Super Mario Bros: The End

Chapter 1

How long since they had turned? The question burned in Princess Toadstool’s mind. She could not remember the exact date that Mario and Luigi Mario, the saviours of the Mushroom Kingdom had been turned by their once-nemesis, the dread dragon Bowser.

For countless turns of the calendar, Mario and Luigi had been heroes, sacrificing themselves time and again in an effort to save her. She truly did not know which one she would have chosen if she had had to, but they were twins and willing to share everything – including the platonic affections of the young princess.

However, some indeterminate time ago, Bowser had shown up in his air ship. Mario and Luigi had fixed their faces in masks of determination and set out to battle the never-successful villain. However, instead of lobbing Bob-ombs from his vehicle, a single scroll, attached to a rock, dropped from the zeppelin, landing with a crash between the brothers.

Mario, ever the leader, bent to pick it up. Unrolling it, he mumbled as he read the note from his greatest adversary. The brothers exchanged words – it turned heated. Finally, Mario put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and they looked up. There were tears in Mario’s eyes as he signaled that Bowser should lower the rope-ladder. A short climb and the plumbers were out of Toadstool’s life.

The ensuing weeks had been Hell for the residents of the Mushroom Kingdom. With nobody to fight off the combined forces of Bowser and the Brothers, simple mushroom people were being conscripted into Bowser’s evil army under the pretense of “Freedom for all” when it was just an attempt to topple the monarchy that had reigned in peace over the kingdom up until the time that Bowser had arrived. She knew that her subjects could see through the thin veil of Bowser’s deception but they had little choice in the matter – it was enlist or prison and few would take the one over the other – especially when it seemed that there was nobody to stop the Bowser Army.

It was a mere matter of time before the army attacked the palace – there was no chance for the Mushroom army the way things stood. Mario and Luigi had tilted the scales a little too far for her comfort. Old King Portabella was well into senility and he would hear nothing of raising an army of loyal mushrooms. His time is done, Toadstool thought to herself. If I don’t do for the Mushroom Kingdom, nobody will. With her first true act as a ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom, she decided to even up the odds.

“All right. Thank you very much. I will see you soon? Perfect. Thank you.” Finally, her super team was created. They would form the task force that would save the Mushroom Kingdom from the forces of evil. Toad, the omnipresent administrative aide looked upon her approvingly.

“Who are the chosen few, your highness?” the short mushroom squeaked.

“Well, Toad, I had to keep several factors in mind. First, I needed strength. Where better to find strength than in Mario’s oldest foe.”
“Donkey Kong?”

“That’s right.”

“It that wise? He’s kinda a wildcard, isn’t he?”

“One thing that you can guarantee about Donkey Kong is that he hates Mario. If we’re going to be fighting the plumber, then we need to have the monkey. Next, because of his tenacity and his speed, I enlisted the aid of Jonny Excitebike. He will not only get off a horse after falling off – he will run to the horse. Next, I have added more strength, in the form of two men, named simply ‘Big Derek’. Yes, both of their names are ‘Big Derek’.”

“I remember them. They are not particularly smart but they are certainly strong.”

“That is correct, Toad. They will have someone to do the thinking for them. Her name is Samus. She will direct the ground forces. She seems to be instinctively able to communicate with the Dereks.”

“And the rest?” Toad was smart enough to know that there would be more.

“You are sharp, Toad. The rest are to be used for Espionage. Alex and Ryan, two crusaders, will be able to penetrate the deepest levels of the gangs of Koopa Troopa and Paratroopa, using everyday items as weapons. They will be directed by a man simply known as Blue, the Bionic Commando. He will coordinate subterfuge from within the system, using the enemy’s communications devices to keep in contact, both with us and with Alex and Ryan.”

“There has to be one more, Princess.” Toad said expectantly.

For the first time, the small mushroom saw uncertainty cross the face of the young Princess. “One more? I have one who will coordinate the frontal assault and one to coordinate the covert operations. I believe I have chosen the best for those jobs, as well as choosing the best for those units. Who am I missing?”

“I will guarantee you that the primate will chafe to being placed under a woman and the Bionic Commando does not get along with Samus either.”

“I had not anticipated this. So I need…”

“An over-commander, one to smooth over problems and see the bigger picture. His will be the final say.”

“Ah. Carlos.”

“The slime-slayer. Excellent, Highness. The only better thing would be if we still had the plumbers.”

A pang of regret, coupled with pain, jabbed the princess as if a physical blow at the memory of the wonderful days she, Mario and Luigi had spent together. The two Italians had a keen sense of humour and extremely deep insights as to the ways of the world. How would she continue, knowing that those two, the two that had given her so much, including her freedom on numerous occasions, had turned against her?

The princess steeled herself, knowing that such thoughts might make her soft for what needed to be done. The Marios were gone and there was nothing she could do about that. She could, however, do something about them. And she would.

“Hello, Carlos?” she began, as a male answered on the other end of the phone.

Chapter 2

Explosions tore up the neon-green grass below Samus’ feet as the Bob-omb went off. Fortunately for the space-marine, she had launched herself twenty feet into the air.

Bob-ombs were the easiest to deal with. They walked for a time before going off. Executing a flip in midair, Samus fairly easily avoided a Bullet Bill who would have lowered her armour rating.

Things had sure changed over the last couple of weeks. Mario and Luigi had gone from happy-go-lucky plumbers with some dragon-busting skills to cold-blooded murderers. With the flowers they’d plucked from secret boxes, they had rained fire down upon the castle until Samus, Dereks, DK and Jonny E. had come along and fought them back. Pulled from her musing by a cannonball, Samus did a mid-air somersault and landed on the cannonball, knocking it from the sky. She had met Mario and Luigi one time, at a Nintendo function – they were polite, if not too bright. However, there did seem to be something missing from them… Enough, thought Samus, it’s hard enough to fight with my mind on what I’m doing. Switching to missiles, the space marine took aim at a cluster of red Koopa Paratroopas. She hoped that the covert-ops team was making more progress.

***

Blue, the Bionic Commando, crawled on his stomach underneath a platform suspended by… what? Magic? Alternate physics? The warp-zone he’d passed through had given him a funny feeling and he knew that there were a number of large changes but he didn’t know that the impossible would exist here.

The sound of a Goombah rounding a corner brought Blue to his feet. Careless! A raw recruit would have seen this coming. He had no recourse but to go up. A quick dip into his pouch produced an extend-o-grapple, a device of his own creation. There was no time to marvel over his own ingenuity, however. Pointing the device upward, he pushed the activator and sent himself toward the roof.

The Goombah seemed oblivious to the sound of the grapple hitting the ceiling and, having no neck, he could not have looked up if he’d wanted to. Exploiting this vulnerability had been Mario and Luigi’s key to the constant defeats of the Bowser Army. And it was one that Blue was not above using either. Timing it perfectly, Blue pressed the release on the mechanism and dropped toward the ground, stopped only by the head of the mushroom foot-soldier. A satisfying “pweep” sound emerged from the flattened Goombah as he disappeared from view.

Now, to find that radio and communicate Bowser’s movements to the Slime Slayer.

***

Donkey Kong found himself alone on the battlefield. The Dereks had done a great work but they had retreated when the call was sounded. Samus didn’t like it when people didn’t listen but DK didn’t care. His only concern was destroying all of these insignificant gnats that pestered him. Blood coursed from a dozen wounds but the gorilla had been through much worse, hunting Krool. Sending a troopa-shell skyward, he knocked Lakitu from his cloud and, looking around, realized just how massive the onrushing army was. A slow thought (which was all there ever was for Donkey Kong) sprouted in his mind. Why were there no mushroom soldiers fighting on the side of the princess? He could find the question but the answer was a little too quick for him so he let it get away. Realizing that he would not likely make it out alive if he didn’t leave now, he leapt straight up in the air, grabbed onto Lakitu’s cloud and flipped himself into the seat. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how to fly it and it was even easier to launch the four remaining Spinies into the crowd of Bowser’s ground troops, delivering a painful spiny end for any soldier not clad in a shell. Goombahs hardly slowed the projectiles down and an entire brigade of the evil-looking mushrooms was mowed down in short order. Chuckling evilly, Donkey Kong flew off to Mushroom Palace.

