So I had a dream I was cast in a musical for something or other. It might have been for Oran, but I'm pretty sure I remember my high school drama teacher in the proceedings.
We were on this stage at some high school, I guess, since there was a walkway over top of the stage. Before anything musically happened, I was sitting there and kept on getting hit by projectiles (bottles, binders) thrown by people waling above me.
In the actual musical, I was playing an Indian brave (Tommy Two-Feathers, according to one of the lines.) My chief was boxing or wrestling in the finale. I remember having my own solo song at one point (which was fun, since we only had one rehearsal before we staged it).
Also, in the ending moments, my chief was getting in the ring, when all of a sudden, his opponents grew in a green glow, going to three times my chief's size.
I look to the side, and there's the traitor of the musical, none other than Reed Richards, scientific genius of the Marvel Universe and part of the Fantastic Four. And he was being financed by evil corporation Sony, who didn't want my chief to win.
Yeah, strange dream. And it featured a lot of cameos, such as Chapman behind the sound booth, who kept trying to add his own personal embellishments to the musical that weren't needed.
6.19.2005
6.17.2005
I got in!
This year, I took a year off of choirs other than Kow. After ten years of the Mixed Chorus, I thought it best to just not have anything on my plate for concerts and rehearsals.
Not having to give up a week of my vacation for a tour that would always leave me more ragged than I began. Not having to book off a lot of December to shoehorn in all the Christmas concerts.
In about May, or maybe a little earlier, I realized that, while it was refreshing to take a year off, I was jonesing for a new choir.
I was certainly not going to head back to the Mixed Chorus, since every year, the choir gets younger and younger. Hell, I was "old guard" back in 1997. I didn't really want to be the guy who's just hanging around because there's no place to go.
In February, I saw Oran's performance of an entire concert of African songs, and I was enraptured.
I had a few friends in the choir, like Astro and his wife, and the Chungs. And there's an old friend from Moose Jaw there as well.
When Bob, my Mixed Chorus director, emailed me asking if I wanted to apply for the Greenwood Singers, I was torn. I certainly couldn't join TWO choirs and expect to be sane.
So it became a matter of, "Which choir would I enjoy myself more in?"
While I like Bob as a conductor, I've been singing with him for ten years. I thought it was time for a change, as I'm sure I'd learn different stuff from Scott Leithead, one of the conductors from Oran. Plus, I couldn't pass up singing with some old friends.
So I booked an audition with Oran.
On Wednesday, I was pretty nervous. It was the first time I had to audition for a choir in ten years. Although Astro kept saying "You're a guy who can sing. How can you NOT get in?"
For my a cappella piece, I decided to do "Spider-Man." It's one of my only solos, and shows off most of my higher range. While my low range is good, it doesn't work for volume, which is something I thought I'd be needing.
Before the audition, Scott had me fill out this form about myself. It asked what I brought to the party, what things I was hoping to learn, experience, etcetera.
Scott welcomed me and said, "You look familiar."
"Well, I DO sing in Apocalypse Kow with Astro."
"Right! Kow! Now I remember. Kow's awesome."
I was still nervous, but it was a little better now that Scott remembered who I was.
On the sheet, it asked which choirs I've been with. So, with confidence, I wrote the following:
A.E. Peacock Jazz Choir (1991-1994)
A.E. Peacock Concert Choir (1991-1994)
University of Alberta Mixed Chorus (1995-2004)
Apocalypse Kow (1997-present)
When he looked over the sheet, he yelled out, "You went to PEACOCK?"
Me: "Yeah, that's where I went to high school."
Scott: "Who did you sing under?"
Me: "Allison Litt."
Scott: "Oh, Allison. She's amazing, isn't she?"
Me: "I enjoyed myself in that choir."
So, another point in my favour.
When I sang Spider-Man, I didn't realize how much I'd miss the rest of Kow backing me up. Man, that's scary, singing a cappella when you're solo.
I did well in my listening tests, and had a decent sight reading test.
So I thought I had a better than even chance of getting in. It wasn't the greatest audition known to man, in my opinion, but we are talking about me here, who's pretty self-critical.
So I'd be reloading the website every few hours, looking for the audition results.
They finally went up this morning, and I'm now a part of Oran.
So, my choir adventures will continue for the next year or few years.
I'm happy and relieved. Because I hate auditions.
It should be a very fun time.
Not having to give up a week of my vacation for a tour that would always leave me more ragged than I began. Not having to book off a lot of December to shoehorn in all the Christmas concerts.
In about May, or maybe a little earlier, I realized that, while it was refreshing to take a year off, I was jonesing for a new choir.
I was certainly not going to head back to the Mixed Chorus, since every year, the choir gets younger and younger. Hell, I was "old guard" back in 1997. I didn't really want to be the guy who's just hanging around because there's no place to go.
In February, I saw Oran's performance of an entire concert of African songs, and I was enraptured.
I had a few friends in the choir, like Astro and his wife, and the Chungs. And there's an old friend from Moose Jaw there as well.
When Bob, my Mixed Chorus director, emailed me asking if I wanted to apply for the Greenwood Singers, I was torn. I certainly couldn't join TWO choirs and expect to be sane.
So it became a matter of, "Which choir would I enjoy myself more in?"
While I like Bob as a conductor, I've been singing with him for ten years. I thought it was time for a change, as I'm sure I'd learn different stuff from Scott Leithead, one of the conductors from Oran. Plus, I couldn't pass up singing with some old friends.
So I booked an audition with Oran.
On Wednesday, I was pretty nervous. It was the first time I had to audition for a choir in ten years. Although Astro kept saying "You're a guy who can sing. How can you NOT get in?"
For my a cappella piece, I decided to do "Spider-Man." It's one of my only solos, and shows off most of my higher range. While my low range is good, it doesn't work for volume, which is something I thought I'd be needing.
