There are a few of these Boston Bruins bear commercials. Classic.
Friday, December 03, 2010
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Video Advent Calendar for Dec.3-Cardboard Warfare
This is pretty cool, and shows how high-powered video-editing technology is becoming more and more accessible to folks who don't spend tens of thousands of dollars to be able to produce great effects.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Your Video Advent Calendar
You're probably familiar with those advent calendars with the little doors--you open one each day leading up to Christmas, and there's a chocolate or some treat inside.
Well, think of here as your video advent calendar. Today's treat is an reappearance by Speak, everyone's favorite rapper.
Well, think of here as your video advent calendar. Today's treat is an reappearance by Speak, everyone's favorite rapper.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
TGIM?
Not the most relaxing weekend ever.
First, windstorm from earlier in the week blew a couple of pieces of soffit (sp?) into the yard--you know, those metal pieces that go under your roof overhang--and also messed up our fence in two spots.
Those were to be my Saturday jobs. Except, there was snow and it was bloody cold.
Daughter's turn on Friday to bring home the "baby" for the weekend--they have several of these dolls, which are realistic-looking babies which are designed to teach students what it is like to look after a baby of their own. If it cries, it either needs feeding, burping or changing, or it just needs to be reassured that mom is nearby.
My daughter had a wrist bracelet attached which is sensed by the baby, and the bracelet is too tight for her to take off and give to someone else. (Same as a hospital bracelet). There is one "babysitter" bracelet as well that someone else can wear so they can take over her duties for a while.
Not much sleep for her this weekend. Some justice in that, perhaps--she was definitely the more challenging of our two when it came to miserable nights with little sleep when they were babies. Still, she's sick, I'm still nursing a two-month sinus/cough thing, and wife just had surgery on Wednesday. Much fun.
Then there was my son--new job on Saturday morning, and he wanted to be up bright and early to be ready to go. Tough to be alert when sister's baby has been crying loudly in the next room every couple of hours, but he did have earplugs.
But wait, there was a power outage at 2 a.m. So wife and I are trying to figure out this stupid battery-powered travel alarm clock in the middle of the night, and just as we're about to fall back to sleep fake baby starts up again. Waking up in the morning to a cold house and no lights wasn't fun. Son did get off to work though, and it went well.
At least today didn't suck--but it was very cold out there doing some of those repairs. Going back to work almost seems like a break.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Quick takes
1. One of the few readers left for this blog has something pretty cool happening right now--it's not every day you get to watch your child compete on Jeopardy. I'll be tuning in tomorrow night (Friday) as well.
2. When is it too early for Christmas music? My daughter thinks the day after Halloween is the starting point for her love for Christmas music to find expression through her computer playlist, her saxophone playing, and pretty constant whistling as she wanders through the house. I've always told her it's fine after Remembrance Day, so we're there now anyway.
3. Dear forward writers for "classic" novels. I'm one of those strange folk who has a hard time skipping pages when I read anything, and I've got a suggestion. Spoiler alerts. You might think that we're just rereading the book for the 12th time as we prepare yet another thesis on Victorian literature, but maybe, just maybe, I'd like to watch the plot unfold without knowing how it all ends. Perhaps save that part of your brilliant analysis for an afterword.
4. Ever wake up with something in your head and you don't know where it came from? Got the weirdest inspired idea ever around 4 a.m. last night--with the right help and guidance I think this could make an awful lot of money, and the window of opportunity before someone else thinks of it is probably no longer than five years, but I doubt I've got the energy or wherewithal to make it happen. I can't bring myself to give it away here, but trust me, if you understand rabid sports fans, you'd agree with me.
5. Did you know that Remembrance Day observances are the only school ceremonies that are mandated by law in Canada?
6. The gay wedding was very nice, and the whole weekend tons of fun. I may even post a few pics at some point--I'll definitely be posting some on facebook soon.
Off to go scramble to catch up with my marking since the deadline to submit my grades is imminent. More later.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Vancouver, and some rambling on social housing
It's been over two decades since I called Vancouver home, and staying downtown this weekend and traveling about has been interesting.
The lines one could draw on the map between affluent and disadvantaged areas seem just as clear and the contrasts as stark as I recall, but in some of the sketchier areas you can see signs of improvement. I suppose that started in the mid-80s with the Expo renewal and the recent Olympic development has continued that, though the conversion of Olympic athlete residences to provide some lower-income housing hasn't proceeded as smoothly as was promised.
Gentrification has its victims--folks who call the skid row neighborhood home have nowhere to go when upscale condo residents organize to legislate them away from their new homes. Unless a concurrent increase in emergency shelter beds accompanies such development, the folks in the direst situations simple are forced to congregate in increasing numbers in smaller and smaller areas--and the contrast between rich and poor neighborhoods becomes even more dramatic.
