Mama

First words. I never would have guessed. We were taught in school that infants tend to form palatal alveolar phonemes first. Technically, [m] is a bilabial but it is also a nasal. Nasals are very difficult and infants are not expected to form these phonemes first. Therefore, it is generally accepted that, in English at least, infants will first say [dada]. Actually, Foxy has been saying [baba] for weeks, but I refuse to accept it because we have been coaching her to say [mami] (hard) and [dada] only. I tried to explain to Ali that [mama] is easier than [mami] but she wouldn't listen.

Eventually, Foxy got around to saying [ma] repetitively, but not quite convincingly. Finally on the weekend she said it, and as usual I missed it. She said it again but we couldn't get it on camera.

Missed my chance to get free tickets to Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay. That's alright, I'm finding enough amusement at home having insane arguments with Ali about stuff that only she could find a problem with. I never knew that agreeing with your spouse could result in stitches. Things at work are going full bore now, but I think one of the packers is about to get fired. She knows it, but she's lucky because the other packer is about to quit - because of her. She knows that too, and she also knows that we need one of them. I'm trying to schedule a dirt cheap vacation to Japan, but that's one of those arguments I mentioned. Again, who knew trying to do something nice for your spouse could result in torn shirts? That's a grand I'll never get back. Doesn't look like we'll have things ready before the seat sale ends either.

Would You Buy Products from this Face?

I told you I had a monkey baby. We have several photos of Foxy baring her teeth, but I thought this one was very appropriate. It reminds me of the face Donkey Kong Jr. makes when Mario takes Donkey Kong away, in the old pixel version. You know the face - I know you do.

I think I mentioned how a friend offered to do us a favour by taking cheap (not free) photos of Foxy. The catch was that she would be able to use the material to promote her photography services. I didn't like it, but as long as Ali said okay the friend was fine with it.

Well, fuck me. TV ads began airing yesterday, featuring Foxy. Ali assured me that the final cut would have Foxy in it for half a second. Try fifteen seconds. The rest of the spot is random half-second shots which apparently advertise something, although it's not exactly clear, even to Ali. I freaked out at first before I saw the ad because I found out that the ad had Foxy's name on it, creating a slightly higher security risk than this blog presents. I saw the ad today, and it wasn't so bad I guess - apart from the fact that it pretty much fails as an advertisement altogether. Ali offered further reassurance by telling me that the ad will only run until April 30. I can deal.

Humble Much?

It's been an interesting couple of weeks. Things at the office showed promise of a complete turnaround, and then the next day came. We are going through a rough patch and every now and then the boss gives a pep talk to boost everyone's spirit, only to be hit with a dose of reality the next day. The really sad part is that I think my boss actually believes what he's saying - and he's young so I don't really blame him. All in all, things have been improving. We just need a little more direction and communication around the place.

Ali, Foxy and I went to a cherry blossom festival yesterday, but I'll spare you the pictures because you can see what we saw about a million times by simply searching keyword "sakura" on any decent search engine. The weather was a little overcast, so we didn't get the best experience.

I've been trying to firm up my flabby bits in time for summer, and so I've been reducing the amount of alcohol consumption and really trying to eat less, which is difficult in my new family. Randy has been my inspiration. He's married to a chef, and he still manages to tone up somehow. I slipped a bit yesterday when I ate a Lindt Easter bunny all to myself - it was on sale, so I equivocated. I have to say it has been working. Not well enough for Ali though. Apparently my posture is the real problem. I have to agree that I should have better posture, but she could have mentioned it before. I've tried improving it in the past, but it's always so painful on the shoulders at first - so I gave up. Ali made sure I didn't do that this time, and now it doesn't hurt so much. If you listen to her tell the story, it's all because of her coaching that her sister won Miss Tochigi Prefecture 1993 - but I think it has more to do with her father's "pageantry expertise". That's how he puts it. I have to remember to sit up straight more often, like right now for instance. The new posture actually makes me look broad of shoulder and forces me to swagger. I don't know if that last bit's a good thing.

I have a nickname for Foxy. She's getting more independent now, and this morning we decided that she should be called the Screaming Three-Toothed Whitefooted Contraceptive Monkey Bird. Mainly nocturnal, this rare species survives on a diet of paper, hair, Cheerios and carpet bits. Flamboyant by nature, the female consistently behaves as though she's leading a parade. She communicates via a system of grunts and screams when she confronts a rival. She also communicates to others that she is the dominant female of her pack by raising one finger and waving it proudly, as seen above. I haven't figured out the Latin for this type of bird, but to her nearest and dearest she's simply known as the screaming contraceptive.

She's been featured on Youtube, which I'm not too happy about because we didn't sign any waivers or anything like that. And I'm also not too happy about it because the photographer is a friend, and for that reason feels she can act less than professional when dealing with us. For now I just have to let it go, but going forward, I'll have to put my foot down.

I rented Kiki's Delivery Service on Friday only because it was imdb's quote of the day and because it was another Miyazaki film. It didn't make Ali cry or anything, and really it didn't go anywhere with the storyline, but it was good to hear Phil Hartman's voice again. I guess these kinds of movies are good if you want to keep your monkey bird occupied, maybe.

Stupid Virgin and Flower Power

We spent last night in the darkness. We did it is because Virgin Mobile sent me a text on behalf of the WWF asking us to fight climate change and turn out our lights for one hour at 8:00 pm. Normally, I ignore these pleas and leave them to the hippies, but in some twisted way I kind of admire Sir Richard and did it just because h(is multinational billion dollar corporation automated texting service)e personally asked me to. So just before 8:00, I pried Ali away from her blog and shut down the computer and climbed into bed for a nap. At 8:04 Ali asked me why we were doing this - as if asking when I first mentioned it was not a soo much better time to ask.

So far so good - except that we all fell asleep. That wasn't the plan. Only Foxy was supposed to sleep. And so when we woke up it was waaay after 9:00 and too late to give Foxy a bath. We fell back asleep. I woke up again at 1:30 and now I was pissed. Not sure why. Turned on the telly (not the lights) and discovered that basic cable offers free softcore porn at 1:30 in the morning. Not too impressed. I took out my contacts and went back to bed. I also turned off the television.

This morning I fished the text message out of my cell phone to show Ali why we did that thing last night, and as I read the text to her I realized that it wasn't last night (Friday) that we were supposed to do it, but tonight. I felt really stupid because nobody in my house can read a calendar. It was consolation to me to know that in fact we had done more than we were expected to, leaving the lights out for a grand total of 11.75 hours. I think that's good enough for the WWF. I'm comfortable with it.

Everyone who is helping out the WWF tonight, or has already done it - I'm rooting for you. But the next time I get one of those texts, I'll be counting on the hippies.

Sex and a Movie, Without the Sex

So I’ve been a bit lazy in not getting this advance screening onto the intraweb, but I’ve got more important things to do. I have a baby you know. This week, I snatched a free pass to go see Run Fat Boy Run starring Simon Pegg as Dennis, and Thandie Newton as his ex-girlfriend Libby. Other main cast members include Hank Azaria as Wit, Dylan Moran as Gordon, Matthew Fenton as Jake, Harish Patel as Mr. (ready for it) Ghoshdashtidar. India de Beaufort as Maya, the landlord’s daughter plays a supporting role. Incidentally, Moran was also in Shaun of the Dead along with Peter Serafinowicz who was apparently in Run Fatboy Run somewhere. And who doesn’t remember Harish Patel’s performance as Roopchand in Mr. India? I’ll have to admit that I’ve seen that film (twice) and I don’t remember him.

I read some external reviews about this film before I dragged Randy out to see it with me, so I didn’t have high hopes. Firstly, Nick Frost, Simon Pegg’s oft cast co-star is nowhere in this movie. Shame. The movie didn’t need him, but it would have been nice to see his silly face pop up once in a while. The movie is David Schwimmer’s directorial debut in feature film, and the movie was okay. Just okay. The promo flyer called it the perfect date movie or something. I had a great metaphor for the okayness of this movie, but I forgot it. I hope Schwimmer gets it right next time. He’s a talented guy, he needs to show it.

My only real complaint about this film is that India de Beaufort did not play a bigger part. I am thankful however that Hank Azaria’s bigger part was kept off screen and the audience was instead treated to locker room shots of his backside.

