The sounds of silence.
Looks like that’s what we’ll be listening to now that Simon & Garfunkel have postponed their current tour. After initially considering we wouldn’t even be able to get tickets at the lofty prices I found during the initial release, there were some reasonable prices on obstructed-view seats above the Saddledome ceiling lighting area, on exposed girders – sounded comfy what with the insulation and such.
However, the first show was postponed, and word reached us last night that the second show has now been postponed indefinitely. Which I’ll admit sounds a little vague, but probably means that they won’t be here anytime soon. Koo Koo Ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson! (Gesundheit...)
Oh well – we have seen both of them in concert before anyway, just not as the legendary pair together. Which would have been amazing, we imagine...
We are not feelin’ groovy right now…
Chow for now!
The Parable Of The Ant & The Grasshopper
Bill the ant was a very determined worker. He worked in the morning, and he worked in the evening. Every day as he raced from one job to another, he would pass by his pal Jerome – a grasshopper with considerably less work ethic than the average ant.
Jerome embraced the easy life – he worked as little as possible, and supplemented those brief moments of mental and physical exertion with lengthy siestas. While Bill held down three jobs, Jerome barely managed to get out of bed every other morning for his part-time job selling stripe refresher for captive zebras.
This sort-of got to frustrating Bill, as his poor little antennae began to droop after so many hours working at a variety of demanding, thankless jobs. It ate at him, and made him very resentful of Jerome.
But before he could confront his friend, and lecture him on the errors of his frivolous ways, Bill had a massive coronary, and croaked. Jerome was sad, and quit his part-time job to ponder his place in the world.
As luck would have it, Jerome also happened to win the largest Lotto jackpot in the history of the world that weekend, so he became a motivational speaker, and advised people against working too hard.
Bill, from the window of his cloud in heaven, almost had another coronary watching this unfold.
The moral of the story – don’t forget to buy your lottery tickets…
Can’t believe I actually had to turn the furnace back on this morning. It wasn’t THAT cold in the house, but it was cold enough. Our parakeet was rubbing two sticks together in his cage, presumably to start a wee fire for warmth, and even Mrs. That Dan Guy had been sipping on her morning coffee from a perch atop the stove. I can take a hint…
Considering that it’s almost July, things are looking grim for summer so far. Even the mosquitoes seem to have delayed migrating back from Winnipeg so far this season. Which is nice, if we wanted to sit outside in sub-zero temperatures. We could barbeque hot dogs from icicle sticks.
Some day, the mercury will likely rise above the level we’d expect of out refrigerator. But by then it could be a cold comfort if we’ve slipped into hibernation.
Ugh…..
Hi-Yo!!
I wonder if that is spelled properly…
If recollection serves me, that was the sort of exclamation mark Ed McMahon used to vocalize, to punctuate gags that Johnny Carson was putting forth during his broadcasts of The Tonight Show.
I need an exclamation mark.
!
Hmmm…sort of lacks the zing of “Hi-Yo!”
I must work on this when I’m a little more awake…
Yo-Hi!!!
(Chow for now…)
The 2010 Tony Awards vs. CMT Awards
Hey, one of our favourite awards show broadcasts here in the Such Is Life household consistently ends up being The Tony Awards, Broadway’s annual celebration of…well, Broadway, I suppose.
Compared to country music’s CMT Awards the other night, it wasn’t even a fair fight. The Tony’s were well-paced, funny, eye-popping and one heck of a sales pitch to travel down to NYC to take in a production.
The CMT Awards, hosted by Kid Rock, came off like an awkward shared shower with an elderly aunt.
Just painful…
Hmmm…the 11th you say…
Even though I tend to live a relatively sedentary lifestyle, I have had two notable sports injuries in my life.
Not so very long ago, I needed medical attention for a substantial laceration on my foot, inflicted while I was at home, folding a pair of socks. I know what you’re thinking – where was our housekeeper that day?? And how exactly was I folding those socks?
Even more inexplicable (or just ironic), reinforcing what I said earlier about sports injuries – it was a Nike sock!! What are the odds??
To fess up, I had dropped a solitary sock while folding the pair, and had to reach down to pick it up. Which is when I somehow managed to catch my bare foot on a surprisingly sharp, and frankly downright bloodthirsty drawer handle.
