Glued to the TV

Went a little nuts at Best Buy Tuesday night and bought no less than 4 seasons of various TV shows on DVD. For starters, we picked-up BBC "Planet Earth"... which is this amazing Discovery Channel style documentary series shot in HD. It's absolutely beautiful. It took 5 years to film and had a 25-million dollar budget. Needless to say, I'm looking forward to really getting into it.

We also bought Season One of both "WKRP in Cincinnati" and "Maude". Both great old shows (especially WKRP, for me, because as loopy/silly as the show is... for the most-part it is a pretty bang-on representation of what radio is like. I've worked with people like the characters on that show.), the latter finally justifying Seth MacFarlane's (whom I totally love deeply and passionately) insistence that Bea Arthur is a man. I can't remember whether it was Family Guy, (link contains Family Guy's take on the Maude theme song) or American Dad, that had a bit about her being a man, but at one point I thought that was an awful thing to say about her. Now, I'm not so sure. Based upon the 4 episodes I've seen so far... she really does seem like a gay man in drag. And that thought never occurred to me throughout however many years the Golden Girls was on TV. At any rate, it's my first time ever watching Maude, and I like it a lot. Bea Arthur is always funny for all the right reasons.

And last but not least... Season 5 of "Everybody Loves Raymond". Another show that Ted and I love. I was chatting online with my eldest sister Cheryl the other day about how much Marie (the character of Raymond's mother) reminds me of our mom... only without the religious fanaticism. Cheryl said I was "terrible"... but she never said I was wrong. hee hee They even look and dress alike for the most part. Scary huh? One definitely commonality between "Shirley" and "Marie" is that they can't be supportive to save their lives, but they do love their children with a fierce and protective love. ...THAT, and their children would rather go to a sadistic Dentist with a migraine than spend time with them.

Well... I thought that was funny even if you think it's mean. ; )

Last night as foretold, we did go to the Keg with Chris. He's absolutely the most lovable nerd you'd ever want to meet. And he's crazy about Crissy and he treats her with such love and respect. Ted and I love him. And on top of all that... he's a huge Star Trek nerd like us. Which completely rocks. Just as a forewarning... I'm planning a Trek blog entry one of these days soon. 'Cause I think the whole franchise has a lot more merit than people give it credit for, and I honestly think it's too bad that there's such a stigma of shame that comes along with being a fan. Anyhow... you've been warned. ha

The song of the day... is the song my iPod played first this morning on my way to work. (simple way to choose huh?) It's a great, great, tender song with a pulsating bass line perfect for knockin' boots yo. Jill Scott...

I Am Not Afraid

I am not afraid to be your baby
I am not afraid to be your whore
I am not afraid to be your future
I am not afraid to be your soil

In which you plant your seed
Flowers, they sprout from me
My fragrance in the breeze
You must nurture me please

I am not afraid to be your baby
I am not afraid to be your strength
I am not afraid to be open wide
I am not afraid to be glutinous

The essence of glue
I will stick to you
Through earthquakes and moods
If ever one thing was true

I am not afraid to wind it wind it
I am not afraid to keep your pace
I am not afraid to create my queendom
I am not afraid to take my place
I am not afraid

Largely Ricky Martin

Yay - Ted got to meet Ricky Martin!

Strangely enough, I think I'm more excited about it than him. He did have a great time though. 'Came home with a tour book and 40 or more pictures of the concert. To your left is Ted, Ricky and Tammy (in her brand, spankin' new purple leather jacket as mentioned earlier.)

And apparently, Ricky smells delightfully of "Vanilla Musk", so says Tam. Ted didn't get close enough to catch a whiff.

Incidentally, Ted also commented that Ricky didn't set off his gaydar one iota while he watched him interact with the people backstage. Ted's got pretty good gaydar too... so maybe Ricky's not the closet-dweller the media has made him out to be. Maybe he's just enlightened and evolved enough to say his sexuality is none of anyone's business even though he's heterosexual? Or maybe all of his experience has taught him how to keep it all hidden well. Who knows? Truly, I do believe that everyone's sexuality is their own business. Just because celebrities are in the public eye, doesn't entitle anyone to knowledge of their personal lives.