Randy actually came to the theatre with enough time to spare. They always say that the show has been oversold to guarantee a full screening. Note: even selling surplus tickets still left this screening half empty. I have been back on coffee for a few weeks now, and as expected after consuming forty ounces that day, I was feeling a little stomach achy. Randy bought me some water and off we went to find our seats. I didn’t win any gift packs this time which is too bad too because one of the items was a soundtrack to the movie, which one reviewer said was pretty good. It was nice, but not as good as the soundtrack they use in Scott Baio is 45… and single and the sequel. Come on, I mean any soundtrack that uses Bronski Beat is an automatic winner. Oh, by the way I spent the whole movie thinking that Dylan Moran is Jarvis Cocker. It turns out, he’s not and Jarvis Cocker has not become an actor.

Randy scurried off to the toilets, while I had to endure previews of the new Sex and the City film. As far as I could tell, we’ve all already seen it – on the television. There was another preview, but I’ve slept since Wednesday so it’s hard to remember these things. This particular item of information was wiped out by a dream about the new (again) McRib sandwich, and trying to collect money from my friend Jeff Ooi. I’ve never actually met the real Jeff Ooi, but in the dream, Jeff Ooi was the name of an intern at the advertising agency who at the time was an aspiring actor who got all frantic one day because he hadn’t practiced his lines for an audition. I helped him run his lines. Apparently, he got the part because now he’s a big star. Back in present day dreamland, he’s like a big director or something, holding his own casting calls, and I see him handing out scripts to a queue of actresses. The little prick has MY script. I join the queue, only to be told that “today’s reading is for female roles only” by the very informative starlet in front of me. “Oh, I’m not here for the audition. I’m here to collect”. In my dreams, logic may not always present and in this scenario I had it that Jeff owed me money, and royalties on the script, even though it hadn’t even begun principal photography. The rest of the dream devolved into me playing smashy smashy with random objects in the immediate surroundings. The McRib thing is a totally different part of the dream, but I found it interesting that going back to McD’s after so many years’ absence, and all of a sudden I’m dreaming about their menu. I highly suspect that McD’s uses a mind control substance in their food. Or maybe this comes just from reading Kenny Sia's blog.

Anyway, the movie starts and we are greeted by really bad hair and such. Believe me, the one day you do not want to look like you were Lucky Pierre on Lucky Pierre Night at the gay bath house the night before, is the day of your wedding. Not only does Dennis have bad hair, he’s got a bad muzzle. I think that’s what it’s called. He and Gordon have not shaved on the day of the wedding. Lads, if there is only one day in your life that you choose to shave, make it the day of your wedding – if you choose to wed – because there will be pictures and stuff and it would make your wife, or your husband so happy. And in the next scene, we are treated to Dennis and Gordon five years later with the same stubble. See, Dennis ran from his own wedding and left Libby at the altar, pregnant. Probably not as pregnant as Ali, but you would never know it. Ali was so slim during her pregnancy, and Libby already looked pregnanter in the movie but you know, the camera does add ten pounds.

Dennis is now a single father with weekend visitation and we see him going to Libby’s to collect his son Jake and take him to Lord of the Rings. Libby warns Jake to get ready and as Jake yells back immediately “Ready!”, we see him standing in the salon fixated on the television wearing only a pair of rubber ears, slippers and his white pants – the English kind, not the American kind. Right away, I’m reminded of my brother Bobby, who was a big Star Wars fan. Jake even looks like Bobby at that age, except Bobby had all his teeth. When Dennis arrives at Libby’s flat, he meets Libby’s new boyfriend, Wit. He’s smarmy, but everyone gives him the benefit of the doubt.

Dennis has it in his head that he can get Libby back, and that it’s all a waiting game. Gordon tells him it’s not, and Libby confirms it by telling Dennis that he never committed to anything. Somehow, and I’m not sure quite how, Dennis figures if he can finish a marathon he will have finished something in his life and it should mean that Libby will take him back. I would have hoped that finishing or committing to something more permanent than a three hour race would be more what Libby meant. But really it’s all about the marathon because Wit is a marathoner and Dennis just wants to stick it to him.

So most of the movie features Dennis training. He doesn’t get very far with it on his own. Dennis’ friends and competitor all try to dissuade him in one way or another, and he eventually decides to pack it in. That is, until Gordon places a bet on Dennis. Now Dennis trains with his friend and coach Gordon, and his landlord and assistant coach Mr. Ghoshdashtidar. They had a chance to build on a lovely backstory with Mr. G but they didn’t. Too bad. Maya places a side bet with Dennis by telling him that he can finish the race and forget the back rent, or he can give up and have no place to live.

Dennis goes to Wit’s birthday party and sees his rival propose to Libby. She accepts and Dennis is gutted. Dennis decides again to pack it in and Maya packs him out. And lo, the role of Maya ends. The next morning, Dennis arrives late at the marathon, and among the sea of thousands of people, he is discovered by Wit. Wit decides to pull out all the stops, as if what he said to Dennis at the party was not enough. He sees that Dennis is unwaivering and actually keeping up with the others. Wit loses his nerve and takes out Dennis – much like a lumbering, fat classmate did to me in the upper fifth during the spring mile about 200 metres after the start. I continued, oblivious to the fact that my left elbow looked like hamburger and I was losing a lot of blood. This should have been easy for me. I got about a quarter down the course and couldn’t figure out why I was feeling weak and pukey. One of the course marshals told me my elbow was bleeding bad and pulled me off the run. Stupid fat fucker shouldn’t have been so far up the field anyway.

Just as it looks like Dennis is out of the race for good, he continues on a braced ankle and manages to have a television crew follow him to the end. Libby, watching the race on television gets confused about who is going to the hospital and goes because she thinks it’s Dennis. It’s not Dennis, it’s Wit. At the hospital, Wit loses it on Jake. I don’t necessarily feel it was inappropriate given the circumstances, but if somebody treated Foxy that way I would have done a lot worse than what Libby did. Back at home, she wakes up to the fact that Wit is a douchebag, and calls off the engagement. Dennis is still hobbling, inching toward the end of the race, and has a little dream sequence which wipes away any credibility the storyline may have had left. Libby and Jake go to the finish line to greet Dennis and help him overcome the Wall. He triumphs, even if he does finish last. He has finished the race. Gordon has cashed in on his bet, and Dennis has proven to himself that he can finish something. The movie ends with a forward jump to a few weeks later, obviously because Dennis can actually walk by this time, when Dennis asks Libby out for dinner. We see Gordon living on a yacht in France chatting up tourists. Dennis and Jake and Mr. G. play footy in the park. The graphics on the end credits were so annoying I didn’t even stay to read them all. David Walliams is a daft vegetarian in a cake shop.

Ali mentioned to me a few days ago that she has never seen Run Lola Run, so as a treat I went out on Tuesday and rented a copy. What soured it was that I also shlepped to three different locations looking for Nestlé Rolo Sundae dessert. All three locations were out, and one of the major grocery chains hinted that the product might be discontinued. Meh. I just wanted to get it for Ali. I was more mad at myself that I spent an hour looking for ice cream. Fool. Coincidentally, I was a fatboy running to the video store today just to get the DVD back in time.

I tried watching Zoolander last night, but fell asleep right before the walkoff scene. I had made quick work of 1.32L of Stella, and I believe that had something to do with my falling asleep. The movie actually looked pretty good up until the walkoff challenge, except that Will Ferrell was in it. I notice it's Vince Vaughn's birthday today. He was in the movie too.

Things have been pretty relaxed around the office. We've been closed to the public for a week of renovations that has somehow stretched into two weeks, and the boss is back in Japan visiting family - but not the happy kind of visit. I've finally managed to get four months of sales reconciled, and the only thing that made it suck was that there was no one left in the office to see it. It was 5:10. I was happy, nay relieved that it was finally done. It'll be smooth sailing from here on. Famous last words, right?

Foxy is growing quite quickly. She is trying to crawl, but can't quite get her legs out from under her. She's bumped her head a few times on the coffee table. Last week, during an impromptu fire drill at midnight, we met with some of our neighbours who offered to give us some bumper cushions they had fashioned for their coffee table. See how I used two of the three words in the English language that end in -shion in the same sentence? Anyway, the bumpers didn't suit our coffee table and Foxy liked them better to eat. At the weekend we went to the dollar store and bought some corner protectors, only you get what you pay for. The adhesive wasn't really adhesivey, it was silicone and only kept the bumpers from moving on their own. Worse, our coffee table has crowned edges and the bumpers were made for flat edges so they didn't sit flush. By the time Foxy came anywhere close to the coffee table again, the first thing she did was take one of the bumpers and stick it in her mouth. Two dollars down the toilet. She can stand as long as she can lean on stuff, and she recently began talking like Mini-Me in the Austin Powers series.