Closer to home, I have watched my brother-in-law as the process of building a shelter next to his auto repair shop goes forward. While some others in the area have fought to block what they see as a potential disaster which will bring in all sorts of social problems and drive away customers, he's chosen to engage in the process, and been part of the committee which is working to make this new facility a success.
What has yet to be determined, now that this new building is becoming operational, is how many of the street people will choose to take advantage of what is offered. It is a great facility, but like any of its kind, it has to have basic rules and expectations, and folks who are suffering from addictions or mental illnesses may feel that the freedom of the street, while more dangerous and uncomfortable, is still preferable for them.
We'll know soon.
The lines one could draw on the map between affluent and disadvantaged areas seem just as clear and the contrasts as stark as I recall, but in some of the sketchier areas you can see signs of improvement. I suppose that started in the mid-80s with the Expo renewal and the recent Olympic development has continued that, though the conversion of Olympic athlete residences to provide some lower-income housing hasn't proceeded as smoothly as was promised.
Gentrification has its victims--folks who call the skid row neighborhood home have nowhere to go when upscale condo residents organize to legislate them away from their new homes. Unless a concurrent increase in emergency shelter beds accompanies such development, the folks in the direst situations simple are forced to congregate in increasing numbers in smaller and smaller areas--and the contrast between rich and poor neighborhoods becomes even more dramatic.
Closer to home, I have watched my brother-in-law as the process of building a shelter next to his auto repair shop goes forward. While some others in the area have fought to block what they see as a potential disaster which will bring in all sorts of social problems and drive away customers, he's chosen to engage in the process, and been part of the committee which is working to make this new facility a success.
What has yet to be determined, now that this new building is becoming operational, is how many of the street people will choose to take advantage of what is offered. It is a great facility, but like any of its kind, it has to have basic rules and expectations, and folks who are suffering from addictions or mental illnesses may feel that the freedom of the street, while more dangerous and uncomfortable, is still preferable for them.
We'll know soon.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Goin' to the chapel...
I just made my hotel reservation and I've booked the Friday off for traveling. I'm going to my first gay wedding November 6.
It will make for interesting conversation with a few of my relatives at Christmas time, I bet.
Maybe I'll even post some pics.
It will make for interesting conversation with a few of my relatives at Christmas time, I bet.
Maybe I'll even post some pics.
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Cynical Career Counselor Explains Your Future as a
Dermatologist
Hi kid, I see by the appointment card you're thinking about a dermatology career. Seems like a growth industry, what with all the boomers becoming senior citizens, but you might want to consider the big picture.
You'll do a hellishly long stint in college, med school and then training in your specialty. The student loan debts will haunt your every moment for the first years of your career. A ridiculous amount of overtime at the clinic where you set up your first practice, coupled with filling it at various clinics on weekends will get you solvent quickly, though.
Unfortunately, the money stress becomes imprinted on your subconscious, and the drive to earn ever more will be your undoing. More and more you supplement your already-successful practice with unnecessary cosmetic procedures. The acne-scarred teenager and the burned pre-schooler sit waiting in an office decorated with posters pushing vanity services, while Mrs. Barrington-Smythe gets yet another botox or collagen injection.
Soon you're suggesting these procedures to everyone you encounter--they're simply too quick and lucrative for you to resist. Many of your clients can't really afford these services, but your ad campaigns panic them into debt in pursuit of eternal youth. Fortunately your toxins keep all expression from their paralyzed facial muscles, and you learn not to notice the desperation in their eyes.
Eventually you become a fixture at the cocktail parties of the elite, and it's at one of these events a dowager whispers the latest breakthrough offered surreptitiously by one of your rivals--a special skin treatment which features the crushed pineal gland of a rare species of South American fresh-water turtle.
You're unable to sleep for several nights afterward as you obssessively research everything you can find out about this illegal treatment. Soon you've discovered a local underworld connection who offers to supply you with the requisite turtle glands for an outrageous price. Your quick calculations prove that you'll be unable to make a significant profit on the illicit procedure, but you fear losing some of your wealthiest regulars, so desperation guides your faustian bargain.
A scant four months later FBI agents, working as part of an international sting operation, arrest you. You refuse to rat out your criminal suppliers, so you're given a hefty fine and sentenced to five years in prison.
Prison terrifies you; it's not just the other inmates you're worried about--you're also convinced the mob will put out a contract on your life to make sure you won't change your mind and snitch. Eventually, though, you manage to make the terror less intense by first bargaining away the assets left after your fine to get the mafia to cancel the contract, and making yourself invaluable to the other inmates through your expert after-care for prison tattoos.
Good behaviour gets you out in three years, but you're broke and with your reputation, no dermatology clinics will hire you, and no reputable physician will refer anyone to you. Eventually you take a job at a free clinic in the worst part of town--your nights consist of stitching up the victims of domestic abuse to the soundtrack of cynical cops unsuccesfully trying to coerce cooperation in pressing charges.
