Tag Archives: joke

Disney 2009 – Dining

Travel


img_0904I have nothing new to report about Disney, per se. Yes it’s still the pinnacle of customer service. Yes the rides were just as fun. Yes, Stacey was the first person you saw when you turned on the hotel TV. It was all the same yet the familiarity was like going to a friend’s house who has 1000% better home electronics than you do. 

Not much has changed since my last vacation there, except for a few tweaks (for the better) to their services and a couple new rides. I won’t repeat myself for the sake of old time readers. Know that while there wasn’t any bed-jumping videos of excitement, the emotion of being there was just as strong.

Collectively between three cameras (not including the Photopass service Disney provides), I estimate we took close to 2500 pictures. I’ll be posting some here but the brunt of them from my camera will be on Flickr for your perusal. Don’t expect captions for all!

Now, on to the subject at hand: Food!

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Know that we had absolutely NO bad meals on any of the Disney properties (including third party chain eateries). That isn’t to say all our meals were perfect: when we discovered that Oh Boys! on Colonial Drive in Orlando had been closed for a while (update your website you dicks! That includes you, Google Earth!), we motored back to Downtown Disney and still managed to have a great meal – at twice the price, unfortunately. My only complaint is that all manner of food at Disney World is shockingly expensive. While we were eating in moderate to “classy” places like Coral Reef Restaurant at EPCOT (blackened catfish!) or The Crystal Palace (Character Breakfast with Eyore!) at Magic Kingdom, I still dreaded the bill at the end of the meal.

The only time I noticed a staff, err… Cast Member not entirely in tune with a high level of good service output was at the Beaches And Cream Ice Cream Parlour. See video below. I think this was her one thousand time serving up this kind of sundae just on this day, to screaming over-sugared children, made evident by the robotic delivery of the room-stopping announcement (but she does save herself at the end with the “young” comment, blessherheart):

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The most surreal meal we had was at The Grand Floridian – Afternoon Tea in the Garden View Room. The room was Mary Poppins Perfect: vaulted ceilings, Victorian styling and proper china tea pots. No fart jokes here. I found the atmosphere a bit intimidating, like walking into a $100/plate restaurant wearing Old Navy. Actually, that’s exactly what I did. But the waitress never made me felt like I had. Her timing was infallible and her service top notch.

The other patrons made me think of bored, rich  housewives having to actually socially interact with their immaculately dressed children while the husbands were off avoiding their kids playing golf and the nanny had the day off. Oh no, no rides for these tykes! They had to enjoy liver sandwiches with no crusts and were ordered to sit on their hands until the meal was finished.

At least that’s what I imagined going on at the table beside us.

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At one point Sharkboy decided to let loose with a bawdy, off colour joke and proceeded to laugh heartily. Suddenly he stops and says in his best educated voice:  “Pardon me. Ha. Ha. Ha.” We all snickered like kids in school.

Our last meal was a pizza on our hotel bed, tired out of our minds from 9 days of walking, riding, laughing and just having fun. It was the perfect last meal for all the sensory overloading.

Accelerate to Attack Speed

General

A while back I got a message while on Bear411 from Doug (jedicub) who complimented me on my makeshift Jedi costumes in my profile. His profile contained a few interesting pictures (Sigh. Make the dirty jokes now in your head, please): a couple were of him wearing a “movie accurate” Red Squadron uniform from Star Wars: A New Hope.

Admittedly I was apprehensive in speaking to Doug, due to all the joking around I’ve made about fans who dress up and go to comic book conventions. Though, I have mellowed having gone to the last 3 here in Toronto, and most of my finger pointing laughter has evolved into admiration, especially for a well thought out, well made costume. Plus, if you look close enough most of the guys with exceptional outfits are bearish, but that’s neither here nor there. Doug is one of those people I admire because of his tenacity towards his passion.

