Ralph’s schmalphs… I wanna play vidja games.

Thinking it’s time to do a major pull from the record shelves. And the CD shelves. Feeling boxed in here. I have a sealed copy of Replacements’ “Stink” which I’m sure I’ll never listen to. Plus I have piles of records all over the place I need to make room for… hmmm… stupid hobby.

Wish I wasn’t sick. Then I’d feel like working on these labels…

Am sick. I assume I am still sick. I’ve medicated myself up and I don’t feel sick, just sleepy. But I imagine I still have the sudden head-crushing cold I developed late last night that prevented me from sleeping.

The cat’s are uneasy about us being back in the apartment. They don’t seem willing to give up the bed and the couch they’ve adopted as their own. My pillow is matted with six days worth of Bentley hairs.

Home again home again

Back in the 415 fully appreciating broadband. Chelsea’s dad had this crazy dial-up system where you had to keep the phone off the hook and tape over the mouthpiece or any sound you made would interrupt the connection. Especially chairs squeaking.

It was a long, rainy drive home from the airport and when we walked through the door we were greeted by the funky pong of a week’s worth of cat litter. Seems the box they never use was used a lot in the past six days.

The woman in front of us on the plane had a small dog on her lap that would yelp every so often. The woman also arranged a debate with her children on the pros and cons of crash landing on land or sea.

I’m currently wondering why our bread only went moldy on the inside of the loaf.

The minor illness I had in Calgary all week has completely cleared up. Though my ears have not fully popped.

I maxxed.

Sounds like we’re going to Imax today.

I myself am maxxed-out. I have completely lost the ability to socialize. Turn me over, I am done. Actually, I was done at the end of the evening on boxing day. Now I can only think about how much I have to do when we get home. Stupid Ralph’s Essential Growth Solutions labels. I want to run away.

Yesterday we had dinner with Chelsea’s ex who is, sadly, not half as ridiculous as she made him sound. Whatever we were listening to in his and Chelsea’s buddy’s SUV though was . Perhaps Alexisonfire. Screamo, how you elude me.

+ + + +

Boxing Day episode:

Sitting at the bus stop at across from Art Central, homeless guy approaches me. I say, “No,” before he has a chance to say anything to me. I immediately think, “Damn, breach of etiquette.”

He glares at me and says, “I haven’t asked you anything yet.
I say, “Sorry, I can help you.”

He glares more intensely. I think, “Hmmm, going to get shivved here.”

He says, “How can you answer if I haven’t asked you anything yet. Can you give me seventy-seven cents?”

I say, “Sorry, don’t have any, can’t help you.”

He says, “When will you be able to help me?”

I say, “Sorry can’t help you out. Sorry.”

He says, “I said ‘when will you be able to help me out?'”

I say, “I have no idea.”

He smiles and chucks me on the shoulder then goes away. Cheslea says, “You can’t say ‘no’ before they’ve asked you. They get really mad.”

Saje, Chelsea’s twelve year old sister says, “When can we leave? Frankly, these people are scaring me.”

+ + + + +

Art Central was pretty cool, though most of the artists were taking the holidays off so 3/4ths of the galleries were closed. This one was open http://www.quab.ca and had some pretty amusing stuff in it. Most of it was very I, Braineater-esque with an urban flair. Most looked like industrial album covers circa 1994 in waiting. Still, a whole building full of tiny artist-in-residence galleries was a great idea.

Shopping.

Okay so we were given giftcard for the local version of Woodgrove mall here, it’s called Sunridge, and since we’re leaving soon we felt we had to use them today, boxing day. So we spent forever pushing through wall-to-wall people to discover that, much like Woodgrove mall, there was cock-all to buy. The closest I could find that wasn’t just CD’s and DVD’s was a The Warriors McFarlane Toys 12″ figure. But I didn’t buy that and ended up buying a CD(Herbie Hancock’s “Headhunters”)and a DVD (Moz live) at Music World. Seriously, took me forever to find anything worth buying in that place. Then when I got to the till, I found out there was a sale on (boxing day, duh)so I didn’t even use up the whole gift card. So I grabbed that new Bob Mould I didn’t want to pay real money for. It was a soul-withering experience.

But here’s the kicker, tonight I was given another giftcard for that same mall. I guess I’ll have to go back tomorrow…

Went to Recordland this afternoon and, if you know Recordland, I had the “aisle-battle” with the pork-smoker who works there filing records. He was not really that nice to a guy who had a dozen 80’s goth records in his hands (me) that he really should have been nicer to considering how few people seem to be picking up Bolshoi EPs (judging by the ten year old price stickers on them). He was ridiculous. Anyway, the owner at the check out complimented me on my “crate-digging” abilities noting that he would have priced the records higher if they’d come in recently. Shows to go you, all record store owners are the same.

More family gatherings tonight. More tomorrow morning.

Another house

Now we’re at Chelsea’s dad’s house. Everyone in Calgary has huge 8 foot TV screens. Tonight we played a game called “Would You Rather…” which was fun but Chelsea now thinks I’m an unethical nihilist. I think she may hate me. The turkey, though, was superb. Superb. Chelsea’s sister got a Gamecube. Mario Party 7 — pretty fun.

Christmas morning

I had the shakes last night. Troubling.

My Chemical Romance isn’t as bad as I previously thought. More inert than anything.

Christmas coffee is strange.

Even Stevens is a bad show.

There are huge bowls of eucalyptus candies everywhere.

X-mas eve update.

Watching It’s a Wonderful Life and noticing some freaky kitsch in this house. We just watched Exorcism of Emily Rose which had funtamental structural problems. I can’t decide if film-makers these days have not studied film or are purposely trying to not follow formula. The frame plot structure doesn’t work if you begin the story outside of the frame. These formulas have been developed for a reason, people, stick to them. You can’t invent a rounder wheel. Formula is the baby, not the bathwater.

X-mas eve.

Calgary is nice and flat. Sprawling even. Also, incredibly warm. We went on a walk and it was several degrees above zero. A nice warm breeze on my cheeks.

Chelsea is busily forming a plot to steal her mother’s cat. I’m trying to deter her. But I can’t keep my eyes on her at all times. I’d better check her bags before we leave this house.

I’ve met someone who actually listens to My Chemical Romance and The Used. They’re 12 or 13, which explains everything. I’m so out of touch with the youth. Successfully subverted the urge to preach about Joy Division and Bauhaus. Gotta let the youth have their own music.

For dinner I ate a microwaved bowl of shredded beef and gravy. Whatever will they think of next?

In Calgary

If I were a casting director, I would hang out in airports at Christmas. So many intense people. There was this one guy with a grown out Krishna/dread/fauxhawk that was yelping like a monkey and wasn’t let on the plane for some reason. Then he was saying to people around him, “Tom Waits, huh? Tom Waits, eh!” He appeared to be stoned or brain-damaged or challenged since birth. I suppose, you had be there.

The airport parking lot was full so they made us drive around looking for parking lot assistants who were hiding from the rain to lead us to a new fake parking lot. The assistants were very grumpy people.

It rained wicked hard on the drive down. It wasn’t fun.

We’re watching Pleasantville right now. And, looking out the window, I see that we appear to be located in Pleasantville. There’s a baseball diamond right out back. For serious. It’s kind of nice. Nanaimo is kind of disgusting.