DAMN YOU, SONYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

1) So I just picked up an HD-DVD player in the Boxing Day sales...

2) One of the films I was looking forward to watching in stonking 1080p resolution was Danny Boyle's excellent sci-fi pant-wrecker, Sunshine.

3) Not spotting it in the shops I thought I'd pick it up on Amazon, but alas...

4) Sunshine is published by 20th Century Fox.

5) 20th Century fox only publish on smegging Blu-Ray.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!


And to make matters worse...

a) The "chepaest" blu-ray player is still a PS3.

b) They still cost ultra-silly money.

c) They come bundled with Spiderman 3, and there is no way that unmittigated sack of dog shite is coming near the cherished vault of cinematic excellence that is my DVD collection.

Arse.

Still... at least I get Transformers! (Queue theme music...)

Let the Sunshine In

Dan and I met up with the two processions that made their way along the shoreline last night, for the annual Winter Solstice Festival. Drummers led the troops carrying home-made lanterns and the procession converged on a park, where we all gathered round a fairy-light lit circle and watched fire dancers perform using flaming poi, hula hoops, jump ropes, a skirt made of fire and a lighted serpent, who chased away the sun. Was a pretty remarkable start to the Secret Lantern Society's 14th annual solstice bash.

We then made our way to the Roundhouse community centre where the ceremony was opened by a Native singer who sang and drummed out a traditional song. We then wandered through the intense and reflective room that housed the labyrinth - traditionally symbolic of the year in transition. You enter at one end and with palms face down, let go of all the year's struggles. You reach the centre of the labyrinth and meditate on the year ahead, and you wander back out, in the candle-lit dim light, with your palms face up - ready to receive the year's bounty. All the while, there was a low thrum of Tibetan chanting and a woman mindfully eaking out some haunting noises on Tibetan bowls...it was quite an emotional experience for us, actually, and the whole walk took 20 minutes. Was quite moving.After that it was off for ceremonial sushi! :-) May the year ahead be filled with light (and more soya sauce).

Happy Winter Solstice!

The witch in me wishes you all a wonderful solstice and yule. It's an exciting day today - after tonight the days get longer. So go hug a tree, gather up some holly, ivy and mistletoe, light some candles and curl up with your hangover (or power through it by continuously boozing) and remember that it's all going to be a bit brighter from now on. Have a magical day!

Our New Pet. We Call Him Melonhead.

Just joking. But Dan and I have this week become obsessed with the Vancouver Aquarium's Live Action Beluga Cam after we saw them merrily blowing the aquatic version of smoke rings at the EA Christmas party. These beauties blow big ol' underwater bubbles bat them around with their noses, and then burst, and it looks all fizzy. Apparently they do this to "show off" a volunteer told me. Mui impressive!

Let's face it. When life, the universe and everything gets you down, what better a thing to do than look at these enormous, marshmellow-esque lard duvets with their smiley, happy faces?

Watch here now.

(I'd upload the mega-sized higher res one that Dan put together - so we can stream it to our TV of course - but Blogger isn't letting me). Enjoy!

November Madness, December Retardation

Greetings, all, and a thousand sorries. Every day that passes Dan and I get more and more sheepish at the painful lack of bloggage action. You’ve heard the excuses (erm, every waking moment at home has been dedicated to the art of DIY, folding Ikea boxes away and shoving crap in various corners), so just thought I’d catch you on what we’ve been doing for the past month. Sorry, this'll be another monster one but we promise over Xmas to be more blog-like in frequency.

The Home
We do plan on uploading some new pics of our uber-pad when it’s ready – but it’s still very much a work in progress. We’ve come a long way with it though, and despite the fact it seems like it’s the magnet for all the Earth’s dust, it’s transforming rather nicely every day. The bedroom’s done, wallpapered (complete with slightly different batch numbers on the paper, so it, erm, has an interesting fade) and filled with furniture. The living room is coming along, but if Dan and I didn’t keep knocking over our framed paintings and breaking them, it’d be more sorted.

BUT! We now have a delicious brand new EQ3 leather sofa in chocolate brown, and….erm…. a 46” high-definition, LCD 1080p flat screen Sony Bravia with 5.1 surround and mounted on a bracket so it looks like it’s floating on the wall. It took much planning and sweat on Dan’s part to get this beast on the wall (and I promised not to tell you that he was so worried about it falling off that he put our inflatable mattress under it for three days), but now it is a thing of beauty. Hell, after kitting out our place with furniture from those Swedish bastards, we figured we’d splash out on a posh TV and sofa. So we can unwind in the comfort of our own home cinema, don’t you know....

Dan’s also been a pillar of machismo and caning it by working on converting our closet-y room into his “Command Centre”. The “den” is now a manly oasis of deep grey, metal desk and metallic blinds and yes, he’s mounted his surround for the computer in here as well and plans on hiding his cables in the wall. He’s gone fracking insane but appears to be extraordinarily content to have his own ManLair (now with own outside deck that I’m calling the Dan-cony! And a special shelf bought specifically to display his Masterpiece Optimus Prime and Megatrons!) And as soon as his limited edition, 20th Anniversary Transformers lithograph is back from the frame shop, he'll also post a picture of it.

Yup.

Needless to say I have adopted the blue room as the “Rock Room”. Though blue is decidedly unrock/goth, I plan on making it my own by scattering rock paraphernalia, tickets, photos and drum sticks on every flat surface.

Anyway, the flat’s coming along awesomely. And judging by our mate Julie’s reaction when she saw it (she was our first overnight guest too) – “I can come house sit, this place is amazing!” – it’s looking and feeling pretty good.