In speaking to Doug, I get the sense that, yes, he is a superfan (he belongs to a group called the London Rogues) but his obsession for Star Wars is a love borne out of years of cultivation. “Cult” being the operative word here. I emailed him a few questions and he’s happily answered back:

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How old were you when you first saw Star Wars? Where were you? What were your impressions?
I was seven or eight and my dad took all three of us kids to see it. We were living in Toronto at the time. I had seen commercials on TV and I thought it was going to be scary with all the aliens, and such. However, I loved it. I remember my dad telling me how it had everything – the Tarzan swing, the old west shoot out, the duel. I just thought it was awesome. Little did I know how much the Star Wars franchise was going to inform my life. Like most kids at that age, I got hooked on collecting the Kenner action figures. My interest in Star Wars waned in my teenage years, but when I was in my mid-twenties, I got back into collecting with a renewed passion. I would say, though, that I’m a Star Wars fan, and not fanatic. I do realize it’s a work of fiction. 🙂

When did you get the idea that you could make this costume?
I had made a few Star Wars costumes over the years. Mainly these were hastily put together things for Halloween, though on a couple occasions I made costumes for a public event. For instance, I was asked to assist at a Star Wars day at the public library, and I put together a Han Solo costume for that.
In 2008 I put together another Star Wars costume. I had picked up an orange jumpsuit at a thrift store years ago, and that pretty much made my mind up as to what character I’d be. I put together a somewhat OK version of the X-wing pilot costume for just a few bucks, picking up remnant fabric, etc. I looked at some online resources for ideas, which is how I found out about what I would describe as “movie accurate” costumes. These people pay very close attention to detail. My Halloween costume wasn’t going to be nearly that good.

How long have you been collecting/making parts for the outfit?
After Halloween, I decided that I could transition the costume into something more accurate, with some money, and some time. If money were no object, I could’ve put it together fairly quickly, but I decided to change the costume one piece at a time. My first acquisition was in December 2008 when I bought a helmet. I found someone online who makes vacu-formed replicas of the actual Vietnam-era flight helmet used in the movies. Since that time, I’ve been making upgrades to the costume a bit at a time – boots, jumpsuit, etc. I joined an online forum called The Rebel Legion, which is a Star Wars costuming fan group. Chatting with people there has helped me track down many of the pieces.

Any clues to where you get your parts? Just like most of the original Star Wars props were common household items, are any pieces just regular every-day items around the home?
The ejection harness was the easiest to do, since it’s just silver/grey webbing that you can buy at most fabric stores. There are patterns online which are easy to follow. The belt buckle used in the movie is a roll pin buckle which the British navy used. You can find them online – if you know what they’re called.
As with the helmet, I ended up seeking out a few people who make replica parts which they vacu-form, machine, or cast themselves. And I bought a few pieces on Ebay. Here’s a breakdown of the costume and the resources I used:
Helmet – Richie’s Armor (I added some detailing)
Jumpsuit – Costumebase (with some tailoring by me)
Plastic Chest Box & Hose – Mr. Bojangles (Rebel Legion member)
Machined Aluminum Arm Tools – Elvis Trooper
Flak Vest – Originally I made this with a remnant and some edging, but I’m having someone with more talent make me a more accurate one with proper buckles, tubes, etc. It looks cool in photos.
Resin Commpad – Reyor (Rebel Legion member)
Leather Motorcycle Gauntlets – Botach Tactical
Replica German WW2 Boots – justwalk2008 (Ebay seller)
Belt Buckle – Mr. Bojangles
Leg Flares / Strap and Belt Mini-flares – darthhair (Ebay seller)

Where was the last place you wore it out, that is, the most recent incarnation of the costume?
I wore it out this afternoon in fact. I belong to a Star Wars fan group in London called London Rogues. Each May we host a community event to celebrate Star Wars. Today a few of us went to the campus of the University of Western Ontario to promote it – putting up posters, handing out flyers, and posing for photos with the student paper. It was fun.

Any future plans for something else?
Our group enters the Santa Claus Parade here in London. Although I haven’t been in it yet, I’ve been warned that it’s wet and cold. I may “Hoth up” my costume by making a jacket and adding winter gloves. Recently I’ve been working on a Darth Maul costume. I have most of it sewn already, but I still need to put together the belt, and find the appropriate boots. I’m thinking of doing this for Halloween. Who doesn’t love Darth Maul?

Favorite Star Wars movie?
The Empire Strikes Back.

If not Jar Jar Binks, who is your least favorite character? Most favorite?
Sorry, Jar Jar. Meesa no like you.
I’d have to say that Princess Leia is my favorite character – though Han is a close second.

Best of Clist – Helpful!