Prison rearranged your priorities, which makes your new life in a modest condo and driving a domestic sedan a little easier to bear. It will a decent life for a year or two until a radical offshoot of PETA discovers your whereabouts and kidnaps you.
They'll kill you slowly, injecting massive doses of botox into various parts of your body. On the bright side, most who attend your funeral will gush about how peaceful you look.
Hi kid, I see by the appointment card you're thinking about a dermatology career. Seems like a growth industry, what with all the boomers becoming senior citizens, but you might want to consider the big picture.
You'll do a hellishly long stint in college, med school and then training in your specialty. The student loan debts will haunt your every moment for the first years of your career. A ridiculous amount of overtime at the clinic where you set up your first practice, coupled with filling it at various clinics on weekends will get you solvent quickly, though.
Unfortunately, the money stress becomes imprinted on your subconscious, and the drive to earn ever more will be your undoing. More and more you supplement your already-successful practice with unnecessary cosmetic procedures. The acne-scarred teenager and the burned pre-schooler sit waiting in an office decorated with posters pushing vanity services, while Mrs. Barrington-Smythe gets yet another botox or collagen injection.
Soon you're suggesting these procedures to everyone you encounter--they're simply too quick and lucrative for you to resist. Many of your clients can't really afford these services, but your ad campaigns panic them into debt in pursuit of eternal youth. Fortunately your toxins keep all expression from their paralyzed facial muscles, and you learn not to notice the desperation in their eyes.
Eventually you become a fixture at the cocktail parties of the elite, and it's at one of these events a dowager whispers the latest breakthrough offered surreptitiously by one of your rivals--a special skin treatment which features the crushed pineal gland of a rare species of South American fresh-water turtle.
You're unable to sleep for several nights afterward as you obssessively research everything you can find out about this illegal treatment. Soon you've discovered a local underworld connection who offers to supply you with the requisite turtle glands for an outrageous price. Your quick calculations prove that you'll be unable to make a significant profit on the illicit procedure, but you fear losing some of your wealthiest regulars, so desperation guides your faustian bargain.
A scant four months later FBI agents, working as part of an international sting operation, arrest you. You refuse to rat out your criminal suppliers, so you're given a hefty fine and sentenced to five years in prison.
Prison terrifies you; it's not just the other inmates you're worried about--you're also convinced the mob will put out a contract on your life to make sure you won't change your mind and snitch. Eventually, though, you manage to make the terror less intense by first bargaining away the assets left after your fine to get the mafia to cancel the contract, and making yourself invaluable to the other inmates through your expert after-care for prison tattoos.
Good behaviour gets you out in three years, but you're broke and with your reputation, no dermatology clinics will hire you, and no reputable physician will refer anyone to you. Eventually you take a job at a free clinic in the worst part of town--your nights consist of stitching up the victims of domestic abuse to the soundtrack of cynical cops unsuccesfully trying to coerce cooperation in pressing charges.
Prison rearranged your priorities, which makes your new life in a modest condo and driving a domestic sedan a little easier to bear. It will a decent life for a year or two until a radical offshoot of PETA discovers your whereabouts and kidnaps you.
They'll kill you slowly, injecting massive doses of botox into various parts of your body. On the bright side, most who attend your funeral will gush about how peaceful you look.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
From the archives - 15-minute Hamlet
I wonder if this video clip is too long for blogger to let me post it here?
Anyway, it's from an "Evening of Theatre" in June, 2007. I've been clearing files off hard drives and cleaning up old tapes and things lately, and when I ran across this it reminded me of why I like the piece.
I think they needed a little more guidance/rehearsal, but at least the mispronunciations show they really did put this together on their own. It's actually supposed to be a 14-minute Hamlet with a one-minute reprise of the whole show; and it comes in pretty close to those times.
Anyway, it's from an "Evening of Theatre" in June, 2007. I've been clearing files off hard drives and cleaning up old tapes and things lately, and when I ran across this it reminded me of why I like the piece.
I think they needed a little more guidance/rehearsal, but at least the mispronunciations show they really did put this together on their own. It's actually supposed to be a 14-minute Hamlet with a one-minute reprise of the whole show; and it comes in pretty close to those times.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Kid Who Sits Behind You Explains High School Literature
Of Mice and Men
So there's these two dudes, George and Lenny, and George is kinda this smaller smart guy, while Lenny's the big stupid guy. At the beginning they're runnin' away from some town called Weed, which is kinda funny, cause on account of when I was reading that part I... well, it was just funny.
Anyway, George kinda babysits Lenny, cause Lenny's pretty stupid and mostly harmless 'cept when he goes all spazzy about rabbits or slutty chicks.
