1. Merrell white nurses shoes $90. Never worn in public except to walk my dog at night. The guy who sold them to me said that nurses in NYC wear them and clock thousands of miles each year in them. Since when have I been a nurse?

2. 1981 Subaru GL Wagon, $550. I really wanted this car because it was the car I wanted my pair to buy when we lived in Stowe, because every other family had a Subaru wagon. The driver's side door was the only one that actually worked. The hood would not close properly and on the car's maiden voyage the hood flew open, caught the wind and smashed back into the windshield. I sold it 1 month later for $175.

3. Kastinger alpine boots: $170 – my feet in a vice. Worn a few times and discarded for a pair of rubber caulked boots I found in a trailer.

4. 1981 Chevy Van; I traded this for my Chevy K5 Blazer. A musty, unsafe, van. It was never insured under my ownership. I sold it for $600 so I could go to London and doss on someone’s couch for 2 weeks. That summer the K5 selfcombusted while loaded with the owners entire belongings (he was moving houses), destroying everything he owned.

5. Edun Jeans €105; that they were designed by Bono’s relatives apparently impressed me. They were tight in all the wrong places and flared at the cuff. Worn 3 times before being discarded. Note to self: stick with mainstream jeans

6. 1981 Cadillac $600: this purchase is made worse because of all the signs that were screaming at me not to buy it. When I looked at the engine it was covered in motor oil. The seller appeared to be a criminal. That I had to borrow money from my student roomate to buy the car makes it even worse.

7. The dozens of books and CDs I have bought but have never read and will likely never read-estimated $500;

8. 1998 Andre Ziltener Clos du Vougeot Bourgogne,$100. purchased at the winery itself, it was, like so many bourgoghnes, a gamble. We opened it at Joie, surrounded by a bunch of sommeliers and chefs, with high expectations. Thin and tastless. Quite simply, it sucked.

9. The self-help books I am too embarrassed to name here; estimate $100. Only when you read more than a few of them to you realise they are all the same book, just repackaged.

10. On2.com Technology stock; $1800. Purchased February 2000. Can you say “great timing”?

Last week I was skyping with Chris about The Police's upcoming world tour. He had just scored 2 in the reds for their Montreal show, finding the tickets on eBay. I have not heard about a Dublin date yet, but hope they do make it over here.

We got to talking about the plethora of tours by bands who really should just hang it up (are you listening, Roger Daltrey?) and how this contrasted with the decision by The Police to regroup for a world tour.

Many bands stay together for the money and keep touring solely for the money. Well past their prime, the reasons for carrying on likely have more to do with college fees than the desire to "see a million faces, and rock them all."

The Police, Chris argued, were a band that never should have broken up. They had just released a fantastic album and launched an even more successful world tour. (My older brother Jamie went to the concert at the Olympic Stadium, to many everlasting envy.) Yes, Sting had a successful solo career to pursue, but they left a huge vacuum in the music world.

A vacuum that I argued was filled by U2. Up until their fourth release, The Unforgettable Fire, U2 had never fulfilled their commercial promise to their record label, Island Records. At my high school, only the cool kids who were up on new music listened to U2 before 1984, but after The Unforgettable Fire, every kid in chess club had a U2 pin on their blazer.

This could not have happened had The Police not been an alternative to Michael Jackson.

Given the infrequency with which I post on this blog, I often wonder why I even bothered to post at all over the last 6 years. I have few regular readers, and even fewer comments. I suppose, however, that I have gotten from this blog all that I put in, which was occassionally very little.

When we moved to Dublin last year, I set up a typepad account, really just so I could track who was coming to my blog and from where. How vain.

But on those days at work when I stare out into the M50 from my glass cage and wonder why I am here, I sometimes scroll through my old posts and find a gem that perfectly captured something I was feeling years ago.

I have since cancelled the typepad account, and added this blog to irishblogs.ie.

