Simian Farmer

give it to me straight

There has been a small furor here about the new look I foisted on my countless tens of fans.  Which I like, since it gave me the opportunity to use the word 'furor'.

(And is it just me, or does the phrase 'small furor' conjure up funny images of a Mini-Me sized Adolf Hitler?)

Let me know, please, what you think by voting in the scientifically designed poll below.  I'm a big boy, I'm not like Tom Cruise, I CAN handle the truth.

Comments are welcome, but at least vote.  The gods demand it.

ready? gooooo!

A full half minute of pure, untarnished FUN is to be had in this clip.

Please note the Jack Russell sprint track worn around the firepit.

Don't mind the grass; I know it wants for mowin'.

*****

canine conundrum

So here's the story in brief in case you've not been around here much:

My wife got a Jack Russell a few years back when I was working away from home during the week and surprised me with him one Thursday night as I stepped in the door at 11 PM from a five hour drive.  She attempted to endear him to me by suggesting the name Jango Fett, after the eponymous bounty hunter from the Star Wars prequel trilogy.  Once we rectified the sleeping with us under the covers phase of our little love-hate triangle, things sort of settled down to a generally acceptable level of - if not actual affection - then at least grudging acceptance of existence.

boobies in the kye with decka

Sundays we traditionally have pamcakes for breakfast.  I make them from scratch from Great Grammy's recipe that I have mesmerized.  (Though I normally add chocolate tips and booberries; NOT part of the original recipe.)

Decka, Sunday morning, was a LOT whinier than usual, the symptoms of which we are ascribing to a growth spurt.  As the pamcakes and the bacon were frying in the kitchen, Decka trotted forlornly between MUM! and Da-EEE, both of whom were otherwise occupied with Towse and pamcakes respectively.  (Personally, I was happy to be on pamcake duty seeing as how Towse has a habit of puking up all over whomever has the pleasure of holding him.)

After we finally got through breakfast, I took Decka out for a walk to the nearby park before MUM! totally snapped from the whining.  (Though it's very amusing to hear a frustrated woman do her best King Julian impression, from the movie Madagascar, "Oh shut up, you're so annoying!" directed towards her own son.)

A five block walk with a toddler takes a looooong time.

For the first time in 16 years!

The Edmonton Oilers are going to the Stanley Cup Finals!!

I only missed about 10 minutes of the game, taking into account a toddler's bath, a couple poopie diapers and one incorrigible Jack Russell who, despite a length of chicken wire, strategically placed rocks and several patio blocks running interference, STILL gets out of our yard on a daily basis.

The best line of the night came about halfway through the third period as I watched the game on CBC.  One of the play-by-play announcers turned to the other and made the comment that any team should have a power play percentage of 20% at the very least; and Anaheim had coasted through the playoffs with a power play of only 8.3%.

Not missing a beat, the other announcer replied that after the previous night's game in Buffalo, he had himself a couple of beers that were more than 8.3%.

Here's hoping that the Buffalo / Carolina series goes to seven so that our boys in copper and blue can get a bit of a rest.

GOILERS!!

STARLORDS

I'm not normally one for posting too many outside links; but there are those rarities for which it would be a crime against the very essence of my geekhood not to do so.  I'd have to hand in my card.

STARLORDS is one such.

Try to imagine, for a moment, the awesome juxtaposition of two of the very pinnacles of modern-day geekishness: Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.  How exactly do you combine the two in such a way for the human brain to come close to accepting the possibility?

You set the whole thing to a six and a half minute disco dance video, that's how.

I suggest downloading the very last file on the bottom right of the website.  It's a 25 MB Windows Media file and the smaller of the Windows options.

It starts out almost normal-ish, but things get weird when Yoda starts spinnin' the vinyl.

The tragedy of little boys

There is a sad reality about growing up a little boy.  Or growing out of being a little boy.  How that soft, naive infancy is usurped all too quickly by a hard pragmatism and, potentially, tainted by a desire - a need - to be bigger, stronger, better than every other little boy.  That, or withdraw behind some mental construct that provides the semblance of protection from those same bigger, stronger, better little boys.  Even though they're not.

Form your armour as early as possible and shore up any chinks before they can be exploited.

I look at my own two sons, barely nascent, and the responsibility of being the father to them - the kind of father I so desperately want to be - scares the shit out of me. Makes me think I'd better be nice to the dogs in their presence, at the very least.

NintendOilers

Effin' Sweet.

The entire city of Edmonton will be chanting SWEEP on Thursday night.  If you live within 500 kilometres of here, you may just be able to hear it.

...and party ev-e-ry day

Well, it's 11 at night, I'm on my third beer, Tavish's myriad spit rags are churning in the dryer and I'm feeling decidedly delicate south of the border this evening.  (The beer helps, but it's mostly just a waiting game for a week or so; the doctor said to expect it.)

This is my first video post by request.  My beautiful sister-in-law and darling niece wanted to see their nephew/cousin on Al Gore's interwebby thing naming them each by name, since he's just so darned cute.  (Declan, that is, not Al Gore.)  And since the pair of them were good enough to make the five hour trek north to visit us TWICE in the space of the last month, I can do nothing but acquiesce to their reasonable request.

Both halves of this snippet were taken the evening of Tuesday the 24th, during the Oilers' game wherein THE OIL took a stranglehold on the Western Conference Final by stomping on the Ducks 5 - 4.  (You can see them playing in the background.)

I have a couple much more poignant posts in the fire right now, but in the meantime, I'll foist on you my half-drunken ramblings (see above) and a video of me wee bairns being all cute and stuff (see below).

Future videos may come less frequently than EVERY week since I don't want to feel pressured to produce (by other than my beautiful sister-in-law and niece, that is), and also don't want to detract from the self-aggrandizing navel-gazing that is the focal point of this whole blogging... thing.

Just finished that third beer.  DAMN, that Sleeman's Cream Ale goes down like it's water!

Post-op

I was surprised. 

The procedure was almost faster than I was 10 years ago.