Then there's this guy Curly, I think, and he lost a glove so he only wears one or something and he's a jerk and his wife is kinda the skank of the camp and Lenny thinks she's a rabbit and pets her hair and then, oops.
I totally give this book five stars 'cause the teacher said we could read this or Grapes of Wrath and this one was like 80 pages or something and that one was hella long.
Oh, and later after George was on his own he fought in Vietnam with Forrest Gump and had his legs cut off and had to get surgery so he could walk again and be a CSI in New York.
So there's these two dudes, George and Lenny, and George is kinda this smaller smart guy, while Lenny's the big stupid guy. At the beginning they're runnin' away from some town called Weed, which is kinda funny, cause on account of when I was reading that part I... well, it was just funny.
Anyway, George kinda babysits Lenny, cause Lenny's pretty stupid and mostly harmless 'cept when he goes all spazzy about rabbits or slutty chicks.
Then there's this guy Curly, I think, and he lost a glove so he only wears one or something and he's a jerk and his wife is kinda the skank of the camp and Lenny thinks she's a rabbit and pets her hair and then, oops.
I totally give this book five stars 'cause the teacher said we could read this or Grapes of Wrath and this one was like 80 pages or something and that one was hella long.
Oh, and later after George was on his own he fought in Vietnam with Forrest Gump and had his legs cut off and had to get surgery so he could walk again and be a CSI in New York.
Friday, September 10, 2010
The Cynical Career Counselor Explains Your Future as a
Movie Critic
Hey, I remember you--you're the one who wrote that great review for No Country for Old Men. You could've saved me some time if you had mentioned they don't bother to finish the damn movie.
Oh really? I guess practicing on the school paper is a natural starting point for a movie reviewer. Your professional career will probably be pretty straightforward.
You'll hit up little community newspapers, looking for an opportunity to share your film thoughts, and perhaps you'll find some who are receptive. It will be a tough road, though--most of those won't really pay anything, and you'll have to work a real job for years.
Maybe you'll review movies for a college paper if you choose to go that route, or maybe one of your pieces will impress just the right editor who decides your writing is good enough to replace the previous guy who killed himself because he was tired of living on dog food.
When you finally reach the pinnacle of your dreams--and I'm being generous in thinking it might happen--you'll get to review for a major national paper. Problem is, you'll be stuck writing about the crap movies most of the populace loves, not the art films you feel are worth the effort of watching. Soon you'll grow to despise your generation's version of Jennifer Aniston as that actress sleeps through one template-produced romantic comedy after another.
Eventually you can't take it any more, and an alternative, independent magazine hires you to write about more avant garde films. Problem is, they go broke after six months and you find yourself unemployed. Your first piece for that paper was a scathing repudiation of the tripe you'd been forced to review for your previous employer, so now you're unemployed, you've little chance of mending that bridge.
Just as you're about to become desperate and take that Walmart greeter job, you get an offer from an on-line company--Netflix have ventured into alternative films, and they want you to give authentic reviews for the fans of cutting edge cinema. You love it, and the next four months are the best of your life.
Then it happens. You're invited to adjudicate a film festival in Brazil, but on the way there, your plane is forced to land in remote mountain country in Venezuela. Before you and the other survivors can make it to the cockpit to try to radio for help, you're surrounded by machine-gun wielding guerrilla forces who take six of you captive. You're later separated from the others and accompanied to a base where you meet a few other kidnap victims.
One of them explains that this particular rebel group finances most of their operations through the kidnap of wealthy foreigners. Many of your fellow prisoners have been held by the rebels for over a year--a couple for over two. Then you're dragged away from that compound and marched to another one even higher in the mountains. There you're kept on a length of chain in a tiny shack.
Hey, I remember you--you're the one who wrote that great review for No Country for Old Men. You could've saved me some time if you had mentioned they don't bother to finish the damn movie.
Oh really? I guess practicing on the school paper is a natural starting point for a movie reviewer. Your professional career will probably be pretty straightforward.
You'll hit up little community newspapers, looking for an opportunity to share your film thoughts, and perhaps you'll find some who are receptive. It will be a tough road, though--most of those won't really pay anything, and you'll have to work a real job for years.
Maybe you'll review movies for a college paper if you choose to go that route, or maybe one of your pieces will impress just the right editor who decides your writing is good enough to replace the previous guy who killed himself because he was tired of living on dog food.
When you finally reach the pinnacle of your dreams--and I'm being generous in thinking it might happen--you'll get to review for a major national paper. Problem is, you'll be stuck writing about the crap movies most of the populace loves, not the art films you feel are worth the effort of watching. Soon you'll grow to despise your generation's version of Jennifer Aniston as that actress sleeps through one template-produced romantic comedy after another.
Eventually you can't take it any more, and an alternative, independent magazine hires you to write about more avant garde films. Problem is, they go broke after six months and you find yourself unemployed. Your first piece for that paper was a scathing repudiation of the tripe you'd been forced to review for your previous employer, so now you're unemployed, you've little chance of mending that bridge.
