN) on Barnet and poke my head in and leave poorer but with lots more mando stuff and a thingy that will allow me to put a strap on my guitar… and I bought a strap, too.

Then off to West Broadway to pick up travel stuff for the trip (inflatable cushions for the long damned trip, packs to hide passports in, Spanish phrase book, Lonely Planet Dominican Republic), then I dropped the trip logs off at CAN at Granville and Hastings, then I went home along Hastings and realize that I still haven’t ordered daughter Katie’s other other other birthday present, which is the complete Strangers in Paradise. They had 2, so I picked it up, and order the other trades 1 through 6. Came home to find some asshat had parked in my spot and had to put the Prius underground. Grr. Anyway, twas a busy day of much expenditure.

Why would somebody ask for ‘more ranting’?

Tonight I would like to rant about the lack of menstruation rituals in our culture. Tonight I’m going to take the man’s view, as the woman’s view about it isn’t nearly transgressive enough for me ce soir la. Jeez, where’s an accent grave when I need one…
If I was a man, I would want rituals and predictive patterns in young women’s lives that preserved their fertility for their true purpose, namely, making babies with me and not with other men. Having some kind of ceremony where it was drilled into the girl’s head that she had one shot at the childbearing game and if she slept with the wrong guy it was game the fuck over would be useful if my strategy for access to childbearing women meant I was employed and civil. Mind you, if my strategy is to just rape the shit out of her and hope for a lucky plug, it’s still better than if she was really trying to save it for the right guy. Her body may betray her and pop an egg for me. I’d be the ‘wrong guy’ – but I’d still be first. Now, the sperm competition theory of fucking, which holds that guys enjoy sharing girls because if you’re second (or later) you come way harder (your sperm will ‘wash away’ that of your, uh, competitor/buddy), so if you let your buddy go first, because you don’t really care if you get her pregnant, and you’d prefer to come harder because of your wiring, you’ve more or less dropped out of the discussion about breeding. You’ve actually given some consideration to the notion, which is why you’re wearing a condom while all of these shenanigans are going on. I mean, it’s still rape, but there’s a different angle. You get it now? All different styles of thinking about ‘the breeding thing’ lead to different results in terms of how it affects the woman’s life. Oh, sorry, I’ve gone back into the women’s way of thinking about this, ‘scuse me all to hell.

So mOm, did I make you laugh really hard on the phone tonight, or what?

Back to the subject at hand. Women should have menstruation rites so that they actually have two whole chunks of time to think about fertility without having to do any work. That is, in part, what rituals are all about. It’s about the whole “stop working and start thinking” thing that has made humanity what it is. Having enough excess capacity in your life to be able to stop and think is what makes for civil life. Having the spare time to develop morality makes morality. Leisure, in short, makes ethical life possible. But don’t worry, in the end it’s all about sex. Yeehaw. Hurry hurry love.
Did I ever say why it was I refer to my mother as mOm? It’s because when I spell her title that way, it is the “Kilroy was here” or “Clem” sign. See his hands, on either side of his head? Te he. But I also do it because of where I got the idea of it, pOp – which is a clown face with a big nose in the middle. Squint and you’ll see.

Nurd Gurl goes POSTAL MEDIA

So all together, film fans!!!  If you ever see me use this expression – “Masterpiece of Narrative Subversion“ please know that I mean this movie makes no $#%$ing sense.  I mean, I enjoyed Aqua Teen Hunger Force because it contains one of the most hilarious appeals to the audience I’ve ever viewed (warning, screener), but otherwise the movie’s a cataclysm of pointlessness.  On the other hand, part of refining one’s taste is being exposed to oddball stuff once in a while, which this definitely was.  Any movie which was quite popular and yet has no plot synopsis on imdb…. Warning Will Robinson, indeed, kids.  I enjoyed it, but more along the cultural artifact lines,  There were some very snappy one liners.
Much more enjoyable – the three episodes of Venture Brothers, which is a hipper than thou Jonny Quest.  The Scooby Doo parody was pure evil.  I heart Brock Samson, voiced by clean green actor Patrick Warburton.
Add pizza and beer to a date which included the foregoing and I had a very pleasant evening.  After my ride home (and thank god, it was POURING bloody rain), I dreamed that somebody I’ve wanted to have sex with for about ten years jumped on me, and I said, “Jeez, I’d love to, but we can’t because of ” here insert extremely rational, sane, non-dreamlike reason.  Then we put our clothes back on.  I’m consoling myself that at least I got to see him naked.  GRRRRRR.  This thing inside my skull that wants me to be a better person is now in my dreams as well!!!! I demand a neuronal recount.

Much thanks to Cousin Gerald, who found this piclink for me.  I entitle it “Luckier than the Average Bear”.

All this and alcohol too.

And now for something completely different….

Annie Liebowitz is a genius.

Faw down.

Yesterday I performed the most spectacular inadvertent pratfall I think I ever have. In front of at least a dozen people (not all of whom were looking at me) I turned my ankle in the middle of a road, right next to the construction site up the hill, pirouetted with great speed and no grace and did a shoulder roll onto my back.

Patricia (who was with me, and who better to see this than somebody who will be teasing me about it until one of us goes senile) said that the flock of ESL students coming up the hill towards me all clapped their right hands over their mouths in a simultaneous display of distress. I just lay there looking up at the sky and laughing. Apart from a smudge of dirt up one leg there wasn’t a mark, scratch or bruise on me. My shoulder is no more sore this morning than it would have been if I’d been in the front of a canoe for a trip to Widgeon Creek. You’d think my hip or my back would have protested, but I’m no worse or better off this morning than I was yesterday. The body is a remarkable thing. It’s odd. I likely wouldn’t have fallen if I hadn’t consumed beer at lunch but on the other hand, I was as relaxed as a rag doll when my balance let go.
Today it’s daughter Katie (“I spent all my money on a suit, can you buy me a bus pass?” – and I just paid her cell phone bill. Mothers.) from about 9:30 on and then home before supper time to attempt to make myself beautiful for my date (here insert the faint sound of eyes rolling).

But what a suit! Katie got a black Hugo Boss pure wool men’s suit, which fits her, down to the arms being shorter than the average guy’s, for ten bucks and tax. You have to admit that’s a pretty spectactular find. I had to rip Katie a new one for taking her GODDAMNED PAYCHECK TO THE MONEY MART. Girl, don’t pay almost 30 bucks for the privilege of getting your own money, come to me, or your dad, or Keith, or guh, ANYBODY who knows you with a bank account. I can’t imagine Keith doing something like that on the worst day he ever had; it’s remarkable how different two kids can be.
Anyway, it looks fair to be a wonderful day, and I’se so happy to be alive.

Jericho & other natters

Saw Plough at Jericho. I really wish Keith could have been there, they were totally in the O Brother Where Art Thou groove and very very musical and fun, and lively and young and respectful to the audience… and don’t forget banjo and fiddle and guitar and standup bass…..

Katie K took me. Her car is only plated for another week or so; we are making best advantage of this. Consuming burgers and sitting on the beautiful deck at the Sailing Club while sucking back Raven on tap. Singing and playing and having half a dozen people come up to me afterwards and exclaim over my tunes (I played Words Fail (also known as the Telecom song) and Bruise (also known as Green and Purple and Black and Blue)). The rest of the open stage was uniformly excellent, as always.

Tom and Peggy also came out to see Patrick Metzger who in addition to being the bassist for Lesismore is the guitarist/bassist for Plough; Katie and I talked to them briefly; Katie knows them from way back from Beacon when her kids were in Religious Education there.

I’m bagged, suddenly… it is bedtime.