General

Insert RAM jokes here

Naked computer repair / service call by hung man
I offer training sessions were I can teach you how to use certain things on your computer and online from downloading your entertainment to running social pages like MySpace and face book. I can give your computer a tune up so it runs fast again. I check your computer properly for viruses. I can also set up your new computer and transfer over some of the old information you want to keep from your previous system. Well I repair your system I do it in the nude or can dress to your taste. I am a well endowed man. This is a paid computer service call. I am not an escort. I have an average build I am mostly straight but comfortable with my body and I am willing to fix any ones computer in the nude. I travel to you and I can arrange evening appointments to fit your scedual. So why not treat yourself and get more out of your repair mail me for pics and any questions.

My own Korova Milk Bar Fixture

I Can Be Adjusted
Are you a white male that loves to watch TV and have a human footstool under your feet? If you are straight that is fine. If you do not want to have sex that is fine as well. I can be naked or wear clothes. Do you have a buddy and want to play cards together? I can lay on the ground and the both of you can put your feet on me. I will massage them and pamper them. Why rest them on the floor when you can rest them on a live carpet? If you are gay then even better. You can read a book while you ignore me under your feet or do work on your computer while I lay on the floor.
If you want you can watch porn & I will give you the best blow job ever. You do not need to suck me.

Second Class Citzen!

General

Torontoist has a great article about the current legal state of HIV disclosure, marginalization of those who are HIV+ and the possibility of more strident persecution for non-disclosure.

The article does shine some hope that more education is needed but in the same sentence, the hope is ripped out by the mere mention of economic/political deflation.

Enter the site HIVStigma.com, here to help promote the politically correct way of cruising online. Okay I’m simplifying it but it does offer a broad range of opinion, experience and instruction for both positive and negative folks alike. Brian (from my blogroll Acidrefluxweb.com) speaks plainly and directly about how many HIV positive people are isolated (and possibly fall victim to non-disclosure) with common Craigslist personal ad terminology like “drug and disease free” or “I’m clean – I expect UB2”. The other testimonial videos are great and insightful, tied to blogs with open discussion. The site seems to be going in the right direction towards education and discourse.

The site isn’t all highly intelligent nuggets of discussion, of course. The interstitial intro video comes with a Madonna joke within seconds of it’s start and has that edgy editing that makes me cringe. This jumpy video (blurry at any resolution over 1024×786) does nothing but detract from the message. Thankfully a cookie removes second viewings. Meanwhile, someone involved with the site’s development decided that injecting raw sexuality into this education tool was needed, because of course, if you’re gay you need a hairless guy gyrating to a disco loop to learn. For a laugh, try the game “Explicit Truth” that quizzes players on social/morality questions of transmission, best practices and disclosure. Choose the muscle guy in the ill-fitting chaps with the red jogging short underneath and sandals for the sheer cheese of it. Methinks the leather community wasn’t invited to the board room where this game was created.

Regardless of the site’s effectiveness, the legality issue seems to be escalating as life expectancy is being extended. And I got to thinking that this escalation might lead to the removal of an age old gay cornerstone: bath houses. Much like bars are responsible for the well being of their patrons, it isn’t much of a stretch to see the baths legally becoming responsible for the “safety” of their guests. I worked in a popular Church Street bar that after an unfortunate arm wrestling contest accident, no insurance company would touch us because of the “practices” that went on inside the bar, even after our written promise that contests like that would never take place again. What is to stop insurance companies to withdraw their business operating policies for baths based on the possibility that transmission happens within their doors?

Reconnecting

Distractions, Personal Bits
Here Be Dave

Here Be Dave

In the fall of 1981 I met Dave while doing props for a community youth theatre show. A few of us went over to his house for lunch on a break between rehearsals and while I was chewing away on a sandwich, Dave concocted a 2-second blood pack of ketchup and a ziplock bag, behind an open fridge door. He tried to throw at me as a joke and it didn’t work so he resorted to exploding it across his chest. Dave was obsessed with horror movies, you see. Not sure what happened, but when the prank failed miserably, I thought his cunning was a thing to be reckoned with.

Dave was one of two friends I did acid with for the first time. And was the reason I will never be 100% welcome back into his house by his mother. She’s convinced I shoved the tab into Dave’s pure and vestal mouth, when it was Dave who upped the ante with pot and a few drinks at his sister’s house while we waited for the drug to kick in. And kick in it did. When the acid refused to recede from our reality, Dave called his Dad to come get him before he “died”. What ensued was a comedy of sorts, seen through the fog of teenage drama, heightened by LSD: Police were going to be called; one friend’s career in the RCMP was going to be ruined; my mom would find out and I would cease to exist with one glare.