There's no arguing just how beautiful he is. And I think it's pretty giddy-sweet that we've got pictures of him on our camera. A little surreal even. I was secretly disappointed that he wasn't rockin' the leather pants. C'mon, that's his calling card... wouldn't you say??

And I'm not even a full-blown fan. (nor is Ted to be truthful. Ted's just always found him extremely attractive.) We have 3 of his CD's, one of which is a greatest hits, but I was almost an anti-fan because of his dreadfully boring role on General Hospital as "Miguel". That also had a lot to do with his long curly hair though.

Ahh well... a good time was had by all. While Ted and Tammy were at the concert, I took the dogs for a super-long walk, and added another 100 songs to my iPod when I got home. For me, that's a nice, relaxing evening.

Tonight, we chill. 'Cause the rest of the week is fulla' plans. Tomorrow night, Chris, Ted's sister Crissy's bf is in town from Timmins. So we're going to the Keg with him. (Crissy and Chris... yes I know. Isn't it cute??) It's his favourite restaurant and they don't have a Keg in Timmins, so he hits one every time he's in Southern Ontario. Eventually, we're hoping to introduce him to some other restaurants of interest. But we're certainly not anti-steak.

Thursday night is Survivor of course, so Tammy will be over. It's getting down to the wire, and with Mookie gone and Alex being an obvious swing vote next week things could get yet-more-ugly. I'm predicting right now that Dreamz or Alex himself will be going home. We'll see though.

Friday night, our friends Arran, Alessandro and Christian are coming over for a barbecue and probably games or a movie. So we're looking forward to that too. We haven't seen them since the "Super Bowel Party". It should be fun.

Anyhoo... on that note. I sign off. Now to pick a favourite Ricky Martin track... (just to be thematic) hmmm.... wow... this is tougher than I thought. I guess I'd have to pick the song he did and then re-did with Christina Aguilera (woo... I actually spelled her name correctly without checking first.) "Nobody Wants to Be Lonely". Not exactly the best song in the world, but I enjoyed it. Blah... Blogger's going to pull the ol' spacing issues thing on me today. It's not worth it for these particular lyrics. So yeah... technical difficulties. But I do really like that song. Their voices sound very good together.

Cheers.

Doggie Pictures

And for no particular reason at all, other than their utter gorgeousness... Doggie Pictures. Cole in one of his favourite spots on the fluffy bath mat. And Porthos, just being adorable on the spare bed. (if you look at his nose, those pinky-white spots are the remains of the wound he obtained while we were on vacation. It's healed nicely.)

I wasn't able to include these in my last post for some reason. But they're worthy of their own post.

Prince Prevails - So Sayeth the Toilet-Seat-Cozy Saboteur

So this weekend we went to a party on Friday night, and then over to Eak's sister's place on Saturday night. Then yesterday we slept the morning away, cleaned all afternoon and Tammy came over for dinner and Amazing Race (plus an unexpected hour of Desperate Housewives).

Friday night was a house-warming party for a friend and co-worker of mine that I seldom ever get to hang out with. Our biggest bonding experience was travelling to Detroit together to see Prince ("Musicology" tour). She's a huge Prince fan, as am I and it's really interesting how a love of music or one artist in particular can provide a bond strong-enough to base an entire friendship upon. That specific road-trip weekend lead to some deep, heart-felt conversations and a really memorable good time. I'm always grateful when I think about that. Anyhoo... her house is gorgeous and her friends are a lot of fun. I've never been to a party with so many folks smoking weed simultaneously. Needless to say; there was a lot of conversation. ha Some of it was riveting I tells ya. At around 1am there was a huge debate by the fireplace: Michael Jackson versus Prince. Given my little introduction, you can well imagine that my friend (Marty) and I were putting up the good fight for Prince, because there were a shit-load of MJ fans there. (I love Michael too - don't get me wrong, but when it all comes down to it... there's just no comparison. Prince wins on every issue that counts.) I find it disheartening when people base their entire opinion of an artist, on a period of their popularity. (Mind you, I feel that way about people forming fast opinions about just about anything or anyone.) For some people it's not enough to say, "well I haven't really ever been a fan" or "I haven't heard anything new from that artist for a long time". They have to grand-stand some curious hatred, in a mockery-laced tangent. Yeah, the debate got heated for some reason, for some people. (Just made me shake my head in wonderment.) And I won't even get into my feelings of astonishment at people saying they didn't like Prince because he was weird, whilst singing the praises of Michael Jackson. Marty and I tried to play fair by not taking any digs at poor Michael. Talk about biting your tongue. My biggest point on the whole issue/comparison was that "Michael Jackson's music is like junk food. It's really good when you're in the mood for light-hearted fun, but you can't survive on a steady diet of it." Whereas, Prince has music for whatever mood you're in, or whatever you're going through - and lots of it. They're both talented showmen. Both musically gifted. And both eccentric... to say the least. But sorry MJ fans... Prince sings better, has consistently better music, has a much better sense of who he is/what he stands for, a seemingly better sense of humour, and above all else: Prince has more soul. Long live both artists though. They're cultural icons and I'm certain there's much to be learned from either of them.