Chapter 3

From the highest tower in the Mushroom Palace, Carlos could see the ravening hordes of Bowser’s army. They were held back for now by a spell cast by Toad, who had an amazing array of magical spells. This would not hold them back for long, however, and when they broke through, Toad would die. Such was the price to pay for the time that was needed. It all came down to time, now. Time for Blue, Alex and Ryan to do what they had to.

***

Ryan dropped the wooden stick he’d been using to fight off the guards outside of Bowser’s castle. It blinked for a time and then disappeared, its usefulness at an end. Fortunately, there was another garbage can, the third such that he’d used in this crusade. Turtle shells had been his primary weapon – that and the bricks that he’d been able to dislodge from the treasure boxes that were surrounded by nothing. One good yank and they came free – they flew really well too. Alex was currently laying about him with a Shy-guy, enemies being a valuable weapon to the two River-City boys. Finally, Alex and Ryan were alone, any enemies that remained blinking – their disappearance imminent – or BARFing, after which they started blinking. Looking around for anyone who might betray their whereabouts, Alex motioned to his buddy and they continued toward the castle which loomed large over the entire vicinity.

***

Blue swung from the suspended blocks, releasing the grapple at the end of his swing to gain maximum distance. If he timed it right, he could – there – the next set of brick blocks came within range and the Bionic Commando aimed and fired. With a satisfying crunch, the grapple bit, seeing Blue safely to the next objective.

From behind him, a hammer whistled by his head. Blue turned and fired without stopping to see who had thrown the weapon and silent death tore its way through the air to the lone Hammer Brother. As the armoured turtle disappeared, Blue resumed his journey to the castle. Carlos had been quite adamant in his orders for Blue to rejoin his covert ops team as they made the final assault on the castle.

***

“FULL RETREAT!” Samus called, pulling back from the fighting. It was amazing – none of her people had died and they were still going to lose the battle. She’d decimated an uncountable number of enemies and yet the horde continued inexorably forward. It was then that she had understood what her part in this was. Saying a silent prayer for the assault on the castle, she returned to the castle, all of her soldiers in tow and her delaying action successfully completed.

***

Realization came upon Carlos in a flash. Without knowing numbers, it was hard to say for sure, but it looked like… no, it couldn’t be the case. There had to be more, somewhere. He would have to talk to the princess.

Chapter 4

Mario jumped down from the floating platform, the high-pitched tone of his jump subdued. He hadn’t been the same since things had turned out the way they did. How could he have been so blind? All these years, and never – not once – had Mario run into a commoner in the mushroom kingdom that was anything but hostile toward him. Then that note from Bowser that made everything so clear.

Making Luigi see reason was the hardest part. He had never wanted to say anything, but his brother’s feelings for the princess had always been a little inappropriate. They did their job, they saved Toadstool on several occasions. But it was not right for him to push his feelings on the woman.

And now they were at war with the same person they had saved time and again. The woman who had kissed Mario on the cheek when he’d saved her in the floating castle. The woman whose hair shone in the sun like the mozzarella on a fresh pizza-pie.

No. I won’t let myself think of her in that way anymore. She’s responsible for where we are.

She and her father had been responsible for the oppression of the mushroom people since well before Mario had appeared. Bowser’s message to Mario had outlined that, but countless interviews with mushroom people of all stripes lent hard evidence to Bowser’s claim. Goombahs, Koopa Troopas, Lakitus, all of these creatures had suffered under the thumb of the Mushroom monarchy.

In a way, Bowser was a hero. He’d shown up just before Mario and taken the people’s plight into his heart. He’d fought for them, using the dirty tricks that they were not willing to. He’d shown them the way, and then when Mario came on the scene to save the princess, the mushroom people had finally decided to attack.

Why else had Mario never found a friend among the entire populace?

That was in the past, though, and Mario had nothing but the future to look forward to. Bowser would send Mario and Luigi home once the princess was taken down, by way of the secret warp zone, and the people of the Mushroom Kingdom would become the Free Peoples of Mushroomistan, and live in peace and prosperity.

That was what Mario hoped – if only he could trust the dragon who had been his nemesis for so long.

***

Luigi’s heart was breaking. He didn’t know what to do. He’d argued with Mario, but couldn’t get him to see the same thing. They were brothers. But the princess was the princess. She’d had that same hold on him since the day he’d gone down the drain in his bath tub and ended up here, in the mushroom kingdom.

Those eyes, that hair, the slim figure, so like his own. He and the princess had even shared a dream. A wonderful dream where the two of them had teamed up to defeat the evil Wart. (Mario and Toad had been there too, but that was immaterial.)

Where did Mario get off, telling him to turn on his one true love? Hadn’t he carried the team to new heights? If it were Mario all by himself, he would never have gotten so far. They’d been together since the very beginning, stomping crabs for gold, and now Mario expected him to follow when Mario called.

Forget that. If Mario wanted to go rogue, destroy all that the brothers had worked so hard for, betray the love of Luigi’s life, that was his doing. Luigi would do what he had always done. He would lead with the heart, and do what he had to do to get the job done.

Chapter 5

“But Princess, I don’t understand.” The slime-slayer’s voice hit the edge of plaintiveness but he recovered quickly. “Why can I not see the general population of this kingdom? Where are they all?”

“They are in seclusion. This war is extremely hard on them.”

“Take me there.”

“No.”

“Are…” the next question gave Carlos pause. This would determine his course of action and possibly decide the fate of the Mushroom Kingdom. “Are they on your side?”

The look in Toadstool’s eyes said it all. The uncertainty and fear were confirmation of his suspicions.

The seasoned campaigner turned from the princess and grabbed his comm. “Pull out, all units. PULL OUT!”

***

Blue, the Bionic Commando, looked down his scope at the soon-to-be-late Mario. One tap to the back of the cap, and the pasta-boy would be down. He eased into his crouch and suddenly the shot was there. ‘Say goodnight, goombah,’ Blue thought, because at this range, any noise would-

“Pull out, all units. PULL OUT!” Blue flinched, wincing. That would pull the entire Dragon-guard down on him. He opened his eyes to see Mario staring straight at him. It didn’t look good. He would have to shoot before-

It was too late. Before Blue could even think of pulling the trigger, a bouncing ball of fire caromed off his face. As he fell to the ground, the Bionic Commando was oblivious to the irony that his position was betrayed by the call to tell him that the man who eventually killed him was not his enemy after all.

***

Alex and Ryan were surrounded. Turtles, turtles with wings, some cute little shelled things, a couple of mushroom-looking things with guns loaded with Bullet Bills – there really was nothing they could do. They’d used up their stone hands and dragon feet just getting this close, and they could get no closer.

“Looks like we’re done for, Alex.”

“It’s the big barf in the sky for us, Ryan.”

You wanna be a prisoner?”

“Not me. You?”

“Nope.”

“Then one last time. DO IT!” Alex’s final two words resonated as, somehow, both Alex and Ryan simultaneously picked the other one up and threw him at the enemy.

Spinning through the air head first, Alex bowled over fourteen turtles and a shelled cute-thing before he was squashed by a fat turtle with wings. Three blinks and a coin sat where once there was a neighbourhood crusader.

Ryan didn’t have time to say goodbye, as he landed on his feet, in a fighting stance.

“Pull out, all units. PULL OUT!” Carlos began in the comm unit. “Mario and Luigi are not our enemy. The Bowser Army is not our enemy. It is all a lie. Pull out any way you can. Get back here safely.”

Putting up his arms, Ryan did the last thing he ever expected to do. He surrendered to the Bowser army.

***

Throughout the Mushroom Kingdom, word from Mario spread quickly. The mercenaries were bugging out. They’d caught on to the injustice of Toadstool’s reign, and were now leaving the Kingdom for good. If any were caught, they were to be released, and if any were seen, they were to be left alone.

The hordes advanced on the Mushroom Palace unimpeded. The thirst for vengeance was overwhelming. Slower mushrooms were trampled by some behind them, and disappeared without a trace. The advance became a sprint and righteous anger became bloodlust. Ascending the steps required the tide to narrow to four mushrooms abreast. The lead mushrooms rounded a corner and were sent, sizzling, to Hell.

The blue overalls and green hat were stained, the face was wet with tears, and Luigi stood over the dead form of Carlos the Slime Slayer. No more would the valiant Spaniard protect the city of Aliahan from slimes of every stripe.

Ball after ball of fiery death bounced into the rows of mushrooms. until the slaughter caused them to reverse course. Uncounted multitudes of mushrooms were crushed as the mushrooms in the back continued to try to reach the castle and those who witnessed the horror pushed the other way.

