Walking With Hazel: Grocery Girl

So, there were a lot of things that we did yesterday that were very cute and fun and worth mentioning, but they all pale in comparison to the moment when we got home with our groceries and put them away and then the Little Miss decided that she wanted to "dress up like a shopping bag."

Yes, she tried walking with that thing on her head.

Yes, she walked into a wall.

Yes, Dad laughed out loud.

But, to the Little Miss's credit, all she dead was say 'ow' really quietly and then ask for an apple. Then she decided to wear the bag like a cape, which meant that the strap went around her neck, which REALLY freaked Dad out, which she thought was hil-AR-ious, and so we spent about five minutes running around the house, she giggling like a crazy person and Dad tripping over lego blocks and duplo blocks and wooden pots and pans and matchbox cars until finally we were able to entice the Little Miss to sit still on the couch with a snack bar and repeated viewings of Monsters Inc., which led to us shouting out the name 'MIKE WAZOWSKI' out loud over and over again.

It's fun. You should try it.

Today we're going to the Science Centre with Bruce and Forrester. Because we rule. So there.

I Want To Title This "Oh See Can You See" But Also Think That It's A Dumb Title.

Oh, dear. 

So, there I am, having braved temperatures of minus bazillion, surrounded by all these people who might commonly be referred to as 'pals', were I someone who used the word 'pals', checking out the opening bands at the Republik and enjoying them (Occupied Europe have this Gord Downie-fronts-Joy Division thing going on, and Fist City are what you get when Hot Snakes grow up in Lethbridge), when The Oh Sees come on stage, and main Oh See dude John Dwyer swallows the microphone, and then, well, I'm sorry, no offense, but everything that I enjoyed beforehand got lost in this awesomeness of Pure Rock And Roll.

I don't have any words, really. So instead, I'll share this conversation I had with John at his merch table about an hour before he went onstage:

Me: "Do you guys have anything else besides records for sale?"

John: "No, sorry, we were limited with what customs would let us bring."

Me: "That's shitty. Sorry, I don't have a record player." (Yes, I know that this is technically a lie, as my record player is still in its box downstairs in the room we don't talk about, but I didn't particularly feel like carrying a record around in minus whatever weather, so shut it.)

John: "Nah, it's okay; all of our music is online, you can download it for free. I don't mind: I steal people's music every day!"

Me: "I'm really excited to see you guys play!"

John: "Thanks! I just hope we don't fuck up."

Me: "Even then, it'll still be a good show."

John: "Yeah, it'll make for a good story."

John Dwyer. Rock & Roll God, Nicest Man In The World. I TOLD you ya shoulda come.

I'm White; Am I Allowed To Listen To This Song?

Hey, this doesn't look like my blog, what the hell?

Yes. Changed the layout and stuff. Apparently, some of y'all (Shauna) have a hard time reading white text on black, so now it's black text on white. Is this racist? I dunno. Regardless, change is good, despite my general tendency to face change with crankiness. I'm old, get off my back.

To commemorate, here is Black Thought showing why he's one of best lyricists and vocalists in hip-hop:

Now I must go serve swill and look happy. I promise to make as many vulvas and penises as I can out of your latte foam.

Just Boring Stuff Except For One Really Awesome Thing At The End..

I am currently back to reading four or five books at once, which I know is ambitious and maybe even somewhat counter-productive, given that I have a tendency to forget which characters did what and in which stor, and before long Okonkwo from Things Fall Apart is joining the secret Anarchist Council in The Man Who Was Thursday, while Gabriel Syme is finding preparing illuminated manuscripts over in A Canticle For Leibowitz instead of Brother Gerard, who's instead been transported to the Beszel crime scene in The City & The City while Tyador Borlu is farming yams back in Things Fall Apart. 

It's confusing, sometimes, but I'm sure I'll work it out. The underlying message here, though, is: OHMIGOD I'M READING AGAIN. Which, y'know, is good, given that for a long time now, I've been spending that allocated reading time on the internet watching videos of naked Russian men beating up cars.

Also: I am more than hip-deep in being a Wasteland Cowboy in Fallout: New Vegas, fighting off gangs of Elvis look-a-likes and swarms of giant blood-sucking mosquitos while searching for The Hipster Who Shot Me In The Head aka Matthew Perry and discovering that post-apocalyptia turns most men into cannibals and most women into lesbians.

No, really. 

Before I get a slew of replies concerning video game sex and my lack of social skills (which will all be quite valid and humorous, lemme be the first to say...), I want to point out how refreshing it is, the lesbian thing: not that you have the option to hit on all these virtual characters, but the fact that there's a fair chance that they might just not be into you, solely because of your gender. It's not like the game is making great strides towards addressing LGBT-related disparity in the real world, given that the reaction from gamers towards the inclusion of gay and lesbian characters in F:NV has been, well, predictable ("DEY PUT GAYS IN MAH VIDEOR GAMEZ!"), but I still think it's kinda neat that in Fallout, just like in real life, most of the girls that I end up attracted to turn out to be gay.