The Social Life

UK DJ Seb Fontaine played a totally by-rote, asleep-at-the-wheel set at Sonar on November 9^th. I took Dan there as an early birthday pressie, and we headed out in the rain to see one of our fave DJs “tear it up” in Vancouver. Unfortunately, the only thing we tore up was the pavement when we left early out of boredom (after waiting three hours to see him). Still and all, I did manage to put a wee note in front of La Seb indicating that we’d always gone to see him at the (soon-to-be-defunct) Cross club in London and it was good to see him here. He laughed heartily and blew me a kiss. Nice! Then it was off to our mate Luke and Bay’s leaving do the next night (they were off to Oz for a few months) where we spent most of the night chatting with Arthur, a heavily pierced and tattooed Aussie café barista who lives here.

Dan’s birthday ( Nov, 13 for those of you who missed it, and there were a few of you ;-) was fairly low-key but nice, as the flat was in tatters and we weren’t ready to throw a bash London-stylee. And I had a bad cold. Blech. But we headed out to the resto Lucy Mae Brown (a posh restaurant which had Dan’s fave burger), and he had a good meal, while the rest of us (Joy, Beth & Simon) suffered through an overpriced disaster cooked by the cleaners, we think. Anyway, our boy was happy enough with his Steak Tartare starter, followed by Beefburger and a chocolate brick cake I brought that I’d had decorated with his name and a little Minicon Transformer. Kudos to those of you who did send cards and calls and pressies – I know he really appreciated it, you lovelies. Tis hard when we’re all on different planets…

November 30 swept us away to the Vancouver Aquarium, late at night, for EA’s Christmas party! How bloody marvelous that EA rented the ENTIRE aquarium, inside and out, and everything was open to us to explore on our own, complete with DJs, a hysterical guy dressed as Neptune, a dancing starfish, a maritime band and of course, the real celebs of the night, all the fishies, jellymonsters and most amazing white beluga whales. The whales treated us to some belly rubs up against the windows and playful bubble-blowing action. They were amazing and Dan had to practically drag me away from every tank. Even the dolphin came right up to my window (though there were tons of people watching elsewhere), turned right around to face me directly and say hello! An absolutely brilliant night for those of us who are easily entertained by slimy creatures.

The next night we (Dan, Julie – one of our Suite101 editors, music fan and general bon vivant – and I), trundled out in the snow blizzard to a new venue I’d not been to, the Red Room. Why ? To see my ex-thing – the most wonderful and awesome Mike Doughty (formerly of Soul Coughing).

I could write extensively on how weird and head-spinning and amazing and awkward this gig and our subsequent reunion was (I hadn’t seen him in 10 years and things kinda ended weirdly for us), but will spare you the drama. The most important thing to say here is that Dan – a fan of Mr. D himself – was the most awesomest husband in the world for his tolerance, patience and support of his wife's rock-induced insanity. Hearing that Mr. Rock Star had cheekily squeezed his wife’s ass, he concurred that his wife had a squeezable ass, and then offered gallantly to go beat him up. A great night– if totally bizarre – followed by a bit of partying back at our pad with Julie – who’d never played on the Wii or seen the Mighty Boosh.. ;-)

So that brings us to this week, Thursday. One of the amazing offshoots of losing nearly 50 lbs is the fact that I now seem to have an abundance of energy. So while Dan was cutting 1mm off each of the slats of his metallic blinds for the Control Centre, I ventured out in the icey cold lonesome to go see an old mate of mine and his new band.

Mark Henning used to be in a Vancouver-based band called Pure. I hung out with all of the Pure boys quite a bit in the early 90s (holy crap, that’s 15 years ago...) back in Toronto and since being back in Van, had been in touch with their singer Jordy Birch. So during the day, I sent a Facebook email to Mark saying hello, we’ve now moved here, and how was he? He was just fine, in fact, and his band Combine the Victorious were playing tonight at Richards – did I want to come? Of course! So I headed out around 10pm into town to see the gig. And in the process hooked up with Jordy, and Todd Simko, a producer and former guitarist for Pure, who both were at the show to lend Mark support. Very funny evening and nice to see old friends.

So, onward into December! A few parties in the offing but a lot of our close mates are away or on hols, so shall see. We're going to do a housewarming in late Jan. and I’m already looking ahead to Feb when the gigs pick up again (Dean & Britta with my old friend from Luna, Dean Wareham, the Editors and Hot Hot Heat, woot!) Mum arrives Dec 14 for her X-month stint at ours, which’ll be nice. And then we’ll do our first own Xmas in the new flat! Can’t wait for that. Even though I can’t eat any proper food or down booze this holiday, I think it’ll be a nice one. Dan did offer to do my diet with me over Xmas, but I told him not to be retarded - he’d just be scoffing chocolates and beer in his office behind my back. We’ll be around from Dec 21 to 2^nd Jan, so do Skype, call or email.

Hope you’re not all too green from yer own celebrations. We’ll be in touch. And we miss you guys. A lot.

The Eighth Level of Hell: Moving and Unpacking

I'm not sure why Dante's seven levels of hell didn't include moving, unpacking and decorating.

Personally, I HATE painting and DIY. Can't stand it. *spits* Thankfully, it makes Dan feel macho. And as he's had 8 days off from EA following our move on the 22nd, he's done some excellent work in the house. We've unpacked the kitchen, painted the bedroom, spare room and living room, got my stuff and dining room table shipped over from Toronto, had Internet installed, put shoe and trouser racks in the closet, put together a bed (no wounds for Dan this time), a dresser, a bookshelf and erm, been to Ikea more than a few times.