A small fraction of the horde that had reached Mushroom Palace limped away from it, their hunger for death ruined in the extinguishing of so many of their compatriots.

Chapter 6

“I should have known what you would do, Luigi.” Mario stepped out of the shadows.

“And you did nothing to stop me,” Luigi replied, turning to face his brother.

“You broke the Bowser army. I would not have them reach the princess either.”

“But you’re on their side.”

“I am. But it is not for the people to pull the despot from the throne. It is for their champion. If they were to do it, they would have no need of Bowser, and then they would overthrow Bowser when he did something they didn’t like, and it would be anarchy.”

“And you?”

“I’m what you might call Bowser’s proxy. I’ll do the dirty work, and then they will turn to Bowser for protection. He can rule, and the Mushroom Kingdom will be in peace once more.”

“You believe that the Mushroom Kingdom will be at peace under that murderous dragon?”

“No. I am not that foolish.”

“Then?” Luigi’s confusion was plain on his face.

“I killed Bowser.” Luigi did not flinch at the lack of emotion in Mario’s voice, but it was an effort.

“You… killed him?”

“I had to. If he were to rule, it would be no better than if Toadstool were to. Worse, in all probability.”

“Then …” Luigi’s eyes widened as he realized the repercussions. “You would rule in Bowser’s stead?”

“As long as people believe Bowser is still alive, they will pay their tributes to him. And I will run the show.”

“But what about the princess?” Luigi was pleading.

“She will have to die. She wants to rule, and her way is not the way of peace.”

“But-“

“No more, Luigi. Stand aside. I have a princess to kill.”

“You will not kill her, Mario.”

“I have no choice, Luigi. It’s the only way to peace.” Mario stepped forward. Luigi stood in his way.

I’ll stop you, Mario. I swear it.” He readied a fireball.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Mario took another step and was incinerated by the ball that flew from Luigi’s hand.

“For the princess, I would do anything.”

“Then die, plumber.” A blade bloomed from Luigi’s chest and around it, his green coveralls darkened to a black as the lifeblood fled from him.

Princess Peach Toadstool, uncrowned queen of the Mushroom Kingdom, lowered Luigi to the ground as he slowed and was still in his death throes.

From behind her, the familiar squeak of Toad could be heard. “There will be peace.”

Toadstool turned, the front of her dress covered in blood. “Let’s go to bed, Toad, dearest.”

“I’m the best!”

THE END

Phenobaby no more!

So, today is Lillian’s last day of Phenobarbital. Who cares? I do. I’m thinking that she’ll be okay. We started paring back the doses on Thursday and she hasn’t reacted at all. It hasn’t affected her sleeping, she hasn’t been overly grumpy, and there have been no more convulsions.

In other Lillian-related news, she’s started smiling and reacting to sound. Grampa Bob was all-too-willing to make an arse out of himself in order to facilitate the smiling. Thanks Grampa Bob!

One more Convulsion-related appointment (with a neurologist who wants to know about my family history) and then, if all is well, we can put this behind us and move on into a new, unmedicated future with Lillian.

YEAH!

Battle of Alberta

The first game of the NHL’s version of the Battle of Alberta is over and Calgary looked GOOD. A powerplay goal, no goals against, and Flames fans can thank Mikka Kiprusoff for bragging rights, at least until Thursday. To Shaun and Shaun I say Pbbbbbbt!

It looks like Kiprusoff is back in playing shape and ready to play. Phaneuf has sure looked good too. Iginla finally got back into it. I guess it just takes a rivalry game for that.

I just hope they don’t celebrate this win by dropping their next three or something.

42-10

The Houston Texans did not turn the ball over once. David Carr was sacked sacked a season-low three times. Jabbar Gaffney set a personal best with 10 catches. Centre Drew Hodgdon saw the field for the first time and did fairly well. The Texans converted a fourth-and-10 on a fake punt. Domanick Davis scored from 27 yards out. The defense got three sacks of their own. Oh, and their first turnover.

That’s the good.

320 yards rushing. Oh my GOD! The comments I have read so far are: “Shaun Alexander looked like he was doused in grease before the game.” “Alexander made C.C. Brown look like his girlfriend on that play.”
How does that happen? Sure, Alexander only ran for 141 yards, but Maurice Morris (who?!) ran for 100+ and Hasselbeck had as many yards as Houston’s leading rusher on 14 fewer carries.
Carr was knocked around all evening. Comments: “They’re going to ruin him (carr).” (Like they haven’t already ripped his legs off and replaced them with “Happy feet”.) “If you can’t stop your man one-on-one, you don’t deserve to wear the jersey”.
I’m not too surprised about Carr getting knocked around. But only three of the hits were for sacks, and one was roughing the passer.
40 yards rushing by Davis. What the heck? I guess the line was so geared up for preventing sacks that they forgot how to run block? Or maybe there were 9 in the box. If that’s the case, then why weren’t there more audibles into passing plays? I understand sticking with the run, but what about adjustment?
13 penalties for 95 yards. Who are they? The Oakland Raiders? Two illegal formation penalties on Chester Pitts (one negating a 24-yard run by Davis)? How does that happen? Do they not go over the formation in practice? Sure, Pitts hadn’t played tackle in a season and a quarter. That means that there’s going to be an adjustment. Shouldn’t they have made sure he was good to go before the game?
Kailee Wong gone for the season. Nobody’s fault that he got hurt, but GM and Coach must be to blame for a lack of depth behind him. Where’s Jay Foreman now? He’d look pretty good. Or Jamie Sharper, for that matter. (Derrick Johnson, anyone?)

That's the bad.

A lot of my anger for this loss is directed at the coaching staff and the front office. You can’t control injuries, but you can plan for them, and the lack of quality depth (C.C. Brown at Safety, Troy Evans at ILB, Milford “F#cking” Brown STARTING at guard) has me scratching my head.
At this point, I would LOVE to see Art Shell come in and be the coach of this team. I know it’s not going to happen, (Al Davis is, after all, still alive) but a boy can dream, right?

Next up, the Indianapolis Colts. If Phillip Buchanon can pull his something out of his something else, and Faggins can stop interfering with the receivers, there might be a chance. Especially if Andre Johnson is back. This may seem wildly optimistic to you, but I look forward to all the games, especially the ones where there's a chance to beat a much more successful team. Why should a professional team cringe from a chance to win? What am I, a Lions fan?

BisonWeb

Team BisonWeb took a major step forward today, as my magic word on a comment on my blog was bisalo. The bisalo is obviously a cross between bison and buffalo. Someone is trying to tell me something. What they're trying to tell me is that BisonWeb is inevitable.

Look:



















The question is: Where does BisonWeb go from here?

Obviously, word must spread.

Back at work

Time flies when you're not getting any sleep.

Twelve working days after the birth of my daughter, I'm back at work and ready to go. Things have changed so much for me in the past two-and-a-half weeks that it's going to take a bit of time for me to figure out my new role.

Not only am I a sleepless father of two but I am now officially the new Data Management Supervisor for Sperry Nisku.

Money aside, what does this mean? It means that all the things that I was doing before, I am now expected to do. All the things that they appreciated before -- overtime, training, mentoring -- these are all part of my job.

Does this mean that my job got harder? Probably not. I was able to do these things and get them done properly and on time. It just means that upper management's expectations of me just got a lot higher.

I know, I know, serenity is inversely proportional to expectation. Normally, I live my life by this. I try not to have any expectations of anyone else, but in this case, serenity is theirs, not mine, and the satisfaction of their expectation is directly tied to my continued employment. So, I'll have to find some new tricks, work harder and try to live up to their expectations -- with my serenity hanging in the balance.

It's a great day for work!

Seizure

On Friday, Lillian had her first seizure. We took her to Emergency at the Grey Nuns and they said it wasn't a heart thing, and that if there were more, we should take her in. I didn't say anything here because we were kinda just hoping it would go away.

She had two more yesterday, and now she's had two today. The second one today was in front of the pediatric resident at the Grey Nuns. When I was a baby, I had convulsions, and my brother and cousin both had them as well. The neo-natalogist (I didn't even know there was such a thing) called it "fifth-day fits". He can't rule out infection without testing, though, so they drained hooked my daughter up to monitors for her heart rate and oxygen saturation, as well as hooking up an IV to her. Nothing has ever broken my heart like seeing my baby's blood run down the nurse's hand, onto the blanket, hearing her scream and knowing there's nothing I can do about it.