Before the audition, Scott had me fill out this form about myself. It asked what I brought to the party, what things I was hoping to learn, experience, etcetera.
Scott welcomed me and said, "You look familiar."
"Well, I DO sing in Apocalypse Kow with Astro."
"Right! Kow! Now I remember. Kow's awesome."
I was still nervous, but it was a little better now that Scott remembered who I was.
On the sheet, it asked which choirs I've been with. So, with confidence, I wrote the following:
A.E. Peacock Jazz Choir (1991-1994)
A.E. Peacock Concert Choir (1991-1994)
University of Alberta Mixed Chorus (1995-2004)
Apocalypse Kow (1997-present)
When he looked over the sheet, he yelled out, "You went to PEACOCK?"
Me: "Yeah, that's where I went to high school."
Scott: "Who did you sing under?"
Me: "Allison Litt."
Scott: "Oh, Allison. She's amazing, isn't she?"
Me: "I enjoyed myself in that choir."
So, another point in my favour.
When I sang Spider-Man, I didn't realize how much I'd miss the rest of Kow backing me up. Man, that's scary, singing a cappella when you're solo.
I did well in my listening tests, and had a decent sight reading test.
So I thought I had a better than even chance of getting in. It wasn't the greatest audition known to man, in my opinion, but we are talking about me here, who's pretty self-critical.
So I'd be reloading the website every few hours, looking for the audition results.
They finally went up this morning, and I'm now a part of Oran.
So, my choir adventures will continue for the next year or few years.
I'm happy and relieved. Because I hate auditions.
It should be a very fun time.
6.08.2005
Odd Transformations 27: Pantomime and wrestling bosses
My dream today involved me driving back to Moose Jaw for a special acting project I was asked to participate in.
My old drama teacher, LJ, called me up to take part in this silly play that was being held during the MJ Music Festival, I guess, since the audience was a lot of musicians.
I was involved in something else (vaguely, it was in a church or community hall), and I had to leave Dev and Canton to go to this play. Someone had already taken my script to the play, so I'd meet up with them and collect it then.
For some reason, Mark was with me, and my car ran out of gas in the north side of MJ, about a half-block away from a Shell. So we pushed the car over to the gas station and filled up.
Due to my car running out of gas, I arrived a little late to the auditorium and scrambled to get into costume. I was playing a haughty prince, and I guess the reason I was asked to do this is because it's pretty much a pantomime (in the British "holy crap, this is being played completely overboard" sense, not the "no talking, bitches!" sense) that involves musical numbers.
So I couldn't find my script, and when it was time for my first entrance (where I find out my horse has just died), I start adlibbing, which is great for all the kids in the audience. When someone DOES give me the script (it was a staged reading), I start my lines from where I thought we were starting.
I realize I actually skipped over a page and a half of pretty important dialogue. And mutter, under my breath, "Ah hell."
* * *
Since I' ve been driving in Westmount this past week, I've been lucky enough to take the River Valley road to work.
It's great that I get to drive one of the most beautifully scenic roads in Edmonton twice a day.
(in best Groucho voice) And the trees ain't half bad neither...
My old drama teacher, LJ, called me up to take part in this silly play that was being held during the MJ Music Festival, I guess, since the audience was a lot of musicians.
I was involved in something else (vaguely, it was in a church or community hall), and I had to leave Dev and Canton to go to this play. Someone had already taken my script to the play, so I'd meet up with them and collect it then.
For some reason, Mark was with me, and my car ran out of gas in the north side of MJ, about a half-block away from a Shell. So we pushed the car over to the gas station and filled up.
Due to my car running out of gas, I arrived a little late to the auditorium and scrambled to get into costume. I was playing a haughty prince, and I guess the reason I was asked to do this is because it's pretty much a pantomime (in the British "holy crap, this is being played completely overboard" sense, not the "no talking, bitches!" sense) that involves musical numbers.
So I couldn't find my script, and when it was time for my first entrance (where I find out my horse has just died), I start adlibbing, which is great for all the kids in the audience. When someone DOES give me the script (it was a staged reading), I start my lines from where I thought we were starting.
I realize I actually skipped over a page and a half of pretty important dialogue. And mutter, under my breath, "Ah hell."
* * *
Since I' ve been driving in Westmount this past week, I've been lucky enough to take the River Valley road to work.
It's great that I get to drive one of the most beautifully scenic roads in Edmonton twice a day.
(in best Groucho voice) And the trees ain't half bad neither...
6.04.2005
Hot Wrasslin' Action (THE LONGER ENTRY KNOWN TO MAN!)
(The title's because I screwed up while typing to Grank. So, there you go, Grank. It's now the title of this post.)
So this week was my first week at Westmount, as well as the taping of Smackdown! here in Edmonton.
There's a guy at the store who I've really despised ever since I first got a call from him when I was working downtown. Garry's the kind of guy who you know is an idiot from the first time he speaks.
And so, every time I received a call from Westmount, it was all I could do to not yell at him over the phone, calling him an idiot and to just quit the company.
When Mark took over Westmount, I told him my Garry stories, but it took Mark a face-to-face to realize how much of a dope the guy is.
I was so scared that on Wednesday, the first day the Garry and I would work together, the first thing I would do upon seeing him would be to break his nose, hardcore.
Well, Garry reminds me of a substitute teacher I had back in elementary, looks-wise. He's in his 40s, and, unlike that sub, completely clueless. Seriously, it's taking me back to the days I worked with Real. Or Tanner. Or Anthony. Or Emmanuel. Or Marilyn. Or Barry.
Just typing that now, I realize how much of my career at RadioShack has been spent working with idiots. Hold on a minute while I shoot myself.
Okay, I'm back. Missed my head, got my shoulder instead. So I'm bleeding all over my keyboard for you patrons. Hope you're happy.
