The Sunday Morning “Nobody-Asked-Me-To, But-Here-I-Go-Anyway” Concert Review – Oasis.

(or, Why I Will Never Be A Professional Concert Reviewer…)

True Confessions: This was one concert we hemmed and hawed about, since it was first announced. I couldn’t convince myself to pick up tickets, and Mrs. That Dan Guy couldn’t be convinced she should attend.

At the very 11^th-hour, after playing the classic 1995 release “What’s The Story, Morning Glory” CD over breakfast – as she sung along to several songs, I knew that she had taken the bait, and it was time to spring my trap. I proposed that we visit Stampede Casino for dinner, along with say…a stop to go see Oasis. She agreed, if not just to see me quit moping and whining.

So, on the dayof the actual show, we purchased tickets, and set out to see Oasis live.

I’ve been a fan since I first heard them. They’ve always sounded a lot like the Beatles to me, Lennon Beatles specifically. While they do tend to wander off frequently into self-serving blandness, the big hits are exceptional, especially on the aforementioned Morning Glory CD.

The show opened with a newcomer from California, Matt Costa. An earnest acoustic folkie/troubadour, he’s just the sort of fellow you depart from the living room during his guitar-playing at a party, in search of another beer, or anything remotely close to interesting. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…

Prior to the headliners, Ryan Adams & The Cardinals kicked off a lengthy set. I had always imagined Ryan Adams as a folksy singer songwriter, so imagine my surprise when he kicked off his set with some heavy, heavy rock. Enjoyable, he was more in his element when he defaulted to his known songbook, a bit less sonic, and more melodic.

Adams utilizes the odd rock posture of a few other performers. He slouches forward a bit, then brings one leg up to his abdomen. “I Gotta, Gotta Pee” comes to my mind whenever I see a rocker using this stance. Please lads, go before you come onstage…

Finally – Oasis! Confirming Mrs. That Dan Guy’s worst fears, they rocked, pronouncedly. However, the hits were a direct contrast, and best-received by the sold-out audience (thanks to our last-minute purchase). When they hit their stride with the big tunes, they were freakin’ unreal – most especially during an unplugged encore sing-a-long, of “Don’t Look Back In Anger”.

Worth the price of admission, right there.

Chow for now!

(NOTE: This posting should have appeared almost an hour ago, with a video clip. Loading an eight-second video clip apparently takes at least that long... I got tired of waiting, and loaded that lousy picture.)

Chicken Scratch

Birds At The Beach…

Make the cluckin’ stop….

Great Rooster, PUH-LEEZE make the cluckin’ stop……

Cluckin’ in the mornin’, cluckin’ in the evenin’…cluckin’ in the summertime!!

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

This Hen Rietta chicken is one clucky bird. Poor Cornelius and I’se been gettin’ the brunt of her jabberin’, but even the wee cluckers ain’t so safe. She really likes the sound of her own beak movin’…

So, today, I thought, bein’ the long weekend an all, I’d bring the herd out ta the beach. But it ain’t helpin’. “The sands too sandy”. “The water ain’t wet enough”. “Charlie, you needs ta lose sum weight”.

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

If I loses any more weight, I’ll be a sorry chicken salad when I lay down on a lettuce leaf!

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

Oh well, at least here on the shore her cluckin’ gets drowned out by the surf, an the crowd noise. I shoulda took her to Swiss Chalet instead, an introduced her to a side a ribs with coleslaw!!

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

Zounds, last long weekend of the summer, and I hasta hear some wingy chick chatterin’ every five minutes. What did I ever do to deserve this? Man, do I ever miss the good ole days, when I was the cock of the walk around the Banjo building. Now it’s like a common coop around that joint! There’s more birds there than in an Audubon sanctuary!!

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

Oh bother! Now she’s peckin’ at our picnic grub, and she don’t look happy…

Give me strength….

Give me a dramma gin.

Cluck for now!!

