He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

I saw this guy in a Santa Claus parade this weekend. It sums up my humbuggy holiday spirits just fine. Also, we haven’t had any snow, and it feels more like September than the end of November.

Meanwhile, the stupid guy across the road from us has become the only person on our rural stretch to put up Christmas lights. He just moved in, and he’s kind of an asshole (he’s the one who tossed the dead skunk in my yard this summer). The worst part? His entire house is lit up with blue lights. It looks like that night the Smurfs got fucked up on E at a rave and pulled a train on Smurfette.

He was setting up one of those inflatable snow globe bullshit things this afternoon. It makes me wish I had a BB gun.

I didn’t always hate Christmas. In fact, I once had a cutesy Christmas children’s story serialized in a daily newspaper (which you can still read here). Lately, though, I’m just tired of all the fuss and hustle, and I’ll be glad when it’s over.

Sw1n1 Flu

H1N1 has worked its wonders on us. As I can’t get the flu shot — due to an egg allergy — I know I’m going to get sick. I live with it. I technicolour-yawned a supposedly rejuvenatory Gatorade across the Shopper’s Drug Mart parking lot a couple of weeks ago. And then I got better.

My daughter is just getting over it. My oldest son got sick today. He’ll be home from school tomorrow. As it turns out, he’s okay with the idea. He’ll trade coughs for movies any time.

No big tragedy. Just this year’s flu.

I’m not making light of it. People are dying. At the current count, about 700 people worldwide have died from H1N1 this year. Seven hundred. That’s 700 lost mothers, fathers, children. It’s horrible.

But it’s no epidemic. Let’s keep things in perspective. For every person who died of H1N1 this week, far more died because of smoking, drunk driving, drugs, bad eating habits, lack of exercise, poor judgment and not looking before crossing the street. And if I, with my compromised heart and lungs, can weather the H1N1 storm, so can you.

Live healthier.

Manly Tips 2: Changing The Oil

If, like me, you live in a two-vehicle household, you will be called upon frequently to carry out minor car repairs. I have a lot of trouble with installing new windshield wiper blades, because for some reason they make those things more complicated than Meccano. And I used to be able to swap out headlights, but now they build cars specifically to make sure you have to take them to the dealership and pay $100 apiece for new headlights.

(We traded in the Ford Focus last year and nobody ever caught on that one of the headlights was held in with duct tape)

I like changing the oil in our vehicles, though, because it’s a fairly simple process and allows me a couple of hours of “me time.” Let me tell you about my technique:

1. Put on grubby clothes. I used to have one of those mechanic’s coverall suits with “Gerry” on the name tag. I should get another one. The only problem with coveralls, though, is they don’t allow for appropriate handyman-related asscrackery.
2. Carry your toolbox out to the driveway.
3. Lie down on the far side of the vehicle, away from the house. You might want to bring a blanket.
4. Watch the Star Trek DVD on your iPod.
5. Spray WD40 all over your hands so you smell good and stinky. Do not get any on your iPod. They don’t like it.
6. Put tools away.
7. Go inside, spend some time washing your hands, and complain of back pain from the awkward angle you had to work at. Get a neck rub.
8. When everyone’s asleep, drive to the 24-hour oil-change place, pay $17, get your oil changed while you read the free newspaper.

Let me tell you, I grow more chest hair every time I do this.

Manly Tips

This is a new series I’d like to launch: short bits on how to appear really manly, even if you talk about Star Trek for a living. Here’s Manly Tip No. 1:

Once every few months, unplug the washing machine. Say nothing. Eventually, someone will notice that the washing machine does not work. Take your toolbox downstairs and remove the front panel of the washing machine (there are two little clips holding it up; you need a putty knife or similar blade to pop them out). Place the front panel off to the side.

Open your toolbox, remove paperback novel. Start reading. This will be interrupted by the occasional check-in from upstairs; when you hear footsteps, stash the book, grab a screwdriver and start adjusting something inside the washer. When the coast is clear, go back to the book.

After about four hours, put the front panel back on, plug the washer in and start a load of laundry. You’ll earn bonus points for that. Just don’t mix whites and colours.