I should also add, that now that Eak's had the chance to get to know Marty a little better, we're very likely to spend more time with her and her bf. They're good people. And what a beautiful home!

And on to Saturday/Saturday night.

I didn't get to sleep until about 5:40 am on Saturday, so understandably, I was largely out-of-juice for the day. But that didn't stop us from going shopping with KittyCole. She bought a purple leather jacket from Danier. The girl loves purple... and she's not even Prince-obsessed.
We parted company and headed over to Eak's sister's (Melanie) place with our bread maker in tow. Eak made some decadent banana bread this weekend that started with that loaf. It was so good he made another loaf yesterday afternoon. Mark (Mel's husband) taught us how to play hearts and as always, we learned things about them that we'd rather not know. (Don't ask. Mark's the King of inappropriate outbursts.) I was amused at one of his terms of endearment though. "Whore Pie". Still makes me giggle. I was making up similar names for Eak as a result (and much to his chagrin). Funny how, Eak doesn't think "Sphincter Muffin", or "Scrotum Dumpling" are good pet names. Neither are quite as musical as "Whore Pie"... I'll give ya that.

While we were there, I played "Toilet Seat Cozy Saboteur". God I hate those things. I'm sure it's not very hospitable-guest of me, to keep popping the toilet seat cozy off the toilet seat at someone else's house. But hey - they're family, and Mel quite-obviously kept fixing it. 'Cause every time I went in the bathroom, there it was; all snug and prohibitively in place. Toilet seat cozies were specifically designed by women to agitate men in the most insidious way I've ever seen in action. I understand their aesthetic quality, and why they're the perfect addition to every bathroom where you want to ensure the seat is always down. But DEAR GOD in heaven, how I hate them. I don't ask much of this world, but let me pee in peace, without having to prop up the f*#king toilet seat... mmmkay??? So sayeth the toilet seat cozy saboteur. (I just like the way that sounds.)

In other news my neck is buggered. Has been since last Thursday. I think I just slept on it wrong, but I'm in enough discomfort today to use it as a valid excuse to go home and me thinks I shall. Sometimes I feel sorry for my neck... having to bare the beast of burden that is my ginormous melon of a head.

OH... and I can't forget to document that Eak is going to see Ricky Martin tonight. Courtesy of KittyCole yet again. She's got connections. It's a concert and meet-and-greet. And needless to say I had to agree in no uncertain terms that if opportunity should arise... I am not entitled to any jealous feelings, abandonment issues, or pesky infidelity hang-ups should Mr Martin even look at Eak with a twinkle in his eye for any kind of sexual hi jinx.
I said "go for it." I've got the same kind of dibs on Colin Farrell, so it's only fair. ; )
I told Eak "I want to know what Ricky Martin smells like. So pay attention." I just envision him having a very non-typical fresh/clean scent... like some fragrance you can only find on a mountain in Tibet or something. If he's stinky, or wears something like Joop, or CK1 my already marginal interest in him will diminish completely. I'm weird about the fragrance thing, admittedly.

