So, a few weeks ago, I said some bad things about Dany Heatley. About how I didn't think his trade was a good thing for the Sharks.
Tonight, watching Sharks vs. Blue Jackets, I realize I was wrong. Damn, what a game.
Toy Story 3
Apparently, they're re-releasing Toy Story and Toy Story 2 in the theatres next year... only, they'll be 3D. This is being done to pave the way for the next Toy Story movie, reintroducing the movies to a new generation of kids... after all, Toy Story 2 came out ten years ago.
I love it when old movies hit the movie theatre again. I missed the last time they aired Bladerunner in the indy theatres, and I'm bugged by that to this day. I mean, I've never seen Toy Story in the theatres (fairly obvious, since I was a teenager when they came out, and in that "too cool" phase) - and I really want to.
I want to go to a Classic Movie screening - all older (10+ years) movies, all that time has declared "Classics". Imagine being able to spend the weekend in a theatre, watching gems like The Princess Bride, Bladerunner, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, High Fidelity, 2001, Apocalypse Now, and Saving Private Ryan.
Movies that you didn't have the sense to see when they came out, but realized afterwards they were classics and needed that silver screen viewing. I remember, when I was around thirteen or so, I very stupidly chose to watch Homeward Bound 2 instead of The Birdcage. And that bugs me to this day.
The point of the story is, when the new Toy Story comes out, preceded by the first two, I want to be there, watching them. I'll probably take my niece and nephew, so that I'm not that creepy guy alone in a theatre surrounded by kids (ew).
Plus, everyone knows that kid movies are the best to see in the theatre. Because they have popcorn deals.
With toys.
I love it when old movies hit the movie theatre again. I missed the last time they aired Bladerunner in the indy theatres, and I'm bugged by that to this day. I mean, I've never seen Toy Story in the theatres (fairly obvious, since I was a teenager when they came out, and in that "too cool" phase) - and I really want to.
I want to go to a Classic Movie screening - all older (10+ years) movies, all that time has declared "Classics". Imagine being able to spend the weekend in a theatre, watching gems like The Princess Bride, Bladerunner, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, High Fidelity, 2001, Apocalypse Now, and Saving Private Ryan.
Movies that you didn't have the sense to see when they came out, but realized afterwards they were classics and needed that silver screen viewing. I remember, when I was around thirteen or so, I very stupidly chose to watch Homeward Bound 2 instead of The Birdcage. And that bugs me to this day.
The point of the story is, when the new Toy Story comes out, preceded by the first two, I want to be there, watching them. I'll probably take my niece and nephew, so that I'm not that creepy guy alone in a theatre surrounded by kids (ew).
Plus, everyone knows that kid movies are the best to see in the theatre. Because they have popcorn deals.
With toys.
Some Flaming
Years ago, I was in a band. I must have been around seventeen at the time... this would be around 1999 or 2000 or so. We were called Charlie C-16, and we were pretty awful. But, hey, it was fun.
My friend Squee wasn't much of a guitarist, but he liked hanging out with us while we practiced. And he did try - he just had a terrible sense of rhythm. I remember he'd get bored with the playing, and then get up to all sorts of trouble. He'd tie our shoelaces to patch cords. Or start throwing stuff at you when you weren't looking.
My personal favourite involved lighting people on fire.
He had an aerosol spray can, and a lighter. And he was very fond of making a flamethrower, and shooting it at you. Usually your back, or your arm. Of course, the aerosol burns off before the fire creates any heat, so you barely feel any warmth... it's just a weird effect to see your arm on fire for a second before it dies out.
I remember once, I was playing a guitar solo. Back when I sucked (even more than I do now) at guitar solos. We had been "jamming", and I tried ripping one out. It wasn't a great solo, but it wasn't terrible, either. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see everyone watching me, a little shocked.
"hell yeah!" I thought to myself. "I'm the greatest guitarist who ever lived!"
The drums stopped playing. The other guitarist stopped playing. The bass faded out. But I kept ripping on my guitar. And then, I stopped.
Hands started patting me on the back. Furiously.
That's when I smelled the burning cotton.
Squee had lit me on fire during my solo. And my shirt caught. Apparently, most of my shirt was on fire during my awesome guitar riffage. And it wasn't dying out. I looked at the shirt afterwards - holes had been burnt through the fabric.
Squee stopped lighting people on fire after that.
My friend Squee wasn't much of a guitarist, but he liked hanging out with us while we practiced. And he did try - he just had a terrible sense of rhythm. I remember he'd get bored with the playing, and then get up to all sorts of trouble. He'd tie our shoelaces to patch cords. Or start throwing stuff at you when you weren't looking.
My personal favourite involved lighting people on fire.
He had an aerosol spray can, and a lighter. And he was very fond of making a flamethrower, and shooting it at you. Usually your back, or your arm. Of course, the aerosol burns off before the fire creates any heat, so you barely feel any warmth... it's just a weird effect to see your arm on fire for a second before it dies out.