My year in cities 2006

A list of the cities I visited this year (multiple visits with a*).

Montreal*
Atlanta
Maidenhead*
Aylesbury
Cork
Paris*
Toulouse
Arles
St Affrique
Bilthoven
Amsterdam
London*

Much speculation has been made of the kind of wedding my sister Christina would have, most of it predicting that it would be one loud shaker. Christina and Josh did not disappoint. Having been to many weddings I can confidently say this one was the best wedding ever. The crowd, the food, the music, the location; it all came together, like the perfect salad, as Steve Rubell used to say. I think you can judge a wedding by how many people are still dancing at 2am, and when the band pulled the plug at 2am in the McCord Museum, the dance floor was shoulder to shoulder and everyone was screaming for just one more song.

It's not easy to get all 6 of my family on the dance floor but Good Time Charlie did it, perhaps for the first time in my life. I think it was during "500 Miles" that I looked around and saw Christina and Michael, Jamie and my parents all getting jiggy wit it. Normally I'd be kind of embarassed or self-concious, but I guess I have moved past that. it was a celebration, so we were celebrating. Anya and I danced all night, my glass of MacCallan always stowed close by on a table. I think I even got all emotional at the end of the night, after too much whisky. normally, i don't drink it to excess, but since Josh and Tina were laying out the 12 year-old, what was I supposed to do, drink Ex all night?

The speeches were short but heartfelt and genuine, the cake was fantastic and the overall feeling of joy lasted much longer than the hangover. even this cynic is still warmed by the afterglow.

The traffic in Dublin today was ridiculous for a Saturday. The mad gridlock was fodder for my theory about Dubliners all doing the same thing at the same time. If you want to drive anywhere easily then get up early.

I have lost my interest in driving and I think I now prefer to be chauffered around. One thing I love about visiting our UK office is that the new car service usually has a late model Mercedes waiting for me when I get to Heathrow. Now if they could pick me up in a 1977 450 SEL 6.9, that would really be something.

Inconsistency


Due to November being NaBloPoMo, (something I discovered after the contest started so i could not join anyway, I made and effort to post every day. I think I lasted 2 days.

Max is becoming addicted to the DVDs that I play for him on Saturday mornings. I don't want him to be a TV addict like I was, but I also want to read the FT on Saturday and having him staring into the iMac is the easy answer.

His favorite is Pingu, a clever claymation series about a rambunctious young penguin. Just uttering two words from the title song is enough to make him run to the bookshelf and point at the top shelf, shouting "Beenguuu!". The title song is catchy and it is actually quite creative.

The close second is a collection of Sesame Street songs, catchy numbers which stick in my head all day. One of the videos features Ernie in a bath tub of naked men, with a cow in a shower cap.

Mmmmmmmm

I love it when a plan comes together.

How Little Perm Got His Name

How Little Perm Got His Name
Originally uploaded by andrew s.

We called him Little Perm because after his daily bath in this here baby bath thing, Max's normally straight hair would curl into a wavy mat. Not quite a real perm but a little curvy anway.

Instead of Big Perm, I mean Big Worm, the drug dealer in the flim Friday, I called him Little Perm.

This was later shortened to "LP", and then finally to simply "Perm" or "The Perm".

Thumbs Down!

Wimbledon was a low-grade rom-com from the start. While I liked the male lead, Kristen Dunst was just too annoying to watch.

Somehow, I managed to avoid peeling myself off the couch to escape its reach into my brain, dumbing me down on a Sunday night.

Who knows what tasks lay uncompleted or problems unsolved due to the movies inane but enaging plot.

I meant to write this yesterday, or at least last night after we came home from the pub, but I just went straight to bed. With Anya's mom visiting, we are trying to get as much cinema and pub-going in as is possible in the span of 1 week.

We saw two more films yesterday, Borat and Little Children. Borat is the funniest movie I have seen in a very long time, perhaps since I saw Naked Gun in 1990. Little Children was a black and bleak look into the pain and suffering lurking beneath the veneer of American suburban life similar in style to American Beauty.