And, no, I don't play Fallout in the hopes of having virtual irradiated sex with mutated warrior queens. That's what I have the internet for.

Oh, speaking of Internetz:

1. I can't do any better than this article's title: ALL LIFE ON EARTH COULD HAVE COME FROM ALIEN ZOMBIES.

2. Black Milk's Album Of The Year: what Kanye West would sound like if he stuck with making hip-hop, and wasn't concentrating on elaborate hip-hopera/emo concept rock albums. It's sick. Everyone should send Black Milk a dollar. Or something.

3. The Oh Sees are playing the Republik next Thursday. If you don't go to see them play their rock and/or roll music, well, I am assured that you will be experiencing something that's referred to as 'missing out'. Here is their song that is called 'Block Of Ice'; from all accounts, their live show is supposedly uncanny. Go see them. Go see them. Go see them.

Also: I'm pretty sure the bass-player is rockabilly Craig Evans. Just sayin'.

4. This is the only reason I decided to post anything today. I just can't decide if it's the BEST thing in the world, or the WORST thing in the world. Thank you, Jeffrey Storey, for giving me SCOTT STAPP SINGING A THEME SONG FOR THE FLORIDA MARLINS.

Now, just TRY to have a bad day after that.

Walking With Hazel: Driving Miss Hazel.

Yesterday was a big day, because Mom got herself a new car, and by new car we mean a used car, and it runs perfectly except for the fact that it seems to have no muffler, which is why the Little Miss refers to it as the 'Loudy Car', but it's still good, and it also means that Dad gets to drive the Volkswagon full-time, even though we've decided that Volkswagon translates from the German into "car-that-will-never-have-enough-leg-room-for-Dad".

Still. We are happy, because this means that we can go get burgers and fries and lego and ice cream whenever we want without having to wait 45 minutes for a bus that won't stop at any of our destinations anyway. So there. Suck it, Calgary Transit.

(We should be kind, though, as we discovered yesterday that Dad REALLY has to watch his language, as the Litte Miss promptly repeated every curse and swear that left his mouth, rapidly and with much enthusiasm, which caused Dad much chagrin and embarrasment, especially after Hazel decided that her favourite phrase for the next hour would be, "what the fuck?", which was repeated relentlessly over and over agin until Dad taught her a song about putting gas in the car, which pretty much went, "GAS GOES IN THE CAR IN THE MORNING" sung at the top of one's lungs.)

So we went and got some groceries, and Hazel picked out every vegetable (red peppers, green peppers, carrots, a cucumber and a big bag of mushrooms), and some snacks (fig bars and cranberry/strawberry granola bars) and then proceeded to lie down on the scale at the self-serve checkout so that Dad couldn't actually purchase anything for a few minutes, since she was registered as an 'unknown item in bagging area', although she got back up following the combined threat of tickles and promise of cookies.

We should also mention that Hazel spent a few minutes in the produce section holding two apples to her chest and proclaiming that she had 'big boobies'. Dad swears that he had nothing to do with that one.

Then we walked down the street to visit John at the Roasterie, who wins bonus points for playing The Cure's 'A Forest' the moment we walked in, and then pretended to be a monkey for the duration of our visit, which garnered him the nickname Uncle Monkey. Then we walked back to the car, although we had to play a game which consisted of Hazel trying to pull Dad down on to the sidewalk for the entire block. It was fun.

Then we went to Dad's work and got a cookie for the Little Miss, because Dad likes to keep his promises.

Then we went home, had dinner and then made some popcorn and watched the good parts of Spider-man 3, which we've come to finally accept as NOT VERY GOOD AT ALL. We like all the actors and the director and stuff, but we can't deny it anymore: that movie was a mess. Even WITH Topher Grace.

Then we went to bed. 

Today was kind of a slow day, but we did run some errands, most notably dropping some comics off for Amy & Chris to read, but they weren't home; their kids were home, though, and stared at us for a few minutes through the window before opening the door, and even then it was a few more minutes before they'd open the screen door, which might seem kinda strange and antisocial, but all it means to Dad is that they're very good babysitters and very cautious about who they open the door to and not very weird at all (don't hurt my comics, Amy.). Hazel didn't actually say anything to them, but instead giggled the entire time we were there.

Then we came home, and the Little Miss fell asleep in the car, so she's napping right now while Dad figures out what to make for dinner. We're thinking omelettes, but we might just settle for pizza.