Author Archive for Premee

Original Content

(Though slightly less well-documented than previous years!  Mea culpa)

So I went to Vancouver, uh, like three weeks ago to celebrate my birthday.  Many long-distance gropes of gratitude to my saxy hosts, and their saxy condo, and their saxy Mazda.

We begin!

We visited Japadog one day and I think Kim found it hard to fathom why I was having difficulty eating through my giggles.  I don’t know why either.  Ice Cube strikes me as an incredibly laughable figure for some reason, and for him to have eaten at Japadog and for them to have put his picture up, oh God, I’ve got the giggles again.

This is something I think Crazy White Girl would make at home!  You’ve got the miso mayo for earthiness and mouthfeel, the turkeydog for saltiness and chewiness, the radish sprouts for crunch and spice and getting stuck in your teeth for an hour whilst you visit the Gucci store, also tahini for richness.  I added a squirt of some unknown but delicious President’s Choice condiment simply labelled SWEET AND HOT.

The Olympic countdown clock!  And me in my “Hello I am dork” position.  I think this comes up again.

Ah, yes.  This is the world’s biggest tin soldier.  “Uh, why do you want a picture with the world’s biggest - “  “SHUT UP AND PRESS THE BUTTON.”

Again with the giggling fit.  (At the marketplace at the quay in New Westminster.)

I forget what bridge this was, but we were standing on the boardwalk at the quay in New Westminster and… Kim, little help here?  I feel certain that you told me the name but the Peach Thunderbolt made me forget it, also my name and where I lived.

The moral for next year is that you pass the camera to the other person to photograph the sparkler, then take your own picture.  If you do it the other way around what you get for the birthday shot is this:

Have you ever seen anything sadder?

I had actually forgotten that I took this photo!  Oh criminy they’re cute.  I call it “Wuv, Twoo Wuv.”

And I call this one… you know, I don’t even know what to call this one.  It looks like a sexual assault but they were just wrestling, because that’s what puppies do.  Macho Man Stampy Savage!!

Sketchy

The interjiggy has been around for a long time and if you’re like me, you started off with three or four sites that you visited every day… then watched in amazement as your bookmarks link snowballed.  I now have, I swear to God, at least fifty links that I want to check.  I’m pretty bad about some of them, but Mattias Inks is one I try not to miss.  He does these wonderful, zippy, whimsical drawings in his moleskine notebooks and scans in all the silliness on a regular basis.  And he’s been doing it for a while, so there’s some brilliant stuff in the archives if you ever get bored.

Aren’t They All?

So, in my (apparently) unending quest to become a Megadork or Geekus Maximus, I got an anime series from 2004 called ‘Area 88′ (remade from one in the ’80’s) which is essentially ‘Top Gun’ with more hair. (Oh man. There is tons of hair.)

I’ll spare you the tedious plot details, but the gist is that there’s a war in a parallel or slightly-modded world of the not-too-distant future (I know this because they reference the Vietnam war at one point) in the Kingdom of Asuran, and Area 88 is a secret desert base from which the good guys launch attacks against the unnamed enemy. I think it’s a civil war because they keep referring to the enemy as ‘rebels,’ and seriously, who does that?

Anyway, what I found most interesting was the management scheme at Area 88. It’s more or less strictly rewards-based - the soldiers are sort of government mercenaries. Rewards come with risks - for instance, in the one episode where a sniper is holding the base captive by shooting down planes on the runway, the top brass offers $30,000 for his death. If you shoot down a deserter you can get $200,000. You pay for everything on top of regular fuel, ammo, and maintenance - like, if you’re a terrible shot you can buy extra rounds for your 20-mm so you don’t run out in the middle of a raid because you went through your standard-issue rounds too fast.

I thought it was quite a cool system, though they don’t explain it well in the 12 episodes (since it’s not really part of the plot except to explain that a pilot can pay $1.5 million to break his contract - which is what the main character is trying to do). My brother and I were discussing it the other night, how you could implement this system in ‘real life’ (”Anime’s not real life?” “No, dear.”) and how it would cut down on civilian losses, property damage, etc, because it’s a right-minus-wrong system. If you shoot down an enemy plane and get $1000, but the downed plane falls on a non-military hospital that will cost $50,000 to repair, guess what? You owe $49,000. It means they end up with really careful and talented pilots with every incentive to only kill the, uh, rebels.

Then Al was like, “How are they paying for it? In the series, I mean.”

I said, “No idea. All I know is they work for the actual government, so I’d guess it’s tax dollars.”

Al: “So the only way it’s different from regular soldiers is that they get paid to kill the enemy instead of a salary.”

I had to think about that one. Because aren’t all soldiers basically just paid murderers? Yes, we could split hairs all day. But in the end if you’re in the army you’re accepting money to kill people. The only difference is the method of payment, and the motivation to limit collateral damage.

I find myself curiously intrigued and confused by this whole system and I wonder if I should write to the Chief of Defence or something. You know, hammering out the details: if more than one fighter shoots down an enemy plane, who gets the reward? Do they split it? Would it be weighted based on their current battle scores? Does anyone get paid in the event an enemy plane downs one of its own? Would there be other opportunities to make some money - for instance, capturing a refinery? Would POWs count for anything, or only if they had information? How to prevent fighters claiming fake victories? (For some reason, in the series this was really easy. The radar controllers all seemed to know exactly who had downed whom. Or whom had downed who, I forget.) And finally, who pays? Could there maybe be corporate sponsorship or something? “This enemy kill was brought to you by Saturn. Saturn: a different kind of company. A different kind of car.”