Believe it or not, most serious accidents do happen in the home, and I should have been more vigilant in my chores that day. Even something as seemingly innocent as a pair of socks can suddenly force you deep into the home medicine cabinet, hopping on your one good leg, cursing and howling while hunting for something to stop the bleeding. I often wonder if this sort of thing ever happens to Tom Cruise??
My worst sports injury however, was an actual sports injury. It was back in my first year of high school, during an early morning phys-ed class. Our gym teacher back then had the ghoulish philosophy of starting the day off with brisk physical activity - before our morning coffee even had a chance to cool down!!
At any rate, the game of that particular morning was soccer, and though you wouldn’t know it now by looking at me, I was a natural back then. Thin as a javelin, and swift like a jungle cat, I was naturally funneled into the position best suited to my skills. I played goal (the space behind the goalpost made for a terrific little nook to store my coffee cup…)
As it was bright and early in the morning that fateful day, the ground happened to have a fair amount of dew still settled upon it. I noticed a few of my classmates struggling to stay upright, during the pitched battle further away, on the field.
That pitched battle suddenly had the audacity to come closer to me and my morning coffee. A member of the opposite team kicked a high ball, over to my right side. I flew like a released javelin, into the air, knocking the soccer ball out of bounds, away from the goal. Like a blunt javelin however, when I touched the wet grass, my feet went back towards the net, while the rest of me rushed down towards the grass. Face first…
When I stood up, I thought I was holding a selection of teeth in my hands. Looking down at the damage, I had been gravely mistaken. It was the top half of my bottom lip!! Shaved clean off by my over-bite, I suppose.
Rushing to the hospital, no one thought to perhaps brush the bits of grass out of my mouth, so when we got into the emergency room, that was the first order of business. Remarkably, without having preserved my lip-bit on ice, it was successfully reattached.
During my convalescence, I retired from soccer. Who knows? Had I stayed with the game, there could have been a movie named “Bend It Like That Dan Guy”!
Unlike Mr. Beckham, they’d be referring to my clavicle…
Medical Musings
· It has come to my attention recently that after wearing an apple a day around my neck for decades, I have never once kept a doctor away. I will discard my vampire garlic along with the apples…
· In anticipation of a worldwide floss shortage, I have begun a voluntary odd/even day flossing regimen, to preserve my stockpile. Odd teeth get flossed on even days, and even teeth get flossed the odd day…
· My official blood pressure is about 36 PSI…I’m over-inflated!
· Triple Fish Oil – three times fishier than regular fish oil!
· “Ibuprofen” means “your profen is throbbing” in Gaelic.
In other news, The Boss, Mr. Bruce Springsteen himself is all over the local news media this morning, spotted in attendance at Spruce Meadows, while here to watch his daughter compete. Of course, only in Canada would pictures of The Boss in June be shown of him wearing warm, insulated clothing, and wearing a heavy scarf.
You really can’t buy that sort of publicity for your local Convention & Visitors’ Bureau…
Chow for now!!
Slow going this morning, compounded by having no lucid thoughts, despite about a half hour or so glaring at the computer screen already.
Well, technically maybe 5 or ten minutes, if you include wandering over to the window to peer outside, stopping to watch a bit of the morning news, occasional wanderings to answer Nature’s call, dozing off here and there, moments of fascination with the paper towel holder beside me, and a study of the last pot lite that has yet to burn out, like the rest already have.
Yeah, I got nothin’…
A small degree of insomnia last night – so it was up and over to the sofa, where I presumed I could indulge in viewing some late-nite poker – High Stakes, Low Stakes, or T-Bone Stakes.
I was surprised to discover though that GSN, long a haven for poker broadcasting, has ABANDONED televised card-playing, in favour of run-of-the-mill game shows. At least on Sunday night, when it used to run for hours.
Had to surf around, and find some on a sports network.
Couldn’t rely on Game TV, the Canadian version of GSN either. Execs there are apparently smitten with the decades old Dan Akroyd/Eddie Murphy flick, “Trading Places” (not to be confused with home reno show “Trading Spaces” – although maybe that could be the plot basis for “Trading Places 2”…).
