Category: Humour

Jon Lajoie live show

ScaryClown and I saw Jon Lajoie at The Plaza last night. The opening act was forgettable, but by the time Jon appeared the place was pretty much full. He did a lot more talking than singing, and didn’t end up doing more than four or five tunes. However, he did both “High As F***” and the “2 Girls, 1 Cup song”, so we were happy. The crowd clearly knew Jon from his videos, based on their reactions to videos shown on a big screen behind the stage. Some of those videos were new bits, including “How to get away with murdering a random street person.” Many in the crowd – including myself – sang along with our favourites. Overall, not a brilliant performance, but a lot of fun.

Best …. line …. evar

So.  There is this filksong called The Mad Scientist’s Love Song which is performed by Lady Miss B and Dr. Filk.  In a startling development, they reversed roles and Dr. Filk got to be the charming assistant.

When I commented that I had never actually seen Dr. Filk in a dress before, this was the response from LMB (emphasis added by moi):

Subject: Re: Dr Filk’s ballgown

My favourite part was how he accessorized with big chunky biker boots.

Okay, no, my favourite part was him saying “Why, what would a day be like
 without a little public humiliation? I’ll probably never find out.”

I AM SO STEALING THAT LINE. 

I’m recovering today from walking all the way from King to Bloor last night.  Met Dave JD at Jump, walked about downtown for a while, ended up at C’est What, and I want to tell you ALL that I will die fulfilled and happy, because I HAVE HAD A BEER FLOAT.  Yes, the C’est What has Hazelnut Chocolate Bitter floats, with whipped cream and ice cream and a maraschino cherry.  Each mouthful had at least four flavours; the final top note of the hops in the Bitter danced on my palate for about 15 minutes before I regretfully had to wake up a bit with coffee and water.  PS, the meal at Jump was solid but there’s no ******* way it was worth $100 even with the alcohol.  Then we walked all the way up Yonge, deking into the Eaton Centre so I could see what it looked like tarted up for Xmas (worth seeing), and then coming back out of the PATH to view the ******* mess they made of the intersection of Dundas and Yonge. 

The entire downtown core is a mess of sodium vapour orange, metallic blue and piercing white LED lights festooned from every lamppost and filling every square; total Xmas yield = + 350 ugly points.  We continued up the street.  The Swiss Chalet I ate at multiple times a week when I was working at the Delta Chelsea is still there.  Many other landmarks are gone but plenty remain.  David’s is still on the corner of Yonge and Bloor with its array of expensive shoes; the Pilot is still there just off Yonge in Yorkville.  As is standard I did most of the talking; sometimes I wonder if Dave ever is thinking “When will she STFU?”  He deked into a CD joint and insisted on picking up a couple of Weakerthans CD’s so you may all be assured that Dave’s role in my life as somebody who forces me to refine my taste while I broaden my horizons continues.

We ended up at Flow for the last drink of the evening and after another fifteen minutes of aimlessly wandering around Yorkville while I critiqued the dresses in the window (Jesus, if I was a man I wouldn’t go near a woman dressed like that, I’d be afraid of getting caught on something, etc.) we decided that fun as it had been Dave had to go to work in the morning, so about 10:15 we packed it in; I came home by cab.

Vancouverites, listen up!  The cab driver ASKED ME IF HE COULD TAKE THE CALL when his cell phone rang.  I don’t know how often you take cabs (I gotsk no car, so I do a lot) but I nearly choked on my tongue when he said that.  I thanked him profusely and tipped him according to his deserts.  Speaking of which, prob’ly the funniest part of the evening was how animated Dave got when lecturing me (humourously, not pompously) about the importance of tipping.  The how, the why, the way it’s an inexpensive and effective way of spreading joy, the importance of not looking like a cheap bastard (I paraphrase).