The Flatscreen

Gratuitous baby photo. Where were we? Oh yes... preparing for Randy's bachelor party. At first I bailed, but I sometimes engage in the kind of behaviour that I myself despise - being wishywashy. There was some back and forth between Randy and me, and some back and forth between Ali and me but eventually I committed to being chauffeur for the night. The other guys were coming from Long Island, and none of them brought a vehicle. Not exactly true, but the one guy who did bring a car also brought his wife and she they decided that she would keep the car at the hen party while the guys used my car for the other party.

The day started off with a trip to the airport. Ali assumed that since the flight number was the same as the one for her arrival back in October, the landing time for this flight would also be the same. It doesn't help to ask - sometimes you have to check things out for yourself. So, the night before I checked. The plane wasn't landing at noon as assumed, it was landing oh, about 4 hours earlier. So much for a snooze on Saturday. We picked up Ali's parents and everything was good, good, good. They brought an extra suitcase which tipped the balance. I couldn't get it all in the car and my poor father in law had to sit cross-legged on the seat as the extra suitcase occupied the footwell. Stupidly (my idea), we stopped for bagels and coffee on the way home. Great, now extra stuff to carry. We couldn't go directly to the hotel because the check in time wasn't until 3:00 on the afternoon. Eventually, we got everything and everyone into the flat, and then all hell broke loose. It's normal for my wife's family - and every other Japanese family I've ever met. Everyone else was doing everything all at once. Opening gifts, watching DVDs, pouring drinks, hanging conversations. I had to get rid of them. I packed them all back into the car and went for a drive. There was some confusion and disappointment, but I wasn't going to worry about it. I dropped everyone at the hotel and off I went to Randy's.

Randy's brother couldn't make it. He stayed back in Concord to look after his mother-in-law who had fallen and twisted her ankle. Strangely, his wife was at the hen party, and not back at home looking after her ailing mother. Don't get me wrong, I was very pleased to finally meet her, and might I say Randy's brother has excellent taste. Too bad all (almost all) the hens were sloppy drunk by the time I actually met any of them.

First stop, the liquor store. Randy's buddies stocked up on Red Stripe and Jack Daniels and off we went to the first event. I had totally forgotten Randy's rules of thumb, and arrived still wearing my suit from all the airport goodness of collecting my inlaws. It was cold, damp and luckily a last minute change nixed the paintball idea. Instead, we attempted to play disc golf. It was my first bachelor party so I didn't really have a benchmark, and I did none of the planning so I couldn't complain. Frankly, I was just happy to get away from my inlaws. We got free parking - Kamsa ha nida - and we surprised a model doing a guerilla photo shoot. I appreciated it, not sure the other guys did. Randy was a little uncomfortable, drinking open liquor on the course and kind of wishing he hadn't decided to play disc golf. It would have been fine, except for the conditions and the fact that we encountered the world's least mellow foursome of disc golfers. Buzz kill.

We loaded back in the car and went to a Cuban French restaurant for dinner. Get it? Randy's getting married in Cuba Montréal and his bachelor party has a Cuban Frenchy theme. It ended up acquiring a distinctly Belgian flavour later on, but that's a different story. I ordered pasta, and someone ordered a pitcher of mojitos which I wasn't prepared for, and totally against the rules as far as I'm concerned. Shared drinks, for example a pitcher or a keg, behoove the designated driver to partake. If not, said person is deemed uppity, chippy, aloof and a general all round prick. How dare he or she not accept a wee drink when offered? Individual drinks, on the other hand are a no go. The designated driver is expected to have a reasonable amount of common sense and not order drinks for oneself when they are driving. So I was duped. I had one mojito as a gesture but was careful to load up on food and wait an overly extended period of time before moving on to the next chapter in the night. Also because I had to be sober in case Ali needed a ride home from the hotel.

And that was more drinking. Apparently the guys weren't primed enough for the next stage, and Randy had set aside a certain time for that so we ambled a few blocks down to a Belgian restaurant, which I touched on here, but only talked about the ending of that adventure and not the beginning. Anyway, it all started here, only one table away from where we sat at Randy's stag. One of the lads has a tapeworm or something, because before the end of the night he would eat four mains, and he had a very discerning palate. We all had a round, I was careful to only have one and stupidly I had one of the very same beers that Randy's best, best friend had stashed in the boot of my car. Only at the restaurant it was chilled and not free. With that round, the three of us noshed on some lovely Belgian chips and the one with the tapeworm had a plate of calamari. He complained about it, but I guess he deserved it for ordering food in a bar. Now we were ready, and the time had arrived for bowling. Don't laugh. We went bowling. Again, Randy was not happy because well, the bowling alley didn't live up to what was advertised. We didn't stay long, but I would like to mention that this is the first time I bowled in like 20 years, and the first time I bowled a whole game one-handed. Yup, I bowled two-handed when I was in the kiddies league but the proof is in the pudding. I am Most Improved Bowler - 1981 for my chapter. That's right. And that night at Randy's stag I did pretty good, but my back didn't. The next few weeks for me would be a wonderful, half-medicated journey.

So now Randy's pissed (off) because the bowling turned out to be not as much fun as he had hoped, so what could we do? That's right - back to the Belgian restaurant for more drinking. To be honest, I'd never seen Randy drink this much before but that was nothing compared to some of the things I did/saw later that night. We all went back to our original table and the lads ordered more drinks and chips and Mr. Tapeworm ordered two more mains. Our waitress had changed, and I will say that she alone would bring me back to this restaurant. We asked her to drink with us, but she said it was against company policy - a policy that had apparently changed since I was there last. She told us where she was from and I used my fantastic memory and my travels around the world to sort of wow her a little bit. It worked. Oh right, it was Randy's party, not mine. As the lads downed more and more, last call approached. We were sitting on the patio and it was a little chilly. The gas heaters weren't doing it for me any more, so when a parking spot opened up in front of the patio, I ran a few blocks to move the car closer. By the time I got back, the spot had been taken as I half expected, but there was still enough room to park in front of the other car. In fact, that space had been there all night. It just looks like you're not supposed to park there. As we were leaving, Randy asked the waitress if anyone with a particular name worked at the restaurant. Apparently Randy and the other guys were at a Starbucks somewhere earlier that day and the barista casually mentioned that he was friends with the manager. The waitress went and brought out the manager. I'm not sure what the objective was, but the guys were toasted and I guess they wanted to let some manager - there are several for this restaurant - know that some random barista wanted to say hello.

I took the lads home, and that's when things got scary. The hen party was a total loss. The ladies went to their pole-dancing class, but when they arrived at a club - they discovered that they weren't on the VIP list, wouldn't pay the cover and had all their "personal use" liquor confiscated. Somebody had lied to them. They made a stink and the manager brought back their liquor and they left. So we were surprised to see them when we got back to Randy's place. Ekaterina was so drunk, and I've never even seen her drink so it was a little unsettling. All but one of the other chicks were completely lit, and since Kat didn't get to do all her hen party stuff at the club, the three lads not getting married the next week were drafted in as substitutes. It's a moment I'm not proud of, and will never speak of again after I post it on my blog. What could happen? Like, one person reads this blog, so here it goes: We played Suck for a Buck. Kat had a bunch of life savers sewn to her shirt and she was really in my face so I couldn't get out of it. Randy wasn't looking so I deftly took one off her breast. Lime. Only the camera didn't get the shot. So we had a do-over. Only this time Randy was looking and I could tell he wasn't pleased so I took a safe one off her tummy. Pineapple. The camera shot didn't turn out so well anyway so it was worth nothing. I kept my dollar. The hen party stayed in the kitchen and salon while the guys crammed into the den to play Wii games. By the time we were done, my eyes were burning and Tapeworm dude had fallen asleep. It was time to go. So it wasn't a typical stag, but I had fun anyway.

Over the next week, we visited more with Ali's parents, and by the final night of their trip I could hardly walk. I developed a rash for some reason. At first I ignored it because I'd had this before, and it wasn't itchy or bumpy so I thought it would go away. I didn't even know it was a rash. I thought it was just an abrasion or something. Anyway, a few days went by and it didn't go away. I checked it on the weekend and it had spread all the way down my arms onto my hands. I figured it was time to see the doctor. Monday morning I went to the clinic and showed the doc what I was concerned about. He told me to take off my shirt. He showed me more areas that had the same rash. He told me to take off my pants. He showed me more. The thing is he told me where the rash would be before I took off my clothes. He took a throat culture, and sent me for a blood test. If there were any problems he would call me. He figured I had a weakened immune system due to stress and fatigue. It's like he knows everything about me, and we've never met! He told me to get some rest for the next little while. By the end of the week, the rash was gone, but I would soon develop a nagging cold that wouldn't go away completely. I've still got it now and it's been like three weeks. It is ebbing slowly though, and I think it will go away quickly now that exams are over. Randy and Kat were in Cuba Montréal for two weeks, and I was to look after the cat for the second week. I stressed a little about that because it took a severe chunk out of my study time.

