I don’t have a Wadio in me tonight, but I’ve gone and done a little something that will allow you to procrastinate at least equally as long. Have a look at the main navigation tabs at the tip top of the page and you’ll see a new one – “Archives“. If you’ve been with me for a while I have made available literally all of the content from the many incarnations this site has gone through over the years. Have a gander and a giggle, talk amongst yourselves and I’ll get back to invoicing.
Heartwarming
Bromfield Street Revisited… Again
I wish I could bottle whatever unlikely element got into my weary system today. Up at 7:30 and closing down work for the day as soon as I finish this post for an early night. Two more days like this one and I might just get myself caught up with work. I almost just laughed when I read that last sentence back.
The Boston stop-over on the way back from Florida was professionally successful and socially silly to boot. I have uploaded a revelrous gallery you can peruse should you feel brave with photos from Friday night appearing near the bottom. Budweiser apparently serves towers of beer, which I figured must hold at least the equivalent of a 12 pack, and we took down a few like antelope on the Serengeti at my old homestead – Sidebar. We then moved on to another staple, Silvertone, and proved to ourselves and the civilians in attendence little more than that we should never reproduce.
Saturday night was little Bella‘s 7th birthday party at the new Hard Rock Cafe (good riddance, Rack) and yet another excuse to fire (down) harpoons like a Japanese whaling vessel. Then Sunday I headed back to Ottawa by way of Philadelphia and collapsed in my bed sometime around 10pm. I’m quite sad that the Patriots lost the SuperBowl, but to be honest I don’t think I realized it until sometime this morning. These days, 2 straight nights on the razz wipe me out both physically and mentally for the better part of a week.
I am back home, getting back to normal and doing all the things I’ve neglected for the last 5 weeks like laundry, eating food I prepare myself and not sleeping on a pull-out couch left over from a Spanish Inquisition torture galleon. I pick up the puppies on Saturday and obviously have no idea the type of mayhem I am in for. Life, however, is good. And home is definitely not a relative term to me anymore.
A Best Buddies’ Christmas Carol – 2007
December 15th, 2007 saw the umpteenth annual Best Buddies’ Christmas Party at Jason and Amy’s house in Toronto. Thank you for the hospitality guys, and I’m glad I was finally in the country for one of these. It was no surprise that I had my video camera on hand for most of the weekend and last night I edited the gargantuan mess into what you’ll see below: Among other things, very cute kiddies, a bad game of fetch, home made Baileys, Sears Portrait Studio, spanking, bad language and my goofy laugh way too close to the microphone. Please for to enjoy…
 [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcL8IV_QdWk[/youtube]
Merry Christmas again to all my friends and family who read this silly blog, and I love you’se all. Thanks to Amy for the amazing decorating job and I suppose Jason played a role in the party production too. The accompanying photo gallery can be found here.
Shepherd 2: Electric Boogaloo
Folks – your IMs, texts and emails in the 2 days since I posted the short blurb about my mother’s illness and Shepherd’s death pulled me right out of the doldrummy tailspin and I am forever grateful. Janet and I arrived in Florida Wednesday and spent the night in my parent’s trailer park, the residents of which are some of the nicest, most caring people I’ve ever met. I now know why coming down here was so important to my mother, although we’re still pushing for this to be the last year. As we sat around the fire enjoying a pot luck dinner in our honor, Janet and I were frequently pulled aside and given one-on-one insights (I guess you could call them) from their many 5th wheel residing buddies. Yesterday we met both of our parent’s doctors during separate appointments on opposite sides of Melbourne and that left us feeling better as well. My Dad in particular has an amazing doctor, social worker and nurse in his corner. Combined the last two days have provided us with some optimism and comfort, not to mention the nice messages from all of y’all.
As we drank multiple 1.5 liter bottles of white wine and ate friend chicken around a roaring propane blaze surrounded in turn by RVs and cats on leashes, I got a text message from my breeder. She informed me she’d located another young litter in our area and asked if I wanted her to look into it. She was devastated by the loss of the puppies and I really appreciate the way she sucked it up and tracked down another option for myself and some of the other disappointed families via her network of peers. I immediately got in touch with the backup breeder via BlackBerry and a few minutes later I had photos. After some more back and forth regarding family history, bloodlines, the size of the parents and finally price I had dibs on the only male in a litter of 8 born just one week after Shepherd and his unfortunate departed siblings.