Just as you're about to become desperate and take that Walmart greeter job, you get an offer from an on-line company--Netflix have ventured into alternative films, and they want you to give authentic reviews for the fans of cutting edge cinema. You love it, and the next four months are the best of your life.
Then it happens. You're invited to adjudicate a film festival in Brazil, but on the way there, your plane is forced to land in remote mountain country in Venezuela. Before you and the other survivors can make it to the cockpit to try to radio for help, you're surrounded by machine-gun wielding guerrilla forces who take six of you captive. You're later separated from the others and accompanied to a base where you meet a few other kidnap victims.
One of them explains that this particular rebel group finances most of their operations through the kidnap of wealthy foreigners. Many of your fellow prisoners have been held by the rebels for over a year--a couple for over two. Then you're dragged away from that compound and marched to another one even higher in the mountains. There you're kept on a length of chain in a tiny shack.
Your captors know that foreigners accustomed to creature comforts can lose the will to live if deprived of everything familiar for too long, so they've equipped this remote little prison with an old VHS player that runs on a diesel generator. There you get to spend every evening watching one of the only three tapes in the shack--all from the "Jennifer Lopez Cinema Collection". After six weeks of Maid in Manhattan, Gigli and Jersey Girl, one of your guards falls asleep just long enough to let you hang yourself.
Hey, maybe they'll make a movie about it!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Cynical Career Counselor Explains Your Future as a
Firefighter
Hi kid - so what'll it be? Computer programmer? Comic book store manager? Firefighter? Really? You just don't, er, seem the type.
Well, it won't be easy--every would-be calendar hunk who doesn't want to be stuck in a classroom through four years of college sees it as the ticket to a decent income and hot chicks.
Aww, look--you're blushing.
Anyway, going straight to the city fire department will be futile. They get hundreds of applications from football-player types and when those spots are filled, the rest go to suitable females and minorities--you don't qualify for any of those categories.
So you'll need to go the "volunteer fireman" route to get much-needed experience before they'll even consider you. You'll have to move to some god-forsaken podunk farm community and take a horrible job at the feed store or radio station to make ends meet--I could tell you all about that sometime if you like--and then you'll sign up with the volunteer fire department.
You see, towns like that can't afford paid firefighters, so for the cost of a CB radio for your obligatory pickup truck, you can become one of the volunteers.
They won't exactly welcome you with open arms--city types are viewed suspiciously in places like that, and I don't see you blending in with the country farm boys. Still, you'll study the theory of firefighting in all your spare time and so when some sort of challenging situation involving a tanker truck overturning on the highway arises, or a grain elevator explodes, you'll know just what to do.
If you're lucky you'll avoid being crushed by the roof of a burning barn, or trampled by the frightened horses that run out of said barns, and you'll survive two of the loneliest years of your life living over the garage at "Widder Jenkins" place.
You can't just quit, but you'll start arranging your days off to allow you to get to nearby towns with real fire departments where you show your resumé that includes a variety of glowing reference letters and even a couple of newspaper clippings that mention your firefighting acumen.
One town has an opening, and you grab it, but it's only part-time, so now you have to find another job, while still putting in hours at the fire station washing the trucks and testing hoses for your small monthly stipend.
Here you find your first real romance - The local girl who walks her dog by the fire hall each day and who isn't quite attractive enough for the hunky firemen to be interested. You've worked hard getting fit for your job, and the long, lonely hours with little to do but work out in your last town helped. The two of you hit it off and before long you're engaged.
Her folks oppose the marriage as you haven't much income and the two of you agree to postpone the marriage until you've got a real firefighting job. It takes another year but you get a job in a slightly larger town that can afford full timers.
You're so excited you try too hard at the new job, and soon alienate most of your colleagues. Your fiancee is annoyed by having to move to a town where she doesn't know anyone, and rebuffs your attempts to set a wedding date. You get depressed and frustrated and begin working all the overtime you can get to avoid being alone in your drab apartment. It gets so bad that you even set a couple of fires to create more work.
Then it happens; you're in a warehouse that's been torched for the insurance money and a beam falls and traps you. By the time you're rescued, your left leg and arm have been seriously burned, and your employment compensation agency sends you off to the firefighter's rehab center in Chicago.
Look I need to get going, so here's the quick finish: Your girlfriend comes to visit, meets some other guy who's been much more disfigured than you, but still has the charm and personality he had before his accident. She dumps you, marries him, and you realize it wasn't just your looks that were the problem. Your personality sucks too.
Sorry, but look on the bright side--when you get back to work you can take the dalmatian for walks in the park. I hear that can be a really good ice breaker with the ladies. Good luck!