The pediatric resident told us it would be a good idea to take a walk while they poked at her spine for some more fluids. We took that advice.

The good news is, now we know why Lillian has been having seizures, coupled with 20-30 seconds of apnia(not breathing, for you non-medical, non-scrabble types). It's most likely going to go away with semi-regular doses of phenobarbitol (a mild sedative) and if the tests come back negative and the seizures don't return after two days (which is getting off relatively light, since I was in there for a couple of weeks as a baby), she can come home again.

I'm just home right now to update this, get some things for Kim since she's staying at the hospital, and to get stuff ready for Nick's school-day tomorrow.

Speaking of my amazing Kindergartening son, he's staying with Gramma while Kim and I are with Lillian in the hospital.

Come home soon, Lillian.

A study in contrast

Preston



















Lillian



















These two shots made me realize how much Lillian looks like Preston did a couple of years ago.

If only I'd gotten that shot of Lillian as a profile.

Still, they're both babies, so they look alike, right? Right??

At least they're cute.

I'm just about even with those bastards

Six months ago, I was riding the bike in the morning, and still getting to work plenty early to earn extra money. Then the bastards stole my bag, with my shoes, sweats, a t-shirt and Deadhouse Gates, a book that I was thoroughly enjoying.

I've since replaced the shoes and t-shirt. Tonight I took another step against the bastards and bought Deadhouse Gates again.

It's the second book in the Malazan Book of the Fallen. It's fantasy (don't lynch me) but it's written by a Canadian, and it's good.

The first book, Gardens of the Moon, drops you in the middle of the action and gradually explains some of the background. It was a little hard to get into, seeing as how most of the Fantasy I've read puts you right in the beginning, when the hero is still a modest farm-boy, and then all hell breaks loose.

This one is nothing like that.

Now I have the book. All I need is some sweats and a bag and I'm back at even (even though I'm down the cost of replacement).

Bastards.

Lillian

Kim will tell you she knew it was a girl. My sister will tell you the same thing. So will various people around my office.

Well, they were right.
















Saturday morning was supposed to be a day of sleeping in, with Nick at his grandparents’, and the morning to doze. That dream was shattered, however, when Kim came back to bed around a quarter after seven to tell me that she was wet.

Holding pee-jokes back, I asked if her water had broken. “I dunno” was the reply (which had been the reply to countless “Was that a contraction?” questions I’d asked over the past two weeks). I suggested that we go to the hospital to get it checked out, since they wanted her in nice and early for some antibiotics against a group-b strep (whatever that is) that they’d discovered some time earlier.

Three hours later, I finally had Kim convinced and we were off to the hospital.

After an interminable wait in what I will call the “four-to-a” room, where up to four pregnant women can wait to be taken to a delivery room, we learned that Kim’s water had indeed broken and that they would eventually want to hook her up to an IV to get the clendomiacin into her.

After another interminable wait in what I call the “four-to-a” room, Kim got her antibiotics, and we went for a walk, trying to get the baby to re-engage the pelvis, a position that the kindly Dr. Evenson had told us the baby had already reached. Apparently, it’s not likely that a baby will disengage the pelvis, but our Lillian is up to many impossible things. She re-engaged (or engaged for the first time, depending on whether or not you believe Dr. Len) and we headed home.

We spent the afternoon fairly restful and Nicholas came back to us fairly early on. Four games of Pokemon-Sorry later (I won the tournament, 3-1), Howard and Mary Jane (or Mr. And Mrs. MacPherson, if you prefer) returned to take Nicholas and bring us our doula. For those of you not in the know, a doula is a childbirth facilitator. Kinda like a midwife, but not quite as technical. Kinda like a birth-coach (me) but more technical. As a side note, Kara did an amazing job, and if any of you bloggers ever need a doula, I would recommend her.

We returned to the hospital around eight-thirty for the second round of antibiotics, and the nurses talked Kim into keeping the needle in her arm. This turned out to be a mistake, as the needle bent and sent a bunch of saline into the part of Kim’s arm that isn’t vein, and puffed up the arm painfully.

We left the hospital after spending another couple of hours in the four-to-a, convinced that Kim was not in labour, despite some contractions that had seemed to be leading somewhere.

The night was spent for Kim, trying to start labour. I helped when I could, but the rest of the time was spent playing solitaire and waiting.

5:30 saw us back at the hospital. We knew that it was getting close to the time they would want to induce labour, and that was something that Kim had said she wanted to avoid. She got the antibiotics, and by the time the doctor was ready to see her at 10 or so, she’d already decided she’d be induced. She didn’t want to be too tired to give birth, so it wasn’t too much of a blow when Dr. Corbet came into the room and told us that induction would be happening now.

With this stunning piece of news, and the oxitocin drip started, I was so excited I fell asleep for a half-hour. Kim and Kara did – well, whatever it is that expectant mother and doula do when labour is imminent.

When Kim was allowed off the fetal monitor and could get up and go, we went walking the halls of the third floor of the Grey Nuns hospital. Kim had wanted to walk through her labour and, while this was not the off-leash area, Kim was walking. When the contractions started, I didn’t know what would work best for Kim, so I just walked up to her and gave her a hug. The next few contractions allowed us to fine-tune our technique and before too long, Kim would allow me to support her weight with my knees while I held her.

We walked for a good half-hour, circling the halls, looking at baby pictures, contracting (well, Kim was contracting. I wasn’t.) Kara was there, talking Kim through her contractions, helping Kim to learn how best to manage her pain. I started taking a more active role as well, talking to Kim while she breathed through the contractions.

When walking was over, Kim and I stepped into the shower (once I figured out how to make the thing work) and continued the process. She felt the baby drop and had to start squatting during contractions. She hung off of my neck while I stood there and told her she was doing a good job. At one point, she wondered if she was doing any good at all – if she should find some way to deal with the pain. I talked her through her uncertainty, and pretty much immediately, she said she needed to push. We got her out of the shower, and into bed where they told her she was 8 cm dilated. 10 cm is fully dilated and time to push, so I figured it would be pretty soon. I dashed into the bathroom and changed back into my underwear and pants (not socks, though, Sean) and returned. After that, she was in bed the rest of the way.
















Fifteen minutes of pushing saw the birth of my baby daughter.

She was born at 6 pounds, 14.2 ounces, and 21 inches long. She enjoys sleeping, eating, pooping, shrieking (Cry your rage, Lillian), and plotting to take over the world with Jack.

She is very, very cute, despite a disturbing resemblance to grampa Bob, and I think she's actually trying to be cute when she yawns. It works, though.
















Welcome to the Johnstones, Lillian. We're all wack-jobs, but we all love you.

The Johnstone House

This is the Johnstone House. May, 2004, I took possession of this townhouse with the intention of living here a couple of years and then moving on to bigger and better things. The most alluring thing about the place (beside the fact that we could afford it!) was that the entry faces away from the street. Carrying groceries in can be a pain but it's worth it.















The kitchen is far from ultra-spacious but what it lacks in space it makes up in lack of counter-space.















My only complaint about the dining room is that the floor is carpet.
NOTE: We elected not to keep the For Sale sign in the window.















I took these pictures when Kim and I finally got the chance to look the place over together. At the time, I'd thought that they were decent pictures. What the hell was I thinking?

This is a great closet-shot of the computer room.

NOTE: Realtor's leg sold separately.















Another prize-winning shot. This time, of the bathroom sink. I could really do something as a professional photographer.

A fairly innocuous laundry room, until you realize that the Flame-Master furnace is older than I am and more likely to spew deadly toxins. (much more likely)















The best part about Nick's room is that he has about three acres of closet-space. This comes in handy with the baby moving in.















The Master bedroom is a little bigger than the other rooms but not by a whole lot. Still, for sleeping, it's aces!















Cute Nick-picture aside, this picture really shows the power of my photographic skills. This is the living room as it would look from the light fixture (if we had a light fixture in the living room.)














This shot shows off the spaciousness of the living room, not to mention the neighbour's house.

And this is the tree that we see when we look out the window. Trust me, it's the same tree.

Next, I'm going to post more pictures! Pictures of the house filled with our stuff!

Software Development

This one's partially for Earl. At the very least, he pretended to want to know what it is that I'm working on. Well, to appease him and the inborn desire to be understood, I will explain.

