I am nothing if I am not chaotic.

I always manage to misplace the most important things 20 seconds before I need them. Leaving for Virginia and I can't find my passport. Predictably it shows up 1.5 hours before the allocated departure time under my bed wrapped in the sleeve of a tshirt.

If this was plurk I'd be raising my red fist of anger and shaking it furiously.

Beverage Sensitivity Training

There's a new Loblaws that's opened up near the house, one of those giant "SuperStores." While I was meandering through the aisles I found the above gem. Were you aware that beverages could have ethnicity? Apparently they can be divided into cultural, linguistic, religious and geographic groups. Who knew? I wonder how their grand metanarratives are constructed. To think, all this time I always thought that soft drinks were either carbonated or flat.

My hat goes off to the corporate genius that figured mango and pineapple juice are too exotic to be contained in the same aisle as the Welches. These are the kinds of things that seriously have me questioning whether or not anyone pays attention to StatsCan's visible minority predictions for 2017. 9 years is not a long way off and we brown peeps are going to rule the GTA with an iron fist. So instead of using a term like "TROPICAL beverages" it's no surprise that Loblaws opts for the more ridiculous "ETHNIC" route.

Why can't juice just be effing juice?

Shutter Speed

Jebus. I'm too lazy to blog properly (surprise). I present you the last lightening speed month and three quarters through the eyes of that snazzy new camera phone which I acquired along with a haircut at Pacific Mall.


This is what Toronto looked like when I left. I had a week and a bit of do nothingness before I took off unexpectedly to Colombo for the funeral. The original plan had been three weeks of do nothingness interspersed with leisurely getting my shit together for the Big Trip to London. I used to take Oliver for a walk every day during that spell and this is what a typical day would start off looking like. Apparently Toronto's still sort of like this? Perhaps my parents are just big exaggeraters?


Thathi and I were walking through the Katunayake Airport on our way to pick up our luggage remarking how it sort of feels nice to be back in Sri Lanka despite the utterly unfortunate circumstances. Seriously, look at that snow covered horror above. Now look at those luscious bouganvilla flowers in my grandparents' garden. It was nice to get away from one of the worst winters on record. When Ammi and Punchy made it into Colombo the heat had already started, I managed to miss that completely. However there was a few insane downpours, nothing compared to last year when that bit of the Galle Road collapsed. But still. I do recall a very unpleasant trishaw ride with Mansage from the Cinnamon Grand to Agra which involved rolled up pant legs, leaping over puddles and rubber slippers (which were worn in mutiny).


While I'm not a huge cat person this is my homeboy. Kitty, for that is his most unfortunate name, and I used to have a mutual understanding. He was less than a year old when I came to Sri Lanka last year. In exchange for play fighting in the mornings before leaving for work he would let me cuddle him for a brief spell in the evenings when I'd actually make it home at a decent hour. Although he used to make an utter fuss, I know he liked it. His throat used to vibrate, with a normal cat this would be purring, but his autism prevents him from showing affection, and that's as close as he'd get. No noise at all. The morning that my grandfather passed away he bolted and hung out on top of the water tower for nearly 5 days. He still refuses to go into my grandparents' bedroom. I don't know what he did after I left but the little beastie used to curl up in a ball and either sleep with me on my bed or on the floor beside me.


The final purchase that I made before I left Colombo was an umbrella from Arpico (pictured above). You know one of those silver coated jobbies. I figured that going to London without one would be just plain retarded. Gayan and I sped over as fast as we could to Dehiwela the night before I left. I needed to be at the Commons for a birthday fête and final goodbye. It was sad, and rushed. Tears were shed sly words exchanged and then it was time to go. The night before Mansage and I had a very fitting and hilarious goodbye that began at the Coffee Bean meandered to Clancys and then a mad rush back to the Bean. He even kept the blubbing to a minimum. It was so not enough time to see everyone I wanted to and there were so many people that I didn't even get a chance to see let alone call. I've always believed that any trip to Sri Lanka has to be at least 4 weeks long otherwise it's an utter disappointing and rushed experience.


I am hardly ever late for anything. Usually I am ridiculously early. This is a trait that Alby and I have both exhibited since time immemorial. So when I landed in London from Colombo and came back to Thorn's place at about 11:00 PM we weren't really worried about me being able to make my 6:30 AM flight that next morning. Oh how wrong we were. I was flying Easy Jet from Stantsted and in a series of events befitting Murphy I managed to get to the gate just as it was closing despite having started my journey at 3:00 AM. It was one of the most stressful things evar. Spain was great though, Barcelona's such a gorgeous city. I've got way more pictures which will eventually be posted on flickr. Seeing Gaudi's work in the flesh was phenomenal. I found myself at Sagrada Família on Easter Sunday and it was so overwhelming. The religious significance aside, as a piece of art it just left me dumbfounded.

Generally I don't like buying lame souvenirs and what inadvertently started off as an innocent scarf purchase in Dakar has now become my "thing." I buy scarves from every place I visit, managed to get the two above for 2 Euros. Which I thought was pretty awesome and of course now I'm regretting not getting more.


