Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor | Pye in the Face
Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.
Jimminy crickets I hate telephones. My new $300 Nextel has decided it doesn’t want to hold a charge today so if you call to wish me a Happy New Years, please leave a message – and same to you. It’s going to be a very good year.
When I was 33… it was a very good year. It was a very good year for Yonge Street girls who lived up the stairs. With all that perfumed hair. And I had a restraining order against me. When I was 33.
How did you spend your Friday night? I am coaching little Griffin through the latest PS2 game I rented for her from Gamefly. You have to do little dances with Barbie to collect gems to help a kitten rescue a princess. It’s not so terrible actually. I’ll try to explain.
When I worked in England, there was a German guy who came in every Thursday night and drank baby mixers of Canada Dry. Since non-drinkers in England stick out like sore thumbs, I once asked why he was so fond of the ginger ale. His answer went something like this: “The amount you can party or go crazy in one lifetime is like a candle wick. Some people burn through theirs quicker than others, and I am all done.” If I were to apply that analogy to my own life, the flame would have spread to the curtains and burnt down the entire house, ages ago.
I don’t think it’s unusual for maturity to be a sudden and conscious, black and white decision – and not necessarily a gradual progression. If I were married, had a mortgage or my own children I’d have mellowed out years ago, naturally. My personal development is synthetic and born of necessity. And I like it.
Appetizer: How do you usually celebrate on New Year’s Eve?
It’s usually alcohol-driven and breathtakingly unremarkable. My favorite was probably watching fireworks in Sydney harbor in 1996. I think the key is doing something you don’t normally do every weekend. Getting juiced in a friend’s apartment is just an insult to Baby New Year. Base jump off the Prudential or something.
Soup: Name one thing unexpected that happened to you in 2006.
I promised I’d never tell. I will substitute “decided to move to Toronto” for the real answer.
Salad: Where was your favorite place that you visited in 2006?
I went North a lot. About 8 times at final count. A full, permanent transition to Toronto is slated for Feb/March, and I suppose the best answer I can give is “Canada”. I just got off a plane from Toronto and can’t wait to get back. JV and I spent the day driving around the city scouting neighborhoods.
Main Course: What resolution is your top priority for 2007?
Taking good care of my poor, aging body – and more importantly learning to moderate the nasty things I put into it. Except maybe for the rubber marital aids.
Dessert: Using just three words, describe 2006.
Enough is enough.
Godspeed, Godfather.
Appetizer: What is one of your Christmas traditions?
Mimosas on Christmas morning. I will not be participating in that particular tradition this year. I just got to my Grandmother’s place near Toronto after a night in the city Friday with Janet and the best buddy crew, and I did it all powered on club soda. Antibiotics for only 4 more days, but my soda kick is going to be extended indefinitely.
Soup: Who is the easiest person on your list to buy presents for?
My sister. Because she tells me in no uncertain terms what she’s getting.
Salad: What is your favorite Christmas scent?
My Aunt Rosemary’s cooking. Be it ham or turkey. The woman also makes the most amazing carmel popcorn I’ve ever tasted, and she hasn’t seemed to notice I’m 33 as I still get a big bag of it every year.
Main Course: If you could give a fellow blogger a gift, what would it be and who?
I don’t read many blogs for fun anymore. Between writing my own, and reading all the seo blogs I have to daily to keep my saw sharp, it’s an increasingly short list. I suppose I would give Duck a job she enjoyed more.
Dessert: What’s something on your Christmas wish list this year that you need (not want)?
I asked my parents for a suit bag – is that the proper term? A piece of luggage made especially for transporting your suit. I don’t need it. Similarly I didn’t ask for food, water or heat this year. But I’m tired of showing up to weddings looking like Columbo.
Hello all – I am off to Toronto for the better part of a week. Stay happy, stay safe and remember – the most important part of spending the Holidays with family and friends is that you don’t accidentally offend anyone while privately enjoying your long-standing traditions. I leave you with this (hat tip to Taz)…
“On the 2nd day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my Significant Other in a consenting adult, monogamous relationship gave to me:
TEN melanin deprived testosterone- poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping,
NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression,
FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration,
FOUR hours of recorded whale songs
THREE deconstructionist poets
TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled
processed tree carcasses
and…
Merry Christmas. So there!
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What an uncanny topic, given my current appearance. I am really looking forward to going to see Rocky Balboa tomorrow night. The buzz is good and I always love the underdog. Whether it’s a 56-yr old actor making a boxing movie and having it work – or me not falling down a flight of stairs, liquored. By the way, the photo below isn’t actually me this time.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I put off taking painkillers all day because I had a large report to finish. A consultation with the plastic surgeon tomorrow (I wish I were kidding) and then that will hopefully be the last time I mention this ridiculous misfortune. Again, I’m not referring to Rocky, hopefully.