Things sorted themselves out when Dave’s older sister stepped in and told his mom that time will bring Dave down (he had tread a groove in his bedroom carpet walking off the acid) and that everyone should just calm down.

As you’ve probably guessed, Dave was the fearless one in our circle of friends. He would try anything if it meant getting a reaction from anyone.

And fearless he is. He has a wife and two kids and a house in the Beaches and is now sporting a huge CSI/Grisham-style beard because “it pisses everyone off”. Glad we were able to reconnect!

Family, Secrets. In Repose and Response

Personal Bits, Queer stuff

Weekend Pictures Here

What can you learn of someone within 3 minutes? 30 minutes? 3 hours? 3 days?

This long weekend, we ventured up into the Gatineau area to visit SharkBoy’s “Summer Place” – Notre Dame Du Pontmain to be exact.

It’s a tiny village nearly smack dab in the middle of a massive amount of small lakes about an hour and a bit north of Ottawa, in the Gatineaus. NDdP makes it’s living on the one hotel, the one depanneur and one boat launch and a lot of video rentals. I’ve never been before and I hope I go back. A lot. Mountains rise up out of so many lakes it’s like visiting BC but without the weed. Every morning and evening the sun puts on a display of colours you become drunk with the spectacle. Deer peer at you with those creepy eyes from the sides of the road. Bears have been seen. It truly is one of Quebec’s hidden treasures from the English.

We left late on Friday night to a wall of traffic that spanned downtown Pickering to Brockville, where after 6 hours in the car at 2am, we desperately tried to look for a hotel. All the details of the travel can be found on Sharkboy’s blog. One thing I did enjoy was playing “Senator and the Hooker” in the divey-est hotel on the outskirts of Ottawa that had stucco swipes as wall decoration and other 70s Swiss Chalet motifs (“Spank your bottom? That will be $5 extra, Senator!”).

On the drive we talked a lot about family. The one we started ourselves (cat included) and the ones I was going to meet. As usual, but not so much this time, I felt the apprehension of meeting up with the in-laws and not being able to communicate as much as I’d like. But that always disappears within moments of getting past the front door because SharkBoy’s mom is always so welcoming and friendly (inbetween the “tabanac” and “câlisse”) and we generally communicate in elaborate hand gestures, drinks and the odd translation assistance from SharkBoy’s sister, Syl.

We did eventually meet up and make our way over to SharkBoy’s uncle’s extremely secluded compound after a long drive up, down, through, along swamps and riverbanks. Oddly enough we could see the house we were staying at from his dock, which would have taken 1/100th the time it took to get there if we had walked directly from door to door. Unfortunately the two places are separated by a large river, so unless you’re Jesus, that’s not possible. Visible but secluded. For a reason. He owned the entire mountain behind his house.

Leasing the road to the top of the mountain for a cell phone tower, he’s sitting on a developer’s wet dream of prime cottage land that overlooked the lake. But he wants to keep it to himself for now. That kind of power you don’t come by easy. As we were to learn when the pictures came out. Images of SharkBoy’s dad and his two uncles were presented in all their black and white glory and I got to learn how Romuald became the person who gave me SharkBoy. We also learned of some other stuff that I will respect a certain person’s embarrassment due to certain childhood behaviour, but let’s just say that it involved a chicken and a horse.

Later, SharkBoy’s cousin and her girlfriend piled us into their lesbian truck (who knew it was rampant in his father’s side?) and took us 1/3rd the way up the mountain on the maintenance road to the cell tower. Then we walked the rest of the way. Nearly straight up. For a solid hour. That’s right, this fat, office cube chubbo walked up the side of a mountain to get utterly drenched in sweat (thank god they’re all family now). I also got to spend my first really private moments with Syl and we discussed ex-boyfriends and how sometimes a family’s responsibility is not to mention that we’re dating a jerk. Nothing new or shocking but she managed to make me feel like a brother in those few moments. I also snapped a few shots:

After bombing around on ATVs, we went tubing. First time for me behind a boat where I didn’t fall down within the first couple of seconds of it taking off (I suck at waterskiing).