The problem is this: Pro/Engineer is the CAD software that my Engineering firm uses. It has a lot of automated things, like the creation of a PDF representation of the drawings the engineers and designers create.

There is a problem with the way that Pro/E creates the file, though. The size for the first page is automatically given to all ensuing pages. This is not a problem as long as all of the pages are the same size. We at Sperry Drilling Services use a standard letter-sized page for Bills of Material, which are generally page 2 and beyond.

So, the PDF that is generated looks like this:




What I have been doing is going through the file and finding the topmost mark and the rightmost mark made in the postscript file (which is the transitional file that Adobe takes and turns into a PDF.
I make the pagesize as large as the furthest distance right and up, and that crops the pages so that they are correct.
The next challenge is dealing with the bottom margin. I'm still working on it but it looks like I'm going to be shifting everything down as far as the distance from the bottom-most mark to the bottom of the page.
Given that the test postscript file I have is 589,000 lines long, I'm also learning a lot about the efficiency of certain algorithms.

Fun, huh?

How did I get so behind - or Schrodinger's catsup

I will be the first person to admit that I haven’t been keeping up with my blogging. I’ve been doing a lot of things, and I haven’t been taking the time to write them down. So here’s a somewhat-brief recap of the events of the past month or so.

Folk Fest

“The Thrill on the Hill” was just as good this year as any I’ve been to (granted, I’d only been to two previous). Jim Byrnes is amazing. I had only known that he was supposedly a great musician with a part on Highlander: The Series (At least it wasn’t Highlander: The Raven – that show sucked almost as bad as Mortal Kombat: The Series, which was even worse than Mortal Kombat: Annihilation). Turns out, he rocks. Or Blueses, anyway. I made a point of listening to him a couple of times. Another person that impressed me was Ruthie Foster. She sounded like she belonged in the era of Aretha Franklin or something. The programme agreed with me. But I disagreed with a different part of the programme. She didn’t sound anything like Ella Fitzgerald. But I guess they wanted to make her sound enticing. They should have just gone with the truth instead of the standard female-singing comparison. That’s like comparing a playmaking forward to Gretzky, or someone with a hard shot to MacInnis. It just happens too much. Then again, I didn’t hear Ruthie Foster sing “I’ve got a crush on you” (not that she sang it but that’s the Ella Fitzgerald song that’s left the biggest impression with me.)
There were a lot of other really good performances and the whole weekend was a lot of fun.

Full-time Dad

Over the last four weeks, Kim’s parents were in Nova Scotia. Yeah, I know, “Big deal,” right? Well, it changes a lot of things in my life. First, Nicholas normally spends a lot of time over at Gramma and Grampa’s house and there is a lot less Nicholas-time for me. These past weeks have been a great experience. I love spending time with Nick. He’s got a lot of energy and that’s given me a lot too. That said, it was nice to go out with my wife yesterday.

Happy Anniversary, happy anniversary, happy anniversary, HAAAAAAAAAppyanniversary!

52 weeks ago, today, I was, at this time, in the parking garage at the airport, trying to decide between Monaco and marriage. Just kidding – HA! But I was at the airport. I was renting the car that we drove around in for the rest of the day. I know that our first wedding anniversary isn’t until tomorrow but 52 weeks of marriage actually sounds pretty impressive too.
Here’s to another 3900 weeks of marriage!

Baby

Aside from the one scare (see Wake-up Call), the baby has caused very little anxiety. Now, however, is the time when I will start to worry. (Word rejected “anxietize”)
At any time, this baby could potentially come screaming into the real world and be there. I’m not saying I don’t want it to happen – far from it – but it’s weird to think that it’s just in there, maybe a centimeter away from fresh air (if you go straight through the stomach, anyway) and that it’s a fully-developed person-type in there. It’s just getting fatter. (Kim says it’s insensitive to call the baby “it” but I’m not going to spend my time saying “they” or “them” until I know. This is not, after all, Schrödinger's baby. It is either a boy or a girl, not both. (Unless it is… hmm…)

Bike

I had my bike stolen. This makes what, now, seven? Fuck.
It’s not even so much the loss of the bike (okay, so it’s a lot of that too) it’s the fact that someone would open my gate and come into my yard, navigate the turd-bombs, picnic table and assortment of plastic chairs, for the sole purpose of taking a flat-tired, broken-sprocketed, squeaky-chained, no-brake-having bike. You’d think that after they found the bike in such a state of disrepair, they would have just leaned it up against the fence, maybe left a note that said “I’m sorry your bike sucked. It wasn’t worth stealing.” And carried on. But the persistent buggers did all this work, realized the bike was broken down and, I guess, decided to pay me back by depriving me of my bike. The most embarrassing thing about it is that I didn’t even notice. Kim said she’d thought that it wasn’t there A WHOLE MONTH before that, but that she’d thought I’d taken it to my parents’ or something like that. Man, I suck.

Book

I just finished Wolves of the Calla. Wow. They just keep getting better. I was reluctant to start this one because Wizard and Glass was so good and it didn’t seem like it could get any better. Was I wrong… Jake Chambers is an amazing character. Probably the best one in the series. It’s nice to see that they just keep going back into the “real” world (our world). That’s one thing that impressed me the most about the series is the interaction between the two (or more) worlds. The constant coincidences, I think, must require an incredible eye for detail. So yeah, read the Dark Tower series, even if you’re not enjoying The Gunslinger. It’s worth it.

Bark

Jack doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going, lately. Last week, we took Jack for four HUGE walks over four days. We’re talking more than an hour at each walk. Then came this past week, where we’ve had little time or energy for such things. Then we took him for another huge one yesterday. We’ll get him out again today.

Blech

I can’t honestly say why, but I’m learning Calculus again. I guess it’s good for me… maybe. Anyway, there’s a theory by some greek guy (I can’t remember his name and I’m stuck at work, away from my calculus book) – anyway, this theory says that if a man is at one side of a room, he can never reach the other side because he will cross half the distance, and then he will cross half that distance, and then cross half that distance, again and again and never quite reach the other side. Of course, this is a bunch of horse-feathers, even though it seems to make sense. If he’s always crossing half of the distance, how will he ever get there? This, of course, discounts the notion that the time intervals that it takes to cross half the distance keep decreasing until they’re so close to zero that it’s inconsequential – and that’s the point that the contact with the wall is made.

But...

However, I was thinking about this idea and I think it would be a neat concept, maybe a room exists where this greek guy was right and each period of crossing half of the distance seems to take the same amount of time, and a guy crossing the room lives an eternity in the seconds that it takes to cross a millimetre. I don’t know what would happen after that guy finally touched the wall – maybe he’s insane, maybe he dies – hmm… something to think about anyway.

Hockey Cancelled Due To Pansy Participants. Next Week Cancelled Due To Pedicure

I started playing street hockey again a couple of weeks ago. I had a blog post almost completed and ready to go up, extolling the virtues of the stick and ball. Then I got busy at work and completely forgot about it. To keep a long story less long, I love playing street hockey. It’s been a staple of my life for far too long. The first night of this latest game, it didn’t look like anyone would want to show up. It was cold, it was raining and I was worried that my mad-dash purchase of new shoes during my lunch break that day would have been in vain. However, to paraphrase Kellen Winslow, “I’m a soldier.” And I’m not the only one. Ten or twelve of us non-military military-types trudged about the hockey rink, chasing the ball that skidded to a halt in the puddle that half-submerged it. I thought to myself at that point, ‘these guys are hardcore. This is awesome.’ I continued to enjoy myself over the next couple of weeks, running around, hitting the ball, running some more, turning around. You know, the kind of things that make a man a man. Then it came. Tuesday fell right in the middle of a crappy streak of weather (the streak in which we’re embroiled at the time of this writing). I didn’t figure there would be any chance of a cancellation. That, coupled with the fact that I had heard nothing about any stoppage, propelled me out the door at 6:30, for the weekly game.

I waited. Rob showed up. We waited. We tried, through Rob’s crappy cell problems, to call the guy who put the game together. It didn’t work. So, we went home. I don’t want to say the evening was a waste because I had a good evening. A little programming, coupled with some family time, helped soothe my broken heart but the bitterness is still there. I’d looked forward to that game all day, and Rob’s pansy friends couldn’t make it out because it was raining.

Go get a pedicure, boys. Then when you play in sandals, we can appreciate your toenails.

Bah!

Damn Rights, You're Sorry!