Dundrum is a funny place on a Saturday night.

So the other night Anya and I are watching The Departed, about the Irish mob in Boston, surrounded by Irish people in Dundrum Cinemas. It was funny watching a film with so many references to Boston Irish-ness; dingy pubs, peodophile priests, drunk fathers, bad hair, bleak outlook, from the very place where these references were drawn.

I had a hard time holding in my glee during the extremely violent scenes. I think I laugh because I am so shocked by the candid knee-capping and head shots. Sometimes I am aware of it while I am doing, but in the dark, crowded theatre I just let the laughter fly.

Ambitious as I was when I set out to complete the list of things to do before leaving Vancouver, I did have the expectation I would achieve more than the few items I actually completed. Things I thought were important became trivial when examined. What really mattered was saying goodbye to people, especially my family.

Vancouver was never meant to be a permanent stop for me, just like Whistler and Victoria, places I languished because I could never make a decsision to leave. I came here to be with a woman that I eventually married, so you could say the time was well spent. I worked for an incredible company that grew from $180 million to $1 billion in annual revenue.

I also started this blog, after being inspired by sylloge in the summer of 2001. Schoolboy77 was just a way for me to express my smartass opinion not be held accountable to it. For the few people that actually read it, I hope it has been worth the effort.

On this coming Friday, I will get into a taxi at noon, which will take me to Vancouver Airport. I will board a plane bound for Montreal, to spend Christmas with my family. From Montreal, I will leave for Dublin, Ireland. I do not know when I will return.

This reminds me of something I have always wanted to post, so I am going to say it here. On my wedding day, as guests were arriving in the minutes before the ceremony was to begin, I first met Peggy and Gary McShane, who were friends of Anya's mother.

Before I could introduce myself to Gary, he said to me:

You're about to make a huge mistake. I can drive you to the airport instead.
There is a 630 flight bound for Paris. From Paris, you can take a train to
Marseilles tomorrow morning. From Marseilles you can take a bus to
Aubagne. Get off in the city square, walk left past the church, turn right
and walk up the hill, where you will find the headquarters for the French
Foreign Legion. Don't say I didn't warn you.

No 18 Completed

Carhop Combo
Originally uploaded by andrew s.

Despite my recent need to exercise (brought on by the perceived sudden increase in the tightness of my pants) I ventured up to the White Spot in the pouring rain for a Triple O. This frees me from ever having to eat one of these before I leave.

Also accomplished on my list:

No 5: Canucks vs Columbus Blue Jackets, Nov 4th. Boring game, no fights, great seats.

No 18: Stay at the Wall Centre with Anya.
We had two dates in one night, watched movies and enjoyed each other without the distraction of the Little Perm.

No 33: Eat at Simply Thai
The drearier the day, the more I crave Simply Thai. The waitress brought Sukhi and I a candle for our table, as one of our co-workers told her it was our "anniversary". I overheard her say, "the Indian doesn't look gay, but the other one could be." I'll take it as a compliment.

43 Things to Do Before Leaving Vancouver

Yes, it is true. In January, Anya and I will be moving to Ireland. As my days here are now numbered, I am feeling the pressure to do all of the things that I wanted to do but never did. Why rush if I have my whole life?

Well now I have only until January 6th, and I'll be away for at least 2 weeks during this countdown. This has led me to write my list of things to do, so I can actually get them done.