I think I’m coming back in February.  There’s a play I want to see, and I like going to Toronto for Valentine’s day and hanging with friends – I had an AMAZING time the last time.  It’ll be a little awkward seeing as how I’ll just be back from Belize – current planning – who knows – but frankly now that I’ve figured out that I need to quit travelling on cheap airlines I think I’ll have a lot better time.

PS we leave for France soon.  Happy sigh!

a big stew of links and updates!

I won something worth $720 and I gave it to a coworker after briefly toying with the notion of selling it.

I support the United Way, which is I why I won the above noted item.

I’ve been up very early every morning since the time change.

Patricia and I brainstormed a problem at work and the results were high five worthy.

I’m shopping today for my France trip.

Haagen Dasz Mayan Chocolate ice cream is REALLY good.

I have a very long list of things to do.

Flying Spaghetti Monster made a Pastafarian out of me.

Can a squirrel be cute?

There’s a new Youtube video in my account of the little waterfall next to work.

It’s so rainy that it’s actively dangerous to walk anywhere except pavement.  Wet leaves, slick grass.

It’s so rainy that the ground is exploding.  What the hell is it?

I had to take shots from different angles.

Is it a Helvella lacunosa?

These guys at least are cute and not reminiscent of inimical alien brains.

Found art in the ladies can.  This one’s for daughter Katie.

Barack Obama’s family is going to adopt ‘a mutt, like me’.  bwa ha ha!  We’re all mutts, Uncle Rocky.

I already sent this link to Paul.  Folks like this should get taken out behind the hangar and shot.

Some people study psychopaths, and I guess that’s a good thing.

I have an offer of a weeklong stay in a bungalow in Belize, and I’m seriously considering it.

Eddie and Gizmo demonstrate vertical superiority.

Doug’s contribution to the art of pumpkin carving.

Sandy P at work took this awesome pic when she was in SF.

Death by black hole and other astrophysical meditations; I especially like the notion that Apophis could have been called Bambi.  A physicist explains it all for you.

I am just finishing making waffles.

We watched Objects in Space again last night.  Honestly, it’s in my top five hours of tv ever. (Along with Restless, Michael Moschen’s special, the moon landing, and the episode of Band of Brothers where they parachute into Normandy).

If fonts had personalities…..

I am messing around a lot with Garage Band.

I found the sound of a door on freesound that was so good I put in on LOOP and listened for half an hour.

My digestion is much better since I started taking acidophilus.

Keith is supposed to turn up later today.

Oh, Nutella, how you glisten!

We are very SF positive in New Westminster.

That should hold ya for a while, I guess.  I’ll be off shortly to commit myself some serious retail therapy.

True story from a Canadian Call Center

Customer: Hi, I was just wondering if you could tell if cable TV is available at my house. I know it is available in the city, but we are just outside the city limits.

 

CSR: Yes, we have a very expensive and complicated computer program to figure if there is cable TV available at your address. However, if you answer this one question for me, I can predict the answer 99.9 % of the time.

 

Customer: Really, what is the question? 

 

CSR: “Can you see cows from your kitchen window?”

 

Customer: Why, yes I can see cows from my window.

 

CSR: Well sir, you are going to need a satellite system… There is no cable TV available at your address.

Warm Human Experience

My mOm and I have a little ‘thing’ that we say when a standardized interaction – a bus ride, a visit to a government office, some brushing up against of another human being who is somehow a functionary – turns into a genuine experience plein de twists and turns and full honour given to the humanity of all parties.  Such was my toothicus dirtius cleaning today.  Because I am EVIL, and I mean EVIL, I occasionally take much pleasure in messing with people’s heads. So the gal who polished my teeth, who unless I miss my guess has antecedents who hail from Vietnam way, was horrified (I mean TEARS IN HER EYES) to hear that I “only brush my teeth three times a week, and floss when I remember to.”  (This isn’t true, as will shortly be revealed…. like now, because if I really DIDN’T brush my teeth I’d be a seething mass of cavities.  I mean, when was the last time on this blog that you can recollect I went to the dentist?  I’ve been tested for AIDS and got Hep shots more recently than I’ve been to the dentist, and viz all that, I don’t know whether I’m bragging, complaining or merely reporting the facts.  Anyway… no cavities – except the ones I was originally issued with, suitably edited, augmented and enlarged by nature, thanks.)