I’m really going to miss August, the “Book-End Month”. With my affection for numerical oddities, it has been cool having an entire month beginning and ending with 08 as identifiers.

For everyone else, probably not so cool…

Hey, Mrs. That Dan Guy and I were feted in grand style last night, as we attended an awards dinner for the Canadian Diabetes Association. The highlight for us would probably have been the award I received, for Southern Alberta Regional VOLUNTEER OF THE YEAR!!!

Whoo-Hoo!!

Pretty humbling moment, and I sure appreciate the award, but I also enjoy my volunteer role with the organization as well. As a diabetic, it’s been rewarding to get out into the community, to help spread the word about the work this organization does, while offering information to attendees at presentations and exhibits.

As you can see by the pic above, I received an impressive plaque, which now occupies a special place in our main living space. I had to mothball MTDG’s elementary school certificate from her appearance as “the third tree from the left, in Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Oklahoma”.

Wattaya gonna do…

Anyhow, gotta run – I have to polish off any obtrusive particulate matter that may have settled onto my plaque overnight…

Chow for now!!

Delightful!

I am joining another online doo-hickey -ma-jig:

Technorati Profile

Let the games (eventually) begin...

Yesterday, somewhere around 2:08 PM, I had a great idea pop into my head. It was an idea for a blog topic, which I struggle with every morning, at about this time. This revelation would have prevented that this morning.

However, I didn’t think to jot it down. I didn’t scribble this astounding thought on a piece of paper, or even on any of the sticky notes I carry around with me everywhere.

I didn’t save it to one of my portable voice recorders. I didn’t even repeat it to myself a dozen or so times, in a rudimentary attempt at memorizing the thought. In short, I blew it.

Like Obama’s confirmation last night, this blog topic would have been historic, and a bridge between other blog topics – something people would have been talking about around the water coolers today.

I am soooo bummed…

In the place of this landmark blog topic, I will now present a default topic, plucked entirely out of thin air just now:

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Mrs. That Dan Guy has six toes on her left foot. I am serious – she has six toes, and the middle ones are webbed! Whenever she buys a pair of shoes, she has to stretch one by jamming a Pepsi can into it, and spinning the device until the leather softens enough to accommodate her quirky tootsies.

At the beach, or when wearing sandals, she black ones out with shoe polish, but anyone even close to observant can probably notice it…

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Man, it’s times like this when I really wish I could remember things…

Chow for now!!

Every so often, I write a column that I fear may be my last. The column will generally touch on something semi-scandalous, and I worry that I may have crossed a line that my editor will not be able to tolerate.

This week, I had such a column submitted, and yet it ran anyway. The subject was Canada’s pending approval of a home-grown adult film station. A dicey subject at the best of times, with two very different camps taking positions on the subject.

Here in Calgary, after a columnist wrote a serious piece about the decision, the letters to the editor were pretty predictable:

“My neighbour plays his music so loud, every night. Make it stop!”

“Why are gas prices so high? Who are the pirates pocketing all those profits??”

“That Kathie Lee Gifford sure was a good co-host, back in the day…”

Well, clearly not everybody reads all the news articles, but I submit mine here, appearing online today:

http://www.eventpub.com/stories.php?id=130378

Chow for now!!

Several Indications You May NOT Be Enjoying A Top-Drawer Elvis Tribute Artist

Alright, you’ve been an Elvis fan for a long time, and never had the chance to see him perform live, before he fatally keeled over in his can at Graceland. So, you’ve opted for the next best thing – an impersonator.

However, not having had the true live Elvis experience, how can you be assured that this performer is truly an accurate representation of seeing The King live in concert?

Here’s a few helpful suggestions, to guide you, and confirm that YOUR impersonator is not an accurate recreation of Elvis live in concert:

1) Your Elvis tribute artist keeps taking hits from his inhaler, DURING songs – get your money back!