Before the beginning of July, I was offered a promotion. (I’ve written about this promotion) The salary was the only sticking point as I’d been doing the job for the past year as it was.

Friday, I learned that the request for salary increase had not yet left the HR guy’s desk.

For three weeks.

I was tempted, very tempted, to tell my boss that I didn’t want his promotion and that I would go back to my lowly position as Document Specialist. I held back from that but made myself feel better by applying for programming jobs. (I’ve received two in-person interviews for programming positions, and both because of someone I knew – thanks, James – and I comfort myself at times when my job sucks by applying for other jobs. A harmless, futile effort but it’s healthier than alcohol or heroin – cheaper, too)

I was not the only person upset by this development. As you may have guessed, my boss felt like an idiot for not following up (though, why should he, when it’s a pretty simple matter to send out mail) and if there’s one thing the big Scotsman doesn’t like, it’s looking like an idiot.

Monday morning, my boss apparently went up one side and down the other of Mr. HR All-Star. He seemed pretty satisfied that there would be no more delays.

I don’t know what he said to HR, but this morning, the stunned one in question apologized to me for the delay. He explained that it wasn’t his fault, pushed the blame onto someone else (again, what about the follow-up?) and apologized five or six more times. He’s full of crap, this I know. It isn’t the other person’s job to do his job, and even if he did push it onto her, it’s his job to make sure that it gets done. Here, my boss and I had thought that it was going through the approval process, I was sitting on pins and needles (whatever that means) waiting to hear about my future and this guy went on vacation with my raise sitting on his desk.

You’re goddamn right, you’re sorry.

The Family Dog

This is Jack.

We got Jack from the SPCA in November, 2004. This was an attempt to head-off the baby craze that hit both Kim and I in the insane post-wedding haze. (We'd originally wanted to wait until summer 2005 to begin trying - you can imagine how well our plan worked out)

Jack immediately became part of the family - running around like crazy, destroying things, upsetting the near-perfect calm that had settled in to the Johnstone House as we got into some semblance of a routine. In other words, he was the canine equivalent of Nicholas.

It was a close thing - we didn't know if we were going to be able to keep Jack, around the new year. He was getting worse, not better. Destroyed items were a common thing, it was cold outside and there was nowhere for our insane little Jack Russell Terrier to go. He bit Nicholas a couple of times - it was never very severe, but who wants to wait for that?

Finally, when Jack could spend some time outside, he started to mellow out. "Give it time," was a common line heard by friends and dog-fans. Nobody really wanted to say goodbye. And finally, our patience had paid off. Sure, he's a long way from perfect. He barks a lot and pees on people at the off-leash area, but he's part of the family and we won't be getting rid of him.

Jack enjoys swimming, nuzzling ducklings with his teeth, sleeping, running and chewing on his yellow blanket. By all evidence, he's probably a Sagittarius and his pet peeve is anything on wheels.

Bloggers, Jack.

Jack, Bloggers.

The Annual Great Halliburton Summer Picnic

Based on last year’s extravaganza, I had a great feeling that this year’s company picnic would be another success. I was right.

Although not as big as last year’s eleven-to-seven Sun-Fest, this year’s lineup included a large buffet-style lunch with steak as the main course. (Kim didn’t want hers, so I ended up with two steaks – shoulda gotten one for Nick too) After that, it was a somewhat-less-than-brisk walk down 1920’s ave (I’d just loaded up on food – brisk was somewhat beyond me) and back in time for the entertainment.

Professional entertainers are a dangerous gamble. If you get someone who has become a professional comedian based on the fact that “Everyone thinks I’m funny – just ask mom”, you’re in for a long afternoon. Fortunately, the garbanzo brothers, or whatever they called themselves, did a pretty good job. Somehow, they randomly picked my boss for the ultra-embarrassing table-act. Very funny. And they juggled, which can save any quasi-horrible act.

The fact that this was the second year at Fort Edmonton didn’t ruin the experience, since it’s a big place and the focus of this year’s picnic was actually at the picnic area, rather than sight-seeing. Or maybe that was the focus for me since I’d been there before. Given the rapid turnover at Halliburton, I’m sure there were a log of wide-eyed touristy-types, gaping at the old-timey costumes and the locomotive.

In the end, they forwent a door-prize and gave all Halliburton employees a picnic set which included dishes, a cooler and wheels. All hail Halliburton, empire of fun!

Slowps from the slopes

Kim and I went to see "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" at the Cheap Seats on Saturday and I don’t know for sure if I’ve ever enjoyed a movie there as much as this one. It was fun, funny, smart, original and silly. I don’t think there’s anything as funny as a whale falling to earth. I had lots of opportunity to read the book before seeing the movie but I never did. My regret for that is small, though, since I’ll make reading it a priority.

Water fights are just as fun now as they were when I was a kid. The only difference: I’m better than I was then. Now, instead of five-year-olds pelting me with water until I shrieked and ran away, now I’m the one pelting the five-year-olds, and they’re running away. There were a few cases where I had to take matters into my own hands and throw the odd kindergartener or pre-teen into the pool but I can’t just let them get away with trying to throw me in. I am all that is man.

I’m having a very hard time getting into the current CFL season. I haven’t seen a single game, though I’ve listened to snippets of Eskimos radio broadcasts. It’s not worth it. Bryan Hall is the worst radio guy I’ve ever heard. Maybe if I actually sat down and watched some football, I would be more inclined to pay attention but it’s just not holding my interest. Maybe around Labor Day…

I’m still waiting to hear back from my boss’ boss’ boss about whether I will be taking the position of Data Management Supervisor. The anticipation is killing me, although I guess that the fact that it’s taking longer is a good thing. It means that it must have gotten through my boss’s boss or it would have come back much sooner. I’m optimistic that when I hear back, it will be a positive, positive day.

Ninja versus pirates wouldn’t be much of a battle. Sure, pirates are good at bullying innocent towns and lobbing the occasional cannon ball at an unsuspecting military sloop but I don’t think they’d last very long against the greatest of all assassins. I bet that ninjas on boats (which is the coolest thing ever) would make better pirates than pirates.

I left Rob high-and-dry on Saturday. He was putting in laminate. I helped him with the sub-floor and then left him to go to church. There was no church-going that day, though, as the grandparents of my son, the parents of my wife and my in-laws all got together and changed the plan at the last moment. This is not a bad thing, as it gave Kim and I a very enjoyable evening together. I broke my promise not to pick up more books. (Honestly, we took books in for sale – they were going to give us $35 in trade or $11 in cash – what would YOU have done?) but I only got two, where Kim got a whopping FOUR. We also watched the movie and went out for East Indian desserts.

I went to church the next day, however, at a church that has a priest who looks like a hockey coach. I find it hard to imagine myself taking spiritual advice from a man who looks like he’d tell me to “take a lap” for my unfaith and assign a penance of “35 squat-thrusts”. “…the kingdom and the power and the glory for ever and ever – HIT THE SHOWERS! ” Just before the sacrifice (where the Catholics eat Jesus), what looked like most of the kids in the church lined up for hugs from Coach Priestly. I fought the temptation to make some kind of comment because the gesture seemed genuine and heartfelt. Kim asked Nick if he wanted to go up and he said no. His reason? “There’s a lineup.” Oh, sure, he’d go hug the priest, he just doesn’t want to deal with the logjam of other kids, hugging their way into heaven.

My Books

This is a list of my "to-be-read" books. It's not intended for your entertainment - it's just here so that I have them somewhere I can refer to them. However, if the list does provide you with amusement, so much the better.