While I was up to my elbows in ground horse meat, Randy and Kat were having a lovely time taking scooter tours and drinking state-subsidized rum. Oh yeah, they got married too. I picked them up at the airport and when we got back to their place they showed me their wedding photos. Randy was looking pretty good. The bootcamp really paid off for him. Kat looked resplendent in her wedding gown - not really hard for her. I was a bit jealous because they were able to get outdoor snaps. At my wedding there were no outdoor shots. They gave me a bottle of rum and took Ali, Foxy and me out for lunch. I wish I had been able to be at the wedding.

Later that day, when I should have been studying, we went to OP's for tea. We arrived and the first thing I noticed was Sissy's SUV. Hmmm, this would be interesting. I haven't spoken to my sister since Boxing Day because of a little nastiness the night before at Bob's place. Whatever, it's fine now. I accept the fact that my sister cannot say sorry. Anyway, we had a nice time at OP's except that we had already eaten and didn't have room for any tea cakes. The stress from not studying was starting to build up. I was lucky because my exam wouldn't be until the end of the week. I was resolved to studying a little bit each evening until Friday. That didn't happen. I was still fighting this nasty cold which was making a last ditch effort in the back of my throat. A steady regimen of tea with honey which (fuck me!) has antibiotic properties slowly put paid to that. I've been watching a lot of Gordon Ramsay lately... I must have been bagged by the cold because when I got home after work for the first few days I'd be too tired to study. I pulled out the bung after a few days and powered through five units in one evening. I managed the other five on the day of the exam. My professor always advised that we not study on the day of the exam. I realized that maybe, just maybe if I stopped listening to him - I might actually pass the exam this time round. I had it all planned - an evening exam which meant no dinner and a weekend coming up. I grabbed one of the McDonald's coupons we received in the mail, and went looking for the 2-for-1 coupon I got when I went to see In Bruges. I couldn't find it. If I could have, this would have been a post about movies. As usual, the coupon was not where it should have been. Ali moved it. By this time the exam was less than an hour away. The McD's coupon wasn't valid for another week so I raced across town on an empty stomach.

I got to the exam with less than ten minutes to spare. The only seats left were front row centre. DAMN! Double DAMN! At least I still had the Australian Grand Prix to look forward to. No cell phones were allowed in the exam for obvious reasons, but it was my only timekeeper. It's probably a good thing I didn't use it because I probably would have panicked. That's my problem with exams. I skimmed the exam questions. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The questions could not have been simpler. I smiled. I went back to the beginning and began the exam. As I read more closely, I noticed that the questions were twisted a bit so that the easy answer was not the one the examiners were looking for. No problem, I just had to use my brain a bit. I got to the end of the exam and noticed there was one more page. WTF?! These exams NEVER have more than 7 questions, and this one had nine. I noticed that a few of the questions were throwaways that the examiners had put in to give a few easy marks - but now my hands were hurting from all the BLOCK LETTER writing and some students had already finished. I'm pretty sure the first guy gave up and walked out. I had also skipped over three questions - not two as originally thought - to mull over things a bit. The terminology for this course has always been a bit of a problem for me, but I made an executive decision and answered two of the questions the way I thought they should be answered. It turns out that I was on the right track. I hope the markers agree. The final question was easy, as soon as I came up with a way to explain it so that the marker would understand what I meant. Now watch. I'll wait six weeks for my marks - the scientifically calculated period of time necessary for students to forget their exam performance - and I will discover that I failed. The first time I wrote this exam I thought it was a walk in the park. I was wrong. I totally missed the thrust of the exam. I didn't get the same feeling this time, but I'm pretty sure I'll pass.

If not, I'm packing it in and moving to Japan to be a bicycle courier. Ali's already itching to go back. Constant harping from her parents seems to help. While they were here, amid the confusion of the first day, Ali's father mumbled something about the adequacy of, or lack thereof, my television. Ahem. That cathode ray tube was state-of-the-art-bought-directly-from-the-Sony-store when I got it fifteen years ago. It wasn't the biggest television available, but I try not to be too ostentatious about the things I own, clothes excepted. I'm a peacock. Anyway, thanks Dad-san for the 7.1 megapixel Canon camera as a gift just for showing up but I'll keep the Sony CRT and not think twice about it. By the way, if digital cameras are the kind of gift you give just for visiting, come by anytime. And thanks again for the bottle of Johnny Walker Green Label, the same thing I gave you when I visited Tokyo but I happened to notice that the bottle you gave me seems a little smaller. I'm just saying.

The weekend after they left, there was loud knock at the door on Saturday morning. It was Genya, and he had a little something for us. I opened the door, and he didn't even wait for me to ask him in. He barged past me with a smile from ear to ear, stopping only to kick off his loafers. He was carrying a flatscreen and was looking for a place to put it down. At this point. Ali and Foxy came out the bedroom, and squealing ensured shortly after. I was still half asleep but managed to muster, "Don't tell me, it fell of a truck".

"Eh? How could you guess?", Genya said half-jokingly but only half.

"What brings you by this Saturday morning at half eight? Would you like some coffee? I could sure use some".

"Furato sukureen. From the boss. Coffee sounds good. Do you have any okashi?", as he reached for a box cutter in his back pocket.

"Really? Are you sure I can't whip up some pancakes or some bacon and eggs or something for you?"

"No no, thank you very much. I'm not so hungry", Gen answered totally missing the sarcasm of my question.

Twenty minutes later, the television was connected and Ali was already watching some Music Station DVDs - part of more than forty hours of programming her parents recorded at Christmas and brought over. I was standing, scratching my head looking at the packing mess trying to keep the baby away from it and asking myself what just happened. I couldn't figure it out so I asked Ali. I had to ask her a couple of times because her attention was clearly devoted to the flatscreen.

Eventually, she blurted out, "You told my dad you wanted a flatscreen, so he got one for us".

"Umm, no I didn't. I so totally didn't. He said I should get one. I said that I liked my Sony television just fine. This is like The Noodle Conversation your dad and I had in Tokyo". The Noodle Conversation was a landmark in my relationship with my father-in-law, and it demonstrated clearly to me that even though someone can talk English, they might still not speak it - completely misunderstanding their interlocuteur.

"It's a Sony flatscreen. You should enjoy". Yes, exactly.

"My point is that I never asked for this. We don't need this. If I wanted a flat screen, I would have bought one myself", but she stopped listening long before. Defeated once again, I took my old CRT and moved it into the bedroom temporarily.

It took some prodding, but I watched the Australian Grand Prix on the flatscreen, and I am now totally unopposed to the new telly. It was fun. Kimi sucks as usual and Lewis rocks. Too bad for Sebastian B.

Next Stop... Bruges

Don't you hate those movies that have characters that tell you how they're going to finish, but they don't say they are going to finish, but then they finish that way? It's a little predictable. In Bruges is one of those movies, but it was awesome. Better than The Departed. I stand by that - you have to stick to your principles. It's better, because it has actual real actors and the story is a little easier to follow.

The movie opens with a narration by Colin Farrell, an actor I had managed to avoid on screen until now. I thought the narration was a big mistake. I was wrong, it just takes a little getting used to that guy's voice. The movie also stars Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes whom I haven't seen since The White Countess. I also saw him in The Constant Gardener, a novel by John Le Carré. I happen to be reading another book by Le Carré called Absolute Friends, the first book I've read since I was in Mexico many, many tequila-filled years ago. And the movie also stars that guy from The Stationmaster and Elf. I thought so but not really.

I guess even hitmen have jobs they don't like. You know like some people do jobs because they have to, or they feel they have to. I do accounts because I can make numbers sing and because I happen to like it. I always thought being a hitman would be a job like that because really, you don't ever have to do that job. This movie is about a couple of hitmen who are starting to not like their jobs anymore. Ray (Farrell) and Steve (Gleeson) are sent to Bruges by their boss to lay low for awhile. Apparently, their boss likes Bruges and doesn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to see it before they die. Harry thinks Bruges is like a fairy tale, or more precisely like a dream sequence - dum dum dum. Steve and Ray talk about how being in Bruges is a little "over-elaborate" as though elaborate is just normal for these guys. Harry (Fiennes), calls later to let Steve know that he has to kill his friend, Ray. Steve doesn't want to do it, but Ray messed up a job and killed a young boy as well as his intended target. Kids are a no-go for Harry and that kind of mistake doesn't go unpunished.