Perhaps caught up in the heat of the moment, my sister told me to inform the breeder she wanted a female from the same litter too! So in one Chardonnay and grease soaked evening, which began as a very somber and morose affair indeed, we’d resurrected not only the notion of Shepherd Pye but found him a sister to boot! Janet will be getting photos of the remaining females after one other family takes first pick of the 7 little girls, but those are still great odds – and how much can you tell from a photo of a week old puppy anyway? It’s really all about the raising and the training. This is a photo of Shepherd 2.0 who greatly resembles the original in both size, coloring and genetics. I will post photos of the already named Pumpkin Pye as soon as Janet chooses her. Sometimes things go from bad to worse… and then backwards a few notches to “cool”. Punky and Shep will not be stopped!
Update: Janet has decided to name her dog Rhubarb Pye – “Ruby” for short.
Eyes Wide… Open
Shepherd opened his eyes for the first time last weekend, and here`s the little guy`s first photo as an optically-enabled canine. Sounds kind of like C.H.O.M.P.S.
Meet Shepherd Pye
My little, hairy bundle of joy was delivered yesterday to his proud parents Pixie and Oscar. I had first pick of the litter and I chose Shepherd Pye, or ‘Puppy C’ as he was formerly known, based on his classic Boston Terrier markings. The breeder herself said that if she was going to keep one of the litter for herself, Shep would have been the one. All of the puppies are cute, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re going to pay the purebred price you want the animal with the best stud value, etc. Click here for a photo of proud little Pixie and her litter, and here’s the wee man of the hour himself.
I’ll be picking Shepherd up around the 14th of February and am allowed to go and visit him as of January 23rd (7 weeks from now). It’ll be a long wait, as the breeder is just down the road from me, but she is very serious about protecting the puppies from diseases and meeting too many new people before they’re of a very specific age. As this is my first dog, and I’m only half way through the first of several dog books I’ve collected leading up to this, I will defer to her in all matters of dogginess. Wow – this is really happening.
Eat a Little Turkey, Feel a Little Jerky
It’s sad and quite a bit shitty to be sitting alone on what is usually my very favorite night of the entire year. The night before American Thanksgiving is when you’re supposed to travel back to your home town, hit a local bar or house party and get sillier than a horn of plenty with your high school friends whom you only ever see once a year on this night. When I returned from England in 1999 after about 5 years away from the Concord scene, I thought the tradition was long since dead. Little did I know the fun we had yet to have over the next 7 years. The Red House, the reunions, the Razzi. Many of my contemporaries couldn’t care less about staying in touch with their old school crew and that’s their prerogative – God forbid I should someday have a family and “normal life”. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way, and I sure miss y’all tonight.
The best Thanksgivingy passtime I could come up with for my self this evening was to sift back through folders and folders of old photos and assemble my favorites into a 60-deep Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past gallery. I hope you laugh if you were there and snicker a little bit even if you weren’t. At the very least you can watch us lose our hair. I’ll surely be tasting Jimmy’s deep fried turkey tomorrow as I catch up on work while all my American clients take the day off to stuff their respective faces. Great memories, great friends and trust me kids – there’s no way I’ll miss it two years in a row.
It’s Official: I am an American Citizen
Yesterday I took my oath and was sworn in as a United States Citizen in Boston’s awesome and historic Faneuil Hall. I sat in the main gallery with nearly 400 other people from every corner of the world who, like me, had decided to go through the long and arduous nationalization process. I sat near a friendly Russian and had a great conversation with my new buddy from Ghana who’s name I have no idea how to spell – so I’m not going to insult him by trying. Hopefully he will check in here himself and set me straight. We told many jokes, poked fun at some of the more breathtaking patriotic apparel and shared a real awe of the absolute hell many of the people in that room had to endure to get there. Congratulations to us all, and good luck in Texas, buddy. I’ll see you in Canada when you come to visit.
Tonight we’re having an informal gathering to mark the occasion of Citizen Pye at Silvertone in downtown Boston. If you’re not looking to shoot me for any reason, I invite you to drop in. We’ll be in the back room after 9pm. Here is a photo taken by my sister outside Faneuil after the ceremony yesterday. The document I’m holding cost me roughly $3,000 in terms of fees, plane tickets and lawyers – but it is beautiful and worth every cent. I only wish the passport photo used wasn’t taken so soon after I bashed in my face last December. I’m lucky for that reason my application wasn’t tossed into the circular file in the Tip O’Neil Building.
While we’re on the subject of photos, I have added a few new galleries to the site. Check out the rest of the photos from yesterday as well as various other shots from my latest Boston trip: Dave’s a Yankee Doodle Dandy. Then have a gander at the photos I took last weekend when Jason and Amy came to visit me in Portland. It’s a beautiful part of the country and the leaf peeping was sublime: Best Buddies Awesome Autumn Invitational. Also feel free to politely peruse photos from a Halloween party where I appeared as Indiana Jones, as well as a collection from another recent jaunt to Newport Rhode Island: October 2007. And finally, you might just find a picture of yourself in my tribute to the last few Halloween celebration ingeniously entitled: Ghosts of Halloweens Past. Having read and viewed all of the aforementioned, if you’re not thoroughly sick of my nutty life – you really should be. Looking forward to seeing many of you tonight.