2) Your Elvis tribute artist has an afro – and keeps quoting Robert Downey Jr.'s character from the hit movie Tropic Thunder – head for the hills!

3) Your Elvis Tribute artist is chain-smoking, and making off-colour comments about the drummer in his back-up band. When he starts flinging towels at imaginary bats, you may want to tiptoe out of the showroom…

4) Your Elvis tribute artist keeps referring to “El’s affection for handguns”, and dares audience members to heckle him. NOT a legitimate impersonator.

5) Your Elvis tribute artist is wearing a jumpsuit reconfigured into hot pants, and a set of stiletto heels. However, he has failed to shave his legs, and insists on doing “Proud Mary” instead of “Hound Dog”. Your Elvis tribute artist is loopy as a barnyard rat…

6) Your Elvis tribute artist refuses to perform unless he has a Col. Tom Parker tribute artist guiding his career.

7) Your Elvis tribute artist is a golden retriever with sideburns…ask for your money back!

Chow for now!!

Where did August go? And why do I feel like I’m asking this sort of question every month???

Man, there’s just a few days left in August – technically the end of summer here in Canada. Soon igloos and snowmobiles will dot the landscape, and we’ll have to ensure our whale blubber supply will last through the next 8 months of howling winter. Why we haven’t already moved to Hawaii is beyond me…

At any rate, before my point is lost to eternity, I just have to say that summer here is ending. In between the rainy season episodes this year, I think Mrs. That Dan Guy and I only managed to squeeze in FOUR barbecues! That blows. We’re going to have to cross our fingers, and hope that the sun appears at least a couple more times before the snow flies – daddy needs his grilled meat!

We did have one terrific BBQ yesterday, with some old amigos that rolled into town. Several different barnyard animals (E I E I O) gallantly laid down their lives, to appear on kabobs for us. We appreciated the sacrifice, scarfing down each and every morsel. Nature, marinated...

So, here’s to having at least two more grilling sessions this summer, to make it an even half-dozen. Oh Canada, where summer is so fleeting…

Chow for now!!!

There were many things I may have expected to be doing as an adult, back when I was younger.

For one thing, I probably expected to be an NHL hockey player, making millions of dollars every year, just for slapping a rubber puck around a skating rink.

I suppose I had also expected I might one day be a wealthy philanthropist, funding important social efforts throughout the world.

Maybe I had even expected to one day be working in a dead-end office job, pushing paper and making paper clip pyramids all day long.

One thing I had probably never, ever imagined as a younger man would be a time in distant the future where I would be posing a variety of rubber chickens, for photographic sessions. Every week. Posing chickens…

Life can be funny...

Chow for now!!

Chicken Scratch

Aaawk…..

Alright, what the heck is goin’ on around here?

A week or so ago, this floozy chicken appears outta nowhere, and takes up roost here in Chez Charlie. Some nerve.

Then, I make a short trip to Winnipeg to stock up on Junior’s hot dogs (cluckin' delicious!), and when I get back – she’s so comfortable she’s soakin’ up the sun, out in the yard!!

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

If there’s one thing that ruffles my pinfeathers, it’s sumbody puttin’ their beak where it don’t belong. I mean, who invited Paris Hen-ton over, anyhoo???

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

Durin’ my reconnaissance mission just now, I discovered that she has become quite comfortable here, even usin’ my lucky tannin’ towel. Ha! The jokes on her – that towel leaves fluff where ya can’t pick it out!!

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

I gotta talk to Corny, see if he’s got any ideas for sendin’ this Hen Rietta packin’. There’s mini-chickens in the house, for Pete’s sake! We can’t have no tarty bird runnin’ around the house half-nekked all the time… such as a bathin’ suit may be considered half-nekked.

Dirty, dirty bird...

Ah, just a few more minutes of observation, and I’ll go find Corny…

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

Cluck for now!