Steve is conflicted because he doesn't agree with Harry, and wants to let Ray correct the situation his own way. Ray is torn because he killed a little boy and doesn't think he's good enough to walk on earth anymore. I was kind of like that the other day. I was looking after Foxy, and I took my eye off of her for ten seconds because I also just happened to be trying to kill someone. Next thing I heard was Foxy's skull bouncing off the UPS. No problem, what I actually heard was the UPS knocking against the desk, and the bump on Foxy's head probably wasn't that bad. What freaked me out was not the crying, but the mark the UPS left on Foxy's temple. In med school, I saw a lot of head wounds but we never really looked at pediatrics. I actually thought maybe I'd cracked her occular cavity and that she might go blind, or that she might have concussion. I felt pretty bad, like badder than bad. Like Ray. But it turned out to be nothing. Ali sobbed and made me swear never to play Silent Assassin again. We didn't go to the hospital. There wasn't much swelling and a little mauve bruise on Foxy's temple, but she's fine.

I wanted to go see this movie with Randy, but he bailed because he's committed to bootcamp, and I recently let him know that I can't keep him occupied while his fiancée has her hen party. A party that Ali was requested to attend, requested vigourously but she declined because she's afraid of schlong and strippers, and also because her parents are coming in that day. So by consequence, I can't mind Randy because I too have to meet with the inlaws.

Harry becomes infuriated with Steve and travels to Bruges to sort things. Steve is tired of fighting and refuses to defend himself. Instead of killing Steve, Harry the snivelling rat shoots Steve in the leg, and then later again in the neck. Back to the beginning for a second, Ray meets a film tech, and ends up having a little fun with Chloe. Chloe is working on a film that features Jordan Prentice. Ray is fascinated by midgets and dwarves and despite inappropriate behaviour he manages to make friends with Jimmy the actor. Jimmy's in town filming a dream sequence.

Steve goes and gets the gun to kill Ray, and in a little bit of the surreal much like a lot of my life, the hitman ends up giving the arms dealer an English lesson. Steve goes to kill Ray and catches Ray trying to kill himself which he won't let him do. He also won't kill his quirky friend Ray and sends him off on a train instead. Previously, while on a date with Chloe Ray gets into it with a tourist who really, honestly was asking for it. Harry has gone to the arms dealer and obtained a gun and some "Dumb Dumbs", essentially incendiary bullets that explode after entry. On the train out of Bruges, Ray is spotted by police and sent back to Bruges. Steve doesn't know this and tells Harry that Ray is gone like my hair. Harry finds out that Ray is in Bruges, which makes Steve look like a liar so Harry shoots him in the neck and goes after Ray who happens to be very close by. Steve jumps off the belltower where he was shot because he can't chase after Harry but gets Ray's attention. Harry chases Ray back to their hotel where Steve has stashed a revolver, and the two of them end up in a stand off. Ray and Harry strike a gentlemen's agreement, but Ray is unable to escape and is again chased around Bruges with varying gunshot wounds. They stumble across the film set, and Jimmy recognizes his friend. He advances toward Ray, putting himself in the line of fire and ends up getting his head blown clear off. Special bullets. His costume makes it appear as though he is a little boy, and Harry thinks he has done the one thing that a killer should never do, so he blows his own head off. A little predictable at this point and kinda cheesy. The exact ending is unclear, which is what saves this film just as you think it's going to shit. Constant rips on Belgium and comparisons to Hell, and one jab at Tottenham Hotspur which only two people in the audience caught - me and the guy next to me - keep levity moving in the film. In fact, there was quite a lot of laughing in the audience. Not really something you expect in a movie about baby killers.

On the way out of the theatre, I bumped into one of the three people I had to fire a while back. It's a little odd the amount of people I bump into. All I can say is... awkwaaard! We kept it civil. She just finished watching No Country for Old Men which is high on my list. I didn't stick around to chit chat though. I hurried home, helped give the baby a bath and do this blog thing. It was a good evening.

A Rare Moment

So it's like this: The new job is working out well, though not as well as I would have hoped. I normally would have wanted to be at this point two months ago, but I am literally having to learn things from scratch, despite the cursory training back in the beginning. I am now the second highest paid person in the company, which is a first, even though I'm earning less than the company initially promised. I don't care, I have insurance now!
Who knew I would have to fire my supervisor after only 30 days in? The company is doing a lot better than it was before. Before, they had no cash control, no cash budget - nothing. In fact, the accountant was encouraged not to discuss money with the president. I just found out today that the company hasn't filed a tax return in two years. This was an embarrassment, not only because I found out from the IRS - but because the former accountant never mentioned it. I used to know a guy who became a CPA, and everyone who knew him never knew how he did it. We just shook our heads. Well, now I know another person who should probably reconsider her career choice. I was so glad to see the back of her on her final day, but unfortunately she popped in around Christmas with some chocolates.
And now the movie review. By far the best movie I saw in 2007, best because Ali really liked it too. It's not often we both like a movie and make some sort of personal connection to the movie. That movie is Linda Linda Linda, a movie I saw on the shelf, like so many others and had meant to rent it but never got around to it until November, was it? Also because any film with school girls on the box is generally a no-no for me.
I tried so hard to remember the details, but I just can't anymore. I'll give a general overview. Duna Bae stars as Son, the Korean exchange student who just can't seem to fit in at her school. It also stars Aki Maeda, Yu Kashii, Shiori Sekine, and Takayo Mimura. I read somewhere that Duna Bae was some sort of model/sex symbol in Korea, but I really don't understand why. Anyway, Kyoko (Maeda), Kei (Kashii), and Nozomi (Sekine) are at a short end because the lead singer for their band recently quit to start a solo gig, and they need to find a replacement before the year-end school concert. They make a pact that the next person who they bump into will be the new singer. Son walks by, and a deal is a deal. They grab her and convince her to join the band. They don't have any material yet, but one of the girls pulls an old Blue Hearts tape out of a drawer and it's decided. They give Son the lyrics, and it turns out she's a bit of a closet diva. She goes to a karaoke bar after school and gets comfortable with her voice, and her Japanese.
The movie unfolds with a few confrontations with their former singer, school stuff, and preparations for the year-end thingy which looks to me like a big contest to see which group of kids can sell the most junk. The girls look to another student who used to play music and she gives them some guidance. Rinko (Mimura) is too cool to go back to playing in a group, but they do convince her to play in the concert. The band nearly breaks up, I can't remember why but it comes together at the last possible moment to perform a two song set at the concert. Ali knew the words to both off by heart. Apparently, the Blue Hearts whom I actually have heard about before but in that way that you forget about it until someone brings it up again, were a somewhat influential band that somehow penned a karaoke anthem. Ali says karaoke is just karaoke in Japan until someone sings Linda Linda - and then it's a karaoke party.
For the rest of the night, Ali kept singing the chorus and dancing with Foxy. The second song that the group played is considered somewhat controversial in Japan because it uses a rather nasty word which is understood not to be said in polite company. Even in English it's a bit harsh, but it took me a long time to figure it out because the subtitles kept translating it as ass, and in that way the subtitles didn't quite make sense. Ali sings that one too, but not too often. It's a song for teens and young adults who are mad at the world. The next day, Ali went rummaging through all her minidiscs and found a copy of a Blue Hearts album. Pretty much for the next week, it was the only music in the house. See this film. If it doesn't make you smile, you're stone. Bloody stone, man.