 

Joining the Brotherhood

I had coffee with my second-youngest brother today. He’s in the process of moving here from Toronto as he recovers from that little accident he had earlier this year. You may remember me talking about it: he was hit by a train in the face, and lived. He looks better now than he did during the summer, although his facial nerves haven’t quite healed and he looks a bit like the Joker. The Jack Nicholson version, I mean.

Anyway, we were sitting in the coffee shop where they filmed that stupid movie Jumper a while back. In a strange twist, my brother worked on the post-production audio for that movie, and I was an accidental extra in the background of a Samuel L. Jackson scene, which may or may not have made the final cut. I don’t know, because when I watched Jumper I spent most of the film mostly thinking about hockey.

After we talked about how shitty Jumper was, my brother told me a funny story. He’s been living in a pretty crappy neighbourhood full of what appear to be members of a skinhead gang. They’ve been eyeing him for a while, as he’s big, tough and tattooed head to toe, and as a mixed martial arts fighter (currently on a break due to face-meets-train), he often carried his gear around with him.

I should point out that my brother looks like Vin Diesel in XXX. See, we’re African-Indian-Irish-Scottish, but it isn’t obvious, particularly to stupid people, that we’re a wee bit ethnic. Most people who do notice think we’re Italian or Arab. That’s what makes this work.

One day, one of them came to his door. This was the conversation:

• Nazi: “Hey, man, nice tattooes.”
• Bro: “Thanks.”
• Nazi: ”Boxing gloves, eh? You a fighter?”
• Bro: “Yeah.”
• Nazi: ”You ever fight any fags or Jews? Any niggers?”
• Bro (long pause): “I’m a fucking mulatto, asshole. You want me to fight you?”

The guy ran away. Ran. And now the gang steers widely clear of my pumped-up, tattooed and facially freakish brother and his boxing gloves.

Sometimes he makes me really proud, that kid.

Moral: Racists talk a good game, and they do a lot of damage in numbers, but one on one, they’ll run away every time.

To The Moon, All Ice

Now that NASA has confirmed the presence of vast quantities of water on the moon, space nerds are growing more and more excited about the release of the new Star Trek movie on Blu-Ray, and also about the possibility of building a permanent lunar colony.
I have been asked to provide some suggestions for the space program as smart-type people plan this next stage of moonal exploration. I thought about this for almost five minutes, and here are my ideas:

• The presence of water means human life can sustain itself without costly shipments of water from Earth. Food supplies can be transported fairly easily in condensed, powdered or Hot Pocket form, but water is heavy and we need a lot of it. Mostly for drinking, but also for hygiene, except for space nerds.
• Most of the water is apparently ice, so they could build the base out of the ice itself. Like in that James Bond movie with the invisible car. Hey, they should also put invisible moon buggies in the invisible ice moon base. That way aliens won’t see it.
• Seriously, though, the first stage would have to be a massive melting and distillation facility so we could use the water. This could cost a lot; I suggest moving the Dr. Phil show to the moon to let his hot air do the job. Also, this rids us of Dr. Phil.
• The big question concerns breathable oxygen: there isn’t any on the moon. While tanks of it could be transported to the moon on the next generation of shuttles, this is not very practical. My idea is a lot simpler: a big pipe between the Earth and the moon. It would be tethered to the lunar base but just hang well into Earth’s atmosphere and work like a siphon. I call it Project Space Snorkel.
• Another theory suggests using inflatable habitats to build a “tent city” on the moon. I’m not crazy about this. All it would take is one asshole who forgets to push that little rubber nipple back in, and the whole place deflates.
• An obvious idea suggests itself: hockey. The NHL is eyeing expansion again, perhaps even to Europe … why not go further afield? Can you imagine low-gravity hockey on lunar ice? The rink would have to be 10 times the size of the ones we use now, but man, my wrist shot would go for miles. And probably hit Dr. Phil in the mouth.

The most likely scenario, though, would see NASA team up with other countries’ space programs to build a permanent moon station (with rotating staff) designed to aid the construction and launch of spaceships heading for Mars and beyond. If this ever happens, there’ll be a Starbucks, a Subway and a Wal-Mart within weeks.

In other words, count me in.