Ten Little Indians - Agatha Christie
Death on the Nile - Agatha Christie
Curtains: Poirot's Last Case - Agatha Christie
Philosophy: Who needs it - Ayn Rand
Viking Mythology - Brian Branston
Rattle His Bones - Carola Dunn
Tower of the King's Daughter - Chaz Brenchley
Shadow Dawn - Chris Claremont
Shadow Moon - Chris Claremont
The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
The Reluctant Swordsman - Dave Duncan
Sky of Swords - Dave Duncan
Lord of the Fire Lands - Dave Duncan
Queen of Demons - David Drake
Servant of the Dragon - David Drake
Mistress of Catacombs - David Drake
Brotherhood of the Wolf - David Farland
Runelords - David Farland
Waylander - David Gemmell
Hero in the Shadows - David Gemmell
The Covenant of the Flame - David Morrell
Shattered Trust - Don Pendleton
Shifting Shadows - Don Pendleton
Judgment Day - Don Pendleton
All Families are Psychotic - Douglas Coupland
The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood
The Big Bounce - Elmore Leonard
Pagan Babies - Elmore Leonard
Cuba Libre - Elmore Leonard
Dune - Frank Herbert
Dune Messiah - Frank Herbert
Children of Dune - Frank Herbert
The Face of Apollo - Fred Saberhagen
The Fionavar Tapestry - Guy Gavriel Kay
A Song for Arbonne - Guy Gavriel Kay
The Turn of the Screw and Other Stories - Henry James
Dead and Buried - Howard Engel
GeoMancer - Ian Irvine
Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien
Uther - Jack Whyte
The Singing Sword - Jack Whyte
The Jackal of Nar - John Marco
Gulliver's Travels - Jonathan Swift
The Arabian Nights - Kate Douglas Wiggin
Days of Blood and Fire - Katherine Kerr
Camber of Culdi - Katherine Kurtz
Deryni Rising - Katherine Kurtz
The Magi'I of Cyador - L. E. Modesitt Jr.
The White Order - L. E. Modesitt Jr.
Battlefield Earth - L. Ron. Hubbard
Once upon a time - Lester Del Rey
The Copper Beech - Maeve Binchy
Forging the Darksword - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Doom of the Darksword - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Time of the Twins - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
War of the Twins - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Test of the Twins - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Guardians of the Lost - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Omerta - Mario Puzo
Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony
The Hollow Hills - Mary Stewart
The Fortress of the Pearl - Michael Moorcock
The Folk of the Fringe - Orson Scott Card
Red Prophet - Orson Scott Card
Rebekah - Orson Scott Card
Murder at San Simeon - Patricia Hearst
Backseat Quarterback - Perian Conerly
Court Jesters - Peter MacDonald
The Subtle Knife - Philip Pullman
The Amber Spyglass - Philip Pullman
The Demon Awakens - R. A. Salvatore
Conan of Cimmeria - R. E. Howard, L. Sprague de Camp, C. Carter
Myst: The Book of Atrus - Rand and Robyn Miller
Farewell, My Lovely - Raymond Chandler
Prince of the Blood - Raymond Feist
Faerie Tale - Raymond Feist
The Black Mountain - Rex Stout
Perchance to dream - Robert B Parker
Conan: The Sword of Skelos - Robert E. Howard
Fallon Legacy - Robert Jordan
The Further Chronicles of Conan - Robert Jordan
Conan: The Destroyer - Robert Jordan
The Fallon Blood - Robert Jordan
The Gates of Dawn - Robert Newcomb
Lord Valentine's Castle - Robert Silverberg
Valentine Pontifex - Robert Silverberg
Gilgamesh the King - Robert Silverberg
To Open the Sky - Robert Silverberg
Skin Deep, Blood Red - Robert Skinner
Mad Ship - Robin Hobb
Deerskin - Robin McKinley
The Mask of Loki - Roger Zelazny and Thomas T. Thomas
The Wayfarer Redemption - Sara Douglass
Enchanter - Sara Douglass
Battle Axe - Sara Douglass
The Scorpion - Stephen D. Sullivan
The Wounded Land - Stephen R. Donaldson
The One Tree - Stephen R. Donaldson
White Gold Wielder - Stephen R. Donaldson
Daughter of Regals & Other Tales - Stephen R. Donaldson
Memories of Ice - Steven Erickson
House of Chains - Steven Erickson
Wizard of the Grove - Tanya Huff
First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks
Antrax - Terry Brooks
The Darkness and The Dawn - Thomas B. Costain
A Canticle for Liebowitz - Walter M. Miller Jr.
CS Lewis A Biography - Wilson

100 things? Really? Wow.

In the spirit of ripping-off that has become the great legacy of In the Now, here are my 100 things about me:

1) I was either named after the singer Liam Clancy or not named after him, depending on if you talk to my mom or my dad
2) I first got drunk at the age of eight. I haven’t been drunk since.
3) My brother once shot me with a B.B. gun. I really don’t think he knew it was loaded. His response to my cries of distress? “If you tell anyone, I’ll shoot you again.”
4) I think I like Johnny Bravo more than I like The Simpsons.
5) I have no feeling on parts of two fingers and part of my right ankle. I stabbed myself through the hand while separating beef patties and surgery took care of my ankle.
6) People falling down generally makes me laugh.
7) My grandma once chased me around, both inside and outside, clapping her hands and yelling “Pants!” I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared.
8) I get free coffee, tea and iced tea at work and I usually only take advantage of the coffee. (and the water)
9) When I was younger, I wanted to be a carpenter or a writer. When I think about it, nothing has changed. I still want to whack nails with a hammer.
10) The only difference between me on the outside and me on the inside is that I babble on the inside.
11) I get scared by the magnitude of some of the things I try to do.
12) I’m going to have a BABY!
13) I actually feel bad for Tom Cruise.
14) I’m still not sure that I want the NHL to come back yet.
15) The worst pain I’ve ever had is a tie between plastic primer in the eye and bleach up the nose.
16) Of the six vehicles I’ve had in my possession, only one was not bought or borrowed from a family member.
17) Every bike I’ve ever owned, except the one in my possession now, has been stolen.
18) Nothing cheers me up more than Nicholas playing with Jack.
19) Neither of the brand-new chairs at work are as good as the wobbly chair I had when I started.
20) On average, I spend more time working per week than sleeping.
21) I get a little thrill when I think of the Intellivision emulator I found. There’s nothing like a block-man running from a block-spider or a blocky triangle shooting at a block-asteroid to make my day.
22) I once flushed a bowl of oysters, angry that someone would take a dump in a bowl and put it on the table. (I was asleep)
23) I once peed in my parents’ fridge (I was asleep)
24) I once challenged my dad to a fight (I was asleep)
25) I used to sleep-walk.
26) Battlefield Earth was the most fun I’ve ever had at a movie theatre.
27) I currently have 90 books to read. I will not buy another book (other than the new Harry Potter, the new Wheel of Time and the new A Song of Ice and Fire) until that number has been halved.
28) I refuse to learn anything about “Feminine Hygiene Products”. I’ll buy them but I don’t need to know the particulars.
29) I’ve had a story bouncing around in my head for twelve years – you’d think I’d just write it already.
30) Getting hit by a car was less traumatic than having my wisdom teeth out. But it hurt more.
31) I’ve never had a Driver’s License picture with a shaven head, despite having a shaven head for the majority of the past eight years.
32) I went from single, broke and living with my parents to married with a kid, a dog and a house in less than two years.
33) Carrollton, Texas is the bane of my existence.
34) Last year, I fought changes in my office. This year, I have no idea why I was fighting so hard.
35) I am thrilled that it’s been a year and the Calgary Flames are STILL the second-best team in the NHL.
36) The worst job I’ve ever had was refereeing soccer.
37) The second-worst job I’ve ever had was as a softball umpire.
38) The best job I’ve ever had was building a golf course. (Sledge hammers and big, big nails – go figure)
39) Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my wedding ring the most.
40) Being a parent is much better than babysitting.
41) I don’t care about downhole drilling tools.
42) My area of greatest weakness is asking for something that I want.
43) My area of greatest strength is typing
44) Given the choice between pizza and steak, I can’t honestly tell you how I would decide at any given moment.
45) There is no joy more pure than rolling over and going back to sleep.
46) I would not remember to eat supper if it were not for my wife.
47) All of the pants that I own have something wrong with them.
48) I’m a better driver than 70% of the people out there – and I’m a crap driver.
49) I’m scared of the United States
50) I’ve learned more about inter-office politics in the past two days than I ever learned before.
51) I have not had any pain in my wrists since coming to my new cubicle. Ergonomics works for me!
52) Any pair of shoes that I have inevitably ends up with the tongues shoved down to the toes and the back wall of the shoe a crumpled ruin because I’m too lazy to untie and tie my shoes.
53) I resolve to shave every three days and when I look up next, it’s been a week.
54) Flash Gordon is my favourite movie.
55) The Eye of the World is my favourite book.
56) I want to cross-stitch more.
57) If I stay in shape, my back hurts less.
58) The second-best day of my life is the day that I bought a PlayStation 2. I bought the PlayStation 2 to cover up the fact that I had also bought an engagement ring. I proposed later that night. Why is it that we men have to trick our fiancées-to-be when we propose?
59) I was wearing a “dress” on the best day of my life.
60) All my computer-using life, I have underestimated the power and usefulness of Power Point.
61) Any graphics I need to create can be made in MS Paint.
62) I have been married 289 days as of this writing – it has been 288 days since the gift-opening and I have not yet written my thank-you cards.
63) My second child is due in 64 days and I’m still trying to let it sink in.
64) Anything important that I write has to be written on paper first.
65) I would rather play football than do just about anything else.
66) I’m no longer a fan of sitting around doing nothing.
67) I miss drawing.
68) I am going to be a Beaver leader in the fall.
69) 25 degrees Celsius is too hot for me.
70) I haven’t played street hockey, which used to be a staple in my life, since Rob Ladner’s bachelor party.
71) It’s been longer than that for football, which I’d rather play.
72) In 2003, I failed to read 50 books, which was my goal, by 1.
73) I’ve finished two Final Fantasy games, 1 and 3 (6 in Japan), despite spending ungodly amounts of time trying to finish various others.
74) I have built two rock-waterfalls, both at the same golf course.
75) I am more proud of the physical things that I’ve made than the programs I’ve designed.
76) If I hadn’t gone to that New Year’s Party, I have NO idea what I’d be doing (or where I’d be) right now.
77) I pay more for student loans than I do for mortgage in a month.
78) I would rather watch Nicholas play soccer than play soccer myself.
79) I am the single most disorganized person in the entire world.
80) I am not a multi-tasker.
81) I’m glad that Kim likes horsey-jumping because then we can watch sports together.
82) I don’t get mad at the police when I get caught speeding.
83) I will wash ten sinks of dishes before doing one load of laundry.
84) I would rather help someone do their work than do mine.
85) I hate I hate I hate I hate loud toys but I don’t resent the fact that we have them since Nicholas likes them.
86) I once got lost in Vancouver but didn’t know I was lost. I was just riding the rides. Having lost Nicholas in Costco, I’m sorry mom and dad.
87) If I knew I only had one day left to live, I would probably not change my routine.
88) If I had a million dollars, I would quit my job and write.
89) My brain refuses to accept that MacDonald’s is bad for me.
90) I cried when Joe Montana retired.
91) Happy Birthday Barbie is a tool of the devil.
92) I am annoyed by people who think their God has no sense of humour.
93) Borscht is the worst garbage ever created.
94) There is no good sports caster. There are degrees of bad, but they’re all bad.
95) I could not do a better job than any sports caster.
96) I hope I never want to play golf again.
97) I don’t want to imagine the circumstances that would cause me to kill someone else.
98) I believe that Professional Wrestling has gone down the tubes and there’s no coming back.
99) I want my own laptop.
100) Having written 99 things about myself, I don’t know that anyone will know me better for having read them.