Citizen Pye Approaches
Tomorrow I set off for Boston, yet again, for the final piece of my American Citizenship puzzle. I will be sworn in as a bonafied Yank Thursday at 12 noon inside Faneuil Hall. It’s been a year-long effort – much to the amusement of Air Canada’s coffers, but I am beyond happy and excited to finally be able to hand back my Green Card and start enjoying the perks of being a proper American. I’m still not entirely sure what those entail, but I’m hopeful.
I touch down in Beantown tomorrow afternoon at 5pm and will be hanging out on Hanover Street (Paradiso/Volle Nole) until my sister is finished work and decides to come to the North End and get me on our eventual way to her place in Medford. Thursday is the ceremony, followed by liquory silliness… and then the real silliness begins Friday night when Janet is said to be throwing me some sort of patriotic pant-puller either at her house or in a Beantown bar. If you’re interested in joining the fray – call my sister. Or, just show up. I’ll post details here on the blog as soon as I have them. You’re also completely welcome not to give a toss.
Biologically I am in Fact a Grown Man
My folks just took off to Florida for the winter and I am officially Ted Kaczinsky. Alone, in the woods, growing a beard, writing a manifesto and sending C4 through the mail to people I don’t like whilst dressed up like Weird Al Yankovich. Not really. If it’s any less disturbing, and let’s face it – it probably isn’t – the Indiana Jones costume I have prepared for a Halloween party tonight in Kingston is tres, tres dope. If I do say so Myself. Let me break it down for you.
- An authentic Indiana Jones hat which I bought online from the company who makes them for the movies.
- An $8 bullwhip replica I found on eBay. The real thing goes for $700.
- One of my father’s replica revolvers, complete with holster, which looks frighteningly authentic. If I am shot to death tonight by the OPP there need be little question as to why.
- An over the shoulder belt and WWII satchel that my Mom sewed out of an old canvas beach bag prior to her departure.
- Khaki pants which are fairly faithful to those worn by Harrison.
- Â An off-white collared shirt with a few pockets and things that I found in my Dad’s golf closet.
I tried it on for the first time a couple hours ago and I’m quite happy with it. After I put it on at my party location, I will proceed to smear a little dirt on myself and bloody up my knuckles like I’ve been battering Nazis and/or Thuggees for two hours. The hat is perfect and really makes the whole costume. I will post photos of the Indy getup next week and I invite you to send in your own 2007 Halloween costume photos which I’ll post and review, should I get any. Email them to me and then brace yourselves.
Sponsor Me in the Brain Games
Those of you who know Janet and I are aware that brain health is a subject very close to my family’s heart right now and your gestures will be most appreciated by us all. On October 24th, I will be putting my brain to work in support of the Firefly Foundation, a charitable organization dedicated to advancing brain health. The Brain Games will test how quickly I think, how well I remember, and how responsive I am to the world around me. This quick and fun online event will provide an assessment of my brain fitness. Donate to me today and help me reach my fundraising goal. Thank you in advance for your support. You can learn more and make a donation to sponsor me here.
Update: Many thanks to Jaime, Suzanne, Chris, Heather and everyone else who sponsored me.
The Last Rat in the Pack, Baby
Joey Bishop, the last living member of the infamous Rat Pack, died today at age 89. Bishop was the least well known of the final incarnation of the pack that would be made famous by Frank, Dean and Sammy – but he had a long and eclectic career in show biz none the less. Here he is with Orson Welles and Dino from the Dean Martin Show in the late 70’s. The straight man to Dean’s straight man.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuXi6oHTOrs[/youtube]
“Charlie Calucci likes the way I catch rivets…” Thanks for the memories, Joey and company. You’ll all be entertaining this cat for many, many years to come. Ring-a-ding-ding, St. Peter, babe. The martinis will be flowing in Heaven tonight.
Congratulations Amy and Chris!
Two dear friends of mine got married this past Saturday, and I’ve just completed a wedding gallery of the extremely fun day. I flew down from Ottawa last Wednesday and extended the trip beyond the weekend in order to visit friends and get in some office time – but it was really all about the weddin’. The way the ceremony and reception were organized really stood out in my mind, as the whole day seemed planned in the interests of making it ‘low-impact’ for the guests. Semi-formal, private home, shuttle back to the hotel, great room rate – and the ceremony itself lasted barely 15 minutes. The elegant simplicity of things in no way diminished any traditions – it was easily the most emotionally charged wedding I’ve ever been to.
We love ya, kids. Here’s to a great life together, and I hope you’re currently ruining bedsprings all over Martha’s Vineyard. Enjoy yourself, Chrissy. We have a lot of work to do when you get back.