One of the charms of Windows Vista is random error messages. I can be working away (best as I can) on my computer, and suddenly, a program I’m not even using will have “quit working”. Windows suggests that it is “looking for a solution to the problem”, but it may as well be looking for Jimmy Hoffa – it ain’t gonna happen…

Just now, some sort of benign program “quit working”. I think it was a monitor for a program. This, clear and out of the blue. If that is even an accepted phrase.

In these instances, I allow Windows Vista to go through a few harmless motions, ultimately resulting in a blank stare from Windows, and an awkward confession that there is about as much chance of the software working properly, as there is that Britney Spears will win a round of Jeopardy: For Ages Kindergarten & Under.

So, although my three recent days of technical support have resolved a number of outstanding issues, not even the gods of Valhalla stand a chance of ever making Windows Vista entirely wrinkle-free.

I do loves me technology…

Chow for now!!

If Only I Knew My Fables…

Once upon a time, there was a wee lass named Petit Rouge Riding Hood. Petit Rouge would often have to walk through the forest, to get to her Grandmother’s house. She had to go visit her Grandmother every day, because Granny had a pretty bad bingo habit, and had let her house fall into general disrepair. The cigarette butts alone were piled like haystacks all over the house…

Petit Rouge’s mother made her stop by every day after school, to try and make Granny’s house feel less like a college frat house, and more like the needle-point knitting parlour it should have been. Petit Rouge used a lot of Lysol, to help in her task. And rubber gloves...

What Petit Rouge didn’t know, was that a mean old wolf had been watching her do this every day, and felt pity for her. Wolfie thought that at her age, Grandma should know better, and even if she did play bingo into the evening, she should be able to at least rinse out her empty beer cans, and bring them in for recycling. Always recycle, kids.

So Wolfie pretended to be a gas meter reader one morning, and jumped Granny – with the help of three little pigs, he swept her off to rehab. She cursed like a sailor the whole way, and at one point offered warm muffins to any of the pigs willing to release her. It was a close call, but the pigs remained firm, and checked Granny in.

Not wanting to freak Petit Rouge out when she came over later that day, Wolfie spent considerable time dressing up like Granny, right down to the three shades of green eye shadow she favoured. Wolfie was a bit surprised to discover that he felt awfully comfortable in his new wardrobe. Really comfortable…

When Petit Rouge came over, Wolfie had intended on acting like Granny - a Granny who
had seen the light, and mended her sloppy, gambling ways. Unfortunately for Rouge, it was dinnertime, Wolfie was hungry, and…I'm afraid to say, he ate her.

The upside was that Wolfie now had a very fashionable red hood to add to his new wardrobe.

And aside from Petit Rouge, they all lived happily ever after…

Chow for now!!

We are now back home in Cowtown, safe and sound, after an exhausting but enjoyable trip back home to Winnipeg.

As seems typical for these frequent rapid-fire visits we seem to make now, we squeeze in as much as we can - from eating at old familiar restaurants, to driving through old familiar road construction sites, and spending several hours each day with friends and family.

One thing I have learned from this trip, is that if you happen to be spending time out on a boat in the hot sun for several hours, you may want to move around every once in a while, so as to tan more than one part of your body.

Mrs. That Dan Guy pointed out that my “farmer’s tan”, a phenomenon whereby only parts of the arm are darkened from hanging outside a pickup truck, was very pronounced. I discovered after further examination that one of my arms was considerably darker than the other, and that both arms (after I had removed the T-shirt I had worn on the fishing trip) looked like I had been fishing around in a vat of molasses for something. I could be accused of trying to emulate Robert Downey Jr., in that controversial new Tropic Thunder movie.

I also appear (much more obviously to the casual observer) to have tanned only the front of my face, and NOT both sides, or under my double chins. There is a noticeable darkness that ends abruptly if I lift my face upwards. Which I must now try to remember not to do so often. Again, Robert Downey Jr., Tropic Thunder…

Sheesh...

Chow for now!!