Downside of wallpapering the bedroom with awesome paper? Running out when you're two-thirds of the way through. We've now had to dispatch the other Mr. Taylor (Dan's brother) to hunt it down in the UK and ship it over. Bless 'im. But right now the Boudoir DanMinky is looking a bit, erm, under-done.

And we're still living in boxes - they seem to grow and breed overnight. Dan is insisting on moving electric baseboards and doing all sorts of shit that just gives me the heebie-jeebies. Okay, call me a girl, but I just want to unpack and relax. This mental pace of moving/unpacking and painting and building stuff has just done my head in and now I'm totally knackered out. Working through all this and being on the diet is making me crazy(er). But hey, nobody said buying your first home would be easy, and these last weeks have been stoopid busy.

On the plus side, we love our new neighborhood, are coming to grips with the constant barrage of traffic outside and the incessant dust-bunnies that have been shagging like rabbits and leaving dust whorls in every corner of our new pad. But being so close to the Skytrain (first I thought, oh Christ, I'm on the tube again - but then I realize, hey, it's quiet and only takes 10 minutes!) and a huge supermarket AND the amazing mom-and-pop shops of Commercial Drive, it's just awesome. We're really happy. Dan's only five minutes away from a home-made fresh ravioli shop and Italian specialty store, which makes him a happy bunny indeed.

We can't wait to have you all round for a visit.

Still, we're living in box hell. Our lack of storage areas is really a problem but Dan assures me he'll find some space-saving robot alien to remedy the situation, but I fear living in boxes may be de rigeur for quite some time.
What else? Well, I've dropped a staggering 32 pounds in two months. That's more than 2 stone.
I'm pretty proud of myself - as it gets colder, all I want to do is climb inside a mountain of mashed potatoes and other forbidden carbs, and it's pretty difficult when your meal is finished about a half-hour before your partner's. But ah well. The results are impressive. I can barely wear any of my old clothes - they look like tents on me so I dug up old shirts and trousers that I can now fit into. It rocks.
We went on a Haunted Halloween Trolley tour of Vancouver with our friends Simon and Beth on Hallow's Eve, and visited a graveyard and met a pathologist at the Van Police Museum who explained in graphic detail how they did (back in the day) and do autopsies! Dan was all jumpy through that, and they were worried he was going to faint (apparently they'd had three MALE fainters earlier in the evening) but I thought it was awesome. Natch.

We're off to see DJ Seb Fontaine next week for an early Dan's birthday pressie (reminder, it's on November 13th and he's really missing his mates, so be sure to drop him a line if ye can!), and then we're out to his fave burger/fancy resto for his actual birthday. Should be fun.

But all this is to say that for the forseeable future, we'll be a bit overstretched. But we miss you guys and hope all is well. Sorry for the utter crapness at this blog thing, but combined with the move, the first payments, the boxes, the painting etc, oh, and my diet, we've been a bit shagged out. Plus, we don't have our computers sorted yet, so we're doing everything off the laptop and sharing it.

Anyway, hope all is well and dandy!

xM

Casa Dan and Mikala

So this is old news but we thought you'd like the pics if you haven't seen 'em already. We bought a flat! A condo! Which is a basically an apartment! Because there are no houses that young people can afford in Van! And ours is the one with the turret! A TURRET!

We've got the following:

• two-bedrooms plus-small-hideaway for Dan's batcave. He's already planning the fingerprint-entry security system and a door that looks like a bookshelf...

• a home at the grungy and slightly downtrodden end of a VERY funky neighbourhood called Commercial Drive which means we're only minutes away from cool bars, restos, shops. Sure, we're at the tail end and close to the bums and hobos, but hey, that's what the Vancouver East End is all about. Think about Clapham or Camden and then remove most of the really horrible pikeys and gotty teens and leave a few drunks. That's the Drive. But the whole neighbourhood is undergoing some gentrification (not always a good thing, but a good thing for our investment), so it's great. Means that we're near some new adventures....currently, Commercial Drive is home to the annual Dyke March and other such "colourful" events. Wahey!
• We're also about five minutes away from a fabulous park and lake, called Trout Lake. Haven't been there yet but sooo relieved to have some lovely greenspace to bike in...and I shall be expecting muy trout, when we do visit.
  
• We've got FOUR balconies. Okay, so most of them overlook the busy mini-highway and Skytrain tracks right next to us, but one has a proper view of the mountains and the rest will make for good storage and party spaces. Hey, you can't have everything! ;-) And if you're gonna have to deal with traffic noise, better that you're also two minutes away from the Skytrain. My work commute? 15 minutes.
• We only share one wall with neighbours. The rest is the sky, baby!
  

We take possession on 20 October, which basically means that we found, offered, bought and moved into a flat in just under 6 weeks. There are some benefits to no gazumping in Canada, but the stoopid fast pace means my stress has quadrupled as I try to navigate us through the first-time-buyer's market in a city that wants to charge $400K for parking spots. I've been having some terrific conversations with lawyers, banks, brokers, real estate agents, friends, relatives...but it's looking good (toes crossed) - and beats our current living situation: an igloo made of boxes. How DID we accumulated so much?

The plan is we'll wander over there on the 2oth before our stuff gets moved, and try to paint. Dan, of course, has gone all "Home Reno"-retarded which will be helpful for me in the long run (I hate decorating and just want to unpack), but slightly worrisome in the short-term, when I remind him that we have 1) No Money 2) No Furniture 3) No Time. But hey, that's what Ikea's for, and so we've plumped for buying the same bloody bed we had in England. Tres chic!