Getting lost in a city is the best way to discover it. This is what I say because I legendarily lack a sense of direction. On this particular day I was waiting for the ex-workmate to finish off some shiz and meet up with me for a day of shopping. So I wondered around Leicester Square and found a section that sold antique books. It was like I had died and gone to bookheaven. If the exchange rate wasn't 2 CND to a Pound I could've easily walked away with the entire store.


Went and met Aunty C at St Pancras a few weeks ago. She came and spent the day with me from Leeds and couldn't have picked a better weekend. The photo does not do justice to how kickass that clock really was. The two of us had a great time just wondering around the city. I managed to get us spectacularly lost at one point when I took the map.



A carved rock outside the British Library. They had a whole bunch of them around the entrance.


I still can't get over how "British" everything looks.


Seriously, how cute is that? Mind you it would've been way better if my unsteady hands didn't go all parkinsons on me. There actually are red phone booths in and around certain parts of the city.


Okay, so it does rain here on and off but it doesn't bother me! Is there something wrong? Am I unknowingly prepping for life in Vancouver?


Camden has become one of my favourite parts of London. I spend too much time and too much money there.


I go to church in Brixton. How bad ass am I? Witnessed my first building fire. Must say I really was not impressed with the way the firefighters and cops handled things. But that's another post altogether.


Gigs! With Thorn! It feels like home. But not really. Live music always makes me feel like I'm at home, no matter what part of the world I'm in. The London indie scene is really good obviously. Different than the Toronto one for sure. I think the calibre of musicianship is much better here but the creativity is lacking. But that's just me. Also? British indie boys? zomg. ftw!


Some of the little sculptures and pieces of art that are found in and around London are just strange. This is very close to one of the first places I worked here. I mean look at it! It's looks like a giant hot dog ffs. Click on the photo to make it larger and see if you don't believe me.


I wish I had more money. Or conversely, I wish I was making some money. Did a bit of shopping today. Picked up some sweet Clarks for Aiya and decided to get a pair of shoes for myself as well. The dude at Footlocker was absolutely incredulous when I told him that my feet were a size 6 US. This is normally the case since I think I defy some sort of science laws. There is no way that someone of my size should be able to be held up by feet that are so tiny they look like they've been bound.

Plenty more things that need to be seen and explored. Of course I'll take 'actual' pictures with the Nikon eventually, I'm really digging the little Sony though. I usually don't die for electronic items, but I'm a fan of the camera. It's so convenient.

Quips: The "I'm still in mourning" edition

Death
Upon discovering that he has been requested to write something to be read at our grandfather's funeral.

Aiya: I want it to be funny.
Me: I'm the one who has to read it. You know I have absolutely no comedic timing.
Aiya: No, for real, it's going to be uproarious. You'll see.
Me: Okay, how do you propose to do this?
Aiya: Knock, knock.
Me: Who's there?
Aiya: Not Pappa.
Me: *groan* Duuude. Do you actually expect me to say "'Not Pappa,' who??"

A post-mortem on Thathi's eulogy where he conveniently swapped "Amma" and "Thatha" (the terminology he's used all his life) for "mom" and "dad"

Me: Thathi, seriously? What the hell? Mom and Dad? Even though Aiya and I are so white we never freaking called you and Ammi that.
Cousin #1: Yes bappi. What was up with that? Were you trying to prove how Canadian you are now?
Boisterous Aunt: No men. The sun was coming onto his face, I'm sure he was just disoriented and couldn't concentrate.
Grandmother: It was a lovely eulogy. But you know even through the tears I couldn't help but wonder why at that point in time you decided to start calling us "Mom" and "Dad"
Thathi: Well. At least people could understand what I was saying.
Me: Hey! I can't help that I have an accent that no one in this country seems to understand.

At the Achcars. Cheez unleashed an unsuspecting, innocent fellow who was visiting from India into our midst.

Sahib: So I heard you're down for your grandfather's funeral?
Me: Yeah, it was on Wednesday actually. We went through all of his stuff today. I flicked one of his cigarette lighters, look it matches my cigarette case.
Psylog: Ooo let's see the case! *proceeds to rifle through the contents of my case in an unseemly manner.*
Me: And look, this is his...*begins to point at the snazzy tie that brings together numerous parts of my ensemble*
Psylog: *looks up from rifling* Seriously, STOP TALKING ABOUT THE TIE. NO ONE CARES.
Me: *sputtering* but...but...I'm still in mourning!
Sahib: *Looks on in utter horror*

Inn on the Green post-dinner with the family and pre-quiz

Smackity: RASTI!!!!!!
Mansage: Yeah. He's already had a few to drink. Just sit down and ignore him.
Me: Kermz, shove over!
Kermz: Where are you coming from?
Me: Oh, I had dinner with the family.
Kermz: *Gives me the once over*
Me: What?
Kermz: Oh. No. Nothing.
Smackity: Rasti you do realise that some of your err, assets are on display. *giggling*
Me: But. But. I'm wearing grey, navy blue and white!
Kermz: Right. Because you're still in mourning no?

Clawed.
It was really nice to be able to unexpectedly meet up with Aunty and the Fascist especially since the grand reunion was not supposed to be until sometime in May when the two of them would be headed to Europe.