So Toothy Dude – my very first male hygienist, wOOt – shakes my hand and within 30 seconds I’ve told him about the whole “slam the beggar woman against the wall” thing from Assassin’s Creed, and he’s told me about the Weezer concert, and the Cure concert he went to earlier, and he’s mentioned psilocybin.  How do they find me?  Am I like a magnet for teh weird, wacky, wonderful?  Go me.  Anyway, it was the best cleaning evah.  Also, this dental palace has THE MOST EXTENSIVE AND EXPENSIVE HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS I HAVE EVER SEEN IN A PROFESSIONAL OFFICE.  They have elaborate skeletons occupying chairs in the waiting room and my dental station was decorated like a Warner Bros version of a crypt.

Then I went to London Thugs, where they were out of the USB turntable, no duh, and bought curative objects, crackers, and chocolate, and then to Kin’s Farm Market, where I bought a roster of root vegetables, and then I bought an apple peach pie for dessert and a couple of loaves of bread, which I have already toasted for stuffing, and some other snacky type things, and then I bought beer and came home to find a nice plump fresh turkey in our fridge courtesy of Keith and Jeff.

Then, a Buffy blowout. Life, she is so hard.

Ow ow ow part 435

Get your war on has something to say about making rape victims pay for their own rape kits.  Jeff sent me this.

Speaking as somebody who accompanied a woman for a post rape exam, I say right the **** on.  I personally have never been raped.  That’s luck and smarts, but mostly luck.  (Note – the rape victim commented afterwards that the rape exam was in some ways harsher than the rape.  I was horrified.  Her response was, “I was drunk when I was assaulted, and I was sober for the exam.”)

I think I have to take a walk now….

O to have believed and seen the mighty Hypnotoad!

With my own eyes, my good family, with my own eyes I have seen the glory of Hypnotoad.  I don’t know if Hypnotoad is a boy or a girl; the bio is sketchy.  See I always want to know, when I run into a deity for the first time, if it’s a boy or a girl, because you bet your nougat-sweet butt, that makes a difference when it comes to propitiating time.  Just as it does in daily life, let alone wrasslin’ with deities.

Hypnotoad is a 30 minute cartoon by the demented minds of the makers of Futurama.  It made it onto the DVD of Bender’s Big Score (which is a magnificent film BTW, IMHO & YMMV).  It is about 25 minutes of a cartoon toad with woobly eyes sitting immobile on a white background.  (Interspersed with bizarre other stuff).  The audio consists of a mesmerizing, throbbing, metallic, mechanical, droning sound, or a laugh track which, you would think, would be pointless when little or nothing is changing (interspersed with weird other stuff).  Somehow, they take the notion of a laugh track, pop a sack over its head and give it a couple of quick kicks in the ass.

Perhaps I was giddy from Jeff having completed my taxes (of course they owe me money) and easily amused. I did get restless after a while, but it was still worth seeing.  Hey Jeff!  We should do a Best of Hypnotoad, and edit it down for everything that ‘happens’ and just leave two seconds of standard Hypnotoad.  And before we do that, we should check the Internet to see if somebody’s done it already.

My word, I can’t stop thinking about Hypnotoad.  The woobly eyes are perfectly spherical, with pea green soup “whites” and with irises like gasping mouths or puckering ani.  They gasp at you and then will abruptly be replaced by advertisements for repellent products, blipverts and subliminals about the repellent products, and advertisements for DVDs of 365 episodes of what you just watched, which was almost all Hypnotoad, all the time. It becomes gently and relentlessly recursive.  It is genius, it is madness, it is …. Hypnotoad.

Towards the beginning end of the 30 minutes, Jeff said, “He’s very self-confident, Hypnotoad.”