Foxy is preparing for her faith healing tour. Yeah, yeah I know. It's sacrilegious and whatever but really they're all fake so it's really fake sacrilege to make fun of them. Except Peter Popoff, because he's real. Really. Foxy likes to swat at people and smack them in the face like a faith healer, and then make loud Foxy Talk (registered trademark) so it makes me laugh. She constantly rips off my glasses as though she is trying to cure my myopia. Actually Foxy was in the hospital a few days after Christmas with a bit of a fever. We decided to do nothing because she was running only slightly higher than normal temps, but then I realized that these were normal adult temps. What if my baby was actually cooking her brain and we did nothing to stop it? We went to the hospital and we waited. We were moved to an examination room and then the real waiting started. It turns out that we were right to come in when we did. Her temp was right on the lower margin of concern. The nurse was really cool, and I nearly sold her a car. "Do you actually DRIVE a Volkswagen or do you just wear the hat?" was her question. I could tell by the look on her face that it was an honest question. It turns out she's a big Volkswagen fan and I told her how great my new car is and some of the incentives the local dealership is offering. I think she went out the next day and bought one. Anyway, because of Foxy's young age, the hospital has a "policy" of running urine tests to check for bladder infections. We had to wait for Foxy to pee. That took a long time. Say what you want about the state of health care today, but the folks at Children's Hospital of New Jersey took really good care of us. I would never expect free sandwiches from Starbucks and beverages at any other hospital. Parking killed me though. I kept plugging the meter every hour because I was trying to be optimistic. I would have been better off getting the overnight rate. It paid for itself after four hours. We were there for five. The initial test came back inconclusive (I think), so the nurse explained to us that she was going to have to get the sample the "other" way. She explained to me, and suggested we take a walk. When we came back, Foxy was okay but a little vulnerable and kind of wondering where Mummy was. They couldn't get the results of the second test back quickly, so they gave us permission to leave and they would call if anything came up. They gave Foxy a new teddy bear and we were gone. Because of all that, and a rather unpleasant experience with the staff at our regular former doctor's office, we have found another doctor. Fluent in Japanese, he's as old as dust but he came out of retirement strictly because there were no other Japanese speaking doctors in the area, and the HMO made it worth his while. Nice guy, really nice guy.
Another post, another visit from the in-laws. This time, they're both coming. They won't be staying for long which I always find a little strange, but they just want to see Foxy again. They miss having foxiness in their lives. And that's how it is.

Foxy's Here

I so wanted this post to be about a movie. I had hoped, somehow that I would take my mother-in-law to the video shop and she would pick out some obscure Japanese gem that I'd seen on the shelf a hundred times but never bothered to watch. We would take it home and it would become my favourite film of that era, or some other qualifier. Alas it was not to be. My mother-in-law was determined to avoid anything Japanese during her visit.
They arrived last Friday. Sissy and I picked them up from the airport. I welcomed them back, and did you have a nice flight and all that. Ali simply said, "I want a rice cooker". Ali is no nonsense. I pitched my new movie idea to her, but she said it wouldn't get greenlit. She said it didn't have an ending, or at least a good one. Granted, I've only come up with a rough outline so far, but if I go ahead with this one, I'm gonna make sure I get in with the right people this time.

We dropped her mum in Manhattan with both her suitcases - the one with her clothes and the empty one, and went back to Newark. Foxy made it known right from the start that she doesn't do cribs, so she slept in the bed with Ali for a few days and I stayed on the settee. Finally, I realized that I could dismantle the crib and Foxy could sleep on the floor. On Tuesday night I came home from Costco with a rice cooker, and took apart the crib. Now Foxy is happy - happy as a bug on a rug, literally.

Monday night I was supposed to go to Costco, but I had a rare moment of forgetfulness and went straight home. I wanted to see my baby. It's a good thing too, because I wasn't even through my second bite of chijimi when I noticed a message on the machine. It was Ali:

Can you come and get us? We are in Bayou... at the Walgreen's. We'll be ready in forty-five minutes.

What? I checked the call display. 243. She was in Bayonne, and luckily there's only one Walgreen's in Bayonne. Why she couldn't go to the regular Walgreen's I didn't understand. The time stamp was 5:57, I checked my watch. The call was only a few minutes old. I scarfed down the rest of the pancake and grabbed my keys. When I finally got to Bayonne, sure enough they were in front of Walgreen's. She explained on the ride home that the cab driver didn't understand her when she asked to go to Walgreen's, but eventually figured it out but took her to the one in Bayonne instead.

Wednesday night, I was the last one to leave the office and the boss had given me the wrong instructions for the alarm. The key-lock is one of those ass-backwards kinds, and the security code is very similar to OP's address. All these details led to me not clearing the area before the timer reached zero. My ear drums were assaulted and I couldn't breathe for a few seconds - like when I jumped out of an airplane. Sometimes I forget to breathe. Luckily, my boss was next door so I only had to go get him to come back and turn off the squeaker. By the time I got down two flights of stairs and out the door the security guards were already there. Hallowe'en, right? My face was red. My boss fixed everything and the security guards went on their merry way.

Thursday, Bobby took us out for Korean food, Ali's mum's favourite. Foxy was such a good baby except for the time when Bobby jammed Foxy's head against a picture frame with a pronounced upswing. After her cry, she went right to sleep so it was a good thing. By the time my mother-in-law left the next day, she was toting two very full, heavy cases. When Ali told me that her mum and dad were already planning their next trip, I joked that they should come during Fashion Week next time. I think her mum might bring more than one empty case next time.

So my baby has Richie Rich legs. Which is a little weird because when she wears tights, she looks like the general image of the Mother Goose character Humpty Dumpty. I laugh and I laugh at my Humpty Dumpty baby which makes her laugh and laugh at whatever five-month old babies laugh at. Randy and his fiancée came by today and gave Foxy some baby Uggs. We haven't quite figured out quite how to put them on her yet. It's a good thing I clipped her nails today. That's a first. And by the looks of her toes, it was a first for her too. My mum always told me you're supposed to bite a baby's nails off, and I did that for one of Foxy's thumbs in Japan, but Ali is already using scissors on Foxy. One of her toenails was approaching the definition of a claw, so I'm glad I cut that one. I'm also getting quite good at changing diapers. Actually, it's only a half-change because I get a fresh canvas so to speak. Foxy comes straight out of the bath so I don't have to deal with any messy wipes or nutella-filled nappies or anything. I just learned how to get her to stop crying by holding her. She likes to be a little off-centre and below the shoulder but I have to do quad stretches at the same time. I guess she likes the up and down pogo action. She doesn't like to stand still. She is so my daughter.

Hello Ms. Bank Manager!

Things are running along smoothly at the office, and I can feel things are about to take off. We just gotta be ready for it. To that end, the boss and I went to the bank today to put my name on all the required paperwork and make it official. It was a nice expectation, but like a lot of things in life it ended up being a bit anticlimactic. We were late, bank manager lady was late. I expected her to grill the boss and me about the business and credit facilities and all that stuff, but it was really a piece of cake. We handed over old bank cards and 2 pieces of ID each and she klikklaked on her keyboard for awhile - and there we are. While we waited, the boss and I discussed Ali's green card process and he gave his two cents. At some point I realized I could see right down bank manager lady's shirt. She had perhaps one too many buttons out and even though the office attire is casual, I felt it was a little too casual. Honestly, I just kept telling myself to be glad that I deal with a different bank. Like better-dressed bank staff make better money managers. Do they? Personally, I have very little affection for this bank. Of all the banks... the company chose this one. Oh well, I'm just happy it's not my money. That is of course no reflection of my new friend at the bank. She's fairly nice, and hey she can't be all that bad - she has a cowboy hat in her office.

Pass the Purple Juice

Aaaahhhh, tell me it's not all worth it when you see this face. Actually, she's a very cranky girl. You know sometimes when you deal with heaps of shit over and over again, and then there's a big uptick? I'm in the middle of the biggest uptick since this pasty white boy caroused around Puerto Vallarta - only this time it's alcohol free.

Not only do I work for perhaps the world's best company, I was catching up on some paperwork for Ali's green card and I discovered that my old recruiter owes me about $700.00. Maybe now I can pay for those shirts... I also received a rather large package from Café Press. I had assumed that this package would never find a home because that's what Café Press told me and I got all my money back, but now I have a bunch of outfits for Foxy to wear. I'm still not going back to Café Press, the cocksuckers! Really though, I am thankful that they sent me the stuff after all.

There's so much going right right now, but I probably shouldn't brag too much. I love my job. I'm getting my recruiter a really nice gift for Hanukkah, and my old recruiter will probably get a little something for Christmas if he ponies up the dosh. Working in Canal Street isn't for everyone, but it's certainly for me. One of my bosses had to pry me away from my desk today. I actually enjoy working overtime for these guys and not getting paid for it. I'm a salaryman again. I have to bear the brunt of many jokes from Ali, but I'm glad to be finished with temping so I don't care. On the way home last night, my other boss walked a ways with me. He was surprised to learn that I take the train in everyday.

"I thought you lived in the Village", he said quickly trying to dodge the rain. I don't know where he got that idea, but I think he got it because I may have skewed slightly gay in the interview. My impeccable dress sense throws a few people off. I've been told that I can tone it down a little around the office. Fine by me, extra beauty sleep. All the Japanese chicks in the company can't wait to meet Ali and Foxy. I'm sure that some of them probably already know Ali. The world is proving to be quite small.