One of the things that Mark and I have been worried about is the amount of in-store theft has been going on. Like how a GPS unit has mysteriously vanished, along with the box from the back room. This inventory's going to be the funniest one I've ever been a part of, I think.
The other two in this equation of four is the sheer amount of teenagers, mostly native, who call or come in the store asking for Garry. So why are kids who I really shouldn't profile, but hey, half my job is figuring out who's stealing from my store, calling a 42-year-old dope?
My three theories are as follows:
a) Garry's selling them drugs.
b) Garry's stealing stuff from the store for these kids.
c) Garry's stealing stuff from the store in order to buy drugs to sell them. (so, really, a+b)
The scariest is when a two-year-old Chinese kid came by the store with his mother, and said in a two-year-old shouting voice, "Where's Mr. Garry? Mr. Garry?"
What? What the hell?
Due to these things, and mostly because he's been one of the biggest idiots I've met, Mark and I want him out.
Yesterday, Mark laid into him in the back room while I was helping customers. I only heard a bit of it when I went into the back room. (Keep in mind, they were shouting. I really don't want to have five paragraphs completely in bold block letters.)
(I open the door)
Mark: Why won't you use this bathroom?
Garry: It's dirty!
Mark: I just cleaned it!
Garry: I've got medication! You want to know what for?
Mark: Not particularly.
Garry: Diarrhea. You happy?
Mark: And you won't use this bathroom because?
Garry: I just won't!
(I leave the room, without the box I came in for.)
So when Mark leaves, Garry decides to bitch and moan to me about his. Even though I repeatedly said I didn't want to get involved, and that he should just do his job. (For the record, Mark, I'm not sure which is worse: Typical idiot Garry, or bitchy moany Garry. They're both bad. Fire them both. Fire every incarnation of Garry that comes along. Especially Senor Garry. I hate that sombrero.)
So I decide I'm going to clean up a booth full of audio cables, because it's one of the things that I REALLY must fix.
When I poke my head out to see how things are, Garry's talking with a fifteen-year-old native kid. And I don't let this kid out of my sight. So Garry asks if he can do to the washroom, take a break. I mumble, "Whatever."
I just have to ask this: Why's he going to the washroom with a fifteen-year-old native kid? There's not really a good reason for that, I'm sure.
* * *
On to something happier that my work situation: The Smackdown! taping! Whoo!
Before the show on Tuesday, I decided to hang out with Elimination at his place. This was one warm day, and I needed to pick up some sign-making stuff, such as bristol board and markers.
Apparently, Tuesday at 3 pm is bad on Whyte Ave when it's so nice out. Wha? I can see on a weekend, but Tuesday mid-afternoon? Whatever. I've got my A/C on, my tunes playing it's all good.
I get to Fox Drive before I realize my ticket to Smackdown is still on my counter at home. I turn around, at the breakneck speed of 20 kph, since traffic's horrible.
Halfway home, I notice my air conditioning starts bringing forth the hottest air I can imagine. I look at the console, and my engine's overheating. Shit.
I get home, pick up my ticket, and drive the five blocks to the Esso. It takes me five minutes, which seems a lot longer because I'm holding my car together with the power of my hope and desperation.
I go into the station, and tell the cashier, "Okay. I'll be straight with you. When it comes to cars, I'm a huge idiot. But if my engine's overheating, would that be because of the coolant being low?"
He thinks a bit. "That could be the case. Seriously, I'm not the best with engines."
I open the hood, and steam comes out. Yipes. I open the coolant container and see some fluid in there. I take the manual out of my glovebox and read about the coolant situation. In bold print, it reads, "LET THE CAR COOL DOWN BEFORE OPENING THE COOLANT LID."
Whoops. Well, no harm done, I think. I let the car cool down a bit, and decide to take my chances getting to Elimination's place.
Of course, my eye's locked on the temperature gauge, which is still redlining. I'm fretting, I must admit, since, as I must have mentioned when I first got the Escort, this is MY first car. The other ones I drove in Moose Jaw, and they were owned by my parents. I was safely at home with Dad and Brade, who knew a lot more about cars then I did. If anything happened, I wouldn't really need to worry.
Once I hit Fox Drive and am actually moving properly, the gauge drops to halfway. Whew. "So," I realize, "when an engine is starting and stopping and not going past 40, it heats. When it's smooth sailing and above 60 kph, there's ventilation. Good to know." I still don't turn on the A/C, just in case.
I hang out with Elimination after getting some supplies and food. Chap shows up, and we start making signs. I make the "Solid Steel Sign," a now-Jago-trademark when it comes to wrestling shows. Chap makes a "Haas of Pain" sign, since he's gay for Charlie Haas. Which is cool, since he can wrestle real well.
When we head out, I ask if it's cool to take Chap's car. I really don't want to have a dead car on the way to Smackdown! No probs.
We meet up with D!, Marauder and Gibble atNorthlands Coliseum Skyreach Centre Rexall Place and find our seats. They're on the same side as the cameras, which is too bad, since it's harder for us to be on TV. But we've got a great view of the ring and are pretty sure we can be heard.
In the dark match (non-televised match), we've got Harry Smith (the son of the British Bulldog), against this other guy who I've never seen wrestle (George King).
At last month's Prairie Wrestling Alliance show (the fed my boss wrestles for), I got there from work just in time to see Mark and his tag partner, Phoenix, wrestle. He had told me that his opponent, JD, had been trashtalking him to some friends, and so Mark and Phoenix would be playing it a little real, rough him up a little during the match.
JD came out with his tag team partner, Harry Smith. Now, my boss is a few inches shorter than me (he's about 6'), but skinny as hell. Phoenix is shorter, but built. JD's about in between the two.
But Harry? He dwarfed everyone in the ring. He's at least 6'5" or so, and built. D!, Elimination and I were awed at that show.
