The choir

This past saturday I was invited to watch my friend Missy's choir, which was singing at a Protestant church a couple of blocks from my pad. Seeing as it was a few hours before work, I obliged. The show was slated to start at 730pm. My buddy Ian (also a friend of Missy's) and I thought we could grab a beer beforehand. Nope. Ian was late so we went directly to the performance and arrived right at start time.
The first downfall was that the show cost $20. This shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. I'm rather cheap lately and I was going to a choir I didn't care about. We found our seats halfway down the left hand side. It was bloody hot. Me, bundled in my finest winter coat, my scarf, and my usual work attire of a tie and shirt.
The start was late, so now I'm hot AND irritated. Plus, I knew I would have the uncontrollable laughing seizure at how bad this would be. At 8pm the choir kicked off. The first song was 'Groovin' by one of those random sixties groups. I lost it right off the bat. Tears streaming and trying not to make a peep, my body shuddering with silent gasps.
I pull together briefly enough to study the group of singers. There's three tiered rows consisting of roughly 20 singers. A majority of them women, but the back and highest row consisting of men.
Missy is my age (32) and she seemed to be the youngest. The average age of singer looked to be about 40. All nerds. The leader of the pack (conductor) was a woman in her late forties/early fifties, who talked too much about herself. At one point she did a solo song, which was written by her mother. It was slightly touching, but overall the song was really bad. I got the embarrassed feeling.
By far my favorite singer to watch was the token really tall, nerdy, middle aged man with a dress shirt that was way too big around his tiny neck. He was so into singing and had the best facial expressions. I was mesmerized. However, he really didn't help my laughing fits.
After nearly an hour of shitty 60's one time hits, and a few more modern songs, it was intermission. Thankfully I had to work, so Ian and I ducked out and didn't return.

An image taken a few years back when we went to see the Steelers play in Phoenix.

A few pics from my recent trip to Alberta

Passers by

Our neighbors moved out quite suddenly this month. It's not like we were overly close, but they were on our floor and very friendly. I've chatted with them in passing, and our dogs were buddies. When I saw their suite being renovated I had a sense they were gone.
I started thinking about all the people you share small parts of your life with. People you might sit next to at a bar, people at a bus stop, or people that irritate the shit out of you in a Starbucks lineup. With all our everyday interactions with people we rarely think of their history or if we might ever see them again. Odds are we won't remember 99% of them.
For example, the neighbors. I probably will never see them again in my life. It's not a sad thing, it's just how life works. So many acquaintances come and go.
Picture today and all the people you walked by on the street. Now picture how many of those people are now dead, traveling, happy, devastated, jobless, brain dead etc. It's amazing. Everyone has a story, whether it be happy or sad, opinionated or neutral.

Mozart's Requiem

I went to the symphony alone a few nights ago. It was very enjoyable. Superb people watching. I went sort of last minute and got a $15 seat in the balcony. The fellow on my right was there with his wife and said he had been coming to the Orpheum for over 30 years. The man on my left stank of body odour and had an accent that made me think he was going to bomb the place.
Every time the conductor does anything, you have to clap. Personally, I don't really see the point in having him as all the musicians kept their eyes on their music sheets the entire time. Perhaps the conductor is simply a failed musician?
The music was wonderful...until the all male choir fired up a few songs in German. German is a hideous language, and when sung, is still hideous.
During the intermission (which I mistakenly called 'halftime' to a much offended symphony fan) I purchased an over priced and under poured glass of wine and sat in one of the many comfortable chairs provided. After nodding off for a bit, it was go time again. The latter half of the symphony was less enjoyable. Maybe I was a little tired? Maybe there was less energy? Who knows.
To anyone interested, I would highly recommend seeing the symphony. It seems the weekday shows rarely sell out. Go about 45 minutes before the show, head to the back entrance and grab some cheapies. This saves you about $35 per person. Not bad.

shitty movie

Oh yes, Men who stare at goats is terrible.

Flood warning

I couple of things I've noticed in the past 48 hours of constant rain. The first is that gum boots are great. I dusted off my only pair just last week and haven't been more satisfied. I bought them for $12.99 last year. Not only are they totally water proof, but they allow my inner child to spring forth. There isn't a single puddle I don't go out of my way to walk through, a drain I won't clear of leaves, or a muddy lawn I won't cut across. Quite simply, they're fun.
The second thing I've noticed is that people turn into retards when using an umbrella. I am not a huge umbrella fan. Not only do I manage to forget mine everywhere I go, but I just feel like a fool using one (why bother when I have gum boots?). This morning on my dog walk I had to avoid two different idiots barreling down the sidewalk with their umbrellas in front of their faces. Isn't the point to cover your head? Why is it in front of your face? How can you see when you walk? Oh, right, you can't. Plus, the edges on those things are like rapiers. Watch your eyeballs.

The fat midget

I have a hairdresser friend here in the city. She told me to grow my hair for a month to be in this ultra swank hair show taking place in early November. Me, thinking this seems like a cool thing to take part in, and a possible chance to network because I have four friends. Plus, I get a free $100 cut (which really seems like a rip, how the f*ck can cutting my five inch hair cost that much).
So earlier this week I went to the salon with terrible hat head and a minor head cold. It's pissing rain and there's one to nine other things I'd rather be doing. I'm to meet the organizer and head stylist for a consultation. I show up at the scheduled time and am told to have a seat. 20 minutes later I've read the shitty hair mags, made fun of the token savage gay male stylist, and re plugged my meter. Finally, the lady (I think it was Rachel, or maybe Rhonda...whatever) comes out of the back for our ever so exciting meeting. Let me tell you, eyes don't lie! At first seeing me her smile softened and she tried very hard to not show the utter disgust in what I thought must be my appearance. The self esteem wavers.
We exchange fake pleasantries and she asks how I know my hairdresser friend blah blah quit beating around the bush. At some point I snap and say 'is there something wrong here?' Relief floods her middle aged trying to look way younger face, and she replies 'well, I was hoping for someone taller and less chubby'. Me, wow, feeling sweet now. Auto defense of 'well, I am 5 10' and only 179lbs' (which is totally average, but by dropping the poundage from 180 to 179 I felt way cooler). Her, 'yeah...no'.
My life as a career hair model is finished.

the first blog

Upon moving to the soaking city of Vancouver, I figured it was a splendid time to re invent myself. I was first introduced to the world of blogs by a very close friend. He was trapped in a frozen armpit of a town called Thunder Bay (apologies if you reside there). I enjoy writing and taking photos. However, what I most enjoy is making fun of things, especially people. Get ready and please enjoy the many blogs to come on "The plastic cup".