(We also ended up talking about Canada’s position in Afghanistan. Al thinks we should stay a little while longer to see if ‘we can fix their crap government.’ I think we should stay until we’ve found every Taliban member, placed them in a large pit, and filled it with molten lead. This is for no more noble reason than that they blew up the Bamiyan Buddhas, with which I’ve had a strange obsession for my entire conscious life. One of the first images I can clearly remember - seriously - is a photo of them from an old travel magazine. I will argue endlessly for womens’ rights and self-government but in the end I find myself mainly incensed by the destruction of important world heritage sites.)

Late Nights

A couple of days ago, before I knew I was actually going to be offered two jobs simultaneously, things looked pretty bleak.  I had one of those existential nihilistic self-flagellating nights where I could only think of the negatives in my life and none of the positives.  The week before, my therapist had suggested I return to my roots when I needed a coping strategy - familiar music, perhaps a hobby I used to like.

So the good news is, I decided to haul out the Crayola 64-colour box and recreate the old pleasures of wax on paper, to find peace by reaching deep, deep down within myself and pulling.

The bad news is, a squid came out.  A strange one.

The moral of the story appears to be, “Beware of what is within.”

Trouble

If I do not cut up my credit card immediately, there is going to be trouble.

I can smell bankruptcy blowing in the wind.

Delicious, delicious bankruptcy.

Well Yeah, But

Mom: Oh, and I forgot to mention!  Our complaints manager has been sick for the last week or so.

Me:  Oh, poor George!  Well, you have to admit, he is getting on there.  You know.  I mean, I’m not saying he’s old, but…

Mom: No, neither are we.

Me:  …Does it ever strike you as odd that the only recipient of a customer service award on your floor spends most of his time sleeping in a filing cabinet?

Mom:  Well, he comes out to take complaints.

Me:  Well yeah, but…

The complaints manager at the TD bank at Edmonton Centre is a Japanese fighting fish named George who has a little plastic office suite in his tank.  He even has an official TD nametag indistinguishable from the other employees’ tags.  Not that they should distinguish because he’s a fish, but… I mean, I’m not a speciesist at all, but… I’m going to go lie down now.

Untooned

I just love this - the Untooned Jessica Rabbit.  This is the same guy that did the untooned Homer Simpson (creeeepy) and Mario from Super Mario Brothers (even creepier, if possible), but Jessica obviously beats those guys with a stick.  I especially love the smoke-in-the-spotlight effect in the picture.

Canis Lupus

Last Friday I took a trip to Red Deer with a friend to drop off her unnamed puppy (impossible to keep at the moment) with his new family, and it was my job to keep him from running around the truck.  He was about as big as my outstretched hand and twice as cute.

Can you believe this little item is really descended from wolves?

Unnamed

Makes Sense

As promised, here is the photo-essay of the craziness last night when the drugs were doing nothing to knock down the fever and everything seemed like a good idea (including doing a velociraptor-walk on the balcony in my glow-in-the-dark boxers complete with sound effects). I decided to make that most sublime of treats… chocolate-covered marshmallows!

I had the marshmallows already to try to make cornflake squares and leftover chocolate chips from a batch of frosted cookies around Halloween and some part of my brain was all, “Oh! Oh! Things that go together!”

Chocolate chips at fifteen seconds microwave time:

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Chocolate chips at thirty seconds:

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Dipping:

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Too gooey to eat right away. Stuck in fridge on glass plate, took out this morning:

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Ate four for breakfast, staggered around the apartment foaming at the mouth. Final verdict: BLECHHH. My fault for using those leftover milk chocolate chips. Would have been pretty good with semi-sweet or even bittersweet. But chocolate-covered marshmallows is the obvious thing to do when you’re up late and hysterical and your brain is baking, yes?

Train Wreck

Q: How do you fix a really bad week?

A: Watch a movie about someone having an even worse week.

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Holy crap.  I knew it was going to be bad, but ‘10,000 B.C.’ is a trainwreck.  It was so horribly, terribly, gloriously bad that I thought I died partway through and went to Hell (and finished watching the movie, because Hell must produce a lot of these types of movies).

I watched most of it with both hands clamped over my mouth so the rest of the theater couldn’t hear my hysterical laughter (resulting in a lot of “Mmf!  Mmph!  Mmph mff mmff!”-type laughter) but at one point, there was a moment so bad that I burst out laughing.  (As did the guy behind me, and the girl he was with whispered very loudly, “Matt, shhh!”  I admit, it would have been kind of a touching scene.  If it wasn’t SO BAD.)  There were a couple of lines where it was like… OK, somebody sat down and wrote this dialogue.  Fair enough.  But then somebody approved it - someone chose not to edit it out - it was given to the actors - and they said it and it was recorded and we’re now watching it.  At any point along that line of events somebody could have just said no.  But here we are.

It also needed more giant killer birds.  “Moa please!”  Ha.

My final comment regards the ending, which was the kind of runny, smelly, silly cheese that the rest of the movie is composed of.  And like everything else that happens, you can tell what’s coming next anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes in advance.  But still, well worth the free movie ticket.  One and a half stars out of five.