Creative Outdoor Teenage Partying.
There’s a Facebook group for my high school town, and someone added a “You Know You’re From Concord When…” thread a while ago. Obviously, the group is predominantly much-younger people, but I was curious and added my own point to the thread. You know you’re from Concord When: “Being told to meet your friends at ‘Eden’, ‘Boonyards’ or ‘Mayflower’ makes perfect sense to you.”
Someone from the class of 2004 emailed me today and asked me to elaborate, so I did. This email is extended a couple paragraphs for the sake of the blog and reprinted with express written permission from… myself.
All three were nicknames we had for secluded outdoor places around Concord where we used to “par-tay”. Eden was along the river and accessible from behind the strip mall just off Lowell road near the center where Stop n Shop used to be. I worked there for a summer until they found out I was Canadian and didn’t have my greencard yet. It’s still a grocery store but has a different name now. There was a narrow path that wound through the underbrush for a bit and came out on a nice public lawn on the riverside with a decent amount of tree cover overhead. You could also walk down to it from the bridge down Lowell road a bit.
Anyway, Eden was a huge cop magnet and we only used it as a last resort when nobody’s parents were out of town. My friend got arrested one night, fully cuffed and stuffed, for peeing on the fire after the po-po told us to put it out. “I don’t care how you do it, but put that fucking fire out!” Well, my pal got a night in the docks and an embarassing Concord Journal Police Log entry for his efforts. The worst part is, the Journal listed the charge as “indecent exposure”, with his real name and age. That could have meant a million different things, and I’m sure his grandparents enjoyed reading it over Sunday breakfast while envisioning him running through a local preschool with his pants around his ankles.
Boonyards was a field that accessible by an overgrown dirt road just over the Bedford town line on Bedford Street that extended out from the Concord center rotary. Technically it’s located on Hanscom airforce base which we learned the hard way one night when soldiers with M16s on jeeps showed up to break up our bonfire. I was off in the dark fiddling with a British exchange student and made an easy escape.
Mayflower was in West Concord technically, and you had to go through the back of Thoreau hills to get to it. I don’t think the police ever found it during my CCHS career, but we accidentally rolled a full keg down into someone’s backyard one enchanted evening. That attracted a lot of attention and I don’t think I ever returned.
Glad I could impart some history on my wee descendants. Concord was a strange place in the early 90’s era. When I got to college in 1992, it bored me to tears. I’ve had this conversation with dozens of my friends who had the same freshman year blues. We’d wonder why people in our dorm got so excited over a lame frat keg party, and the rest of the kids on our floor wouldn’t believe our high school stories. The classes of 89 and 91 especially – we’d already fucking done it all. We kept Mr. Kryple and Ms. DiCicco on antacids – that’s for sure. The outdoor spots were backups, and the tip of the iceberg. Good times.
Canada Day Debacle.
For the long awaited Canada Day 2007, which is like the… 160th anniversary of the day the loyalists grew a pair and declared a Dominion (horribly inaccurate summary), I did a number of very patriotic things. When you live alone in a house for two months, like one of the kids from Flowers in the Attic, having your only sibling and several of your best friends in the same house for a long weekend is a little exciting. Throw in a boat, fireworks, some liquor and the birth of a nation – and we’re talking 6-year-old at Christmas excited. Here are the highlights.
1. Worked on Operation Bunkhouse for exactly 1.5 hours in 4 days.
2. Got so pinted one night that I didn’t get out of bed for the entire next day – again, whilst all my friends whom I was longing to see were here.
3. Continued to aggressively not work on the bunkhouse.
4. Provided one friend with so many patriotic punches to the ribs that he eventually retaliated with a full cup of beer to the lap.
5. Emotionally scarred a 10 month old border collie.
6. Wrote and sang at least 17 new songs whilst liquored, including such nouveau favorites as “Who’s Gonna go to the Truck and get some RedBull?â€, an acapella cover of “Jump Around†and the timeless “Who Wants to go to the Gazebo and Have Drinks?â€. I believe Sully has extensive video of the wonderful additions to the modern musical canon, so stay tuned.
7. Paid an extortionate amount of money to have satellite internet installed which has gone down about 15 times so far. Lightning has a very negative effect on the weak signal, as do dragonflies farting near the dish I have to assume at this point. The best part is, I got to climb a 24 foot ladder and cut down all the branches on the tree for the guy who installed it. Maybe there’s a voucher in the mail.
My gallery is here, and Sully’s should be up in a few days at which time I’ll add another shameful link. Thanks for making the trip to everyone from Boston and Toronto – it meant a lot to me, and my parents had a great time in spite of me channeling the ghost of Brendan Behan for two evenings straight.