Hi kid - so what'll it be? Computer programmer? Comic book store manager? Firefighter? Really? You just don't, er, seem the type.
Well, it won't be easy--every would-be calendar hunk who doesn't want to be stuck in a classroom through four years of college sees it as the ticket to a decent income and hot chicks.
Aww, look--you're blushing.
Anyway, going straight to the city fire department will be futile. They get hundreds of applications from football-player types and when those spots are filled, the rest go to suitable females and minorities--you don't qualify for any of those categories.
So you'll need to go the "volunteer fireman" route to get much-needed experience before they'll even consider you. You'll have to move to some god-forsaken podunk farm community and take a horrible job at the feed store or radio station to make ends meet--I could tell you all about that sometime if you like--and then you'll sign up with the volunteer fire department.
You see, towns like that can't afford paid firefighters, so for the cost of a CB radio for your obligatory pickup truck, you can become one of the volunteers.
They won't exactly welcome you with open arms--city types are viewed suspiciously in places like that, and I don't see you blending in with the country farm boys. Still, you'll study the theory of firefighting in all your spare time and so when some sort of challenging situation involving a tanker truck overturning on the highway arises, or a grain elevator explodes, you'll know just what to do.
If you're lucky you'll avoid being crushed by the roof of a burning barn, or trampled by the frightened horses that run out of said barns, and you'll survive two of the loneliest years of your life living over the garage at "Widder Jenkins" place.
You can't just quit, but you'll start arranging your days off to allow you to get to nearby towns with real fire departments where you show your resumé that includes a variety of glowing reference letters and even a couple of newspaper clippings that mention your firefighting acumen.
One town has an opening, and you grab it, but it's only part-time, so now you have to find another job, while still putting in hours at the fire station washing the trucks and testing hoses for your small monthly stipend.
Here you find your first real romance - The local girl who walks her dog by the fire hall each day and who isn't quite attractive enough for the hunky firemen to be interested. You've worked hard getting fit for your job, and the long, lonely hours with little to do but work out in your last town helped. The two of you hit it off and before long you're engaged.
Her folks oppose the marriage as you haven't much income and the two of you agree to postpone the marriage until you've got a real firefighting job. It takes another year but you get a job in a slightly larger town that can afford full timers.
You're so excited you try too hard at the new job, and soon alienate most of your colleagues. Your fiancee is annoyed by having to move to a town where she doesn't know anyone, and rebuffs your attempts to set a wedding date. You get depressed and frustrated and begin working all the overtime you can get to avoid being alone in your drab apartment. It gets so bad that you even set a couple of fires to create more work.
Then it happens; you're in a warehouse that's been torched for the insurance money and a beam falls and traps you. By the time you're rescued, your left leg and arm have been seriously burned, and your employment compensation agency sends you off to the firefighter's rehab center in Chicago.
Look I need to get going, so here's the quick finish: Your girlfriend comes to visit, meets some other guy who's been much more disfigured than you, but still has the charm and personality he had before his accident. She dumps you, marries him, and you realize it wasn't just your looks that were the problem. Your personality sucks too.
Sorry, but look on the bright side--when you get back to work you can take the dalmatian for walks in the park. I hear that can be a really good ice breaker with the ladies. Good luck!
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Kid Who Sits Behind You Explains High School Literature
The Good Earth
So there's this Chinese farmer dude named Wang Chung who is all poor but he marries some chick who's a slave in a rich house and he's all "good, she's not hot" and she's all "my feet are too big" 'cause on account of back then they used to bind up their feet to save money since they don't have to keep buying shoes.
Then Wang Chung starts an 80s rock band and names it after himself and then gets himself a hooker to come live in his house and later he becomes an old perv and keeps buying people coffins like it's some sort of cool gift.
Oh, and he really liked his farmland, I think.
So there's this Chinese farmer dude named Wang Chung who is all poor but he marries some chick who's a slave in a rich house and he's all "good, she's not hot" and she's all "my feet are too big" 'cause on account of back then they used to bind up their feet to save money since they don't have to keep buying shoes.
Then Wang Chung starts an 80s rock band and names it after himself and then gets himself a hooker to come live in his house and later he becomes an old perv and keeps buying people coffins like it's some sort of cool gift.
Oh, and he really liked his farmland, I think.
Monday, July 05, 2010
The Cynical Career Counselor Explains Your Future as a
Chauffeur
Oh thanks for getting the door--not everybody around here's been taught basic courtesy; nice to see your folks brought you up right. You're my 9 a.m., right? Sorry, I got caught up in traffic on 20th and... anyway, I'm here now. Let's see, what's on the menu for this morning... Chauffeur? Okay, here's what that road will look like.
First, you need to make sure you've got pretty much the same training as a journeyman mechanic. You don't see it much in the movies, but when that touring car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, Mr. or Mrs. Big Bucks ain't gonna want to sit around waiting to ride in the cab of some smelly tow truck. You need to be able to spot problems before they happen--replace every belt, hose or anything else every year so they just can't wear out.