In no particular order, here are my last wishes:

1. Eat at Bishop's
2. Run along the seawall
3. Eat a slice of Nat's chorizo & mushroom pizza
4. Eat gelato from Mondo Gelato immediately following pizza
5. Stay at the Wall Centre Hotel with Anya
6. Run up the Grouse Grind for the first time
7. Eat brunch at Bacchus
8. Run through Pacific Spirit Park
9. Walk along Spanish Banks at Sunset
10. Walk along English Bay at Sunset
11. Watch the Christmas boats float by
12. Take the water taxi from Yaletown to Granville Island
13. Kayak in Indian Arm
14. See a Canucks game
    
15. Go to a sports bar and cheer for the Canadiens
16. Have a drink at the Cambie
17. Eat at Subeez and have them get my order right, bring my food at the same time as my companions and do it under 1 hour
18. Eat a Triple-O Carhop Classic
19. Drive through Whalley
20. Walk along the beach in White Rock
21. Sit in Duthie's Books and read for 2 hours
22. Have a 3 hour lunch and never come back to the office
23. Visit Westwood Plateau to see how they live
24. Visit Maple Ridge
25. Say goodbye in person to all the people who became my friends here
26. Relive my Friday after-work ritual under the Cambie St bridge
27. Drop by and say Hi at Maximizer
28. Sit at my old desk at 840 Cambie and watch the hairdressers across the alley
29. Eat a roast beef and stilton sandwich at Moonpennies
30. Lounge on the furniture at Inform
31. Stay up all night and walk home in the rain
32. Have lunch special and Vitamin Os at the Trap and Gill
33. Eat at Simply Thai
34. Run at Burnaby Lake
35. Host my own farewell party
36. Wear my Grateful Dead shirt out of the house
37. Rent a karaoke booth with my sales team
38. Eat a Yaletown roll at Honjin
39. Sit in the garden at Queen Elizabeth Park
40. Spend hours walking around downtown with nothing but caffeine and euros, knowing that I might only be back for vacations
41. Walk across the Lion's Gate Bridge
42. Rent a cruiser bike and cycle along the seawall
43. Cruise Robson St on a Saturday night playing Rush at top volume
    

The great thing about taking a vacation to do nothing is that you get to do nothing. Last week I was in the mood to do absolutely that: sweet fuck all. Waking meant that caffeine would soon be injected into my system, followed a few hours later by a nap. If I felt up to it, I visited a winery or went on a short hike. If not, I stayed in and watched Dave Chappelle and Ali I was so relaxed by the end of our 6 days in Naramata, that I was actually too relaxed to go to work on Friday.

This is a departure from the action-packed vacations I am used to; itineraries filled with activities every day from morning until night. I think I am by nature a slow traveller. Along with the slow food movement, there is now a slow travel movement.

Now the batteries are recharged and I am ready to get down to business for the next 3 months. It’s going to be busy, it’s going to be tough, but it’s going to be blogged.

After a relaxing Friday at work, the Whale beat the Inferno 5-1. I went home after the game and found that Anya had arranged for her mom to babysit while we walked up the street to the PNE forum to see if we could get tickets to Arcade Fire.

The show had sold out almost immediately, and there were no scalpers to be seen. I was ready to give up and go home, but Anya had that determined look that meant she wasn’t going without turning over every rock. Out of nowhere appeared a man with a beer gut, track pants and high top running shoes and a fanny pack, the scalper uniform.

Anya negotiated him down to just 125% of the face value. The show was fantastic, and vaulted instantly to my top 5 shows of all time.

There are some photos of the show here.

After playing two encores, the band snaked through the crowd carrying various percussion instruments (Regine had her accordion) and played Kiss Off, by Violent Femmes. Then they non-chalantly ran the gauntlet of applause back the stage and were off.

After an usually anti-climactic quarter end, Anya and I escaped Vancouver for Naramata, where we have settled for the week at Elephant Island Winery.

Our plan is to do nothing.

The morning after arriving we discovered we had a strong wireless connection, which gives us something to do in lieu of watching Dave Chappelle episodes.

Chris and Lu were up here too, staying at their friends Heidi and Michael's agriturismo ranch, just a short walk through the orchard from our own lodging. Anya and Lu had been planning a dinner for weeks, and Heidi and Michael were happy to have them take over the kitchen, as long as it meant not having to cook for anyone else.