As a result of said Reno(aggro)vation discussions, we've been having having some pretty technicolour arguments about the aforementioned paint and wallpaper (which of course, Dan wants to have shipped from the UK, and which is likely crafted from young nubuck, threaded with titanium, cured by young Icelandic virgins and which can be hooked up to the ginormous robot/grid he also plans on building for the flat). I never knew I cared about such things, but apparently I do! Especially when it means it will bankrupt you and we're just about to part with a HYOOOJ deposit and fees....

On the plus side of spending money on credit, we've invested in a posh and louche leather sofa today - we figure our only good investment besides the flat should be the thing we plump our butts down on daily. And through some witty bantering and the discovery that the fab, gay furniture sales guy had lived in London for 9 years, I got us a 10% discount to boot. Nice!

Anyway, here are a few photos to get yer started (ignore the horrid furniture, it was a boys' flat before...) and we'll put more up as and when it transforms into our palais-du-fun. Guest room means you're all welcome to stay next year, once we get settled....

Hooha!
-------
Hello. Dan here.
Checkout the blue-print I made:
The Dancave is the small room top left with the 7.1 surround gaming system.

Now that Medal of Honor is pretty much finished, I have been researching "Smart Homes". With a modicum of cash and some crafty computer hacking, I can wire the flat so that it will gently wake us with a simulated sunrise every winter's morning (using natural-light bulbs), turn off all the lights when we leave for work and automatically dim the lights whenever a DVD is played (bringing them back up to half brightness if we pause to take a leak).

Mwuh-hah-hah-haaaaaa!

Bruce Lee R.I.P.

It is a sad day in the Taylor household.

Our beautiful Betta Fish, Bruce Lee, passed away quietly during the night.

Bruce had been looking a little green around the gills this past week. The freshest water and most relaxing, medicated fish treatment were administered, but to no avail. Yesterday evening he was looking a little pale and listless but Mikala and I hoped that, if he could survive a plane trip, he could bounce back from anything.

Alas, this was not the case.

Bruce shall be fondly remembered for the way he used to merrily leap out of the water to grab food from our fingers, and how he used to puff up, go bright red and wiggle his fins ferociously if we showed him his reflection.

Perhaps it is fitting that, like his namesake, his passing is shrouded in mystery, and woefully premature.

Bruce Lee: the man, the legend, the fish.

Bruce Lee
2007 - 2007
R.I.P.

Arse Injections

So I've started this medieval diet. Yes, I know what you're all thinking. You're thinking: "Mikala, you're always on some sort of stupid no-wheat, no-beef, no-exercise and all alcohol diet, so why would you need to start another?"

Fact of the matter is that my nickname Minky should actually be spelled Minke. Like the whale. ;-)

You may not have noticed this about me because I have been actually projecting a holographic image into your brain for that I actually and more closely resemble Gisele Bundchen.

So - in the interest of putting down roots here in Van and getting my proverbial house in order I have sold my liver (it was HUGE from all the booze!) to pay for this diet that I've done much research on, called the Dr. Bernstein diet. Sounds ridiculous and faddy and I'm the first to be a cynic on these things, but I've fully committed to it. And I've now heard from four friends who had four friends who did it and dropped, like, half their size. And are keeping it off.

I've rearranged my cupboards and our fridge, separated all my proteins into 100g baggies and am embarking on a huge, Biggest Loser-sized life change. This time, I'm totally sure it'll work as well. The glass half-empty girl has been replaced with the "I may be skinny for the first time in my LIFE" girl.

Here's what I eat a day:

• two servings of protein (chicken, turkey, some fish or egg whites only) that are roughly smaller than the size of my PALM. I've got small hands. That's 100g in one go and you can't save it to have more.
  
• Then I get 460g of veg. Some veg. Not all veg. Not the fun veg. The green veg. And I've learned that Tomatoes weigh a lot.
  
• Then I get 2 servings of "bread". By bread, I mean four melba toasts or WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO a whole Matzoh cracker. Total. In a day.
• Because I'm so stuffed from this I can barely cram in the 2 servings of fruit (a half a grapefruit, a quarter small cantaloupe, an apple, an orange or 6 strawberries counts as one serving). And my treat? A cup of Jello Light.
• And did I mention that in all that I can only eat CERTAIN BRANDS of these foods? Oh yes!
• And did I mention that I'm not allowed ANY alcohol? A.N.Y. E.V.E.R.
  

Sounds delightful and totally insane right? The Bernstein clinic guarantees, however, that if you follow it to the letter then you'll lose 16-20 pounds A MONTH. It took me a year to lose 30 pounds with Weight Watchers. And I had to put up with our insufferable group leader whose catchphrase was "Cheese is my weakness" (said much like Marsha from Spaced).

Anyway, top this all off with visits to the clinic (which is only run by doctors and nurses and you have to go through a very thorough physical exam and they monitor your health constantly) EVERY OTHER DAY.

Add to this the following ingredients:

• Vitamin B INJECTIONS in my arse (in two weeks I get to change this to my belly or my thighs, w00t!) during every clinic visit (three times a week)
• One killer Vitamin B pill, four potassium pills and one multivitamin a day.
  
• Did I mention the three-weekly urine samples? No? They test you to see if you're going into ketosis I was +1 on Monday (good) and I'm +2 today (Better!)
  
