You know me – All the giant squid news that’s fit to print. A few months back I mentioned my excitement surrounding the monstrous giant squid corpse that was being studied in New Zealand. They’ve recently released a few findings and apparently this particular squidizen (see what I did there?) was not the Nautalis-crushing super-predator the scientists were expecting. The best bits:

• Not the T-Rex of the oceans but a lethargic blob.
• An overweight breeding machine.
• Probably quite docile when alive.
• A strange phenomenon that has caught scientists off guard.
• As she got older she got shorter and broader.
• Too gelatinous to have been a fighting machine.
• Have a penchant for toothfish, are no strangers to cannibalism.

Have the scientists considered that Rosie O’Donnell might have been in a windsurfing accident somewhere in the vicinity? This certainly doesn’t sound like the mighty giant squid of lore. Take out the “breeding machine” bullet and its Rosie right down to the toothfish. I need coffee.

I’m starting to warm up a little to my once, and now again, Ottawa-area home. I was initially of the opinion that no reasonably decent bands or comedians ever stopped here, and I’ve been proven wrong several times this past summer. Last month I went and saw Chris Rock play at the National Arts Center downtown, and I just found out that both Oasis and Neil Young are playing between now and the end of the year. Both are acts I’ve always wanted to see for posterity’s sake, and I might just get myself some tickets to see the brothers Gallagher when they play here in a little under 3 weeks.

Oasis has always been a guilty pleasure of mine. I say ‘guilty’ because they’ve been a little more ‘uber-popular’ in their lifetime than most of the bands I listen to. Then again, I’m typing as a guy who’s seen U2 in concert 3 times now. So my cover is blown and I might as well come clean. I love the music, occasionally emulate the unwarranted bravado and giggle at Liam’s many ridiculous booze and coke-fueled antics. Particularly his parenting.

My favorite Oasis tune has always been Supersonic, followed closely by Some Might Say, seen above. If this doesn’t work, I can always go see Method Man and Redman on September 27th. Maybe Ottawa is the only place left in Canada any of these folks is still allowed to play anymore? Neil Young excluded, of course. In Ottawa he’s practically the mayor. Any other secret Oasis fans out there? Plead your case.

When a countryman suffered a sprained groin, Lebron was happy to fill in as a guest member of the Men’s Olympic Wrestling Squad.

Appetizer: When was the last time you had your hair cut/trimmed?
There is a woman who lives about 5 minutes down the road named Maureen who has a salon in a room of her home and has been cutting my parent’s hair for several years. Whenever they go, I tend to go and the last time we went was about 3 weeks ago. If you’re still awake after reading that riveting expose, I have had the same haircut for over 20 years, it’s easy, fast and requires little more than a #2 clipper and that the barber/ette be reasonably sober.

Soup: Name one thing you miss about being a child.
Not much, because as anyone who knows me will tell you I am the quintessential man-boy. Peter Pan is my main man. I like to think I’m able to walk the line, however, between becoming a stiff, boring adult and refusing to ever leave the side of my mint condition still-in-the-package 1977 Han Solo figure in the basement nerdery.

Salad: Pick one: butter, margarine, olive oil.
There’s an English show I love to watch download called Dragon’s Den. There is now an American version so you probably know that it involves inventors and entrepreneurs pitching rich “dragons” and hoping they’ll both invest in their idea and also help guide them with their oceans of experience. Last night, one poor chap wanted to start an olive oil club. The dragons didn’t like the model or the margins and none of them invested. But they all absolutely loved the olive oil samples they were given, to the extent that I’m now very curious as to what exactly “fresh” olive oil tastes like. Yet another reason for my next big trip to be to Greece. Or to fill a bathtub with cheap domestic olive oil and roll around in it in the meantime. Shoot, we don’t have any bathtubs here.

Main Course: If you could learn another language, which – and why?
I took French in school for years but was an awfully inattentive, pain in the ass as a student. Regardless of how very hard I tried, I managed to retain a base vocabulary and have been using it a lot since my move to Canada. I plan to either take an adult-ed course in French up here over the winter or maybe download invest in a copy of Rosetta Stone. If Gooch comes through with his promise to store his skidoos up here this snowy season, all bets are off. Unless we take the trails all the way to Quebec.

Dessert: Finish this sentence: In 5 years I expect to be…
Married with children and working from a home office. In this day and age, there’s no reason Mr. Mom can’t have an actual income in addition to a fanny pack. Laptops have gotten small enough to fit comfotably on changing tables. Conference calls can be scheduled around naptime. Business lunches can be held at Chuck E. Cheese. I’ll make it work.

Life’s been a bit of a clusterfrig up here lately, but I’m bound and determined to get the blog’s technical issues fixed and find the time to write more frequently again. I love PITF, love amusing the people who read it regularly and it also saves me hundreds of thousands a year on therapy. So fear not.

Until the day comes when this blog is once again a font of humor and pop culture silliness, I give you one of the highlights from our own Detroit Velvet Smooth’s recent visit to Canada…

As we sailed to a local watering hole Kardinal Officiall came on the old iPod and we were inspired to perform a nautical n’er do well of a dance for my sister – who was luckier to capture it on tape than yesterday’s Bigfoot guy or Zapruder.

Our strange little cat shuffled off this mortal coil last night after a month of dramatic weight loss and piddling on my bed. After he moved up here with Janet back in April, he and I became pretty close, and towards the end he was spending as much time in my room with me as he was in hers. He was friendly, had a unique face which led me to nickname him the feline Jimmy Durante, and it’s a sad day in Portland.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhYNjdjLWMA[/youtube]

Here he is in a cute video from a couple months back, chilling on my bed with Shepherd. What I especially liked about him was the way in which he got along with the puppies. Although they tended to haunt and sniff him in inappropriate places, he truly seemed to enjoy their company and I even caught them all snuggling once or twice.

He’s currently lying in state in our laundry room, and I am off to build him a wooden box and then bury him in a quiet spot in the woods near our house. Godspeed, Mr. Bean. You were a great pet and a wonderful addition to our family.

When FiFi saw the T-Rex he was reminded of his former life as a vicious carnivore, spent sniffing other Tyrannosaurus’ butts.