At Global Towers. A favourite haunt of ours in the old days.

Mansage: Call up Aunty, she said she may be able to join us after work.
Me: *Dials* AUNTY! I hear you may be able to join us for a bit of a claw session this evening?
Aunty: Indeed little one, it'll be nice to hang out like the old days. *said with uncharacteristic affection* Where are you two?
Me: Global Towers!
Aunty: What the hell? You guys are such bloody losers.

Aunty: Seriously. What' wrong with you?
Me: Why?
Aunty: You've been keeping the wrong company in Canada. Pretty soon I'm going to have to disown you.
Me: Eh? Disown?! Aunty! No!
Mansage: *looks on with bemusement*
Aunty: You have lost your claws.
Me: Surely you jest?
Aunty: We have sat here for 20 minutes and you still haven't made one ageist remark against me.
Me: I'm still in mourning?

Dinner at Agra. A favourite picnic spot. Aunty kept us waiting for an hour.

Mansage: Call Aunty!
Me: No, I called her already, you call aunty.
Mansage: Call Aunty and tell her that I'm so desperate I'm ready to hump this sausage. *points at the phallic looking pillow*
Me: Yeah. No, I'm not telling her that.

Mansage: I'm hungry.
Me: Yeah. I am too.
Mansage: *points at pillow beside me* Open up that sausage, run your hand up it and turn it on.
Both: *Dying of laughter.*
Me: That doesn't even make any SENSE.
Mansage: That should make it on the internets. I'm hungry.
Me: Yeah. I am too.

Aunty: Okay, what shall we have?
Mansage: *natters off the list of things we've pre-thunk up*
Aunty: Okay. Fine.
Me: But wait. Mansage you wanted the lamb no?
Mansage: Yeah, but Aunty doesn't eat that, so we'll go with the chicken instead.
Me: Sin men, just because she's mutton* doesn't mean that we need to have a meal with no lamb.
Aunty: That was weak. But considering you're still easing yourself into things. I'll give it to you.
*The Colombian Dictator, upon seeing old women in age inappropriate attire, would often remark that said specimens looked like "mutton dressed as lamb."

Me: Okay, we've set out an agenda of things to discuss...
Aunty: An agenda? What? Why?
Me: We had too! You're only gracing us with your presence for a short while and there's much to go over.
Aunty: Okay. Fine. What's the first thing?
Me: The ex.
Aunty: What. NO. WAIT. We're not discussing that. *Look of utter horror.* In a few words? Vacous, vapid, immature, silly...
Me: HA. I thought we're not discussing that?
Aunty: Yes, but this is why you hang out with me.

Me: You know Mansage was getting pretty desperate while waiting for you to show up.
Aunty: Oh in what way?
Me: I'm almost too frightened to say. You know how sometimes if you don't say things out loud it's almost like they never happened?
Aunty: Yes and when you do speak out it just solidifies it?
Me: Yeah. Somethings are just better left unsaid.

Mansage: I have to choo.
Aunty: So then go.
Mansage: *drops a pillow on the ground*
Me: Dude, you dropped a pillow.
Aunty: Typical man. Violates and then just casts aside when it's served his purpose.

"zomg. It's just like irc up in here"
- psylog
The dangers of hanging out with the same people you waste copious of amounts of time on the internets with. You have been warned.

him: ...and then i saw him, head bowed utterly raw and honest. Fully aware of the fact that no one gives a fuck about him. Man. I can never blog about the good things damn it. But seriously psylog...the pussy this guy gets is unbelievable. I mean we're talking about the kind of girls I stalk on facebook. THAT'S HOW GOOD.

Discussing the nitty gritty details of music selection on the jukebox.

me: WTF! Is this? Tina Turner?
loverlord: Okay. You know what. We should seriously have a new rule about the amount of times a diva can be played.
migrainecat: Yeah seriously. I think this is the second time we're hearing this song.
TinaTurner's#1Fan: Noez! You don't understand. This song. THIS SONG. It used to be my theme song *starts singing "You're Simply the Best"*
me: I can't believe I'm hearing this, nay witnessing you do this.in.public.
TT#1F: This is nothing. I used to sing this into a hairbrush and jump on my bed singing along. This and Richard Marx, my dirty little secrets.
migrainecat: Yeah. Not so secret anymore eh?
TT#1F: Aw shit.

Shiiiiiz.

Thanks for all kind words and thoughts throughout this last week chickadees. It's always nice knowing that your peeps are thinking about you no matter what part of the world they or you are in.

Access to the interbutts has been non-existent until Sunday when I figured out the glories of shitty Dialog WAP. (Is that what it's called? Meh.) This comes to you from my Uncle's house in Boralesgumwa. Before I get into the nitty gritty deets of what's been going down since we landed last week I figured I'd post some of the lesser emo journal excerpts because I'm a lazy bastard.

Monday, March 3, 2008 10:17 PM.

As much as you know it's coming and however much you try to prepare yourself for it, death really has the ability to take you completely and utterly off guard. I had just come back with Abi from Union Station after dropping off Debbie (who was en route to Montreal). The two of us were sitting in the kitchen just shooting the breeze. Neither of us knowing that this would be the last we'd be seeing each other for a good long time. Abs was getting her shiz together to leave, Ammi was watching a ridiculous Hindi movie, Thathi had Oliver in the folds of his sarong. We were laughing at the ESL subtitles, "emotion" became "a motion."