• Oh and the blood test. Took that yesterday. Yay! Whoopee!
  

So, my friends, this to underline how unfun this diet is. This diet makes Weight Watchers look like the all-you-can eat buffet with extra lard. I went to the cinema last night and snacked on a half an orange I saved from my "huge" lunch.

But it's working. I've lost nearly 8 pounds in 5 days. And it's fat, not muscle, not tissue. And you know? I don't feel that bad. A bit forgetful, a lot hungry, but alright. Dan even remarked that I seemed terribly chipper. The diet comes into your life and smacks you about the face before it kicks you in the gut and rolls you into the gutter, but at least it's balanced. I'm eating wheat again, ha ha!

I'm fully planning on committing to this (as long as I can afford it) to the next four or five months. Next time you see me, I hope I will only be half of me.

Four Seasons in One Day, Weather With You, Six Months in a Leaky Boat, etc

The 7-week Vancouver municipal strike has lead to some pretty stinky garbage piles and countless gigs meant for the city-owned Orpheum to be moved to other venues. Like, for example, the delightfully quaint Stanley Park "Outdoor Arena" of Malkin Bowl - a name that grossly overestimates a mud clearing, rusted half-moon stage and slight hill on which to perch the portaloos.

Here I find myself, on Labour Day Monday night, thinking about the striking civic workers...

...and why the hell I've come to see Crowded House (for the second time in a month) in the POURING RAIN.

Nevermind. The fact of the matter is that hundreds of Wet Coasters who had planned a cozy night in at the ploosh Orpheum were now obligated to see their favourite band in the cold wet of September. Some, I read, even drove from Edmonton for the thing.Now, it is chucking down and the name Noah is being bantered about. Yet the Crowded House fans - a loyal and dedicated middle-of-the-road lot - stand outside with their MEC and North Face wilting. For some, it's been a few hours outside. Is this is a problem? Hell no! Kiwiland's finest minstrels have returned with their melodic sing-songs! And the rain has let up just long enough for opening act Pete Yorn to come offstage, but then buckets down as Crowded House come on! Huzzah! O rapture!

Three weeks earlier however, and you'd find a much different CH gig - replete with a sold out but geriatric and decidedly up-its-own-arse Toronto crowd sat on their hands, nearly mute, as the band played its first local gig in 11 years. Like my brother Derek always says while spitting: "Toronto gig crowds? They just SUCK. I hate them."
But on this night, in the "Scottish mist", hundreds of Vancouverites, cold and wet to the bone, giddy from the scent of urinal cakes shifting down hill, jumped up in down in the mud, screaming, singing and laughing. "Everywhere you go, always take the weather with you...."

Which proves one thing: Vancouver still p*sses on Toronto.

Enter The Dragon

Ladies and Gentlemen...
I am proud to introduce to you...
The newest member of the Taylor family...
Bruce Lee!


Those of you who are keeping up with our misadventures may recall Mikala mentioning the "moving centerpieces" from Anna's wedding the other weekend. Well, those centerpieces just happened to be the most adorable little Siamese Fighting Fish (hence the snappily monikered "Bruce").

These fish, also known as Betta fish, are pretty amazing. Here are a few Betta facts...

• Betta fish are the only pet fish that will recognise their owners face and swim up to it
• They can jump 3 inches out of the water to escape their bowls
• They change colour depending what mood they are in.
• They are carnivorous
  
• They HATE other Betta fish - that's why they are called Siamese Fighting Fish. Because they fight.

While Bruce was chillin' in his bowl at the wedding, our chum Andy (animator extraordinaire and most excellent creator of videogame Otsel, Daxter) pointed out that if you show a Betta fish its reflection it will go ape shit. The disclosure of this fishy factlet promptly preceded all the boys stealing the compacts from their ladies' handbags for a bit of fish-baiting while their better-halves went off to dance to Duran Duran.

Unfortunately Bruce's style, much like his namesake, was the art of fighting... without fighting. After a few minutes of trying to freak the fish out with mirrors a less labor-intensive plan was divised...


A piscine, gladiatorial arena! The three combatants actually got quite lary, changing colour and puffing their fins up like scaly little Chuck Norrises.

Anyway, as the evening came to a close, the partygoers tripped home (and I mean tripped) with their fish in hand (I don't mean that - the fish were in the bowls, Stupid.)

The next morning it dawned on Mikala and I that trying to board an aeroplane with a fish might be problematic given the ridiculous post-9/11 restrictions on fluids... It looked like Bruce was for the flush...

Fortunately we hatched a cunning plan worthy of Lord Blackadder himself. (Cue Mission Impossible theme music...)

1615 hours: Bruce is transfered from his bowl to a 1 liter Tupperware container
1630 hours: Mikala and I check in while Ninna looks after "the package"
1645 hours: The merchandise is transfered from the Tupperware to an Airport-approved fluids bag containing 100ml of water (the legally allowed maximum amount of any single fluid)
1650 hours: We explain to the nice customs officials that x-rays are lethal to small fish and that Bruce was a wedding present (well... he was a present and we did get him at a wedding)
1655 hours: After a thorough inspection by the mildy entertained customs staff we are waved through - fortunately one of the x-ray operators keeps Betta fish and even advised us to open the bag a bit as Bettas actually like to breathe air through their mouths (I shit ye not).
1700 hours: Mikala and I hot-foot it to the nearest baby-change and prep Bruce's Tupperware with room-temperature mineral water and fish conditioner
1705 hours: Bruce is safe in his watery mobile home
1800 hours: board plane and relax - phew!