My absolute favourite Prince song: "17 Days"

Called u
yesterday
U didn't answer your phone
The main drag
is knowing that
U probably weren't alone

So here I sit in my lonely room
Lookin' 4 my sunshine
But all I've got
is two cigarettes
And this broken heart of mine

So let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down

You've been gone
17 days
17 long nights
The main drag
is knowing that
You're holding someone else tight
I wanna to call u
everyday
And beg u 2 be near me
But I know
your head is underwater
I doubt that u could hear me

So let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down

Ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
17 Days
Ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
17 Days

Called u yesterday
U didn't answer your phone
If you're the one who's always lonely
Then I'm the one who's always alone

So here I sit in my lonely room
Lookin' 4 my sunshine
All I've got
is 2 cigarettes
And this broken heart of mine

Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down

Why don't you answer your phone?
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down
17 Days
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down, down
17 Days

Suckin' on a Weiner Dog

http://www.dogster.com/video/480639/Vacuum_the_hound


I will be posting more today, whether during the day or sometime this evening. But for now, may I draw to your attention: the latest in the Porthos collection of amusing videos (link above). He LOVES this. When I vacuum his doggie bed he'll purposefully come running and plop himself down on it so I can massage him before he'll let me finish vacuuming the bed. What a life huh?

Later!


PS... Shawn... what a great story in your blog! I can't believe all those SQUIRRELS!!! (for everyone else: visit Misster Kitty's Internal Voice.

Subway Follies

Hi Ho... the train ride home tonight was perfectly varied. It starts out completely normal, like the auto-pilot routine that is my commute on most days .... until I walk down to the platform. There was quite a crowd amassed there... I've got my iPod on... and yet... what's this I hear? Yelling among the throngs. Loud, heated, gonna-bitch-slap-you yelling. As I continue to walk ('cuz ain't nobody gettin' on that packed train sitting there as per usual at 5:05 on the Yonge line.) I can see that the yelling is coming from these 2 women standing just inside the doors of the second door of the second car. The pair are literally in each other's faces (whether they wanted to be or not - TTC random-act-of-God placement on a train truly can be cruel and unjust) yelling stuff like "Yeah!!? Well, go ahead and see what happens!" and "Well you should watch what you're doing blah, blah, blah!!" I say "blah, blah, blah" because I didn't deem the incident too life-threatening for anyone in the vicinity, thinking A) there wasn't going to be much room for fisticuffs should the urge overwhelm them, and B) about how people in general are not adjusting well to the surge in TTC ridership. (ie: temperament, courtesy, litter). But I was left without any resolve, because the doors closed and the train pulled away with these two women still yelling at one another and the people around them wide-eyed and wary of pepper spray. No interruption in service, so I'm guessing they were mature enough to just walk away with a vehement rant for suppertime. Anyhoo, this was the first time I'd seen a full-blown screaming match at rush-hour. I can hardly wait until the usual temper-flaring that comes with hot weather starts affecting this ever-growing group subway patrons.

And my subway ride only continued to be interesting... at the risk of depravity I must admit that the crowded-nature of my trip up to Bloor/Yonge got rather stimulating. Thankfully only 3 stations to endure... or was that regretfully only 3 stations to enjoy, amidst standing-room-only with this handsome brown-skinned man nonchalantly pressing his ass into my crotch. Before you picture anything blatantly obscene.... it wasn't like a scene from an after-school special, (me needing to put a school-book over my nether-regions), nor was it pornoriffic. Yes folks. I must admit I was slightly aroused by this. Cheap, jolly, thrills. But the subway was THAT packed, and I don't care what any of you pervs think. So there are advantages to a crowded subway. hee hee
Oh come on... tomorrow I'll be nose-deep in a blue-collar schlep-fest, no deodorant-required. I have to cherish the "kinky" with the "mundane" when the "kinky" is so scarce. We all know how much I enjoy foul-stench while trying to dodge a dandruff convention 2 inches from my face. Oh but wait... something like that DID happen on the next train. Again, I smile, only because karma also comes in a gaseous state...
My dirty thoughts were rewarded with little old lady farts. You know the Tim Horton's coffee-and-a-muffin blue-hair special blend... quietly squeaked out while gabbing extra loud to mask their arrival.
"Yeah, Gladys... everyone will think it's the fat guy next to us... let 'er rip!"
Scandalous biddies! Farting on the subway is not cool.