So when he came to the ring at Smackdown!, we cheered. Unfortunately, he lost his match.
D!: Jago, do you realize we haven't seen Harry win yet? We're his bad luck charm!
The next match was a tag match taped for Velocity, the small one-hour show that mostly recaps what happened on Smackdown! for those that don't have cable.
Teddy Hart, who's one of Gibble's least favourite wrestlers, and JD(!) were in the ring. Gibble starts booing the hell out of Hart, and I start mocking JD, thanks to his history with my boss. So whoever's facing off against them is going to get my cheers.
Too bad it was the Bashams, one of the evil tag teams on the show. I hate cheering for them and their lame-ass two-year-old trick of fooling the referee that should have been stopped after the second month. But cheer for them I did.
Gibble's throwing out these jeers to Teddy: "Hey, Teddy! Do a fucking moonsault! I hope they kick you out of a second federation! Is Ring of Honor calling you at all?" (Except add more swearing.) I'm booing JD. Gibble apologizes to the woman and her two children (probably 10 and 8 in age) behind us for the swearing he's doing. And continues to do.
At which point I realize that I'm playing the part of those assholes at wrestling shows that I hate. YAY!
My other favorite match of the night was a tag-team Most Falls in 15 Minutes match between Charlie Haas (whom Chap is gay for) and Hardcore Holly (who I despise more than JD) vs. MNM, the tag team champs, and D!'s favourite tag team right now.
Man, I lost my voice booing for Hardcore. The cool thing is you can hear our "We Want Spark Plugg" chant on TV (Spark Plugg was Holly's 90s gimmick: The NASCAR driver).
I cheered for everyone in that ring, but every time Holly was tagged in, I'd boo him horribly. Fun times.
It was a good show, and the three and a half hours went by so fast!
Afterwards, we decided to hit a restaurant. But we only had one car and six guys. Elimination, one of the scrawniest of us, took the passenger seat, which kind of confused me. D!, Marauder and I took the back, and had Gibble lay on top of us. Which is when we noticed the cop watching the people leaving the parking lot.
So, after we had Gibble run across the street and then join us again, where we drove to the West Side with him laying on us. His phone rang.
Gibble: "Hey, honey. Yeah, we're just leaving. I'm laying on some guys in the back."
Me: "Don't forget to mention your face is in Marauder's crotch."
Gibble: "Yeah, my face is in Marauder's crotch."
It was a very fun night, and I enjoyed myself immensely. Here's to the next time the WWE comes through town.
So this week was my first week at Westmount, as well as the taping of Smackdown! here in Edmonton.
There's a guy at the store who I've really despised ever since I first got a call from him when I was working downtown. Garry's the kind of guy who you know is an idiot from the first time he speaks.
And so, every time I received a call from Westmount, it was all I could do to not yell at him over the phone, calling him an idiot and to just quit the company.
When Mark took over Westmount, I told him my Garry stories, but it took Mark a face-to-face to realize how much of a dope the guy is.
I was so scared that on Wednesday, the first day the Garry and I would work together, the first thing I would do upon seeing him would be to break his nose, hardcore.
Well, Garry reminds me of a substitute teacher I had back in elementary, looks-wise. He's in his 40s, and, unlike that sub, completely clueless. Seriously, it's taking me back to the days I worked with Real. Or Tanner. Or Anthony. Or Emmanuel. Or Marilyn. Or Barry.
Just typing that now, I realize how much of my career at RadioShack has been spent working with idiots. Hold on a minute while I shoot myself.
Okay, I'm back. Missed my head, got my shoulder instead. So I'm bleeding all over my keyboard for you patrons. Hope you're happy.
One of the things that Mark and I have been worried about is the amount of in-store theft has been going on. Like how a GPS unit has mysteriously vanished, along with the box from the back room. This inventory's going to be the funniest one I've ever been a part of, I think.
The other two in this equation of four is the sheer amount of teenagers, mostly native, who call or come in the store asking for Garry. So why are kids who I really shouldn't profile, but hey, half my job is figuring out who's stealing from my store, calling a 42-year-old dope?
My three theories are as follows:
a) Garry's selling them drugs.
b) Garry's stealing stuff from the store for these kids.
c) Garry's stealing stuff from the store in order to buy drugs to sell them. (so, really, a+b)
The scariest is when a two-year-old Chinese kid came by the store with his mother, and said in a two-year-old shouting voice, "Where's Mr. Garry? Mr. Garry?"
What? What the hell?
Due to these things, and mostly because he's been one of the biggest idiots I've met, Mark and I want him out.
Yesterday, Mark laid into him in the back room while I was helping customers. I only heard a bit of it when I went into the back room. (Keep in mind, they were shouting. I really don't want to have five paragraphs completely in bold block letters.)
(I open the door)
Mark: Why won't you use this bathroom?
Garry: It's dirty!
Mark: I just cleaned it!
Garry: I've got medication! You want to know what for?
Mark: Not particularly.
Garry: Diarrhea. You happy?
Mark: And you won't use this bathroom because?
Garry: I just won't!
(I leave the room, without the box I came in for.)
So when Mark leaves, Garry decides to bitch and moan to me about his. Even though I repeatedly said I didn't want to get involved, and that he should just do his job. (For the record, Mark, I'm not sure which is worse: Typical idiot Garry, or bitchy moany Garry. They're both bad. Fire them both. Fire every incarnation of Garry that comes along. Especially Senor Garry. I hate that sombrero.)
So I decide I'm going to clean up a booth full of audio cables, because it's one of the things that I REALLY must fix.
When I poke my head out to see how things are, Garry's talking with a fifteen-year-old native kid. And I don't let this kid out of my sight. So Garry asks if he can do to the washroom, take a break. I mumble, "Whatever."
I just have to ask this: Why's he going to the washroom with a fifteen-year-old native kid? There's not really a good reason for that, I'm sure.