Then the call came.

Sudden phone calls in the middle of the night freak my parents out. We got the news that Loku Mammah had died in the wee hours of the morning in 1991. Even now the thought is always looming in the back of our minds that any phone call coming in at that ungodly hour is definitely going to be a bad one.

But It was 7:00 PM Sunday night. Nothing ever noteworthy happens on a Sunday night. Johnny Bappa was the one who called, and I picked up.

Me: Ah, Johnny! How how??
Him: Pappa's dead.
Me: ...what?

I thought I had heard incorrectly. It's not unusual for us to get phone calls/text messages saying that Pappa's in the hospital. The man did have a heart condition.

Him: *voice cracking*
Me: Johnny Bappa?
Him: *unintelligible* Pappa is gone.
Me: Oh shit. Hang on, let me get Thathi. *turns to Thathi,* Something has happened to Pappa.

I knew what had happened to Pappa. But I didn't want to be the one to break the news.

Johnny Bappa couldn't speak, he ended up passing the phone to Bola.

Bola: Bappi, Pappa passed away this morning
Thathi: *frozen*
Bola: It just happened, we're on our way to Ratmalana. *voice cracks* We've called the ambulance.

I grabbed the phone. Thathi wasn't moving, he was just holding the phone in his hand with a blank expression on his face and tears welling up in his eyes.

Me: Bola, what the hell is going on? Who's with Mamma?

And that's what began it all.

I feel utterly overwhelmed right now. I've got two suitcases with my life packed into them. This afternoon I went to the bank and withdrew my entire (paltry) life savings and made them up into traveler's cheques. I didn't expect to be leaving for life in London with a funeral thrown in between. I never really thought I'd go without getting a chance to properly kick off my farewell tour in Toronto.

I also need to wrap my head around the notion of going back to my grandparents home and finding it half empty.

I don't have that many memories associated with my family or life in Sri Lanka prior to the time we migrated. When we left from my grandparents' home in Ratmalana all those years ago, Thathi's side of the family cried as if he had died. My grandparents were inconsolable. Maybe I watch too many Wes Anderson movies but recalling the day we left in my mind's eye it's always been in slow motion.

Now we're going back to an actual funeral house.

Tuesday, March 4, 2007 2:22 PM (Toronto time. i have no effing clue what the time is in Colombo).

The last two hours of the London - Colombo leg are always the worst. It feels like there's not enough time to get a good snooze and to even try and watch a movie it's impossible since the a/v equipment gets packed up during the final hour.

Usually this is where we're left to excitedly chatter about the plans for the coming weeks in Colombo. How great it'll be to get away from the shit Canadian weather, overeat, see the family and shop.

I'm hoping we don't make it in on time. Actually scrap that, I was sort of wishing that we'd just miss our connecting flight from London altogether. Neither of us are looking forward to the reality that's going to face us once we land. The truth of the situation is living halfway across on the other side of the world has its benefits. I get to avoid a lot of drama and issues that would normally be our problem. (Thathi's the eldest. Yipee.)

On Monday morning while we were scrambling to get ourselves together before leaving Thathi had to go into the office to tie up some last minute things so I was tasked with calling Johnny Bappa and giving him our flight information. He in turn filled me in on the funeral arrangements that had been tentatively made. I'm glad I'm not there.

If things had worked out exactly according to the plan I had set out for myself when I last left Sri Lanka I would've been in the thick of all of this. My target was to be in Colombo by mid-February. I'm not sad that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye because no one really did. Papa died in his sleep, we knew the next heart attack would take him but no one knew exactly when that would be. The cowardly side of me doesn't think I'd be able to handle my grieving grandmother or uncles.

As Labro and Alby fully well know, I don't usually do well with tears. I don't even remember the last time I cried. It's not because I have problems with people expressing their emotions, it's more because I'm an emotional stunted bastard so I never know how to appropriately react vis a vis a mascara stained face. (Hey Labro!)

Another small issue is that of the body.

Dead bodies?

DO NOT WANT.

I blame this on Ammi. When Amammah died she forced Aiya, myself, Vindhiya and Paul to kiss her before the casket was closed.

Eww?

damn.straight.

The very last memory that I have of Amammah is of me bracing and very awkwardly moving towards her ashy forehead. *shudder* Just thinking about it brings back the memory of the coldness on my lips. Due to this childhood trauma I make it a point to never actually "view" anything when I go to viewings.

Enter reason to be an utter coward #2.

In Sri Lanka (so I hear) it is common for people to have the viewings of their loved ones in their own homes. Not in funeral parlours or in Churches. Apparently this gives a chance to all the members of the neighbourhood to come around and have one last gawk. As a result of the above scarring alongside my screaming inner Puritan I find something inherently creepy about looking at a corpse. But that's just me. (When I die it's going to be closed casket thank ye.)