900th Post!!

Today is the official, certified 900th Such Is Life Post. Consecutive posts, I should say.

Parade at noon...

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A GOLDEYE!!

A freakin’ goldeye!!

After decades of fishing in the Netley marshes, I have finally caught an edible fish! It is a monumental occasion…

And, it just happens to be the official namesake fish of my hometown Winnipeg – a delicacy I used to consume here after having it smoked first (before I quit smoking). It’s the name of the local baseball team, and there’s even an emergency medical procedure, named after this feisty little fish.

I know he doesn’t look like much in the picture, but a smoked goldeye is tastier than a steak. Yummy!!

Of course, the capture was NOT without sacrifice on my part. My brother-in-law handled the QUANTITY part of the fishing trip, snagging innumerable bullheads (mini-catfish common to these channel waters – emphasis on “common”), and a couple of silver bass (edible, but only in complete desperation). I’d say he caught 10 fish to my two, but if I exclude my solitary bullhead, I was in charge of the QUALITY portion of this expedition.

I also made great personal sacrifices for this historical moment. For some strange reason, I was singled out in the fishing boat by ravenous black flies, the piranhas of the air out in this area. About the size of a blue bottle fly, they are known to take down horses and cattle, and clearly mistook me for one of those. I’m pretty sure I only counted four toes on my left foot this morning. Damned flies!!!

Well, better run. I’ve been slowly smoking my goldeye since last night, and my lips are smackin’. Yummy!!

Chow for now!!

Fishing, Made Easy

As a veteran recreational fisherman, I’ve had to learn a few tricks over the years, to allow for a successful day out in the marsh.

1) Rod & reel: Even though bears can fish fish right out of the water with their massive paws, I have found that a line with a hook will produce results for the average human. Whenever I have tried to use my own paws, I can swear that I hear fish snickering…

2) Bait: An essential part of the success formula when sport-fishing. While traditional items such as earthworms and minnows have shown results in the past, other baits that you can try in a pinch would be peanut butter sandwiches, pork and beans in a small Ziploc baggie, granola bars, or a High School Musical soundtrack CD.

3) Patience: the art of fishing requires as much patience as skill. Once your line has been set, you must sit back, and wait. Several tricks to help pass the time are smoking cigars, drinking beer, and farting along to the tune of “Summer In The City”.

4) Creative trolling: NOT what it sounds like, this does not involve trolls. Trolling as a fishing technique is a method whereby your boat will drift with the current, and your bait then appears more lifelike to wary fish. If your bait is a stale doughnut, not many fish will be fooled by this technique…

5) A fishing net; once a fish takes your bait and you have played him/her to a state of exhaustion, the trained sports fisherman will try not the lose the damn thing while lifting it into the boat. A net virtually guarantees that your catch will not be unintentionally released. However, you still have to make sure the fish actually gets into the net, as opposed to thrashing its way of the hook, and back under the log you somehow managed to avoid getting your line snagged on.

6) Wide-angle photo lens: Makes even the smallest fish look like a Great White tuna…

I have every confidence that I’ll be posting some pretty incredible pictures here tomorrow. Please come back, and be prepared to be awed…

Chow for now!

We are back in our hometown of Winnipeg, for yet another shotgun visit of family.

OK, I should just clarify that even though we are in the prairies of Manitoba, we do not have shotguns – that was just an expression for the short window/rush job of visiting we have to do, while we are here for a business trip that Mrs. That Dan Guy periodically must take.

As both our families live here, we combine business with pleasure, and race like weevils to squeeze in everyone we can. I may even go hunting for collectibles Tuesday afternoon – one never knows what sort of trouble we can get in to.

One highlight this time is a fishing trip tomorrow. My brother-in-law and I are veterans of the waterways, inspiring the likes of famous TV fishing show personalities, and young Canadian children. When we hit the marshes of Manitoba, the fish get scared. Very scared. I’m surprised we’ve never turned to commercial fishing, considering our gifts with rod and reel.