About Bloody Time!

Two more weeks, and it'll be the floor of my flat you see in these videos. Ali and Foxy are coming and I can't wait. By the way, can you hear that little exclamation at about 19 seconds in, right before the baby drops her head? This is about as much sound as Ali makes when she sees a problem. It could be the baby dropping it's head. Or it could be a dump truck about to t-bone your Jeep. The level of urgency doesn't matter, the sound is the same. It's just one of those things. And of course, even thought it's a little sound, Foxy senses that Ali is stressed so she starts to cry. My baby isn't stupid. Ali can be so mean to Foxy, she calls her a turtle because she can't move as quickly as some people might like. But she's mean in a loving way.

I finally started working again, and this time it's for real. Temping is for suckers! Ali couldn't be happier. Maybe now she'll stop sending me photos of a sad Foxy every day with captions like "I do not wants to starve" and stuff like that. This job rocks: no dragon ladies, just really upbeat go-getters. People always tell me I shouldn't get too excited about jobs, but this is the kind of job I've been waiting a long time for. I nearly went broke waiting for this one, so I'm super happy that I got it. When the time is right, I'm hoping to buy in. I can't say for sure, but I think Ali had a lot to do with me getting this job.

I would go out tonight and get stupid, but after what happened last time, I've reconsidered. I'm babysitting tonight. Uh huh. I popped by Orange Peel's and J's last night and helped them put their new bed frame together, and helped myself to a plate of enchiladas. Luckily, J had all the right tools to put the bed together. I thought I'd help them out a little bit more, and agreed to babysit for those two while they attend a friend's function. I've got to get a little bit of practice in before Foxy gets here anyway.

Last week, Bobby threw a bit of a party and for once he didn't ask me to serve drinks. He said it was family and friends only which meant that it wasn't a client party with canapés and champagne, and which meant I wasn't getting paid. I brought a bottle of Fat Bastard chardonnay for sharesies, but there was already so much on hand that nobody tried my grape except me, and Bobby actually sent me home with another bottle altogether. Bobby only drinks reds apparently. Who knew? Anyway, the Fat Bastard was nothing to write home about.

Even though it wasn't a client party, Bobby did ask about my former CEO. The ringmaster at the last place I worked drives a Maserati and is good friends with Bobby. He takes his Mazzer to Bobby for service and they are part of some club together. The CEO was actually a really nice guy, so I didn't mind when Bobby brought it up. He said that the guy was surprised to hear that I'd been let go, and felt bad that he never got a chance to wish me luck personally. No hard feelings. That guy was awesome to work for. Unfortunately he let someone else run the accounting department.

One more thing that seems to be going my way: The tailor is running late on my order. I called just to see what's up, only because I don't want another Café Press incident on my hands, and he was so apologetic. I told him not to worry. As long as it doesn't take too long, everything will be fine. I know what's taking them so long. It's kinda my fault for ordering special collars. I feel a little stupid now about spending all that money on suits and stuff because at the new new job, it's pretty casual but I don't think I could get away with wearing my lemon capris.

Happy Wife, Happy Life!

Randy and I went to see The Heartbreak Kid Thursday night, and it was pretty good. When I first heard the title, I thought to myself "Isn't there already a film with that name?" Indeed there is. Charles Grodin and Cybill Shepherd were in the 1972 version. I have a few issues with this film, mainly to do with the television promos. Number 1: In the first-run ad, we see a clip in which Lila (Malin Akerman) sings along to music - one of those songs being performed by Daft Punk. Was that in the movie? No. The song was cut. I was disappointed. Two other bits in the television promos include the moment when Eddie (Ben Stiller) is confronted by his wife in the hotel room wearing a mud mask. In the promo, Eddie can be heard letting out a little scream. In the movie? Nope. And again, Uncle Tito (Carlos Mencia) a.k.a Ned Holness is spliced together in the promo saying something like "She's loco" and "I can get you back to California". Right there, any Spanish speaker would know that "She's loco" is incorrect, but I just attributed that to Carlos Mencia's being about as Latino as a Taco Bell in Barrow, Alaska. The correct verbiage would have been "She's loca", and as it turns out that's not what he said at all. The actual lines were spliced together, taken out of context, and slightly less funny than in the promo. To top it off, in the most recent promo an anonymous reviewer was quoted as saying "Ben Stiller's Best Movie". Hello? Dodgeball?

Now a lot of people have been mentioning There's Something About Mary when they talk about this film, and there are a few noticeable similarities - noticeable in a geek way. Such as the mariachi band. I believe there was a pair of wandering musicians in the Cameron Diaz film. And there was old Miguel. He played a smaller role, but I think he was supposed to be like Magda, the roommate in the Cameron Diaz movie. Heavy maquillage on her I might add. There's also a cock-eyed guy who briefly appears in The Heartbreak Kid whom I've seen before and I'm pretty sure it was in There's Something About Mary, but I'm not 100 percent sure.

A couple of more things that kind of bothered me, well just one actually. We were at a free advance screening of the film - contest winners only and all that. There was a couple in the row behind us who saw fit to bring their toddler along. Don't get me wrong, the kid was extremely well behaved but I'm pretty sure she will be scarred for life given some of the things she was forced to see and hear. Female nudity aside, because there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, there was very strong language and raunchy sex scenes. Worst of all, one of the sex scenes was violent. Not a rape or anything, but one of those scenes where your partner wants you to punch them in the face and stuff. Some people like that. If you want to know what you're getting yourself into before you actually see the movie, you can check out Wheelchair Rebecca by Roy T. Wood at Atom Films for an example of this kink. Amusingly, while the video loads I got to see a promo for The Heartbreak Kid. Definitely not for kids.

So the movie didn't start properly. There was a problem with the projector, and sadly an usher decided to get up on stage and take questions from the audience. Somebody asked him to tell jokes. Given that it was an R-rated audience, I guess he felt comfortable coming back with The Aristocrats. Randy and I just kinda looked at each other like we couldn't believe our luck. Anyway, this kid riffed on the joke for like five minutes but unfortunately it wasn't long enough. The projector still wasn't fixed. Randy went to get some sodas and I sat there playing with my broken tooth. I got a chinese takeaway last week and bit down on something hard while I had a mouthful of rice. I knew exactly what it was, but it didn't hurt and I couldn't feel where it had broken off. It took me six days to notice it, and that was the day we went to the cinema. I had to play with it. I checked it in the mirror to make sure there was no cavity. I noticed that it was one of the teeth that had a gold filling. At some point during the previous six-day period, I shit gold and didn't even notice. Anyway, when I get insurance again I'll go see the Gouger and get it looked at. My dentist is called the Gouger by his colleagues, not because he isn't particularly artful but because he knows how to whip an insurance plan.

I just had an emergency call from Randy because he needs someone to sort the Cuban situation, so we'll take a brief intermission and resume the post in a few hours. It's already late anyway.

Okay, so the Cubans want me to call back on Monday, when the social director at the resort is back. Good for me, not good for Randy. Oh well. Back to the movie: The movie is about a guy who can't seem to find the right girl but is still good friends with his ex, so good in fact that he goes to her wedding and gets seated at the kids' table. This is kind of important. On the way home from the wedding he meets a girl who has just had her purse stolen and in an attempt to keep her in San Francisco he asks her to marry him. She says yes and they take a honeymoon in Cancún, where there also happens to be two boys from the kids' table. Eddie had previously told the boys that his wife had been murdered with an ice pick, so they were curious to see this guy in Mexico with a woman, especially since they had already pegged him for a gay. Eddie meets Miranda (Michelle Monaghan) whose at the resort for a family reunion. I should just add right now that Michelle Monaghan is the only person who looks better in a bikini than Ali. Lila stays in the hotel room after contracting a really bad case of sunburn. Again, a bit of a parallel to the other movie: Lila's skin condition and Dom Woganowski's skin condition. Eddie pretty much has free reign at the resort. Miranda's family thinks that Eddie is a pornographer, and at the end of an afternoon of tequila-fueled trivia games in the back of a Unimog, the boys from the kids' table inform her family that Eddie is a widower. I assume that they were playing drinking games, because that's what all the Gringoes do in the back of big yellow Unimogs. Good times. When I did it, I found that I speak Dutch pretty damn well, but tequila is a key requirement. So now Miranda's family is really suspicious of Eddie, the gallivanting widower. Eddie makes up all kinds of stories to get away from Lila, and makes one up about a supplier rep whose name is "Six Toe". He murders the lie, by making it worse and explaining that the guy has actually improved his golf game by losing six toes to frost bite. I wasn't laughing, partly because Sixto is an actual Spanish name, and there is no reason to make up such a story but mainly because I used to have a gym teacher who lost his toes to frost bite. Everyone knows that the second and the fifth toes are needed to maintain balance and thus have an improved golf game, not the first and fifth toes as Eddie tried to explain to Lila. My teacher, on the other hand had lost all the toes on one foot and walked with a heavy step on that side. Sexist bastard.