Thathi tried his best to strong arm my uncles into strong arming my grandmother not to go the Sri Lankan route and opt for a viewing at a funeral parlour. Unfortunately it would seem that his three little brothers hold no sway over their mom.

When I get to my grandparents' home in approximately another 1 hour and 30 minutes I will be greeted in the living room by my grandfather in his brown suit chillaxing in his casket.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008 8:00 AM

It has been many years since the entire family has been at my grandparent's home for our arrival. Usually they pop in later on in the day since our flights tend to land really early. I didn't know how everyone would be when we came through the gate at 4 this morning. Mamma was fortunately sleeping. I met Bola on the driveway before heading into the house and hurriedly asked her wtf was going on with the body. Didn't really fancy walking into the the livingroom and seeing a casket where the coffee table used to be. (Instead it was over by where the dinning table is normally and horror of horrors, the head was right by the spot I usually sit. *shudder*)

The autistic cat has not entered the house since Monday morning. Instead he stalks around the garden, chills out on top of the water tank or makes the rare appearance near the bedroom windows. He's either very perceptive, and like me is freaked out about dead bodies or he's just a skittish cat who hates people. I will not judge.

I'm exhausted as is everyone else. The rest of the family has been going on little to no sleep since Monday. I don't know what to make of anything. The ride from the airport to the house was so unremarkable it was sad. Reaffirmed to me that Colombo has lost its charm. I just felt suffocated looking out the windows at the piles of crap and feeling absolutely apathetic. The feeling that there is nothing left to be gleaned from the confines of this city. I never really thought I could feel that way about any place, because it's never like that when I'm driving from Pearson back to the house.

I suppose that I'll never consider Colombo or even this country to be my "home away from home" because I've never felt so suffocated and restricted in Toronto. Mind you yes, I've felt the need to run away screaming because of utter despondency, but never a feeling like this.

Maybe it's just the humidity?

My Grandfather just died. About an hour ago actually.

I'm leaving for Sri Lanka on Monday (tomorrow) I don't know what this means for my travel plans to London, or Barcelona or anything really. Just thought I'd give you guys a heads up. Sorry that this is so impersonal. Easiest way to do things at the moment.

Thanks kittens.

I'm too sexy for my shirt.

'Sup bitchz?

So yeah. I like to emasculate my dog. What of it? As much as he'll fuss, he seems to enjoy it too.

Also, I am resisting the urge to take a bite out of him when he runs around in this little polo. He's got a yellow one too.

恭喜發財!

Happy Chinese New Year bitchz

And for those of us who are not so down with the Chinese script, kung hei fat choi!

Quips: The Super Bowl Edition

Has it really been this long
since the last edition of quips? Awful.

Live blogging from the Super Bowl! It could be because I will be passing out directly after the game is over. And right now it's going so slowly I figured I could squeeze in a wee bit o' blogging.

We are a family of eaters. It's well documented. Super Bowl is usually tex-mex, as an homage to our neighbours to the South, also fitting since this year's game was in Arizona.

Aiya was in charge of doing the chicken wings and salsa, he was supposed to bring around some guac but apparently the hotel "ran out" of avocados. Pfft. The chicken wings of course were fab, and he concocted the perfect hot sauce for it.

Me: This hot sauce isn't so bad, why'd you make it so mild?
Aiya: You know Ammi can't handle the spice.
Me: OMG *coughing*
Aiya: *laughing manically*
Me: Dude. What the hell, this shit is hot.
Aiya: I know, i made it so it would have a delayed reaction.
Me: *sputtering* It really gets you unaware
Aiya: Yes. I call it the pervert, the feeling of the burn is the same as when you've been felt up by someone unwanted.
Me: So like when you're on a crowded bus in Sri Lanka?
Aiya: Exactly.

I had planned on setting up a photo opp with Oliver and Cedric an mentioned this to Aiya. Laziness of course prevented me from going through with it.
Me: Dude, I think Cedric's red hat will make him a perfect Giant's fan. I smell photo-op
Aiya: I want a smallish doll/action figure to take photos of in various situations.
Me: I can get you a gnome too, but you don't really travel.
Aiya: No guy. I'm going to get a Blythe Doll. And then dress it up as a chef.
Me: You are teh ghey.

Discussing who we were rooting for.
Aiya: So who's your support behind?
Me: Pats all the way. You?
Aiya: You know, I'm sort of feeling the Giants.
Me: WTF? Why? You hate New Yorkers!
Aiya: I know, but it would be sort of nice for both those brothers to have rings.
Me: Dude. So ghey. What's their dad's name again?
Aiya: Preston Manning.
Me: SHUT THE MOM UP! Like Preston Manning? As in PRESTON MANNING?
Aiya: You're an idiot, no his name's Walter Manning.
Me: Dude, that's so uncanny though.
Aiya: You know he's their dad's cousin though right? The Manning with the brains.
Me: Shut up.