Cigars, beer, and creel. What more does man need?

On another note, I give thanks to my niece, for alerting me to a vitally-needed piece of technology that I intend on picking up sometime over the next days (or hours, depending on how successful I am with distracting MTDG). Long have I lived in darkness, and now I know exactly what I need to illuminate my humble life. Yowza…

Hey, I think I may have finally resolved my computer woes! Several days in a row, and no crashes, or error messages.

Mighty Microsoft! All Hail Gates!!

Chow for now!

Chicken Scratch

Welcome, mammals!

Charlie’s getting’ a late start taday, after a bit a carousin’ last night.

And, where was I carousin’ last night? Well, I can tell you one thing – they sure got gooooood hot dogs here…

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!!

Yeah, so another clue: this city features a Red Lobster, AND a Olive’s Garden.

Any bells ringin’??

Man, My noggin is poundin’ – I think I had too much Catfish Beer last night…

BUK-BUK-BUK... BUK-AAAAWK!!!!!

Whoa…either I gotta puke right now, or my throat is about to explode…

Where am I? Well, there’s a important fork in this city, not far from where a golden boy lives up in the sky. My eyes ain’t so good, but I hope he’s at least wearin’ pants…

I can say one thing – the city’s in Canada, it’s on a prairie, and even polar bears avoid it in the winter.

BUK-AAAAWK!!!!

Ya know, even though this city is in Canada, they ain’t got an NHL team here. How Canadian can this city really be?? They probably don’t even gots any curling arenas here…

Ole Charlie is really startin’ ta feel a little light-headed. It’s either the beer I was drinkin’ last night, or I’m allergic ta wheat. I think I gotta go lie down again, until the lamps quit spinnin’ around here…

Cluck for now!!

If there is one thing I am able to confirm in life, it is that current technology is out to get me. Especially if said technology makes the fantastical claim that it is “compatible with Windows Vista”…

In my experience, nothing is compatible with Windows Vista. Not even Windows.

After my recent debacle with installing a simple router into my Windows Vista system, I required THREE days of technical support to repair my computer and still needed to remove the new router, and return to the old one. On the box of the new router, it did claim to be completely, absolutely, totally compatible with Windows Vista, but it did have an icon of someone winking, which should have tipped me off…

I think when History looks back, as History often does, it will note that I never should have been allowed to stray from my Fisher-Price computer series, and that Windows Vista had been the root cause of gasoline prices escalating in North America, NOT greedy oil industry players.

Windows Vista, is a dirty, dirty bird…

Chow for now!!

The eVent website is back up.

Here's the link to the column from Wednesday:

http://www.eventpub.com/stories.php?id=127870

I am devastated. Wounded. Cut to the core. I question my very being…

We all deal with loss in our own way, but today I have to share mine.

I read in the newspaper yesterday that the single, solitary Krispy Kreme doughnut shop has closed their doors here in Calgary. Never mind me, what will the local police force do – how will THEY survive this tragic turn of events??

I know – we still have Tim Horton’s and Starbucks (which now sells doughnuts as well as biscotti biscuits that a person could use as roofing shingles). But no longer will we be able to walk in when that glowing neon sign is illuminated on the Krispy Kreme store, indicating fresh doughnuts are just rolling off the assembly line. What’s next? Barry Manilow retiring?

A man can only bear so much suffering…

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An Ode To A Doughnut (A Krispy Kreme Doughnut):

Oh, glistening, honey-glazed delight,
Your round perfection, a tantalizing sight.

Warm from the conveyor belt, I take a bite,
My knees buckle, it’s pure delight.

There may be other doughnuts, but for me you are the one,
Now, you’ll be gone, like the night takes the sun.

Cruel fate may have taken you away from us,
But when we go, there’s a Krispy Kreme in Vegas!!

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Chow for now!!