An Open Letter to the Georgia Straight Newspaper

So Vancouver was this week hit with a light dusting of snow. We clamoured over the two-inch drifts and slushed our way to modus transportus. Which is when you all turned into savages.

After surviving 7 years of taking the London, England Tube daily (a system that could be paralyzed by leaves on the tracks, "the wrong kind of wind" and schedules picked out of a hat), I thought I'd seen it all. Until Tuesday morning when I attempted to take the Skytrain from Broadway Station into town. Has no-one taught Vancouverites the etiquette of rail travel? To wit: flinging yourself into the back of the 10-person deep queue to board an already-rammed car, preventing anyone from actually exiting and generally panicking - well, it's just not cool. Here's a thought: your supervisor at work knows it's snowing. In fact, she is probably stuck on the Lion's Gate bridge herself. Why not try these simple steps: wait for the next car (for Goddess' sake, they come every 30 seconds), step aside to let the sardines out, and walk (don't ram) yourself into a corner of the car. If all else fails, wait a grand total of 5 minutes (in which at least 4,003 cars will have come through), ring your boss and explain the situation. Result? You don't have to rush and I don't have to have your elbows in my face.

C'mon Vancouver, it's not that difficult.

Mikala T.
Vancouver

Today: a bit of Sol-ace

Shufflebored

What is it about us and clubbing in Vancouver?

There we were, all buzzin' and excited about heading out to see our mates and do some proper havin' it clubbing. Nordic Trax DJ Mark Farina was on the bill, at the city's (and the world's) best venue the Commodore, and our mates Pieter and Colin had invited us. We were prepped. Ready to roll. Walkin' down Granville St with our dancing shoes on, the planets were aligning. It wasn't raining. Everyone was in a good mood. Even the drunk bum who lay vertically in the middle of the sidewalk was chipper, asking us all: "Did you miss me?" as people walked past. We told him we did. He smiled through his stupor and said "Oh that's good, thank you."

The crowd was pumped, the pot smoke was wafting freely (one weird thing about Van is you're not allowed to smoke inside, but the only smoke people do do "clandestinely" is pot smoke. So the room was erm, fragrant, to say the least). The venue was packed.

Maximum Dance Party Action. C'moooooooooooooon!

Farina came on stage, and started off with a bang ("those Buffalo girls go round the outside, round the outside, round the outside...). But soon the bang fizzled. You know the build that DJs are supposed to play into? The bit where the music starts rising, the beat gets louder, it's heading towards a meltdown and everyone's ready to go bonkers?

Farina (a decent house DJ, even if he does like a bit of handbaggy vocals) opted for the one-notch above shuffle build, and slow approach toward the heady heights of a speedbump. Where there should have been an enormous grin-n'-gurn inducing explosion...well, there was...more shuffling.

In fact, by 1.30am and two hours, our legs were killing us from all the shuffling. In fact, we'd cornered the market on the back n' forth bump. Where was the feeding the pigeons? The big-fish-little-fish-cardboard-box?

Still and all, it beat some of the other clubbing excursions we've been on (Dave Seaman, Seb Fontaine, though the Stanton Warrior Dom B was best), and we headed home, content in the knowledge that if it wants to, at least Van can pull a decent crowd out of its mountains...even if the DJ's big breaks were more like molehills.

Ninja Watch

Day 7 in the Big Ninja House.

The little ninja is not so little anymore. In fact, he looks less a minja and more a prime rubber fighting machine. He's still waiting. Watching. In the silence. We can only hope we escape his wrath by feeding him sushi.

Shurikens at the ready!

Welcome to our new home...

Welcome, one and all, to our super stylish, ultra-comfy new pad!

Yes, Mikala and I have finally finished painting, papering and putting together furniture - time to relax and enjoy the fruits of our labours. But first, gaze upon the splendour that is the view from one of our four (yes four) balconies...


Mmmm, pretty. Now on with the tour! Below you will see, er, well... a corridor. With some nice limited edition art. Note how the tops of the pictures are perfectly alligned, with each picture spaced equidistantly. Truly I am master of the hammer and nail!


Clever people will notice a warm glow coming from the end of the corridor. This is, in fact, the living room, but we'll get to that later. Check out the super-stylish boudoir...


The furniture may be cheapy Ikea but the wallpaper is super exclusive from haut-couture papieriers Osbourne & Little. We had it shipped over from the UK and it probably costs more than all the other furniture in the bedroom put together. Fortunately it was a birthday gift from my super awesome brother who just happens to know a thing or two about interior design, being one of London's top bar designers and all. Here is the view from the corner of the bed, and, yes, that is Mikala on the wall...


Just next to the bedroom is the compact yet functional bathroom. I know it may not look like much but it has some unique features. First off, the light is on a dimmer, so you don't have to dazzle yourself when you brush your teeth in the morning. The second is a tactical night-light that will gently illuminate any midnight porcelain pilgrimage.


Moving on we have the guest room / Mikala's Office / Room of Rock:


The comfy looking bed is more than meets the eye - yup, it transforms into an equally comfy sofa when we don't have any guests to entertain. The picture above is actually a little out of date as Mikala has recently festooned it with drumsticks, backstage passes and all manner of other rock 'n' roll paraphernalia. Oh and posters of Duran Duran:


One of the few furniture pieces we splashed out on was our laaaaarverly leathery sofa. Mmmmmmm, comfy...


