That's my penance for being such a neglagent little blogger lately. I'm sorry Bloggy McBloggerson, but hey, check out some of the cool stuff I've scouted for you while I've been busy not writing:
I don't like to talk about my day job at CSIS, because I like my job a lot and if I did talk about it I would live in fear of stepping in it and being dooced. I will make this one, rare exception to direct you all to the website for the Canadian Premiere of We Will Rock You and the photos I got to take at a press event last week. The show opens next month and promises to be a fun, rockin' romp! And who couldn't use some of that these days?
Since I am now a Rock Chick Supremo I want to give a shout out to my favourite Rock Chick, my friend, surrogate little sister and Toronto's own Basia Lyjak. She rocked it old school at the ElMocombo on Friday night (where Zee Noixy and I worked the door) and her brand new EP "Writings on the Wall" has just been released. I know what you're thinking, you're thinking, "but Nolan, a ROCK recommendation? We trust you to show us how to snap on two and four, but please, keep your ROCK advice to yourself." And I understand your skepticism. I really do. But go on, and have a listen. She is fabulous. She rocks.
This week in egg news, I had a wonderful mid-afternoon brunch yesterday with the lovely Hutch. She introduced me to a great breakfast joint called BOOM. The Martini Boys Review says it all pretty nicely. As did the contented look on my face after delicious eggs benny with perfect hollandaise, crispy, seasoned taters and fresh fruit. A plate full of good, sunny eggs are the perfect antidote to the February blaaahs.
On another note, damn it's cold. I miss global warming.
Last week, Mo and I went to see an exhibit at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) featuring the photography of Ansel Adams and Alfred Eisenstaedt. There were some really amazing and inspiring works on display, but I have to say my favourite moment happened just outside the exhibit (click on this pic to make it bigger and get the...full effect).
No sense of irony at the AGO. None.
In Woody Allen's wonderful movie "Manhattan" the characters played by Diane Keaton and Michael Murphy create what they call the "Academy of the Overrated" beautifully capturing every pretentious a-hole you've ever known. I can be a pretentious a-hole. I've gotten to the point where I accept that quality in myself. Which kind of makes me an a-hole. At the end of the movie, Woody's character creates a list of "things that make life worth living". I can also be prone to this kind of sunny optimism. On Friday, when I kept going on about a great latte I had at Balzac's in the Distillery the Robeau laughed at me because I get so excited about things. "You love things that are great" he said. And yes, yes I do. Good things ARE fantastic.
Today, I'm not feeling super excited about anything. I'm not feeling the need to indulge my inner a-hole either. So, in a quest for the happy medium I am creating the "Better than they need to be Academy".
The inaugural members of the "Better than they need to be Academy" are as follows:
Jesse L. Martin is the first member of the Academy for the simple reason that his touching, subtle acting on that cookie cutter, institution of a show that is Law & Order has made us rewind to revel in his magnificent characterizations time and time again. Usually we yell out "he's so good...he's so much better than he needs to be". If the Academy ever starts giving away a lifetime achievement award, it will be named in his honour. He's a wonderful actor. With beautiful eyes. He's better than he needs to be.
Rocky Balboa would have made lots of money even if it was a crappy sell out movie. The thing is, it wasn't a crappy sell out movie. For my money it had all the charm of the first one. And it didn't have to. It was better than it needs to be.
Ikea could coast on selling cheap bookshelves to college students and make all kinds of money. But they don't. They create wonderful, stylish furniture for us, the masses. We'd buy whatever they sell because it's cheap, right? Well, they're doing more than they have to by making it cutting edge design. Bravo, Ikea. Thanks for all the cool stuff. You? You're better than you need to be.
Grey Fox Merlot is rocking my world. For less than $10 a bottle? Is it any wonder I can't stop talking about it on my blog. Kudos Grey Fox Merlot. You should suck. And you don't. You Sir, are better than you need to be.
Feel free to offer nominations of your own. People and things that are better than they need to be deserve recognition. Let's lay it on them.
Thank you.
I had no idea $7 Merlot (of all things) could be so delicious and satisfying. Of course I had no idea it was cheap ass wine when I corked the bottle and tried it. I had no way of knowing. Because you didn't tell me. What I do know is that when you bring a bottle of cheap ass wine to someone's house you don't own up to it. You leave it on the bar and run. The same way you do if you leave a flaming bag of poop on someone's door step.
So I understand.
The thing is, I want you to know how much I enjoyed it. And then when I found out just how CHEAP it was? I enjoyed it even more. You've managed to appeal to both my "good taste" side and my "trash" side. Bravo, anonymous friend. Bravo. I love you. And I love Grey Fox Merlot.