Fortunately fish, unlike lobsters, do not explode at altitude. Thank Christ.

2200 hours (PST): Bruce touches down safely in Vancouver. Hurrah!


Anyway, Bruce is now happily ensconced in his bowl, atop our dining-room table enjoying a healthy diet of blood-worms and other such fishy delights.


Now where did I put that mirror...

Anna and Rahul's Big Fat Greek Wedding

My Best Friend got married in Toronto this weekend in what can only be described as a Big Fat Greek Wedding.The bride was 20 minutes late, the grumpy old priest rushed through the lovely Greek Orthodox ceremony (he had to, they'd booked like forty squillion weddings back to back), and the lovely couple made the mad dash to the white limo. Meanwhile...

....new husband and old ex of Mikala caught up outside. Al looking furrowed. Dan looking Dan-ish. Both looking sharp.

The reception was at a monster banquet hall, where Greeks jostled for space with Filipinos at the next wedding over. After the 1.5hour-long reception line (with Rahul doing Jager shots at the end of it with us) the wedding party-cipants were announced by the DJ. In danced Anna's sister Lydia and friend Cherilee to "Girls on Film" - a song, Lyd said, they'd chosen just for me.

And then there was the food. Thank Christos for Greeks and their food.

To complement the open bar were tables of antipasto, spanikopita, lamb meatballs, tzatziki, shrimp, pita, a separate saganaki flaming cheese bar, followed by filet mignon AND chicken dinner. At midnight came the most amazing pairing: the petit fours, cake and ROAST LAMB station. *burp*. During all this...
...me and my best girlfriends from uni Sher (L) and Jenell (R) caught up on what seemed like 40 years of history. Then came the speeches. Some were sweet, others funny, some bizarre. A fave moment? Besides Anna's sister Lydia counselling her new brother in law to stock up Midol (like Feminax), it was when Anna asked the assembled masses to show how many of us had had HER in their own wedding parties....and more than a half-dozen hands shot up. Always a bridesmaid, finally a fekkin' bride. :-)

The speeches were then followed by dancing. Man alive, was there a lot of dancing. Them Greeks can move! From the gorgeous couple's sashay, to Anna's parents cutting a rug Athens-style, the highlight was the dance by the astoundingly sexy beast Anna herself...... doing a Greek goddess waltz, which ended with her downing a shot of Ouzo that had been placed at her feet. Soon every Souvlakian in the house joined in. And then, as the wine soothed our souls, even us whiteys got involved...
...then the waiters came out waving sparklers....
...which was followed by the drunken "let's get all of us from Ryerson (our uni) together for a group shot" moment...
...which was then superbly capped off by the superb lime green ice fish. Of course! To which Anna proclaimed: "What the fuck is that?"

I haven't even mentioned the moving centrepieces (more on that in Dan's blog soon).

But in a word or two, it was fookin' fantastic. So let's raise a glass to the Greeky pipsqueak. My best friend, maid of honour and divine goddess, Anna and her it's-actually-awesome-how-much-I-like-the-guy husband, Rahul. Opa!

NOTE: Because we're all lushes and like a party, let's also raise a bottle to lovely and fabulous Andrea Lofthouse (now Garske!) who got married on the day after Anna's (or same day if you're considering the time difference), in Port Douglas Australia. We're sorry we couldn't make it, but we had ice (and real) fish to contend with. We wish you both all the extreme-sports-love in the world.

GroupieDar™ and How Timing is Everything

My first-year journalism professor Loren once said: "Mikala, you seem to have the knack of being at the right place at the right time."

Massey Hall is a venerable concert venue in Toronto and on August 13 played home to Crowded House's reunion visit to T.dot. It's also my old stomping grounds: I met Steve Earle, Andy Summers from the Police, The Mission, Erasure, David Sylvian (of Japan), Crowded House and countless of Canadian musicians here. I have great affection for this venue and my arse has graced its rusted stairwell near the stage door on many an occasion.

I was going to be in town that week (for my best mate's wedding) so picked up some tickets in advance. Now I just needed to pass some time before the gig. I sent mum on her way home from our shopping excursion, and thought about bimbling down the Box Office to collect my tix in advance and checked my watch.

Hmmm, sez I. "Sound-check o'clock".

Off I trundled and when I saw the tour bus, went round back, you know, for old time's sake. Chatted with the five earnest CH fans who were waiting to get their albums signed. "The band are inside and are not coming out for the rest of the night", one said to me.

I snorted. "No, no (pshaw). All you need to do is find a guy with a laminate - not a security guard, mind, because they can't do anything to help - and perhaps ask him to get the boys to come out. They may do." The guys were silent, waiting, hoping. Shy.I laughed as a guy with a laminate comes 'round the corner. "Excuse me, mate," I say, "if the guys are inside could you let them know that there are a just a few fans out here who'd love to get their stuff signed."

Roadie grunts. "Well, if you go round the corner, Neil Finn's standing right there."So I trundle around the corner like a Goth Pied Piper being followed by her band of meek mice. (Probably thinking "Who the hell is this girl in black and with shades?"). Sure enough, Neil Finn is outside, with his son Liam and I ask him if he'd spend a few minutes. Neil, being game, pops inside the tourbus but promises to come back, then apologizes for not being able to stay longer.

My timing, it has to be said, is pretty fucking excellent. I had been there all of five minutes.