If something does go wrong, you'll need some long gloves and an apron, or maybe those disposable coveralls. It sounds stupid, but rich folk don't forgive you looking dirty--even if you got that way making sure they can get to their meeting or flight.
It's a ridiculously hard field to break into, but if you're completely ruthless, your best bet is to hire some goons to attempt to carjack the limo you want to drive, then you jump in with your martial arts training (did I mention you need that) and save the day. The limo driver will be hurt just enough to need to go to the hospital, and you'll offer to drive. In the brief conversation you have with the rich person you want to work for, you mention that you are a trained mechanic and you currently drive for a limo service. (Did I mention you'd need to get that job first?)
You'll be hired and the guy you got beat up will be paid off to go quietly. Your job will be as much about polishing the car and waiting around playing solitaire as it will be about driving. Even more boring will be the waits downtown while your employer is in meetings.
You'll wish for boring, though, at times. Like when your boss's son or daughter commandeer the limo (and you with it) for partying with their friends. It will take particular skill to clean up vomit and still keep your uniform pristine. More stressful yet are the times your discretion is most needed.
Your powerful employer seems happily married, but you will see the depths of his depravity as you cruise the seedier hooker drives, finding him willing partners for his disturbing personal preferences. The privacy window and your headphones will become your best friends on those days.
You never really know how your boss earns his money, but there are certain "meetings" that don't take place in any boardroom. You pick up a number of rather sketchy-looking types every week or two and they spend an hour or two in the limo as you drive around aimlessly. You hear bits of conversation when they yell at each other, and you soon realize that they're operating some businesses on the shady side of legal. You are paid to be discrete, though, and would never think of mentioning anything to your employer.
One day it goes further than yelling, though, and you are ordered by your boss to drive up to an old gravel pit. He informs you there's a shovel in the trunk and you are to start digging a hole. One of his less fortunate associates is soon tossed in, and you try not to let the others see your hands shaking as you shovel the dirt onto the grave.
The trauma of this experience makes you more agreeable when, a few days later, federal agents come calling and ask you to spy on your boss. You wear a wire and even plant a microphone in the back of the limo. It only takes a week for the authorities to gather enough evidence to put your employer away for a long time.
You worry that there may be repercussions, but you suffer nothing more serious than temporary unemployment in the months after the arrest. Eventually you find a job driving one of those airport-hotel shuttle vans. One morning you recognize one of your passengers coming in on flight from New York. He pretends not to know you, and agrees to wait in the van when an emergency call comes in from your kid's school--seems your child was late coming in from recess, and although it seems like something terrible may have happened, before the call is over your kid's safely back in class.
You thank your passenger for waiting, and he says nothing. When you drop him at the hotel, you don't notice the small remote he pulls out of his pocket. The explosion closes the downtown core for three hours--mostly so they can pick up as many pieces of you as possible.
Have fun.
Oh thanks for getting the door--not everybody around here's been taught basic courtesy; nice to see your folks brought you up right. You're my 9 a.m., right? Sorry, I got caught up in traffic on 20th and... anyway, I'm here now. Let's see, what's on the menu for this morning... Chauffeur? Okay, here's what that road will look like.
First, you need to make sure you've got pretty much the same training as a journeyman mechanic. You don't see it much in the movies, but when that touring car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, Mr. or Mrs. Big Bucks ain't gonna want to sit around waiting to ride in the cab of some smelly tow truck. You need to be able to spot problems before they happen--replace every belt, hose or anything else every year so they just can't wear out.
If something does go wrong, you'll need some long gloves and an apron, or maybe those disposable coveralls. It sounds stupid, but rich folk don't forgive you looking dirty--even if you got that way making sure they can get to their meeting or flight.
It's a ridiculously hard field to break into, but if you're completely ruthless, your best bet is to hire some goons to attempt to carjack the limo you want to drive, then you jump in with your martial arts training (did I mention you need that) and save the day. The limo driver will be hurt just enough to need to go to the hospital, and you'll offer to drive. In the brief conversation you have with the rich person you want to work for, you mention that you are a trained mechanic and you currently drive for a limo service. (Did I mention you'd need to get that job first?)
You'll be hired and the guy you got beat up will be paid off to go quietly. Your job will be as much about polishing the car and waiting around playing solitaire as it will be about driving. Even more boring will be the waits downtown while your employer is in meetings.
You'll wish for boring, though, at times. Like when your boss's son or daughter commandeer the limo (and you with it) for partying with their friends. It will take particular skill to clean up vomit and still keep your uniform pristine. More stressful yet are the times your discretion is most needed.
Your powerful employer seems happily married, but you will see the depths of his depravity as you cruise the seedier hooker drives, finding him willing partners for his disturbing personal preferences. The privacy window and your headphones will become your best friends on those days.