Anya brought two wines we picked up in France in 2001. Sadly, the burgundy confirmed our suspicions at the time that we were in a tourist trap. The Bordeaux, which we picked blindly in some wine shop in Paris, compensated for the incredibly thin and pricey Burgundy.

Our appetizer was a goat cheese and red pepper strudel, followed by a roasted eggplant and tomato ratatouille-like thing. The main course was lamb chops, followed by blueberry pie and my own Euro dessert, for the perfect ending.

Dude

See, this Lebowski, he called himself "The Dude". Now, "Dude" - there's a name no man would self-apply where I come from. But then there was a lot about the Dude that didn't make a whole lot of sense.

While kayaking through Desolation Sound years ago, Chris kept telling me to stop saying the word “dude”. “You’re never going to get a job as a manager if you keep saying dude all the time.”

He was right that I was overusing the term. In my defence, I used it mostly for punctuation or as a salutation. I would begin I sentence with it, for example, “Dude, you have to paddle harder”. I have never used it as like a surfer describing the morning’s swells; “duuuuuuude it was gnarly out there.” No elongated pronunciation for me. Just a quick monosyllabic interjection, nothing more.

I also use the term “dude” to describe the character of another man. If someone asks me about the nature of another man, I may describe them as a “dude”, meaning they have integrity and are a stand up guy. At work, a dude means someone who can get it done, but is still an authentic and original person. One cannot be obsequious and be a dude, just as a dude cannot be weak or foolish. A dude makes it happen, a dude gets it done, but they do it without selling out.

Ray Nagin is a dude.

A Perfect Binding

A Perfect Binding
Originally uploaded by andrew s.

Last Friday night, Anya and I attended Scott and Leilah’s wedding. On a beautiful Vancouver summer evening, in a setting that evoked the binding of two cultures, Middle Eastern and middle-class Canadian, I was profoundly moved by the expression of love from both the guests and the newlyweds.

In the afterglow of the event, Anya and I were relating to each other about how it was one of the best weddings we had ever attended. This started me thinking about what makes a wedding great. What makes the difference between a wedding you never want to end and one where you want to jump for the door at the first excuse? What is that we seek at weddings, if in fact we are there for reasons other than guilt or the fact that we are related to one of the people being married?

The first factor in greatness, I think, is your relation to the couple, and how positive you feel they are the perfect match for each other. The type and number of guests is also a critical factor. It has to be the right mix of young and old, relatives and friends. You need to have older relatives that keep partying late into the evening. Scott and Leilah have lived and worked in different parts of the world, and picked up friends from many different countries, and so the guests were a cosmopolitan mix. There were guests from Australia, Wales, England, all over the US, Japan, Belgium and France. Throughout the different nooks and spaces of Cecil Green you could hear bouquets of conversation floating through the hot night air.

You could feel the love and happiness everyone felt for the couple, which contributed to what I consider the most important factor of a great wedding: the event must be a celebration of love and life. To witness the outpouring of love and sincere happiness for two people is so rare, that we are compelled to make such an event a celebration.

Think about what a miracle it is for all the actions and consequences to occur and result in attending such a joyous event. Just what are the chances of two people finding each other in this world? How many events occurred and how many decisions were made that led to us being here? Leilah’s father is from Baghdad; Scott’s father emigrated from Scotland. Since both of them have traveled all over the world it is quite possible they could have met someone else.

The rarity of makes you appreciate it when it happens, and so we must celebrate it. It is seldom that you feel good about yourself just to have been connected to these people, knowing that in some small way you may have contributed, unknowingly, and many years ago, to the genesis of this event. It made me feel that I must have done something right to be sitting here feeling the love all around us.

The Genius of Scott McIntyre and the Neo-Con Agenda of George Lucas

Scott proves once again that his Masters in War Studies has not been wasted, in this searing indictment of George Lucas' ignorance of military strategy and his secret neo-con agenda.