* * *
On to something happier that my work situation: The Smackdown! taping! Whoo!
Before the show on Tuesday, I decided to hang out with Elimination at his place. This was one warm day, and I needed to pick up some sign-making stuff, such as bristol board and markers.
Apparently, Tuesday at 3 pm is bad on Whyte Ave when it's so nice out. Wha? I can see on a weekend, but Tuesday mid-afternoon? Whatever. I've got my A/C on, my tunes playing it's all good.
I get to Fox Drive before I realize my ticket to Smackdown is still on my counter at home. I turn around, at the breakneck speed of 20 kph, since traffic's horrible.
Halfway home, I notice my air conditioning starts bringing forth the hottest air I can imagine. I look at the console, and my engine's overheating. Shit.
I get home, pick up my ticket, and drive the five blocks to the Esso. It takes me five minutes, which seems a lot longer because I'm holding my car together with the power of my hope and desperation.
I go into the station, and tell the cashier, "Okay. I'll be straight with you. When it comes to cars, I'm a huge idiot. But if my engine's overheating, would that be because of the coolant being low?"
He thinks a bit. "That could be the case. Seriously, I'm not the best with engines."
I open the hood, and steam comes out. Yipes. I open the coolant container and see some fluid in there. I take the manual out of my glovebox and read about the coolant situation. In bold print, it reads, "LET THE CAR COOL DOWN BEFORE OPENING THE COOLANT LID."
Whoops. Well, no harm done, I think. I let the car cool down a bit, and decide to take my chances getting to Elimination's place.
Of course, my eye's locked on the temperature gauge, which is still redlining. I'm fretting, I must admit, since, as I must have mentioned when I first got the Escort, this is MY first car. The other ones I drove in Moose Jaw, and they were owned by my parents. I was safely at home with Dad and Brade, who knew a lot more about cars then I did. If anything happened, I wouldn't really need to worry.
Once I hit Fox Drive and am actually moving properly, the gauge drops to halfway. Whew. "So," I realize, "when an engine is starting and stopping and not going past 40, it heats. When it's smooth sailing and above 60 kph, there's ventilation. Good to know." I still don't turn on the A/C, just in case.
I hang out with Elimination after getting some supplies and food. Chap shows up, and we start making signs. I make the "Solid Steel Sign," a now-Jago-trademark when it comes to wrestling shows. Chap makes a "Haas of Pain" sign, since he's gay for Charlie Haas. Which is cool, since he can wrestle real well.
When we head out, I ask if it's cool to take Chap's car. I really don't want to have a dead car on the way to Smackdown! No probs.
We meet up with D!, Marauder and Gibble at
In the dark match (non-televised match), we've got Harry Smith (the son of the British Bulldog), against this other guy who I've never seen wrestle (George King).
At last month's Prairie Wrestling Alliance show (the fed my boss wrestles for), I got there from work just in time to see Mark and his tag partner, Phoenix, wrestle. He had told me that his opponent, JD, had been trashtalking him to some friends, and so Mark and Phoenix would be playing it a little real, rough him up a little during the match.
JD came out with his tag team partner, Harry Smith. Now, my boss is a few inches shorter than me (he's about 6'), but skinny as hell. Phoenix is shorter, but built. JD's about in between the two.
But Harry? He dwarfed everyone in the ring. He's at least 6'5" or so, and built. D!, Elimination and I were awed at that show.
So when he came to the ring at Smackdown!, we cheered. Unfortunately, he lost his match.
D!: Jago, do you realize we haven't seen Harry win yet? We're his bad luck charm!
The next match was a tag match taped for Velocity, the small one-hour show that mostly recaps what happened on Smackdown! for those that don't have cable.
Teddy Hart, who's one of Gibble's least favourite wrestlers, and JD(!) were in the ring. Gibble starts booing the hell out of Hart, and I start mocking JD, thanks to his history with my boss. So whoever's facing off against them is going to get my cheers.
Too bad it was the Bashams, one of the evil tag teams on the show. I hate cheering for them and their lame-ass two-year-old trick of fooling the referee that should have been stopped after the second month. But cheer for them I did.
Gibble's throwing out these jeers to Teddy: "Hey, Teddy! Do a fucking moonsault! I hope they kick you out of a second federation! Is Ring of Honor calling you at all?" (Except add more swearing.) I'm booing JD. Gibble apologizes to the woman and her two children (probably 10 and 8 in age) behind us for the swearing he's doing. And continues to do.
At which point I realize that I'm playing the part of those assholes at wrestling shows that I hate. YAY!
My other favorite match of the night was a tag-team Most Falls in 15 Minutes match between Charlie Haas (whom Chap is gay for) and Hardcore Holly (who I despise more than JD) vs. MNM, the tag team champs, and D!'s favourite tag team right now.
Man, I lost my voice booing for Hardcore. The cool thing is you can hear our "We Want Spark Plugg" chant on TV (Spark Plugg was Holly's 90s gimmick: The NASCAR driver).
I cheered for everyone in that ring, but every time Holly was tagged in, I'd boo him horribly. Fun times.
It was a good show, and the three and a half hours went by so fast!
Afterwards, we decided to hit a restaurant. But we only had one car and six guys. Elimination, one of the scrawniest of us, took the passenger seat, which kind of confused me. D!, Marauder and I took the back, and had Gibble lay on top of us. Which is when we noticed the cop watching the people leaving the parking lot.
So, after we had Gibble run across the street and then join us again, where we drove to the West Side with him laying on us. His phone rang.
Gibble: "Hey, honey. Yeah, we're just leaving. I'm laying on some guys in the back."
Me: "Don't forget to mention your face is in Marauder's crotch."
Gibble: "Yeah, my face is in Marauder's crotch."