Saturday night I was at a friend’s holiday party, and we were all having a terrific time. At some point towards the end of the evening, I went upstairs to use the 2nd bathroom and had a little trouble getting back down. That is to say – my friends found me in a large pool of blood at the bottom of one of the staircases, knocked the fuck out.
I mashed my face off of about 10 steps in total, and when I finally went to the hospital yesterday I became their guest for 11 hours. My nose is broken, gashed, and I have a 3 inch tear in my inside lower lip. Why am I telling you all this instead of being embarrassed and keeping it to myself? The answer is simple – I am going to look like Mitch Green for the next month, and am also going to get really tired of telling the story (and frightening children) again and again.
I have been in a far worse scrapes over the years but have never looked as bad as this. My face looks like a ripe plum, and this is going to be an awesome way to see all my extended family at Christmas. “SURE you fell down the stairs, Dave. What does the other guy look like?” Oh alcohol, my fickle friend. This might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back/nose. Resolution calling, anyone?
Later tonight I’ll be hitting my first Christmas party of the season, and as I sit here making merry edits to my hockey podcast page, I suddenly got the urge to wish you all some holiday cheer. More specifically, Tom and Emily began molesting my poor, aging cat on film, and they ended up with a really yuletastic photo.
Boss doesn’t really care about Jesus, in fact he doesn’t care about anything that doesn’t sound exactly like an electric can opener. So I suppose I have to take the mic for this greeting. Be safe, love your family and friends and don’t start fights at the office ‘Holiday’ party. Sorry again, Emily. Anyhew, season’s greetings and remember – Jesus is still cool.
Yesterday I spent enough on a plane ticket to Toronto to pay my rent, and then some. So I am a little disgruntled with the holidays as a result, and I have an evil plot for my christmas gifts this year. That’s right, one quick stop at HMV in Toronto. Mom is getting something about Elvis or the Beatles. Dad is getting The African Queen. The little cousins get the new Pirates of the Carribbean flick. Janet reads this blog, so I’ll keep hers a secret for the time being. It almost brings a tear to the eye, right?
The other great parts of this selfless strategy is that DVDs are usually very well received, popular at Yankee swaps and easy to wrap. My Grandmother thinks DVDs are used to keep coffee stains off the kitchen table, so I may have to get a little more creative with her. Perhaps a Rita McNeil CD will hit the spot. Personally, I love getting DVDs, so I’m not really going to lose any sleep over this operation. Just a little respect and a few friends.
Last month I quickly mentioned the Hoodoo Gurus in one of my posts, and a few days later I got an email from a woman who told me she was doing public relations for the band. I assume, that’s a testament to the power of Technorati. She told me that they have re-released their entire catalogue on remastered CDs, and have also put out an amazingly comprehensive DVD which includes 20 years worth of videos, documentaries and live performances. Then, bless her heart, she sent it all to me. I have thoroughly enjoyed revisiting all of this great material, and featuring them this week on Wadio was a no-brainer.
I Want You Back is one of their earliest and best known songs, and the video is priceless. The Gurus dodge stop-frame animation rubber dinosaurs as they stiffly rock it out under breathtakingly bad hair. But it was 1983 and they were still finding their stride. They would go on to become the best Australian band no one in the US had ever really heard of, and if you dig this tune check out Miss Freelove 69 which got quite a bit of MTV airplay in 1989 and features one of my all time favorite guitar riffs.
There’s a scene at the beginning of Arthur, where he’s absolutely shitfaced and talking to a woman in a restaurant. A waiter drops off another glass of scotch, and Arthur says to his companion: “Aren’t waiters wonderful? You ask them for things, and they bring them.” This is how I feel right now, sans scotch. Although I did get a nice bottle as my leaving present from some former co-workers, and believe me I’ll get to it.
So why the hell didn’t someone tell me about PeaPod sooner? I had several conversations today with people who were anti-Pod. “Why would I pay $7 for delivery when the supermarket is right down the street?” That makes perfect sense if you live in Somerville. But when you’re part of the captive audience in the North End, with no market within walking distance, the Pod could be God. The few stores we do have here sees the groceries marked up aggressively, and I think the margin difference on the PP pricelist more than makes up for any fee.
They said they would deliver my stuff between 4 and 6pm, and appeared around 4:30. So they’ve got Comcast beat in that respect. “Yeah, we’ll be there sometime before the next full moon. Read a book.” The delivery guy was cool and explained the billing etc. as he knew it was my first Podtastic experience. He hauled in heavy stuff like a case of water and had all my minute deli orders cut to specifications. The website was really intuitive and the whole experience just makes me feel stupid that I’ve been paying $6 for small boxes of pasta these last 7 years.
Take my money, PeaPod. Bring me bushels of American cheese and cajun turkey. Roll up with tubs of hummus and sprinkle me with white vinegar and mayonnaise. Ring my buzzer and stroll in with several tubs of feta cheese and perhaps a bag of mixed nuts. If they had a CoinStar machine outside on the truck, I’d be in heaven.