Oliver was wondering in and out of the room through the course of the evening. At one point he was sitting half on my lap and half on thathi's.
The room collectively: EWW what the hell is that smell.
Me: that was Oliver, he just let one rip. I felt it.
Thathi: Chik Oliver!
Oliver: Tries to snuggle up to thathi
Me: *Looks down at where Oliver was sitting* OMG, OLIVER. YOU FAG.
Aiya: What did he do?
Me: HE LEFT A SKID MARK ON MY PANT LEG.
The Room: *Collective Laughter*
A little while later
Ammi: What's that stench?
Me: That would be me.
Aiya: It's all that pervert she ate.
Ammi: *Looking for another place to sit* Thathi! Move your legs (she doesn't actually call him thathi, but come on.)
Aiya: Ammi, are you sure you want to do that? He had a lot of pervert too.
Ammi: I'm going to sit here on the couch, move your legs, and don't fart. Or if you're going to, tell me so I can brace myself.
Me: You're kidding right? You actually expect him to do be able to do that?
Aiya: Ammi, come on, that's like asking the guy not to breath. What's wrong with you?

And that's a wrap kids.

Oh and yes. The game is starting to heat up. I will not be formating the above. New York seems to have the game. :29 seconds left!

Edit 1: 1 second to go
People have now rushed the field, someone has been prematurely dumped with gatorade and New York already has their victory hats on.
Aiya: TAKE THOSE HATS OFF, THEY'RE NOT YOURS.
Aiya: Imagine if New England does something to win? They'd have to vacuum that guy dry.

Edit 2: The Giants have won.
Plexico takes the field to do his victory interview.
Aiya: Here comes the eloquence we've been waiting for all evening. WTF kind of name is Plexico anyways? It sounds like glass or something.

"After a heated but civil debate, Canada's largest school board voted 11-9 last night to open an alternative Africentric school to help fight a 40 per cent dropout rate among Toronto's black teens." - GTA Board Okays Black-Focused School

So it's happened. The TDSB has voted in favour of the black-only schools. I'm absolutely stunned. (So stunned that I can't even figure out an appropriate title for this post.) A friend of ours from high school is teaching math and science in one of the original pilot classrooms, I bumped into a mutual friend of ours on the subway and she mentioned to me how horrific he thought the entire thing was. Yeah, he's black, but does it matter?

This whole thing smacks of racial segregation, it's the kind of insane thing you'd expect of US politicians. The ridiculous "no child left behind" kind of thing. It's a band-aid solution at best, at worst it's going to polarise an already vulnerable and at risk group of kids. I still can't fathom how this could have even been passed.

Apathy I suppose?

Even the best of us suffer from it.

On the Fifth Day: Brrr.

We got pummeled with snow yesterday. When I wasn't breaking my back trying to clear off the driveway I was ensconced inside generally cursing my fate and mucking about with my camera. So for the fifth day of Christmas I find myself in a state of delusion. There are certain things that I am in desperate need of. For starters a warm place where tiki decor would be considered appropriate.

I found myself snapping pictures in my wood paneled basement and thinking of the motherland. Not in any nostalgic manner really. More of a "damn it's hot there and there isn't a snowflake in sight" kind of way. All I need is 1. Bowl of deviled cadju nuts 2. A Lion Lager for our man the fascist 3. An arrack and Coke for the Colombian 4. A yet to be determined drink for me and 5. Ice along with some warm weather. Hmm. I suppose the fifth day of Christmas then would be spent at Global Towers minus the A/C.

Here's a taste of the insanity that we had to deal with.


The view from my bedroom window


Our wee snowed in alcove. The snowdrifts by the garage door were way higher


Oliver occupying himself while I tried to figure out how to start the snow blower


So that big block of white? The snow that accumulated on the top of our iron patio table. That shit just did not stop falling


Completely ignoring me and refusing to make eye contact after we were done and I called him into the house. The git.

Now don't you wish that you were someplace warm where tiki decorations would be appropriate?

The Fourth Day: Some Beans

"Oliver, the ape creatures of the Indus have mastered this." Poor Ollie, truly one of the family.

Natch I totally stole the idea of the fourth day from a genius episode of Blackadder.



The second series was always my favourite. Of course anything would've been better than the horrendous first. Gah. Why don't they make more TV like this anymore? Oh wait. They do and we know what happens to smart funny shows. (Hi Arrested Development!)

It's been snowing non-stop outside today. I didn't go to church this morning, the car is buried deep in the garage and there's a three foot snowdrift that I need to dig through to get to it.

Yeah.

So not happening.

The Third Day: Westward Leading

We three kings of orient are probably the most pathetic, rag-tag bunch of kings ever.

So apparently "three French hens" is code for the three kings. Who knew.

The crown that Oliver is wearing was originally intended for the frog prince, but the eyes on the frog got in the way and the masking tape which was holding it in place gave way. Oliver had a crown made of paper but he was an ass and tried to eat it. Poor Cedric looks like a wizard.

Given the shittiness of this photo here's a bonus. Minutes after Ollie got his milkbone the frog prince was attacked. In his defense though that is one of his favourite toys. Check out the ferocious teeth.



I just cleaned out the entire basement. Have I mentioned that I miss the cleaning lady?

My baaack.....

2nd Day: Peace on Earth

"Peace on earth and mercy mild," definitely not what these two angels are harking. But we can still has anthropomorphised fun.