I remember once, I was playing a guitar solo. Back when I sucked (even more than I do now) at guitar solos. We had been "jamming", and I tried ripping one out. It wasn't a great solo, but it wasn't terrible, either. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see everyone watching me, a little shocked.
"hell yeah!" I thought to myself. "I'm the greatest guitarist who ever lived!"
The drums stopped playing. The other guitarist stopped playing. The bass faded out. But I kept ripping on my guitar. And then, I stopped.
Hands started patting me on the back. Furiously.
That's when I smelled the burning cotton.
Squee had lit me on fire during my solo. And my shirt caught. Apparently, most of my shirt was on fire during my awesome guitar riffage. And it wasn't dying out. I looked at the shirt afterwards - holes had been burnt through the fabric.
Squee stopped lighting people on fire after that.
Ah, the dating scene...
Ah, the dating scene. How I hate you.
I was talking to Kittens about this the other night, about how the dating scene totally favours women over men. She thought (obviously) that this was a perk, and the way it should be. I disagree, probably because I'm only on the losing end of things.
I can see why a lot of guys pick up women with the intent to take 'em home, sleep with them, and boot 'em out the next morning - because if you were actually trying to find something worthwhile, it would be a process of constant rejection and loss. And a lot of guys I know don't handle rejection and loss very well.
I've tried the websites, and with a few exceptions, they don't really work - you write up a very cute (I'd say hilarious) e-mail message, and then you watch the woman read it, and delete it. Why? Our interests matched, my message was given care and attention, and I'm not a troll in the looks department or anything. The reason is, of course, that women get dozens of e-mails a week on the websites... they get to pick what they see as the "Cream of the crop". In any situation like that, you have to make yourself stand out from "the pack" - and a cute e-mail and a decent profile will only get you so far.
One day, I should post some of my old Plenty of Fish messages. They're pretty hilarious. I can kind of understand why I didn't get messaged back by some people... I got a bit carried away with the jokes, for sure. I once told a woman (who I had never met) about how I thought the "Golden Girls" sounded super dirty, but if it was what I thought it was, I'd pay to watch it (and shower afterwards).
My goal is to start the bar/pub scene. That'll be fun... it'll give me a chance to use some pick-up lines. Gems like "excuse me, but does this rag smell like Ether to you?" or "Do you have any german in you? Want some?"... or, the best pickup line ever.
I was talking to Kittens about this the other night, about how the dating scene totally favours women over men. She thought (obviously) that this was a perk, and the way it should be. I disagree, probably because I'm only on the losing end of things.
I can see why a lot of guys pick up women with the intent to take 'em home, sleep with them, and boot 'em out the next morning - because if you were actually trying to find something worthwhile, it would be a process of constant rejection and loss. And a lot of guys I know don't handle rejection and loss very well.
I've tried the websites, and with a few exceptions, they don't really work - you write up a very cute (I'd say hilarious) e-mail message, and then you watch the woman read it, and delete it. Why? Our interests matched, my message was given care and attention, and I'm not a troll in the looks department or anything. The reason is, of course, that women get dozens of e-mails a week on the websites... they get to pick what they see as the "Cream of the crop". In any situation like that, you have to make yourself stand out from "the pack" - and a cute e-mail and a decent profile will only get you so far.
One day, I should post some of my old Plenty of Fish messages. They're pretty hilarious. I can kind of understand why I didn't get messaged back by some people... I got a bit carried away with the jokes, for sure. I once told a woman (who I had never met) about how I thought the "Golden Girls" sounded super dirty, but if it was what I thought it was, I'd pay to watch it (and shower afterwards).
My goal is to start the bar/pub scene. That'll be fun... it'll give me a chance to use some pick-up lines. Gems like "excuse me, but does this rag smell like Ether to you?" or "Do you have any german in you? Want some?"... or, the best pickup line ever.
Our life, for archaeologists
Sometimes, I wonder what my neighbourhood would look like to Archaeologists, a thousand years from now, digging in the dirt.
I imagine some sort of massive catastrophe wipes us all out tomorrow, and it takes civilization a thousand years to build itself back up. And then, archaeologists start digging and looking at the bones of our buildings, examining what we had, who we were.
The mall, down the street? Some sort of enclosed marketplace, perhaps? Or a gathering hall? This "food court" area was probably a place where the local leadership was able to prepare foodstuffs to the large population.
The playground outside my house? Obviously an object of religious importance. And it seems like it was very important for us to indoctrinate our children into our religion early.... these symbols always seem to appear near schools!
And that gym, that looks like a pyramid?
Why, that was a way for us to communicate with the gods. We'd ride stationary bikes to ascend to the heavens by following the steps of the pyramid.
Duh.