It was a very fun night, and I enjoyed myself immensely. Here's to the next time the WWE comes through town.
5.27.2005
No, seriously, I'd be the husband...
Yesterday, during my day off, Canton and I were messenging.
Canton: Day off again?
Me: Yup. Second in a row.
Canton: We never have our days off together anymore. We never get to spend time together.
Me: Nope.
Canton: My god. We ARE an old, married couple...
Canton: Day off again?
Me: Yup. Second in a row.
Canton: We never have our days off together anymore. We never get to spend time together.
Me: Nope.
Canton: My god. We ARE an old, married couple...
Last weekend at Cap, wedding stuff, etc.
Well, the craziness at Capilano continues. Here I thought I might be able to take a breather, but with the new manager and everything that's going on in my life, it was nice to take two days off and actually vegetate.
* * *
First off, today I found out I was secret shopped. Someone hired by the company came in and judged my selling.
91.8%, baby!
The only thing that didn't work out was me not asking for the sale (that was all the points I lost). So, damn.
But everything else, I nailed, apparently.
The comments read: He was friendly, he was helpful with the MP3 promotion and the different phones and plans they had. The store was clean, too.
So, that's one thing that makes me happy.
Although I'm confused why she thought I was in the 5'4"-5'9" range...
* * *
Canoegirl's wedding was very fun. Although, really, the fun started off with being able to hang out with Jo and Graeme last Friday.
We looked for wedding gifts, and I ended up buying some stuff for my bedroom. And then went to a game store to finish off the visit.
That night, Myles, Marauder, and I, along with a crapload of friends, went to see Episode III.
My conversation with Nee, girlfriend of Marauder:
Me: So, I bought some linens today.
Nee: Oooh! Thread count?
Me: 275, of course. Can't go with a low thread count.
Nee: Squeal! Colour?
Me: It goes like this - I bought an aubergine fitted sheet, an olive top sheet, and aubergine pillowcases. It doesn't quite fit my comforter, which is burgundy, but it'll work.
Nee: Nice!
Me: And it was 30% off! I got a bargain out of the deal. Also, I bought a Ralph Lauren bathsheet. Okay, just so I don't sound completely gay, I also bought some comics...
Ep3 was okay, but nothing to really rave about. A lot of the time I was confused about an athsmatic robot, cringing over Lucas' atrocious dialogue and yelling about how many freaking wipes were there.
Also, it seems like Lucas was trying to plug in every single plothole in order to make us think he had some grand plan.
So, in short, better than the craptastic first two, but it doesn't really hold a candle to the first three.
* * *
The wedding. I rushed to the church in Sherwood Park, and I knew that most of my friends would be involved in the choir, but I declined to be part of it, since I wasn't able to make any of the rehearsals beforehand.
When I got there, ten minutes before the ceremony was to start, I was pulled aside by Liz, who asked if I wanted to sing.
"I dunno," I said. "Would it be fair if I missed all the reharsals?"
"You sang all the songs before, right?"
"Well, yeah."
"We need more men."
So I accepted.
Dev came in about five minutes later. I said, "Hey, Dev! I'm in the choir!"
"Oh," said Dev.
"Wanna join?"
"Dude, it's two minutes before the ceremony!"
"I joined five minutes ago. They need guys, and it's stuff we've sung before."
So, it was a good service (although really short for a Catholic mass) and we sang well, I guess. Father Dave did a darn good job officiating.
Afterwards, Weathergeek, Romes, Roselle,Laura and I went for coffee and caught up.
During the reception, some interesting conversations happened: a lot of people were asking me where Canton was, and how he was doing.
After the fourth person asked me where he was, Dev laughed. "Man, it's like you two are married."
It certainly seemed that way after Dev and someone were talking, and didn't realize there were three bedrooms in our house.
Dev: "Yeah, all that's left in Axler's room is Jago's suitcase."
Bartel: "Where does Jago sleep?"
Dev: "His bedroom."
Bartel: "So there are three bedrooms?"
Dev: "Well, yeah."
Bartel: "Good. I was worried there."
My other favourite conversations of the night:
(Kim's two-year-old, Ethan, is playing with the spinning wheel on the stage with another young'un.)
Kim: "It's a good thing Ethan's not pushing Kayley over."
Me: "Why? Does he have a problem with sharing?"
Kim: "No, he just likes pushing people over."
Me: "So it's not that your son has a problem with sharing, so much as he's an asshole?"
(Kit's changing Caboodle into pyjamas on the stage, in front of everyone.)
Debates: "Man, Kit's changing Caboodle in the most prominent place in the room."
Me: "Meh. You see one striptease, you see them all."
Debates: "So all women look that same in the nude?"
Me: "That's my theory."
Debates: "Is it now?"
Me: "Well, yeah. Granted, I haven't done any testing on the subject. It's still in the hypothesis stage, really."
Other memorable moments include Ethan pulling off my fingers during the dinner (I went along with it, hiding my fingers when he pulled them in the order of pointer, ring - at which point I told Lllloyd, "God, I REALLY hope he goes for the middle one next" - middle finger - Whew -, little finger.), and me catching the garter to the tune of Spider-Man.
Apparently, Canoegirl and Paul REALLY enjoyed the group gift of a Canon Rebel digital camera (so Canoegirl can still use all her old lenses), which is good. I've been decent with wedding gifts in the past. Hopefully, Justice won't be screwed in that respect. (BTW, it's DevIN, not DevON...I spelled it out for you in the email...)
* * *
On Monday, we did the store's inventory, with Jenn, the new manager. The good thing? Both my old bosses, Mark and Chris, were there, so that was fun. The bad thing? Jenn brought her four- and two-year-old children.
Inventory's a stressful enough thing, but once you put two spoiled rugrats in the store after hours, you're playing with fire. Well, they're playing with fire. Well, really, they're playing with everything in the store that isn't nailed down.