What better way to ring in the second day of Christmas than with my two favourite anthropomorphised peeps cheezburgerised? I've been loudly declaring that one day I would have incomplete-poorly worded-grammatically incorrect sentences dancing about in bolded block font on one of Oliver's pictures. Consider it an early Christmas present because that shit was really a pain in the ass to do.

Dipping Cedric in apple juice did nothing to allay Oliver's general suspicions towards the ceramic creature. That look? All natural. I was hoping for a photograph that was a bit more warm and squishy.

The First Day of Christmas

So I've been informed that the 12 Days of Christmas start *after* the 25th. What's the point of posting up pictures of a humiliated hound after the hype of Christmas has worn off? I suppose this could be more like a 12 day countdown to Christmas? Aka a thinly veiled reason to spam the world with photographs of my dog? Why quibble?

As far as I am concerned, today is the first day of Christmas. Screw you tradition.

We decorated the house awhile back and what fireplace hearth is complete without a disgruntled hound?

Bah humbug!

Indecision 2008: London Calling.

Cedric hailing a cab.

Oh come on. You knew that title was coming.

A note on the photo. I bought Cedric a couple of weeks back when I was shopping with Elisa. We were getting Alby's Christmas shiz to send over to Korea when she with her eagle eyes spotted Cedric on a little rotating stand thing at Indigo. Being the impulsive shopper that I am and also well aware of the fact that omg it was a knome, I pounced on the little blighter and purchased. At that point I still didn't have an effing clue where I would be heading come 2008 but I knew that wherever it was I'd definitely find a use to gratuitously take photographs of a ceramic knome. God knows that Oliver will be sincerely missed.

Thought it would only be fitting to trot Cedric out after I had made the final decision in indecision 2008. For some of you this is old news but there are a couple out there who haven't heard the full story of how I decided that London would be the next place my suitcases would be dropped.

I was to meet one of Ammi's business associates bright and early on an effing cold Wednesday morning. Suffice it to say I was shitting myself. Most people in Ammi's line of work are arrogant bastards who have ulterior motives and hidden agendas which are barely concealed. In the back of my mind I had a nagging feeling that the only reason why the President of a well established Toronto media monopoly would condescend to meet me is because he wanted to curry favour with Ammi. Incidentally he was also my contact in South Africa and had assured me (through ammi of course) that anything I wanted to do in Capetown could be pre-arranged through him. All I had to do was name the field and he would take care of the rest. (He was born and brought up in Capetown, all his family is still out there. Saying that he was/is well connected would be stating the bleeding obvious.)

9:30 was supposed to be our meeting time, of course I was freaking the shit out and took a cab from St.Andrew station instead of hopping the street car. I thought I'd be horrendously late. Way to get their 10 minutes early due to panic. As I sat their stewing in my own sense of impending doom I thought that perhaps sending a whiny text message to the fascist may calm me down. This did not work as he responded that he was boozing with the Colombian. I would've much rather been with them at that point than sitting in that stiff backed chair in uncomfortable shoes, perspiring way more than is normal for November.

The Seth Afrikaan finally made his appearance and I was able to get my shit together pretty fast. (Aside: that little talent of mine? Remember? Of the first impressions always being spot on? SPOT ON.) Within the first five minutes I knew I was seated across one of the very few people within the industry who had an honest and deep rooted sense of sincerity. Turns out he too started off as a bleeding heart but got equally jaded and cynical as I. Did his master's thesis on the distribution of wealth and the IMF in South Africa. According to him, we're kindreds.

Have you ever gotten that feeling, while you're having a conversation, while in the throes of it that this conversation? The one you're having at this precise moment is going to go down as being one of the most pivotal and influential ones in your life? Almost like the director's cut commentary on a DVD. You're aware of what's being said and done in the present but at the same time you've retreated so far back into your own head trying to process the magnitude of what's happening.

That's how I felt. It went beyond a chat about what career opportunities I would find in South Africa, and shifted gears completely. The man I met to pave the way for me to go to South Africa eventually convinced me that there's no better place for me than London.

In one hour I gained more clarity and perspective on my future than I would have hoped to gain in 9 months mucking about on my own.

Indecision 2008: 15,000 Reasons To Stay Away From Colombo

You've all by now have heard the news about the latest shiticane that has hit me.

But for the sake of continuity, I have 15,000 new very good reasons not to consider Sri Lanka as a contender in Indecision 2008.

The case for Colombo is not only non-existent, I think it'll be many, many years before I'll ever consider it as more than just a vacation spot.

/angst

Indecision 2008: Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika

Africa has always been where it’s at for me. Granted it’s been awhile since I last set foot on the continent but when I left Senegal I knew that I always wanted to go back. My long term plan was to stick around French West Africa and do the whole development thing. Figured I’d be of more use there, my grasp of the language is not as tenuous as my hold on Sinhala. Aside from Percy Montgomery South Africa never really had that same siren call and hold as as its Western neighbours.

Cue Indecision 2008. Whilst pondering on my pathetic existence and the prospect of going to London it occured to me that instead of slumming in blighty, maybe I could head over to Capetown. I could work and make enough money to travel around the continent. Which come on, who wouldn't want to traipse around Africa? (muggings, carjackings and rape ignored of course.)