That night, after saying our bon soirs, we discovered that seclusion has a price: the road back to the highway was washed out in a freak flash flood that came down from the side of the mountain after a short rainfall. Who knew that a mountain could “retain water”? This is where SharkBoy’s family shone: they all came out to the site on their ATVs and trucks to see the damage and within an hour, we had “rebuilt” the road, moved a down tree and scouted ahead the 3 miles to the highway on the ATV to make sure that the road was clear. It was an adventure, to be sure (we could have been at that part of the road during the flood), and his uncle and cousins were actually apologetic for the delay.

The next day the “kids” (without Sharkboy’s mom and aunt) set out to discover the waterfalls at Windigo, a swanky time-share like resort that I’d love to spend a week at some summer time (hint hint). There I saw a frog. Hold your Quebecois jokes. But before leaving, I was struck with the biggest stomach pain right between breakfast and the time we got into the car, which I kept mostly to myself until it started to subside. I wasn’t too chatty that morning. But it passed and I don’t blame anyone’s food…

At this time it was becoming quite evident that one of the guests was not feeling the same emotions for being away for the weekend and would not put down their cell phone for all the texting that was going on. I kept on remembering that when I was their age, I was yearning for not being at family outings either, and would sulk annoyingly over in some corner with a comic or tv show. Kids today (ugh. shoot me. I just wrote “kids today”) have better ways of sulking the fun from the moment by tapping messages to their friends on a small keyboard. I wanted to take them aside and tell them that family time is extremely precious, especially at 40something, and that they should savour the time they have. But of course, I kept my nose out of it. But I did felt old remembering how I behaved exactly the same (sans electroniques). This led to the weekend being cut short by hours (thankfully not by a day) and we managed to get back to Toronto at an extremely decent hour, so thanks teen angst!

In all, a good weekend. I’d love to go back again!

Sound it Out

Personal Bits

Just in from an ultrasound, kiddies! Apparently my last blood test suggested an “enlarged liver” so my Doc, ever cautious, ordered me to the lab.

Upon entering the lab at St George’s Medical Arts Building, I had to wait until the receptionist had finished with her conversation to a friend on her cell. Normally I would have been upset with a wait like this but her conversation (which she meant for me to hear) was one of desperation. She was trying to find a home for a border collie that had been abused by her neighbours. She asked me instantly if I wanted him. I don’t and she tells me of the struggle this dog has had. She seems like a caring sort, confirmed when she confesses to having 4 cats and one dog already.

I was ushered into the changing cubicles where surprise sooprize, I had the same technician doing my scan as the last time I was there a few years back for a lump. In my boob. (Her words. Slowly. Hushed. Conspiratory: “Is the lump. In you boob…gone?”) So instantly she was friendly and chatty, taking a moment to laugh at the big BUTCH pin on my knapsack. “Nothing but underwear, socks and shoes. Put this robe on backwards and this one on forwards. I don’t want you wandering the hall bare butt.” I remember how much I liked her the first time.

Into the scanning suite. Up goes the gown and a sheet of paper towel is tucked into and draped over my underwear. I lie down and she grabs the KY in squeezy bottle.

“Do you have BBQ flavour?” I ask as she covers my hairy chest and belly with the thankfully warm lube.

“HA! There’s a first,” she comments.

She can’t stop asking about my lump she looked at two years ago. She meekly raises her ultrasound wand and ask “Can I look at your… boob… with my… wand?” I let her. All clear. She’s happy.

She slips her wand over my right side. I start to laugh. She starts to laugh. “Sorry. It always kills me when big biker dudes like yourself giggle when I touch them. Can you take out your belly ring?”

In walks the Dog Savior receptionist with the Wand Waving Tech’s next appointment file, resulting in joking banter about hiding my underwear with the paper towel. “What’s he got under there?” The Dog Savior asks, pointing at my Bounty covered BVDs. These two have sussed me out in seconds.

“A cat,” I say. First thing into my head since she’s a dog lover.

“I think we’re the ones with cats,” says the Wand Waver.

Hilarity ensues.

The Wand Waver digs her sensor into my abdomen and makes clucking sounds. “Can’t you find it?” I ask.

I get a playful dirty look. “Oh, I’ll find it,” she says.

After a time she tells me that I have a “horseshoe kidney”, a conjoined kidney, which is rare but not surprising. She’s snapping pictures of my innards all this time and we move on to the liver, the star of the show. I ask for a nice 8×10 colour or at least wallet sized photos.

“Now see, you were original before with the BBQ,” she says.