Uncle Tito totally reminded me of Jorge, the diving instructor we had in Mexico. Uncle Tito acted totally inappropriately with Lila, and Jorge totally groped Sissy and the totally hot girls from Singapore during the diving lessons - and then later grabbed a totally drunk Sissy and laid one on her as she teetered her way back to the pool deck from the toilets. Sorry if you're learning this for the first time Enzo, it's not a big deal.

Eventually, as Eddie is trying to break it off with Lila, Miranda's cousins catch him and the truth is outed. Lila thinks that Eddie is moving to Rotterdam with her, and Miranda is so disgusted by Eddie that in an attempt to flee his grasp she falls over a retaining wall and into the ocean. Eddie jumps in after her and helps her to the beach, all accompanied by the music of the mariachi band. Eddie feels that something isn't right as Miranda notices a large jellyfish on Eddie's back. She pries it off with a stick, and Lila who is at the beach by now forces Eddie into the sand and pulls up her skirt and pees on the jellyfish burn. That's something else I've noticed from the Farrelly's - little forgettable details are brought back later in the film at the height of the action (notice I didn't say hilarity) to maximize the effect. Earlier in the film, Lila questions Eddie about her pubic hair and her "kitty ring". At this point, the audience is treated to a shot of hair growth that would make my wax guy cry, and a piercing. I believe that toward the end of There's Something About Mary, there was a similar gag involving Magda, played by Lin Shaye. Shawn Michaels, the "Heartbreak Kid" allegedly makes an appearance in this film, but it must have been quick because I missed it. He got credit, so perhaps his scenes fell on the cutting room floor but neither I nor Randy saw him.

What Makes a Woman Cry?

The answer can be quite simple when it refers to a normal, average woman but when it refers to Ali, it's not. Things that make Ali cry are things like Totoro or anything by Studio Ghibli. And when her dog came back home. Not when it ran away the other day, but when the myopic, ill-mannered tick resort managed to find it's way home again she cried.

I don't think I cried when my mum sent my puppy to the pound. I got angry and demanded that my mum give me five bucks, the original cost of the puppy that she actually paid for in the first place. I think I even got another five bucks a few years later when I claimed she never paid me in the first place.

It's not even Ali's stupid dog. It's her sister's dog, but when it started to behave more like a dog and less like a puppy, the sister gave up on it. Ali, her parents and Genya Number Two have taken care of the dog the whole time so I suppose there might be some sort of emotional attachment. For all I know, she's bringing the dog with her when she gets her green card. It's actually a good dog, it just doesn't know better. If I liked dogs and they could wash themselves, it's the type of dog I would want.

Anyway, I just thought it was strange that she cried after he came back, not when he left in the first place. I got a free pass to go see The Heartbreak Kid on Thursday, and as usual I'm gonna take Randy. Maybe it'll give him something to consider about his own marriage. Actually, if he's in Cuba getting married and I'm in Cuba making sure he gets married then who will look after his cat? These are the questions that keep me awake at night. That, and when will that rash clear up?

The Heartbreak Kid stars Ben Stiller, Jerry Stiller, joke stealer Carlos Mencia and my personal favourite Sean Michaels as himself. It also stars a bunch of other people I don't know, and is directed by brothers Bobby and Peter Farrelly. This pair usually do zany movies that are good for a cheap laugh, but I'm hoping for a little more with Ben Stiller. We'll see how it goes.

After going over and over Ali's arrival plans, I recently discovered that her mum will be staying for a week only, and for four of those days, she's booked herself a room at the St. Regis using my credit card. Now I remember what she said at the wedding. I thought it was a welcome, I guess it was more of a warning: "You marry my daughter, you marry my family". So she got what she wanted - a son and a (much) better vantage point to shop from in Midtown. I'm so trusting. Less than a month away... I can't wait! Foxy is so cute.

Finally

I've been out of action for the last little while, partly because I've been looking for a new job but also because I'm still a little bit in shock after learning that Fuckstress and Fireangel are the same person. I had an inkling, but I wanted to believe that they were two different people.

Anyway, I haven't been to see any new movies lately, although I did go to see The Animation Show by Mike Judge and Don Hertzfeldt at one of those "members only" theatres with some friends after a potluck. I brought rugelach. The shorts were all well done, my favourite was Rabbit by Run Wrake only because there was a brown bunny that used to hop around the parking lot at my old job, and I saw the film the day after I got fired. The above photo reminds me of No Neck Joe, a character by Craig McCracken featured in the old Spike and Mike's Sick and Twisted Festival of Animation. Good times.

After months of anticipation, Ali has finally set a date for her and Foxy to come to New Jersey, permanent like. Sometime toward the end of October, they will be coming with Mrs. K. and she is not happy about it. She would rather be staying in Manhattan where there are more shops to visit. We made concession after concession: At one point she was going to stay with Genya, but that wasn't practical. Eventually, she agreed to stay in Newark with Ali and me, as long as she got the master bedroom. So I'll be roughing it in the den, just trying to keep out of my mother-in-law's way. At least Foxy will be here before Thanksgiving.

Some weeks ago, I happened to mention to Ali that I didn't care how much the tickets cost, as long as she got here as soon as possible. Well, she decided not to come as soon as possible but still book three first class tickets (1 round trip). I know that was not a miscommunication. I probably should have made myself a little more clear. Too late now, she had my credit card number.

I got Foxy to watch me on Skype today. Actually, I got her to watch Pooh Bear on Skype today. Apparently, she knows about Pooh and likes to watch the funny man shake a Pooh Bear rattle in front of the camera. At least I think she liked it, she definitely paid attention to it - the rattle, not the funny man.

Foxy's Changes

Today I went to the local fire station to have Foxy's babyseat checked. I was a day early for the workshop. I have a problem with dates, not dates in general but today's date. It has something to do with my line of work. Nobody cares about what's happening now, they only care what happened before or what's going to happen later.

And this is why firefighters rock: One of them checked the seat over. He couldn't actually certify it, but the fact that he took time out of his day to do me a favour really made my day. He actually told me that I should have got a better seat, and then told me where I could get the same one he got for his kid. But he also said that when my seat is installed properly, it will be totally legal.

I went to the place that he mentioned because I had to get some storage bins anyway, and I found the seat on sale just like he said. The only seat your child will ever need - it's a dual-facing seat that will accomodate the child as an infant, toddler, tyke and whatever you call a nine-year old. It claims to be the only seat approved for airplanes, which might make Ali happy, BUT there is no carry seat. NO SALE! When Foxy is old enough to walk, I'll consider it. I'm a little tapped after a trip to IKEA yesterday. Ironically, everything I bought yesterday was completely free according to my bank, but before I ran out and bought some lottery tickets I took the more prudent stance and assumed the worst. My debit card had been skimmed. Of course nobody can get to the bottom of this until at least Monday. I'm trying to put my trust in Customer Service, but I'll have to continue due diligence and follow up tomorrow. Right now, I could be buying a Bentley and I'll never get to see it. Patience....

Cue the photos: After many, many requests for photos of Foxy, Kohei finally sent me a disc with all the photos he's taken since I left Tokyo. It occurred to me that I could put up some photos to show how much Foxy has grown and changed since she was born. It's been quite the ordeal for her so far, at least two earthquakes and last week a typhoon. Just for reference, we'll start with a photo of her when she was born - after they cleaned off all the icky bits:




















And here's one taken the day after I left. Yes, she had a bit of an acne problem:















And here's one two weeks later:















And then about a week after that:















Two weeks after that one:















And this one was taken the next day. It's been retouched because Grandpa Kohei doesn't understand about camera flash and babies' eyes. From day one, he's been using a high powered flash for all of Foxy's photos and some of them have red-eye. He retouched this one:















And this one a week later:















And this one almost a week after that:















A day later. Foxy was so tired after a day of taking over the world:















A couple days more:















And then a week after that:















It doesn't seem like a lot of change going on, but when you compare the first and last side by side...