But there are some pros and cons associated with hitting South Africa up. Drac's cautionary tales aside there are some serious things to consider.

The case for Capetown
1. It is not the "safe" option.
Toronto, London, Colombo all have a certain amount of safety attached to it. I'm obviously not talking about physical safety (hello suicide bomb attacks in Colombo). It has more to do with things like established social networks, places to stay etc. Going to Capetown is totally new territory, and I'd be in the same position I was when I was alone in Dakar. There is a certain amount of freedom liberty that's tied in with that which I haven't felt for a long, long time.

2. African Lion Safariii
Okay. So maybe not that one. But.

ZOMGWTFBBQ!

I could sure as hell go on a real one though. The travel opps are endless coupled with the fact that it's so cheap to get around I could easily hit up so many different parts of the continent. Especially since travel within South Africa is a bit on the precarious side (see above: muggigs, carjackings and rape). I have high hopes of having the chance to at least fly back to Senegal and touch base with some of the people I thought I'd never see along with going to Mauritius, Ethiopia, Kenya and who else knows where else. Decidedly much cheaper than Europe. My theory is that Europe is a place to traverse when you're old and can't handle the mosquitoes and other various tropical diseases. Which brings me to my next point.

3. Vaccinations
I'm up to date on all my needed tropical disease shots. Including yellow fever, it's all nicely outlined very handily in my government of Canada issued travel inoculation thinger. My doctor here in Toront is South African, I've been going to him since I was like 8. (Yeah like Ross.) He thinks I'm insane. He always has very sage advice for me before I head off for months at a time but one thing he can't fault me on is being made out of lead. (Okay, maybe really soft lead because some might say that I am a porker. I prefer festively plump but whatever.) Some of you have witnessed my strong constitution. I can eat and drink practically anything and not get sick, people are generally jealous of this talent.

The case against South Africa
1. It is pointless going
I have been told quite seriously by many people within the industry and from various unsolicited sources that I would be committing career suicide if I went to Capetown at this stage in my life. Apparently the years spent in Sri Lanka are considered to be "enough" time spent working in a "developing world economy." Employers do not look too kindly on South African experience, transferability does not exist.

2. It is not the safe option
I like to think that if I was able to survive in Dakar where no one spoke English and Sri Lanka where I couldn't speak Sinhala then South Africa would be the safe option. Until a South African friend pointedly told me that I am safe nowhere other than Capetown. That is sobering. There is also that lovely added dimension of being in a post-apartheid racially tense country.

*yay*

3. It's Far
The distance coupled with the visa restrictions would make coming home to Toronto inbetween incredibly costly and virtually impossible. I've never been away from home a solid 12 months in a row and I wonder if I could actually handle it.

Gah.

What happened to the risk taker kids? Where did she go?

Indecision 2008: Has nothing to do with US politics. (But Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are more than welcome to create a television special)

Oliver senselessly attacking a mini punkin. It's that time of year when I too bust out the claws and teeth.

Oh Kittens, it's that time of year again isn't it? You know? When I start endlessly bitching and complaining about how much my life sucks? But with a different amount of vigour than I normally do? Then I start looking for ludicrous things to do in order to lift me out of my rut? Well last year it was teaching French (incidentally I do need another haircut), the year before that started slightly earlier and was dealt with through massive amounts of angst

I'd like to think that this year is a bit different, to the extent that the angst is coupled with a few new ludicrous and potentially unfeasible plans which will stretch the extent of 4-5 blog posts. Of which this will most likely be the only one. I'm bad with series. Remember? I'd also like to think that unlike the people of America the issues that surround my Indecision 2008 will be much more thought out and mulled over than what makes up their Indecision 2008.

The people of America are soon to be choosing a leader, and me? Well I'm at a crossroads kittens one that sees my feet planted on firmly on three different continents and has my big toe dipping into another. You see I am suddenly faced with a plethora of options and work possibilities. Come February 2008 I could either be in London, England; Capetown, South Africa; Toronto, or even potentially back in Colombo.

The courses are all finished up the first week of December and I'm a free agent. The work contract will be all neatly tied up leaving me with a small pile of cash that could fund a life and a trip some place other than here. Do I want to take advantage of the 2 year visa I'd have no sweat getting to London? Or does the excitement and novelty of Africa beckon again? Maybe I'll even stay in Toronto, shack up with Alby and the fascist, grow up and actually start behaving like an adult and not a nomad? Or there's the option of taking the safe easy way out and going back to Colombo? That still seems depressing though.

As it has been pointed out to me so sweetly in the past, I am childish, immature, indecisive and for good measure, I talk a lot. This is why I'm appealing to you dear 4 loyal readers, perhaps you can help me make my decision?

In other news, it's US Thanksgiving weekend and the ACWHAAFV is coming! Yay. I'm excited, we had a blast last year.

R.I.P. Robert.

Few people have moved me like Robert Goulet. Now there'll be no need for nuts to ward him off at 3:00 PM


It was a good ride while it lasted. Of course Will Ferrel immortalised the man, Aiya and I still sporadically scream out "GOULET" at the most inopportune moments. Aiya's ipod's name? Goulet.


From one Canadian to another, R.I.P.