Category Archives: Personal Bits

Just things from my personal life

The Perfect Funeral

Personal Bits

I got word last Thursday that a good friend of my father had passed.

He’s not been having a good week, my Da. He just got notice that there’s a cyst-like mass almost blocking the tube from his pancreas to his gut and that will need to be removed. No, thankfully it doesn’t look like the Big C, but it still needs to be removed. Anyway, he’s just got that news the same day his friend passed. God’s been busy.

Ivan was the kind of “generous” that was self-less, the only kind there should be. One of my first memories of Ivan was his utter removal of my father in helping prepare for his own 65th birthday. Da eventually wrestled control of the party back from him but you get the gist: Ivan was an excellent listener, a planner and a highly motivated man.

Thinking back, one of the last conversations I had with Ivan was the night before the Pride 2007 vote for Grand Marshal. Ivan called me and said that he put out as much word as he could without upsetting the board at Prime Timers. While I (shamefully) voiced my negativity at my father’s chance to win the position, Ivan never once said “Let’s pack it in” nor did he ever suggest that Dad would not win. His attitude never wavered. He showed up that night and offered his support just as promised.

Ivan’s funeral was the kind of funeral you secretly fantasize your own will be like: standing room only, slightly more laughter than tears, warm stories from friends, family and work colleagues. Even an ex-lover eulogizing their undying love for you, long after your break up with them. Judging by the over capacity room, Ivan was a man who once you knew, you had a devoted friend for life.

Even though the night before we celebrated my mother’s 75th birthday (expect a happier post later!), my thoughts have been about my Da this week.

Natural Selection

Distractions, Personal Bits, Toronto, Work

To the idiot who was waving her used Metro paper, approaching the poor TTC worker who was trying really hard to close a bag of garbage (he was actually on one knee, wrestling with the monster bag) and had the audacity to ask: “Too late to put one more in?”: Please. Throw yourself in front of a train.

To the lady on the cell phone who let everyone on the streetcar know that she was in the movie industry and was having a big drama day: You know the drill… throw yourself in front of the streetcar.

To my Doctor: Please just once acknowledge one of my jokes. I know you’re beleaguered and busy. Stop and laugh. Show me you’re human. Or throw yourself in front of your Audi. Whatever works.

To the homeless lady still outside my window yelling like there is an emergency, from my return home at 5pm-ish to now, 9:30pm: Seek help. If you won’t seek help, throw yourself in front of a crack dealer. Oh. You already did that.

To the one manager in my office who insists on flooding us with useless graphics requests that go absolutely nowhere but yet we have to honour them all the same because you have one grain of respectability that seems to shine in someone’s eyes: Visit India, reserve a spot on an elephant safari and then throw yourself in front of a pachyderm.

Canadians Do Things Differently

Personal Bits

Yay! My home town is in the news, yet again, for hosting, and ousting a bunch of loony, backwater skygod ranting weirdos. Grenville Christian College is closing it’s doors. With their minds! SLAM!

Okay not with their minds, I just wanted to put that Carrie image in there.

While I was a student at Brockville Collegiate Institute, we heard mumblings of the abuse that went on there. This is third party rumour, but one time, we heard that a girl fell down some stairs there, broke her leg, and before the teachers called an ambulance, they prayed over her! I love the other accusations left “on an internet site about cults” Hmmm… must search Facebook when I get home.

Joan! Cas! We were right! It WAS a school for mindless zombies!

UPDATE:
The board wasnt hard to find. At least I think this was the board they mention in the article. Take note of the “Gay at GCC” thread. Creepy!

Again With the Formative

Celebs and Media, Personal Bits, Queer stuff

I got two DVDs recently: Flash Gordon (the groovy Dino DeLarentis 1980s version) and ARK II, the Filmation Saturday morning TV show. I realize that, again in hindsight, I was physically attracted to manly, hairy guys in these shows :

Terry Lester, who went on to many memorable episodes of The $10,000 Pyramid, As the World Turns, and of course, KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park

Terry Lester

ARK II always had co-stars I loved.

Lester and Robbie

And of course, Filmation had to get a whole crappy cartoon ready when live production money ran out. Note how much more beefier Commander Jonas becomes when put down on paper (and less Visible Panty Lines too)…

Terry Lester Animation sheet

I remember being 100% obsessed with the tunic and tights combos the main characters always wore. Plus I wanted to drive that ARK.