And when I'm supposed to be COUNTING everything that isn't nailed down, and I can't find it because of the ever-increasing pile of stuff on the floor? I get mad.
The fuckers broke an alarm clock. And the youngest decided to pee on the floor.
Thank god I had my discman.
* * *
So, tomorrow is my last day here. And Jenn's not in the store because her daughter has a dance recital.
I swear, next week, this place is in danger of burning down. Or falling into a pattern of entropy. Or burning in a fire caused by entropy. Whatever the case, I'm fleeing this ship like a drowning rat.
Whooo!
* * *
Reading: The Millionaires, by Brad Meltzer. Man, Meltzer writes some fun suspenseful books.
Listening to: Feel Good Inc., by the Gorillaz. They're back with a new album! And I haven't danced this much to a song since Hey Ya came out! I think I'll be buying this one...
* * *
Spellcheck of the Week: "What's this "bathsheet" you're writing about? Do you mean BATISTA?" (No joke. Really happened...)
* * *
First off, today I found out I was secret shopped. Someone hired by the company came in and judged my selling.
91.8%, baby!
The only thing that didn't work out was me not asking for the sale (that was all the points I lost). So, damn.
But everything else, I nailed, apparently.
The comments read: He was friendly, he was helpful with the MP3 promotion and the different phones and plans they had. The store was clean, too.
So, that's one thing that makes me happy.
Although I'm confused why she thought I was in the 5'4"-5'9" range...
* * *
Canoegirl's wedding was very fun. Although, really, the fun started off with being able to hang out with Jo and Graeme last Friday.
We looked for wedding gifts, and I ended up buying some stuff for my bedroom. And then went to a game store to finish off the visit.
That night, Myles, Marauder, and I, along with a crapload of friends, went to see Episode III.
My conversation with Nee, girlfriend of Marauder:
Me: So, I bought some linens today.
Nee: Oooh! Thread count?
Me: 275, of course. Can't go with a low thread count.
Nee: Squeal! Colour?
Me: It goes like this - I bought an aubergine fitted sheet, an olive top sheet, and aubergine pillowcases. It doesn't quite fit my comforter, which is burgundy, but it'll work.
Nee: Nice!
Me: And it was 30% off! I got a bargain out of the deal. Also, I bought a Ralph Lauren bathsheet. Okay, just so I don't sound completely gay, I also bought some comics...
Ep3 was okay, but nothing to really rave about. A lot of the time I was confused about an athsmatic robot, cringing over Lucas' atrocious dialogue and yelling about how many freaking wipes were there.
Also, it seems like Lucas was trying to plug in every single plothole in order to make us think he had some grand plan.
So, in short, better than the craptastic first two, but it doesn't really hold a candle to the first three.
* * *
The wedding. I rushed to the church in Sherwood Park, and I knew that most of my friends would be involved in the choir, but I declined to be part of it, since I wasn't able to make any of the rehearsals beforehand.
When I got there, ten minutes before the ceremony was to start, I was pulled aside by Liz, who asked if I wanted to sing.
"I dunno," I said. "Would it be fair if I missed all the reharsals?"
"You sang all the songs before, right?"
"Well, yeah."
"We need more men."
So I accepted.
Dev came in about five minutes later. I said, "Hey, Dev! I'm in the choir!"
"Oh," said Dev.
"Wanna join?"
"Dude, it's two minutes before the ceremony!"
"I joined five minutes ago. They need guys, and it's stuff we've sung before."
So, it was a good service (although really short for a Catholic mass) and we sang well, I guess. Father Dave did a darn good job officiating.
Afterwards, Weathergeek, Romes, Roselle,Laura and I went for coffee and caught up.
During the reception, some interesting conversations happened: a lot of people were asking me where Canton was, and how he was doing.
After the fourth person asked me where he was, Dev laughed. "Man, it's like you two are married."
It certainly seemed that way after Dev and someone were talking, and didn't realize there were three bedrooms in our house.
Dev: "Yeah, all that's left in Axler's room is Jago's suitcase."
Bartel: "Where does Jago sleep?"
Dev: "His bedroom."
Bartel: "So there are three bedrooms?"
Dev: "Well, yeah."
Bartel: "Good. I was worried there."
My other favourite conversations of the night:
(Kim's two-year-old, Ethan, is playing with the spinning wheel on the stage with another young'un.)
Kim: "It's a good thing Ethan's not pushing Kayley over."
Me: "Why? Does he have a problem with sharing?"
Kim: "No, he just likes pushing people over."
Me: "So it's not that your son has a problem with sharing, so much as he's an asshole?"
(Kit's changing Caboodle into pyjamas on the stage, in front of everyone.)
Debates: "Man, Kit's changing Caboodle in the most prominent place in the room."
Me: "Meh. You see one striptease, you see them all."
Debates: "So all women look that same in the nude?"
Me: "That's my theory."
Debates: "Is it now?"
Me: "Well, yeah. Granted, I haven't done any testing on the subject. It's still in the hypothesis stage, really."
Other memorable moments include Ethan pulling off my fingers during the dinner (I went along with it, hiding my fingers when he pulled them in the order of pointer, ring - at which point I told Lllloyd, "God, I REALLY hope he goes for the middle one next" - middle finger - Whew -, little finger.), and me catching the garter to the tune of Spider-Man.
Apparently, Canoegirl and Paul REALLY enjoyed the group gift of a Canon Rebel digital camera (so Canoegirl can still use all her old lenses), which is good. I've been decent with wedding gifts in the past. Hopefully, Justice won't be screwed in that respect. (BTW, it's DevIN, not DevON...I spelled it out for you in the email...)
* * *
On Monday, we did the store's inventory, with Jenn, the new manager. The good thing? Both my old bosses, Mark and Chris, were there, so that was fun. The bad thing? Jenn brought her four- and two-year-old children.