I tell Neil that I'd seen a London Albert Hall show (a mere day after their original drummer Paul Hester - a kind and lovely man I've met several times - hung himself from a tree in Australia) and that it was beautiful ("Oh those. Those were intense"), that I'm going to see them again in Vancouver and did he still speak with Sebastian Steinberg (the most excellent bassist from Soul Coughing who I know)? Then I wave at the five patient boys behind me and say "would you mind signing these for these guys?". The boys inch up and the signing begins. Neil pops back in and it's a fait accompli.

My work here is done. I say goodbye to the grateful fans and wander to get my tickets and meet up with my loverly gig buddy (and CH afficionada) Candice.

Oh, and the show was excellent. Note how Neil Finn (above) was playing just for us. :-)

Pride (in the name of love)

It appears that living in Vancouver's "quiet" burb can't slow a good hag down.

After the gracious invitation of my lovely "cousin" Colin (my mum has known his mum for 40 years and he lives with a gorgeous man named Pieter), I was invited to celebrate the first night of Vancouver's Pride Weekend.

Vancouver, for those of you out-of-the-know, is pretty gay. It's a tiny village, but there's a gay YMCA of sorts (Denman Fitness), a huge Gay Pride parade (methinks 100K people showed up this past Sunday) and oh, the bus stops are painted fuschia on Davie St (the heart of the Friends of Dorothy village). It's about as camp as a row of pink tents.

Naturally, as I am missing some of my best gay mates (Paul, Contessa, take note), I greedily accepted a chance to go out on the town with Colin, Pieter and their impossibly high-powered and handsome mates.

Dan, bless 'im, took our visiting friends (Al, Fluffy John and Mayumi) to Subeez, Lucy Mae Brown and the El Furniture for dinner and drinks. I didn't want to burden our vistors with my enormous need for fag haggery. And we've learned that in Vancouver, you shouldn't turn down an invite.

So I rock up at Gay Central (Colin and Pieter's uber cool downtown apartment - it helps when one half of the couple is a designer), and meet all the other couples, husbands, husbands of husbands, boys in tight white, erm, wife-beaters, jeans, the works.

We drink champers, I make a joke about someone's sandals not being made BY small children, but OF small children, everyone laughs, deems me "outrageous and fabulous" and my induction is complete.

We head off to 1181 on Davie Street around 9ish and I marvel at the bar's superior design - it is, in fact, a tiny cramped bar with open areas (think a capital letter I) and a long, ass-grabbingly tight bar space, where the queens ponce up and down, showing off their trade.

Nice!

But trade indeed. I swear, for all the gay bars in all the world that I've been to (London, Toronto, Copenhagen, Essex ;-), I have never seen a more pretty, fit, fresh-faced, biceped group of handsome men in my life.

It didn't hurt that they were playing the latest French Rugby Team's video/porn on the back wall. Christ almighty.

Anyway, we drank, we cavorted, we were sorted...and then, get this, I ran into an advertising dude/media darling I knew of from Vancouver. Last time I set eyes on him? When I was doing a profile on his new agency some 10 years ago, for Canadian Business magazine. Pretty cool to see someone you know, somewhere you're not expecting it.

Of course, Advertising Homo knows everyone - and he looks fit doing it, too. And so I reintroduce myself. He praises me for my "long-term memory" and then flits away. Probably threatened by my boobs, but never mind.

And so, the evening continues. Until it is time that I, one of only six females in this impossibly gorgeous bar, headed home. To find Dan, John, Mayumi and Al, heating up a DVD - XMen 2. I snuggle in, safe in the knowledge that at least I've had a taste of the Pink....

....and it is good.

“Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off.”

Our friends John and Mayumi are visiting from England so we've had to put on our thinking caps about how to impress the newest visitors to our city. Enter the Celebration of Light, Vancouver's own fierce "competition" between three rival firestarters: Spain, Canada and China.

The great thing about these fireworks is that they last a half hour, are set off from a barge in the very central English Bay beach and can be seen from any one of Van's bazillion other beaches and viewpoints. And so, like dutiful non-drinking, non-partying-on-Saturday-night citizens, the whole city of Vanhattan flocks to a beach, a lookout, a bridge (you can see all from any one of our three bridges) or their front porch to watch the display.Saturday night was Canada's turn to get lit up...so it was handy that our best mates Beth and Simon invited us to their place for the festivities - right across the street from Point Grey's lookout point - a patch of grass with a view of the straight, the city and a skyful of mountains.

So after pouring all our beer into glasses, a bunch of us trundled over, plonked down our mats and joined the community for a bit of drinking under the lights.
Cue half-an-hour twinkly stars, "oohs" and "ahhs" (as you do) and commentary from our party that Canada should have ditched the big band jazz theme and gone for an all-out big bang by letting off ALL of their fireworks with one match and playing one note from the 1812 overture.

One second after grand finale (which, in my estimation, was more a whimper than a bang), the throng picked up and left, and we trundled back for more beer.

China - who invented the firework apparently - show off on Wednesday. We plan on checking out the action (we'll also be joined by our crazy mate Al who arrives Tuesday) from a different beach for variety. We'll keep you posted on whether they kick Canada's ass - Dan's expecting them to trot out some top secret uber firework that has been under lock-and-key for centuries.

I'm expecting one in the shape of a noodle box. We'll let you know.

Blo Me

So, what's a girl to do on a Tuesday night when her husband is working until 10pm and she doesn't have any cable TV at home?

Go Blo!

So, was invited to my first industry 'do tonight by my lovely colleague Joy. We gathered to celebrate the launch of the (clears throat) genre-bending "blow-dry only" salon BLO . Yup, it's a salon where they wash and style your hair. That's it. No cuts, no colour. Just hot air.