Then we move on to Flash Gordon. At the time this movie came out, I was hanging around Rick G, a minor grunt on the school’s football team, but blond and on the team, just like Flash (played bt Sam J Jones). Sam had chest hair back when it was cool to have chest hair whereas I think Rick shaved, but that didn’t stop me from building FlashRickyGordon fantasies when things were low and slow. Here’s Sam in leather shorts. He stands 6’4″ and once posed naked for Playgirl (yes I tried googling):

Sam J Jones

But while watching I was startled to remember the leader of the Hawkmen, Brian Blessed, when he came on screen. Brian is (according to IMDB) good friends of Patrick Stewart, borne into a mining family in England and good at boxing, Brian was always a stout character with a booming voice:

Brian Blessed

I totally forgot how fixated I was on his legs the entire movie (and the leather jock wearing guys in the background). Gratuitous BBlessed pic no. 2:

BBlessed 2

And, last but not least, I was turned on by Topol, who played Dr Hans Zarkoff. I always go for guys with brains (and a tuft of hair coming out of their collar). Stupid name, great beard:

Topol

Anyhoo. Just a look into the psyche of my desires. Feel free to mock.

arkii_lester_animated.gif

The Number 3 Bus Through Brixton

Personal Bits, Travel

This holiday Monday, I was standing in the middle of my living room, wearing nothing but my underwear, knifing zombies (as one does), and I heard very faintly, the sing-song voice of that one TTC driver as he rounded the corner at Parliament and Carlton, waft through my open windows.

“Neeext stop Gerrarrarrarrd!” he sang.

I’m sure you’ve all had this driver. Sometimes he sings stops along the Queen line, his heavy Slavic accent mangling street names like Ivana Trump while drunk on champagne.

Anyway, I realized two things: I could hear this driver from my second floor open window over the sound of a streetcar making a 90 degree turn. He’s loud but I never realized he was that loud. Then again, if you’ve heard him once, you will never forget his razorblades-on-glass voice, ever.

Secondly, I was in my underwear. I wondered if people could see me from the street? I doubt it, since I’ve tried looking in from across the street a few times, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling vulnerable.

I was then reminded of my old flat in London, UK. Brixton, actually. My brother and his lover at the time had purchased a flat on the second floor of a corner house (sort of near here) It was a cozy place. One of the first shortcomings of the flat I discovered on the second morning living there was that when you ironed your shirt in the front room (the only room large enough to accommodate an ironing board) you were exactly level with the top deck of the number 3 bus through Brixton Hill.

Yes. I was in my underwear as the bus slowly turned pass our living room window, giving the passengers a view of good old Canadian gitch. I could have run and shut the blinds, but it was a bit too late for that. I had no other option so I waved my iron and smiled at the lovely commuters to the city. What? I was suppose to cover my shame with the iron? I think not.

Umbrage

Personal Bits

I have issues:

I can have people in the room while I poo, just not when I wipe.

The bathroom sink has to be clean. Really clean.
(Note: after a comment from SharkBoy, I have to add: …before I use it. After I’m done with it, I could care a fig)

No two sound appliances can be on at once.

Plastic hangers.

My HTML code must be indented.

I like things to get dusty, really dusty, before wiping them. I get a twinge of pleasure if I can notice a difference in before and after a good dusting on the TV screen.

I take dreams seriously.

I give orphan socks a chance.

No nose hair. Ever. But my ears can grow to Amazon jungle proportions.

I have to keep my iPhone screen clean in case anyone wants to look at it.

If I don’t drive, I get car narcolepsy.

Sentimental Moi

Celebs and Media, Personal Bits

Keeping with the childhood nostalgia theme a few posts back, boingboing.net has a post of Sesame Street segments that creeped people out. While the robot S.A.M. didn’t make me nervous (I strangely wanted to touch the material they used for his mouth) I have to agree with the comment from David Z: that orange singing Carmen made me uncomfortable too.

There was also a cartoon segment of 30 dots that use to make me crazy with anticipation. I think there were at least 3 or 4 different versions and one ending use to make me climb the wall.