Farting on an elevator is cool. 'Cause it's concentrated but brief. Of course the default condition of that being cool depends entirely upon whether you're the "farter" or the "fartee" of course. (...Of course.)

As high-brow as this entry is... I really must be getting to bed. Survivor was good tonight.... but not as good as last week. Hearing Boo's knee audibly "pop" back into place was a little too sound-effects-intense for me. The fact that he stayed in the competition amazed me. You "know" it was excruciating!

No song... 'cause it would be from the infectious new Hillary Duff album. Yeah. Seriously. I just can't bring myself to do that, even though it's pretty damned good.

3 Dollars and 6 dimes

Y'know sometimes my sweet little Cole looks up at me after I've been screeching at Porthos to behave, (shut up, drop it, NO, Bad Dog) and his eyes almost tell me he's thinking "I was never that bad, was I daddy?". And I have to agree. 2 more different dogs have never existed. Cole was always such a good dog, and smart as a hound can be. The only thing he ever chewed that he wasn't supposed to was a pair of "Joe Boxer" underwear, and he was house-trained by 11 weeks of age. This week it would seem Porthos is having some psychological issues. He's house-trained, but for some reason, the post-meal trip outside is causing him some anxiety lately. He'll run for his crate and pee, either on the way there, or while he's in there. (I cannot tell you how much extra stress and laundry this brings to us.) Last night, I showed remarkable restraint by the simple act of "not" killing him.
Mind you, taking him outside the other night (a night on which he had also peed inside) I walked past this guy dragging a Rottweiler puppy outside yelling: "No caca en la casa"!!!
Now friends, I don't speak Spanish. But I've watched enough Sesame Street to know what that means. hee hee I felt like telling the guy how much I could sympathize. (Cute puppy; Cuter guy!) That was the good thing about it too. It made me feel like I wasn't alone in the struggle to domesticate a pooch without succumbing to primal rage. Besides that: we've been lucky in the poop department with P-Dawg. It's just his bladder he can't seem to keep a handle on. (sigh)

As long as this entry is bordering on the completely frivolous, I'm gonna babble 'bout TV for a second or two. First off: Survivor. Tomorrow is another episode, but before that is upon us, can I mention just HOW MUCH I loved last week's episode? Yes folks, an immunity idol was played at long last! It was completely smoked-out and wasted... but it was played for the first time ever! And so much scrambling and back-stabbing to get to it. What frickin' fun!

Ah... Ted is home and there's more pee to clean up. sigh

Here's an oldie but a goodie: "On & On" Erykah Badu

Oh my my my
I'm feeling high
My money's gone
I'm all alone
The world is turnin'
Oh what a day
What a day
What a day
Peace and blessings manifest with every lesson learned
If your knowledge were your wealth then it will be well earned
If we were made in his image then call us by our names
Most intellects do not believe in god but they fear us just the same

Oh on and on and on and on
Whew on and on and on and on
I go on and on and on and on
Ohh on and on and on and on

I was born under water with 3 dollars and 6 dimes
Yeah you might laugh
'cause you did not do your math
Na qua 2..3. Damn, y'all feel that?
Oh...Qua 2..3. The world keeps turning
Oh what a day what a day what a day

The man that knows something knows that he knows nothing at all
Does it seem colder in your summertime and hotter in your fall
If we were made in his image then call us by our names
Most intellects do not believe in god but they fear us just the same

Oh on and on and on and on
On and on and on and on
I go on and on and on and on
On and on and on and on

I am feeling kinda hungry 'cause my high is coming down
Don't feed me yours 'cause your food does not endure
I think I need a cup of tea,
the world keeps burnin'
Oh what a day, what a day what a day

You rush into destruction 'cause you don't have nothin' left
The mother ship can't save you so your ass is goin' get it
If we were made in his image then call us by our names
Most intellects do not believe in god but they fear us just the same

Oh on and on and on and on
On and on and on and on
Ooh ooh wee on and on and on and on
On and on and on and on