They were running that popular old film back-to-back, THREE times over, either intentionally, or due to a broken VCR that wouldn’t release the tape so as to allow inserting something else.
The things you learn, when you can’t sleep at night…
Chow for now!
“Give me the …bear necessities,
The simple bear necessities…
Forget about your worries and your stripes!”
Huh? What does that popular song from Walt Disney’s “The Jungle Book” mean?
If the bear is singing the song, why is he worrying about stripes? Did he knock up a zebra?
These are the things that make me go “Hmm?”
Chow for now!
Chicken Scratch
(posted by weekend guest blogger (and possible illegal city resident) Charlie Chicken…)
"Yeah, put the empties over by the garage door, Luigi! Then empty the ash-trays!"
BUK-AAAAWK!!!!
Howdy, humans! Ole Charlie is jus gettin’ sum house-cleanin’ dun, tryin’ ta earn my keeps here wit da peeps.
After tha ravelination on TV this week that chickns ain’t suppose ta be in the city limits, I’m havin’ ta modify my luxurious lifestyle expectashuns…
BUK-AAAAWK!!!!
So, pickin’ up a few things here and there, wearin’ my chicken knuckles down ta tha bone…
Man, I wish I was still snoozin’ in bed right now…hangover house-cleanin’ ain’t befittin’ my stashun in life…
BUK-AAAAWK!!!!
“LUIGI!! SHAKE A CLUCKIN’ LEG OVER THERE!!!”
BUK-AAAAWK!!!!
Sorry, where wuz I?
Oh yeah, whoa iz me…
Well, smoke-break time. Enough cluckin’ anguish fer now – Kay Sara Sara, as the French say. Those pluckin’ French make no sense at all…
BUK-AAAAWK!!!!
Cluck fer now!
Looking out the window at the forlorn patch of lawn where our gazebo once stood, which we’ve now nurtured and encouraged with three different seeding efforts, makes this month’s column seem even more timely:
http://www.remonline.com/home/?cat=32
Chow for now!
Oh-oh!!!
Looks like a certain weekend guest blogger may be living here in Calgary illegally!
Who knew – chickens aren’t allowed in the city?? I may have been harbouring a fugitive, or at least an impolite poultry pushing the perimeters of permission…
No wonder he and his wacky brood hide as much as they do!
Which makes me wonder – how does he maintain his suntan? How does he shop for groceries, beer and cigarettes?
So much to ponder…so little time…
Chow for now!!
I believe I shall become “ripped” today. I’m not entirely sure of the process, but I intend on trading in my “keg” of abdominal protrusion, for a more manageable (and visually appealing) “six-pack”.
It is almost summer, after all. Pretty soon, I’ll be dusting off my muscle shirts and bicycle shorts – which frankly do nothing when draped over what appears to be a male beer belly bordering on the eighth month of apparent pregnancy.
Which also reminds me – it may be time for my annual search of the Yellow Pages, for those handy back hair removal organizations. Spring always seems to instigate a renewal of my Robin Williams back-carpeting syndrome. Shag, that is…
Chow for now!!
Classic Blog Post – June 1, 2006:
Has anybody out there actually had a canary??
That's one of those wacky sayings that you hear repeatedly over the years, and can't ever seem to find a single person that it may have happened to...
"Oh-oh, Daniel!! Your mother's gonna have a CANARY!!!"
My mother has had a lot of things over the years, but a canary was never one of them. A canary out of thin air would have been tremendously cool. Sure, you see magicians pop a dove out of thin air all the time, but how often does one of your parents throw a white hankerchief into the air, only to have it transform into a canary?? Not once in our house, that's for sure...
And these canaries, do they really spend a lot of time in coal mines?? Aren't there forests or residential backyards that they might find a little bit more enjoyable?? Although I'm not so sure that old Police song would have become such a classic, with a common sense title like "Canary In A Tree"...
I was once in the famous Carlsbad Caverns whenI was a kid, and I know that's not really a coal mine, but I can assure you, there was not a single canary to be found down there. Bats by the billions, but canaries?? Nada...
So, my quest continues. I must determine if somebody, anywhere, has ever really HAD a canary. Aside from a mother canary, I mean...
Chow for now!!