And you know, in Yaletown, that could actually fly.

Anywayyyy, their digs are near our digs and their marketing guy is the lovely Val from the social activism group Extreme Kindness who's friends with Joy...and whom I have no doubt influenced the Blo team to incorporate a charity element into the shindig, which was, conveniently, held at George (where I met Hot Guy).

Thus, a group of us girls found ourselves rubbing shoulders with Vancouver's finest airheads, all blown within an inch of their lives. But a good cause is a good cause (this one for Breast Cancer research), and so I, Queen Blackofheart, put on her pink trousers and shoes to fit in with the dress code. Yes, pink.

Highlights included George's fab pink lemonady mojito, the tiny pink cupcakes (with black "Blo" written on it in sprinkles) that had each been made by a mum of one of the Blo staff, and the three bites of tuna tartare I had, courtesy of the restaurant I practically live in, Glowbal.
Okay, so it wasn't a London media event (I half expected Jade Goody to show up) but it was good for a laugh. And I did see a guy who was the spitting image of Tom Selleck. Oh and one other highlight: we stood next to Trevor Linden - another hockey great from the Vancouver Canucks who does his own bit for cancer research when he's not busy being an Iceman.

Which brings my tally of meeting/seeing hockey's most fab players, to two... in under a month! Anybody else think this is weird? In Toronto, I had my own Fantasy Hockey league (comprised mostly of defencemen and goalies, oh and Linden) and I watched these guys on TV. But here, I've got no TV but I'm rubbing shoulders with Linden and Gretzky? Wha happen?

Is it just me or are the planets conspiring to make me properly Canadian again?

Frack me!

It's Friday night, I'm at a work 'do at our local, new and exceedingly sexy cocktail joint, George. I'm heading back from the loos and my GroupieDar (TM) goes off in my head as I pass this quiet table of four. I do a quick doubletake at a very, very hot man and waltz back to my editors and colleagues.

"F*cking hell, Joy" I say to my friend/editor. "There's a guy over there who's on one of my fave shows. I know it, I just can't place it immediately." For about 30 seconds I think it's Kyan from Queer Eye... ...but this doesn't really sit right in my brain. So while I'm fretting, our new PR and marketing guy Christopher (a smooth operator himself), gets in on the action, saunters over for a subtle peek and comes back and utters two words that make my (nerdy) head implode.

"Battlestar Galactica".

(SPOILER ALERT: If you haven't seen to the end of Series 3, you may want to stop reading now).

Three strong cocktails in and the planets literally align. It's HOT GUY! THE ONE WHO'S MARRIED TO STARBUCK! SAM ANDERS! THE ONE WHO I ALWAYS CHEER FOR BECAUSE HE'S WAY DIRTIER THAN APOLLO...and the one Dan likes to hate because I fancy the pants off of him. D'yer think I can remember his name? Of course not. So Christopher goes to me: "I'm going to go over and say hello". And I say, "Oh NO! You're not going to be that kind of dick are you? I mean, I've interviewed and met some huge stars but I don't like to go over and interrupt their nights out. Besides, I don't have a good opening salvo..."

Christopher simply says: "Those guys are on smaller TV shows. They LOVE the attention. I'll be polite and go round", and off he trundles. "I HATE YOU" I mouth to him, not-so-secretly pissed off that he had more cojones than I.

He comes back and tells me Michael (Trucco - for that is said Hot Guy's name) is the nicest man on earth, his friends didn't mind being interrupted and I should go over. Uncharacteristically, I demur. Until Joy says: "Mikala, you waltzed up to Liev Schrieber in New York, and besides, this will be a GREAT story for Dan at dinner."

I still demur, wondering which shy and retiring alien race has kidnapped my body.

Christopher practically grabs me by the collar and frogmarches me over there when sees that the quandary is practically eating at my cells.

I am mortified. "My god," I say, apologizing to his table first. "I am SO sorry to interrupt your night out." Girl next to Hot Guy laughs and says "Don't worry about it!". Michael leans in with a grin that melted the souls of my shoes, asks me my name and goes to shake my hand. I blurt "I am such a massive Battlestar fan".

Lord, I've now been kidnapped and taken to the planet TIT. Bless him, he trots out his best "appease the geek" line and says "no, honestly, that's so sweet of you. Without you guys watching we wouldn't have gotten this far"....

We chitchat (no, I didn't ask him if he's really a frackin' Cylon or what the deal with Starbuck is or if he could take me to Caprica, as it were, as I was literally shaking from being caught off guard and being marched over). I do ask him what he was doing up here - that I knew they'd filmed here but wasn't Season 4 finished yet? Nope, he says, they're still filming and did I know it was their last season? "Yup," I say, "So horrible. My life will be a much more depressing place once the show's gone."

Now the kidnappers have taken my body from Planet TIT to Planet Trek Convention and my body has been firmly anally probed. I am one breath away from uttering "Live Long and Prosper". I feel I am losing cool cred and gaining a pocket protector.

Meanwhile, Christopher's pulling out his phone and asks if he can take a photo of Michael WITH ME. I die a thousand deaths and wonder if I could somehow regain composure and coolness but realize that moment left when I first opened my mouth to speak to him.But lo, Michael's a saint, clears off his coat from the bench, scoots over, pats the seat and puts his arm around me. "Hmm, it's going to be a bit dark" says Christopher, so Hot Guy leans over and grabs the nearby candle. Awesome. He really is a dude. He may be a goddamn toaster, but I wouldn't kick him out of bed for dropping crumbs...