Inventory's a stressful enough thing, but once you put two spoiled rugrats in the store after hours, you're playing with fire. Well, they're playing with fire. Well, really, they're playing with everything in the store that isn't nailed down.
And when I'm supposed to be COUNTING everything that isn't nailed down, and I can't find it because of the ever-increasing pile of stuff on the floor? I get mad.
The fuckers broke an alarm clock. And the youngest decided to pee on the floor.
Thank god I had my discman.
* * *
So, tomorrow is my last day here. And Jenn's not in the store because her daughter has a dance recital.
I swear, next week, this place is in danger of burning down. Or falling into a pattern of entropy. Or burning in a fire caused by entropy. Whatever the case, I'm fleeing this ship like a drowning rat.
Whooo!
* * *
Reading: The Millionaires, by Brad Meltzer. Man, Meltzer writes some fun suspenseful books.
Listening to: Feel Good Inc., by the Gorillaz. They're back with a new album! And I haven't danced this much to a song since Hey Ya came out! I think I'll be buying this one...
* * *
Spellcheck of the Week: "What's this "bathsheet" you're writing about? Do you mean BATISTA?" (No joke. Really happened...)
5.17.2005
Not to sound like a broken record, but...
Once again, I'm being transferred.
Becuase Mark and I are doing wonders with Capilano, it looks like it's time to be upgraded to a bigger store.
So Mark's getting Westmount. And, apparently, I'm going with him.
Which is okay in some respects. Because the person who they're thinking of putting in Cap as the new manager, I don't get along with.
(Mostly because as an employee of Sherwood Park, she'd CONSTANTLY phone Chris to bitch and whine about her manager and stuff. Four, five times a day. To the point where, during an inventory that was going long, and the phone rang for the tenth time, I answered the phone by hollering into it.
([Ring ring]
("AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"
("Kyle?"
("Oh, hey, Blaine. Sorry, I thought you were Jen.")
When Mark told me I'd be staying behind for a bit so I could ease the new manager in, I asked who would be taking over.
"Most likely Jen."
The look of shock and abject horror made him laugh.
Mark had the choice between Northgate and Westmount. He chose Westmount because it's easier for him to get to from his house.
If it were me, I probably would have taken Northgate, simply due to the fact that the current manager isn't the idiot that the last manager of Westmount was. I'm predicting one very, very entropic store there, mostly because Linda couldn't manage a cardboard box, and Jen, who's been looking after the store since Linda quit, is barely an assistant manager.
I guess my point is that while my aversions to managing a store are very well known within the company, it would really be a pleasure to be asked if I wanted a store, instead of being passed over for people who shouldn't be AMs in the first place.
As it was, it made for a fun conversation with D! and Dev last night.
D!: So, what is this? Are they trying to put you into every store to see if it's possible? And then, after you work at every store, they'll offer you one, and you'll know which would be the one to choose?
Me: I'd like that, actually. 'I'll take the Kingsway from 2002, and the Bonnie Doon staff from 2003.'
Dev: I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way.
Me: Whose fantasy is this, jackass?
* * *
Drink at Work has become a new place for me to visit these days. A hilarious site, it's written by the writer of the Sally Forth (Whoops! Thanks for the alert, Carol!) comic strip. And, no, it's nothing like Sally Forth.
The conversations with Ces' father are particularly hilarious, although I'm glad that I don't know a single dad that's like him. (That's a VERY good thing.)
* * *
On a quiz I took recently, I found myself to be a Cultural Creative.
Interesting little test.
Becuase Mark and I are doing wonders with Capilano, it looks like it's time to be upgraded to a bigger store.
So Mark's getting Westmount. And, apparently, I'm going with him.
Which is okay in some respects. Because the person who they're thinking of putting in Cap as the new manager, I don't get along with.
(Mostly because as an employee of Sherwood Park, she'd CONSTANTLY phone Chris to bitch and whine about her manager and stuff. Four, five times a day. To the point where, during an inventory that was going long, and the phone rang for the tenth time, I answered the phone by hollering into it.
([Ring ring]
("AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"
("Kyle?"
("Oh, hey, Blaine. Sorry, I thought you were Jen.")
When Mark told me I'd be staying behind for a bit so I could ease the new manager in, I asked who would be taking over.
"Most likely Jen."
The look of shock and abject horror made him laugh.
Mark had the choice between Northgate and Westmount. He chose Westmount because it's easier for him to get to from his house.
If it were me, I probably would have taken Northgate, simply due to the fact that the current manager isn't the idiot that the last manager of Westmount was. I'm predicting one very, very entropic store there, mostly because Linda couldn't manage a cardboard box, and Jen, who's been looking after the store since Linda quit, is barely an assistant manager.
I guess my point is that while my aversions to managing a store are very well known within the company, it would really be a pleasure to be asked if I wanted a store, instead of being passed over for people who shouldn't be AMs in the first place.
As it was, it made for a fun conversation with D! and Dev last night.
D!: So, what is this? Are they trying to put you into every store to see if it's possible? And then, after you work at every store, they'll offer you one, and you'll know which would be the one to choose?
Me: I'd like that, actually. 'I'll take the Kingsway from 2002, and the Bonnie Doon staff from 2003.'
Dev: I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way.
Me: Whose fantasy is this, jackass?
* * *
Drink at Work has become a new place for me to visit these days. A hilarious site, it's written by the writer of the Sally Forth (Whoops! Thanks for the alert, Carol!) comic strip. And, no, it's nothing like Sally Forth.
The conversations with Ces' father are particularly hilarious, although I'm glad that I don't know a single dad that's like him. (That's a VERY good thing.)
* * *
On a quiz I took recently, I found myself to be a Cultural Creative.
You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.
What is Your World View? (corrected...hopefully) created with QuizFarm.com |
Interesting little test.
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