You never really know how your boss earns his money, but there are certain "meetings" that don't take place in any boardroom. You pick up a number of rather sketchy-looking types every week or two and they spend an hour or two in the limo as you drive around aimlessly. You hear bits of conversation when they yell at each other, and you soon realize that they're operating some businesses on the shady side of legal. You are paid to be discrete, though, and would never think of mentioning anything to your employer.
One day it goes further than yelling, though, and you are ordered by your boss to drive up to an old gravel pit. He informs you there's a shovel in the trunk and you are to start digging a hole. One of his less fortunate associates is soon tossed in, and you try not to let the others see your hands shaking as you shovel the dirt onto the grave.
The trauma of this experience makes you more agreeable when, a few days later, federal agents come calling and ask you to spy on your boss. You wear a wire and even plant a microphone in the back of the limo. It only takes a week for the authorities to gather enough evidence to put your employer away for a long time.
You worry that there may be repercussions, but you suffer nothing more serious than temporary unemployment in the months after the arrest. Eventually you find a job driving one of those airport-hotel shuttle vans. One morning you recognize one of your passengers coming in on flight from New York. He pretends not to know you, and agrees to wait in the van when an emergency call comes in from your kid's school--seems your child was late coming in from recess, and although it seems like something terrible may have happened, before the call is over your kid's safely back in class.
You thank your passenger for waiting, and he says nothing. When you drop him at the hotel, you don't notice the small remote he pulls out of his pocket. The explosion closes the downtown core for three hours--mostly so they can pick up as many pieces of you as possible.
Have fun.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
More recent video
This was from a couple of my grade 10s. I won't post it on my theatre youtube because it will get nailed for copyright no doubt.
I liked the greenscreen work and their Snape in particular.
I liked the greenscreen work and their Snape in particular.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Friday, June 04, 2010
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Paris
More pics (click to view full size):
We ran into a bit of wet weather our first day, but didn't really get rained on. It was cold for May, though.
Louvre
Notre Dame
Champs Elysées
Arc de Triomphe
View from the Eiffel Tower
We ran into a bit of wet weather our first day, but didn't really get rained on. It was cold for May, though.
Louvre
Notre Dame
Champs Elysées
Arc de Triomphe
View from the Eiffel Tower
Monday, May 10, 2010
Trip Photos #1
I won't be posting many "people" photos here; I may post them on the other blog or just put the link there with password to the photobucket where I posted all the pics if anyone is interested.
Westminster Abbey
Near Buckingham Palace
The Thames from the London Eye
Thames and Houses of Parliament from the London Eye
Oxford
Room in the Divinity School where the Harry Potter infirmary scenes and the practicing for the dance scenes were filmed.
Some of the more fanatical Potter fans in our group re-enacted some scenes from the movie where they took place, such as the dance rehearsal above, or the scene where Mad-eye Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret.
Oh, those college kids.
House where Shakespeare was born in Stratford
This is the restored Roman Bath, located of course, in Bath. Photo below is also from Bath.
St. Paul's Cathedral
View from St. Paul's, for those willing to climb the 400+ stairs to get up there.
Our second show, We Will Rock You, which we saw on the Friday night. It was okay, but I wouldn't really recommend it, unlike Wicked, which was, well, wicked. If you are thinking of seeing it, I can give you specific details.
Camden Market (only one tiny bit of it--the market covers a large area with hundreds of shops and stalls) It was crazy there on the Saturday as the "Camden Crawl" was going on. More than 100,000 participants buy passes and can go into any of 21 pubs featuring live music from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. over the long weekend.
I'll post the Paris photos later.
Westminster Abbey
Near Buckingham Palace
The Thames from the London Eye
Thames and Houses of Parliament from the London Eye
Oxford
Room in the Divinity School where the Harry Potter infirmary scenes and the practicing for the dance scenes were filmed.
Some of the more fanatical Potter fans in our group re-enacted some scenes from the movie where they took place, such as the dance rehearsal above, or the scene where Mad-eye Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret.
Oh, those college kids.
House where Shakespeare was born in Stratford
This is the restored Roman Bath, located of course, in Bath. Photo below is also from Bath.
St. Paul's Cathedral
View from St. Paul's, for those willing to climb the 400+ stairs to get up there.
Our second show, We Will Rock You, which we saw on the Friday night. It was okay, but I wouldn't really recommend it, unlike Wicked, which was, well, wicked. If you are thinking of seeing it, I can give you specific details.
Camden Market (only one tiny bit of it--the market covers a large area with hundreds of shops and stalls) It was crazy there on the Saturday as the "Camden Crawl" was going on. More than 100,000 participants buy passes and can go into any of 21 pubs featuring live music from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. over the long weekend.
I'll post the Paris photos later.
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