Last week I wrote about how I was too busy to post because of a plague that spread through the office at CSIS. I wasn't sick, I was just working extra hard. I was healthy, and I was going to stay that way thanks to the industrial strength anti-bacterial spray I was wielding. It had an illustration of a 1950's nurse on it, little hat and all. It said it was effective against all germs and things like TB! I was cocky. I was taking vitamin c, wearing my hat and I had the spray. And that's when it happened. I got knocked on my ass and spent the first half of this week lying on the couch, moaning and watching The View. I couldn't muster up the strength to change the channel when Rachael Ray came on. I was ILL.
I'm pretty well recovered now and have spent the weekend getting caught up on work and trying to do some fun stuff to. This afternoon I was at the Art Gallery of Ontario to see Jean Renoir's 1939 masterpiece, "Règle du jeu, La" (The Rules of the Game). Tonight is all about the delicious beef stew that the Robeau made (by request!) and the return of TV's Jack Bauer! Whoo and hoo, people!
Last night we hung out at the "Clarmitages" where young Mr. Sam proved that 7 and half months really is the cutest, most entertaining age a human can be. I fully expect him to prove me wrong once he hits 8 months. Early that day found me at the Distillery District with Trish and Zee Noixy where we enjoyed the sights and the tastes that wonderful little area has to offer.
The photographic evidence:
TV:
All Next Week
A CNN Exclusive
Soledad O'Brien Reveals
The Papers of Martin Luther King
His Deepest Thoughts
His Plan
His Fears
The Robeau:
(as MLK) My Dearest Soledad...
I feel like a truant. Here it is already January 6th and this is my first post of 2007. What can I say? It's been a busy year so far. Some kind of plague has swept over the CSIS office (I think it may be black lung) and I ended up having to do double duty for the first few days of the year. Really cut into my Bloggy McBloggerson time. It's too late to talk about New Years Eve now. I can't bring myself to do it. The moment has passed. Without fanfare. Instead I will share with you some pictures from last night when the original truant surprised us all with a unscheduled visit. Reimer's back from Boston for about a week and we spent the evening celebrating in the biggest dive I have been to in years, The Last Temptation in Kensington Market. Cheap beer, sticky...everything and a crazy mural on the back wall. The photographic evidence is below (you can see more in my Flickr account). This is more fun than trying to remember the details of New Years, rehashing the Saddam thing or applauding Keith Olbermann. Not that I don't want to do those things, I do. I'm just lazy. Like all the best truants are.
Rachel, Chels, ZeeNoixy and moi, getting our drink on.
Friday night me and my girls got together for a good old fashioned sleep over at ZeeNoixy's. We weren't ALL there (we missed you Vonster!) but what we lacked in numbers we made up for in enthusiasm. For the boys...yes, there were pillow fights and tickle fights and we stripped down to our bras and panties to eat dinner.
OK, now that the men folk are gone, I can tell the truth. Ladies, we spent most of the evening talking about food and finances. We tried to bitch about our boys, but they're pretty great so there weren't as many grievances aired as there should have been at an event like this.
ZeeNoixy made a delish dinner....
We talked till we ran out of air...
and once the pregnant one went to bed (there's always a pregnant one nowadays) the rest of us drank a little too much, cause hey, that's how we roll...
Saturday morning we headed home, leaving the trace amounts of snow and all that hospitality and warmth up North with ZeeNoixy...I'm so lucky to have such great girlfriends.
I've been following the coverage of Gerald Ford's State Funeral. These things are always fascinating for the pomp and the grandness of it all. Ford left office when I was all of 2 years old so I can't say that I remember his Presidency or felt touched by it in any substantive way but I've always been struck by the relationship that he seemed to have with his wife.
I was watching her on television, standing by her husband's coffin, elderly and frail. As they were playing "Hail to the Chief" I wondered what thoughts were going through her head. She's not mourning a President or reflecting on what went wrong with some of his young aides like Cheney and Rumsfeld. She's not thinking about how unfunny Chevy Chase is. I'm pretty sure she's not dazzled by the ceremony either. I bet she's thinking about the man she had coffee with every morning. I bet she's thinking about the little things. And I bet those break her heart more than anything.
Gerald R. Ford stands in the doorway of their apartment at 1521 Mount Eagle Place, Alexandria, VA as Betty Ford reads in the yard. 1952.
Betty Ford, Gerald R. Ford, Jr., Michael Ford and Jack Ford sit at the kitchen table in their apartment at 1521 Mount Eagle Place, Alexandria, VA. 1952
Representative and Mrs. Gerald R. Ford, Jr., pose for a photograph prior to departing for an unidentified diplomatic reception. 1958.
Hello Vox.
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Redzilla said:
[this is good]Hmmm...I like the whole idea of this post, because I think people don't get enough recognition for putting out more... read more
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