Another long hockey diatribe
I've got a hockey package on my TV right now. Basically, I get access to every televised hockey channel, and it's absolutely free.
I have a sneaking suspicion this is a limited-time thing, and they'll pull the plug on me mid-season, and I'll be writhing in the agonies of cold-turkey hockey withdrawal, pondering blowing the totally-unreasonable sum they demand so I can watch each and every sharks game.
I really enjoy watching the Sharks play, watching the game on a California-based sports network. It's hockey, done through an american lens.
I'm not here to slam americans. Hockey is not their game to the same degree that it's a Canadian game - I think everyone will agree on that. But it still cracks me up, as I'm used to watching the very professionally-done CBC broadcasts. And you can tell that American televised hockey is not up to the same standards.
For example, on the season opener, the announcers were explaining the nature of the penalties called against the players - why a "high-sticking" was called, and what was meant by "holding". In a Canadian-announced game, of course, that very rarely happens - commentators assume you know what those calls mean. And if you don't, odds are 50/50 you're in a pub, and you'll just ask the person sitting next to you. (I did this the other night... I called up my dad and asked him why a double minor had been called... he simply said "because the other guy bled and cried." I said "Oh", and hung up. True story)
Also, the commentators naturally point out the "hometown heroes". What's funny is that, in a game dominated by Canadians and Europeans, how they describe players, and imply foreign players are "local heroes" because of where they played college hockey. Dany Heatley, for example. The commentators announce that he played in the university of Wisconsin - that he was an "U of W boy". The reality is, Dany Heatley has Canadian and German citizenship. My guess is, they didn't even realize they were doing this - they just had the info on their fact sheets on where a player played, but had no idea of nationality. Not that I blame them - if you were trying to sell a game to an American audience, would you do it by telling them that most of the good players are foreign... that the only local players are mostly pretty crappy?
My favourite moment in the opening game, however, had to be after Patrick Marleau's second goal. The announcers begin with "Patrick Marleau's parents are watching the game in Newfoundland right now, where it's 12:30 a.m. Marleau told us he grew up in Newfoundland, and his parents would drive him a one hour drive, in the freezing newfoundland winters, every day to hockey practice. And it obviously worked out for them..."
Which is a nice story.
...Except Patrick Marleau is from Saskatchewan.
Ryane Clowe is the Sharks' newfie. But it was nice of Patty Marleau to fly his folks all the way across the country to watch the game with Clowe's folks.
I have a sneaking suspicion this is a limited-time thing, and they'll pull the plug on me mid-season, and I'll be writhing in the agonies of cold-turkey hockey withdrawal, pondering blowing the totally-unreasonable sum they demand so I can watch each and every sharks game.
I really enjoy watching the Sharks play, watching the game on a California-based sports network. It's hockey, done through an american lens.
I'm not here to slam americans. Hockey is not their game to the same degree that it's a Canadian game - I think everyone will agree on that. But it still cracks me up, as I'm used to watching the very professionally-done CBC broadcasts. And you can tell that American televised hockey is not up to the same standards.
For example, on the season opener, the announcers were explaining the nature of the penalties called against the players - why a "high-sticking" was called, and what was meant by "holding". In a Canadian-announced game, of course, that very rarely happens - commentators assume you know what those calls mean. And if you don't, odds are 50/50 you're in a pub, and you'll just ask the person sitting next to you. (I did this the other night... I called up my dad and asked him why a double minor had been called... he simply said "because the other guy bled and cried." I said "Oh", and hung up. True story)
Also, the commentators naturally point out the "hometown heroes". What's funny is that, in a game dominated by Canadians and Europeans, how they describe players, and imply foreign players are "local heroes" because of where they played college hockey. Dany Heatley, for example. The commentators announce that he played in the university of Wisconsin - that he was an "U of W boy". The reality is, Dany Heatley has Canadian and German citizenship. My guess is, they didn't even realize they were doing this - they just had the info on their fact sheets on where a player played, but had no idea of nationality. Not that I blame them - if you were trying to sell a game to an American audience, would you do it by telling them that most of the good players are foreign... that the only local players are mostly pretty crappy?
My favourite moment in the opening game, however, had to be after Patrick Marleau's second goal. The announcers begin with "Patrick Marleau's parents are watching the game in Newfoundland right now, where it's 12:30 a.m. Marleau told us he grew up in Newfoundland, and his parents would drive him a one hour drive, in the freezing newfoundland winters, every day to hockey practice. And it obviously worked out for them..."
Which is a nice story.
...Except Patrick Marleau is from Saskatchewan.
Ryane Clowe is the Sharks' newfie. But it was nice of Patty Marleau to fly his folks all the way across the country to watch the game with Clowe's folks.
Welcome Back
It's a little after 4 pm, western time. October 1st.
I just want to say...
Welcome Back, Hockey.
I just want to say...
Welcome Back, Hockey.
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