(A Random Post)

A Wake

My Rights Versus Yours – The New Pornographers

I’ve never been to a funeral where it didn’t rain. Maybe that’s just how I remember them. My uncle’s mother passed away a few days ago, resulting in a Tuesday night viewing and a trip to London, Ontario for the burial. I had a lot of time to think.


Attending the funeral of someone you didn’t know well can be an odd experience. I actually did see my grand-aunt (I think that’s right) about once a month, but like most of my elder relatives, I didn’t speak her native tongue. So we exchanged smiles and tea and that was it. These events always go the same way. You enter the funeral home, pay your respects and then you spend the next couple of hours socializing with assorted friends and family. It’s amazing how quickly people go from somber to jocular, making the event like any other gathering. It’s comforting, but I always keep in mind where I am out of respect to those closest to the departed.

I have to confess to being excited the first time I was chosen to be a pallbearer. I believe I reached sufficient size when my father’s mother passed away, but I could be mistaken. It was a peculiar thrill, but as you know I am eager for any kind of validation.

It rained a little as we pulled in to the cemetery, but it was an otherwise peaceful ceremony. I hate the last bit where they lower the coffin in slowly with that pully mechanism. For some reason, I imagine it would be better if done manually, though I’m not sure why. Regardless, it’s just this last, cryptic image for the family to dwell on. Hate it.

By the way, when I die, I want it to be a party. And you better believe my iPod will be prepared with an “I’m Dead” playlist. To be played IN ORDER.


Let’s be honest here, one of the reasons it’s been so long since my last post is because some shit has gone down with Annia and it’s all I really want to write about, but out of respect to her and the fact that she might visit this site for whatever reason, I’m holding back. There’s a lot that needs to be said and I’m not going to express it all here. When it’s said, it will be said in person. Here’s what everyone needs to know if you don’t already:

I told her that we should be together. She does not feel the same way.

That’s pretty much it.


Softball update: 2 wins, 1 loss so far. We’re off to a decent start, but I’m not that excited. We won our first game 10-9, which sounds exciting and it was but it didn’t have to be that way. Allow me to explain. We were up 8-4 in the last inning and since I hadn’t sat out an inning yet they decided I could miss this one. Big mistake. A couple of outfield mistakes (that’s my house!) lead to the other team coming back to lead the game 9-8. Luckily, some clutch hitting allowed us to come back at the bottom of the inning but still, we should have sealed the deal way earlier.

Our second game was defaulted, which was good because it was one of the two games that William would be missing and even though in most aspects of life he is a useless configuration of flesh and bones, he is a decent starting shortstop and he would be missed both offensively and defensively. We decided to play a friendly game anyway and as usual, Derek and I defected to the other side so that we could spite our own team. Unfortunately, the other team defaulted for a reason and we were soundly humbled.

On a side note, my alcohol-free streak is over as I decided to drink at my cousin Julie’s house afterwards. I said I would drink one beer for every two wins, so even though I hate the very taste of it, I took my ale like a man. Julie also owns a Magic Bullet, which she uses to blend these weird drinks that are diluted with Gatorade powder so that you can barely taste the alcohol. That’s great for a little bitch like me, except for the fact that you feel like you’re not drinking at all so you wouldn’t realize that you’re drunk until you’re puking your guts all over your cousin’s floor. I utilize great discretion at these times.

As for Game 3, we definitely could have used William’s bat. Caesar did a great job of filling in for William at shortstop, but offensively we just couldn’t get anything going. We lost 4-3. Yes, we only scored three runs in SELF-PITCH SOFTBALL. The less said about this the better.


My Rights Versus Yours has officially claimed the title of “Best Song of 2007 So Far”, knocking off the reigning champ, I Am John by Loney, Dear. That is not to say that I Am John can’t come back, but right now The New Pornographers are hot like the fire. It’s a free download on their site, so indulge yourself.


Derek got me into this new show called Flight Of The Conchords. They’re a comedy duo from New Zealand. Here’s one of their songs, called The Humans Are Dead. They also have a show on HBO that I recommend. I would describe their style as Tenacious D meets Napoleon Dynamite. Jump right in if that’s your bag, baby.


Max sent me this link to an unaired Will Ferrell as Neil Diamond video. Completely random, somewhat unfunny during the actual viewing, full of phrases you’ll find yourself repeating for weeks afterwards.


I went to the driving range with my dad on Saturday morning. Not only was I weaseling out of soccer practice (we really suck), but I wanted to spend some time with him on his terms. Every now and then I get a wild hair up my ass and want to try something new, so I decided golf could work. The last couple of times I went I was terrible, but that was years ago and it was time for another shot. I did much better than before, which isn’t saying much but I think my dad appreciated the effort. My hands were getting blisters, my newly shaved head was roasting and my pride was taking a beating, but it was worth it to meet the old man on his level for once. Now I can challenge him to a game of one-on-one basketball and watch him keel over from a heart attack.


When we were coming home I kept thinking that I had a cool way to end this post, but it escapes me now. Instead, I’ll tell you about my lunch with Filgen. It was her birthday on Sunday so I met her during her lunch break the next day and we ate at Avenue Bistro. I had a mushroom sandwich, which was delicious. The whole lunch took about an hour and it was just this perfectly packaged social encounter. I struggle with the most basic human interactions, so when I hang out with someone and nobody gets dismembered it’s always an achievement. For me, talking to someone is like performing a musical piece. You’ve got to hit all the right notes and keep a certain rhythm and add your own personal flourishes as appropriate and if it all works out, you’ve got yourself a good tune. I played perfectly on Monday. I was attentive, funny, I remembered things that I usually forget like her boyfriend’s name (Andrew) and what school she goes to (Laurier) and I even timed my bites in a way that was most conducive to conversation. When we parted, I knew I’d genuinely made someone happy and that makes me feel good about myself. That’s a feeling I’ve been having a lot lately.

You know, in some ways, back in the war, it was better. Back in that newsreel, you know? Everything was black and white. In that fighting we had no time to think. But now. Now all the noise has stopped, and it is quiet. Now we can hear our hearts again. What now?



Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.



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