Mikala got 1st dibs on the elongated lounge section, but that's OK because you really need to be sitting in the centre of the sofa to get the most of this:


Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah boyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy - 46 inches of 1080p high-def, kick-ass awesomeness. This behemoth is wall mounted on an articulated arm, making it float majestically above the large stack of high-tech gear it is connected to. As well as the obligatory game consoles we have a multi-media centre which we use to download all our TV and movies (in high-def of course). If you have been keeping up on the blog you may recall I bought an HD-DVD drive on Boxing Day. This + the TV + 5.1 surround system = no need to leave the house ever. It's just like being in the cinema, except without the noisy kids, greasy popcorn and lingering smell of piss.

In the corner of the living room is the dining area...


This also happens to be our Pete Fowler's Woodland Friends corner as you can see by the artwork and vinyl toys. The lovely table is courtesy of Mikala's Mom, Ninna. It's pretty cool to enjoy your meal overlooking the mountains outside.

But now... brace yourslef... for the fully operational... DANCAVE!


Mmmmm, yes - this room is all that is man. Firstly there is the custom built super computer (more than capable of running Crysis, for those that care). On the left of this picture you can see my plaques from Sony, the hand-built LCD system display and my Lego Millenium Falcon. What you won't see are the wires for the 7.1 THX sound system. That's because I hid them in the walls. Natch.

To the left of the desk...

...is acess to the Malcony. It's a balcony for men. Get it? No? Oh never mind... there's also my game & comic collections with my graphic novels guarded by the most excellent Superman figurines I got when I left Sony. The space on the wall is reserved for my Medal of Honor plaque which should come in a month or so... Did you notice the airing cupboard? No? That's because I made custom, low-profile doors so that it's almost invisible to the un-trained observer. And last but not least is the back wall...


It's the ultimate conflict of good vs. evil! The Masterpiece versions of Optimus Prime and Megatron slug it out in front of a highly limited edition 20th anniversary lithograph featuring every single transformer ever. "But wait!" I hear you cry "where is the orange stopper on the tip of Megatron's barrel? Surely that can't be..."

Yes. Yes it can.

That is indeed an ultra rare (not to mention illegal) Masterpiece Megatron sans orange stopper. Allow me to explain...

Megtron transforms into a highly accurate replica of a Walther P38 pistol. Replica pistols may not be imported into Europe or North America unless they have an orange stopper over the barrel. Vis a vis, anyone caught importing or selling these bad-boys could well face some hard time.

Oooooh, I'm so naughty!

Anyway, that concludes our tour for now. When are you lovely people going to visit, eh?

x

Dan.

P.S. Check out our moving in blog for photos of how the place used to look - it was rubbish!

The 2008 Polar Express

Happy New Year, one and all!

How did you celebrate? We had a rather quiet night in with a few friends and Mum. Couldn't be arsed with public transport or movement, for that matter, so I cooked up a slap-up feed for the group (one I couldn't eat myself). We made merry and stuffed faces. We superimposed a huge countdown clock on our TV and then ran out to the balcony to bang pots and pans and set off sparklers and drink champers when the clock struck midnight on the Wet Coast. Of course, we also celebrated at UK midnight and Toronto midnight and Mum's birthday (she's a New Year's baby), so it was countdowns all around!

We listened to the braying hordes outside, cheered on a few errant fireworks and then retreated back inside to concentrate on the task at hand: seeing how big a tiny, rubber, grow-your-own ninja would get when immersed in water.
Unfortunately, his growth is pretty stealthy and today he remains a Minja in a big bowl of water. But I swear, one day, I'll come into the kitchen and there will be the WORLD'S BIGGEST RUBBER NINJA. Waiting. Just waiting. In the darkness...

All was quiet on New Year's Day...for a while anyway. I was hangover-free and it wasn't raining. Mum was game, and Dan was ready: it was time to make good on our 2007 missed opportunity: doing the Annual Vancouver Polar Bear Swim!

FACT: It takes a special breed of nutcase to go swimming when the temperature outside is 5 degrees celsius and the water is roughly the same. Or colder. But brave the elements we did - and bundled up our dressing gowns, flip flops, swimmers and pot of tea and trundled off to the beach...

...where we were joined by nigh-on 2,000 other farkin' insane swimmers. Many in costumes, some in rugby or hockey jerseys, others in viking hats, clown suits, mermaid outfits, bumblebee wings, the works. Most of Downtown Van also gathered to watch the madness as we all jockeyed for position on the sand, barefoot and with nary but a thin nylon fabric to cover our bits.

But soon, with an almighty roar and collective adrenaline pumping triple-time, we ran, all of us, en masse, into the water as the crowds cheered.

First reaction? Hyperventilation. As soon as we hit the water, my breath literally disappeared. I stopped to take a brief moment to collect myself and meditate on this intriguing sensation (not), but soon realized that I couldn't feel my feet and some twat was splashing us with sno-cone like water. Wonder Twins activate! Into the form of an icicle!

But we mustered up the courage, grasped our seemingly last breaths and dove underwater, hair and all! What brave (or retarded) souls!
I was as amped as a meth addict as we showed off our Pins of Proof. And how was Dan? Well, glad you asked...

As we trundled towards the car, our hair near freezing, we almost felt toasty warm, except for parts of Dan...

In fact, it took about a half an hour before he regained feeling in his toes. But at least his ears were a lovely shade of burgundy!

Happy 2008 from your nutty friends in Vancouver. C'mon over, the water's lovely this time of year!