Something Else

This is a short story (a short-short story) that I wrote for a contest on an online forum I occasionally browse. The contest was cancelled before it started but they hinted at contest and I started writing. It reminds me of my school days, even if it is a perversion of them.

Enjoy.

(Disclaimer -- It is my claim that this is a work of fictional art. It's like when I sang "Just a Gigolo" in front of my wife. I am not selling my body and I am not obsessed with any former U of L students)

Smile

I see you pass by every day. You look my way and smile. That smile, I swear to God, has the power to stop the sun. You leave a trail of hanging jaws in your wake, young men, longing to do the things of which young men dream. Nevertheless, your smile is for me.

Our time together is precious. Our dates are always short. You have things to do that don’t involve me. I wish they did, I wish I could be involved in everything with you, but the life of a student is a busy one.

Do you remember that one special Saturday? We met in the atrium at the university? We ate lunch. We talked expansively about assignments, professors we hated, and of things that were so important that I cannot recall a word.

What I do remember is the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh, the wrinkle of your nose when you smile at me. I remember the delicate scent of your perfume as we shared our Saturday lunch.

Now, I’m sitting in the same atrium, and I know you’ll be along soon. You always come to the atrium Monday mornings. Sunday was the longest day of my life, waiting to see you again, to feel your smile fall on me with the warmth of a sunny autumn day.

You approach and I ache to tell you how I feel. You are absolutely breathtaking. I open my mouth as you near. The perfume is intoxicating. Your eyes sparkle. My throat catches as I move to catch your attention. I can say nothing as you smile down at me, seated at my usual table.

And then you are gone. You take your customary seat at the other end of the atrium, striking up a conversation with one of your friends. Realizing my mouth has been open the entire time, I close it in embarrassment. A thousand imagined conversations fly through my head as I realize, once again, that the people you sit with are actually worth your time.

I’m worth your smile.

Two roads diverged in a wood and I- umm...

“The future is cloudy. Two realities present themselves – each equally likely, each with its challenges. The future is out of your hands. The future of your career balances on a razor. Will you find your niche or will you continue to float along, hoping for something better? You have made your choice, now they must make theirs.”

This is the truth. The possibilities are twofold. Will the request for a 25% increase be granted or will it be denied? The first possibility provides with me in a supervisory role, officially, and the second means that I will reject the promotion, return to the position of Document Specialist and look for (and eventually find) another job.

I have thought long and hard about both possibilities and how I would react. Here are my thoughts:



The New Managerial Me

Well, it worked. I pulled the wool over their eyes long enough for them to lose their minds completely and I’ve been promoted to the position of “Data Management Supervisor”. This means that I set policy for Engineering Changes, Print Requests, New Product Development and Test Procedures, as they affect Document Control. Basically, I’m in charge of two people and I get to tell a bunch of engineers what to do. I’ve been doing most of this job for the past year at my regular salary. Since February, I’ve been working seven hours of overtime per week, on average, which has boosted my salary considerably. They didn’t take this into consideration when offering me the position in the first place, but when I explained to my boss (Ed) that taking the smaller raise that he’d offered would result in a pay-cut, he understood and made it work.

I’ve been working my butt off, and it paid off. I’m glad to be here and I don’t see myself going anywhere soon. After all, I get a say in how things work now. (Not that I didn’t before but all my “decisions” were suggestions then and now I can actually put them into practice). Official Suggestion from Houston:

The need for a strong Documentation Manger(sic.) should be a high priority; currently vacant. This person will need be tasked with continually improving the documentation process; automate as much as possible and copy processes from other sites when applicable. This person must also be strong enough to stick with the process when confronted by Mfg. and Engineering to take risky shortcuts. They should also have a passion about improving/automating the documentation process.

This could have been my biography. I’m always looking for an easier way to do things. Automatic means less chance for me to screw it up with a typo. And copying processes means that I don’t have to come up with them from nowhere. I’m all over that. Strong? Hell, I’m strong enough for two Documentation Mangers. And passion – Well, we all know I’m all about the passion. YEAH!

Now, maybe I can pay my property tax.


New Horizons on the Plain… um… yeah…

I’m not going to pretend that I’m not disappointed. I wanted that job. I don’t know where Document Control is going to go with itself now. I’ll continue to do my work but Bryan’s work is now officially out of my hands. All of the work I’ve done with Document Control processes becomes recommendations to the new Manager. It was nice of them to offer me the position – recognition is always nice, even if they can’t back it up with anything concrete. I can’t afford to take a pay cut, though, even if it means that down the road I’ll be making more money. Not to sound greedy, but I need it now.

On to bigger and better things, I guess. I’ll find another job, hopefully something where I can actually USE my degree. And Halliburton will continue to be Halliburton, whether I’m setting process or some other bum is. Who knows? Maybe processes will be driven from Houston and we can pretend we’ve got a hundred engineers and a drafting office of fifty.

I will miss Donut Day and the free coffee, though.


So, depending on what happens, I’ve got my rote response to cover it. Of course, I can’t say for sure what will happen if either of those possibilities comes to fruition but I think they’re both fairly close.
I’ll update you all when I hear more. Until then, I’ll find something else to talk about.

Baptism by... um... God?!

My evenings in the early portion of this week were taken up by Baptism preparation classes. I know, I know, but “We have, we will, we will,” should be taken seriously.

Last year, I was lucky to meet the one good Catholic priest. Father Roger is a man who is not ashamed to admit that he has had his crises of faith. He is also the most logical man I’ve ever met. (He argues canon law – he should probably know his stuff.)

I can’t say that I believe in God or that I want to convert to Catholism(wow!) but this guy makes me think and teaches me more and more every time I talk to him. He’s patient, he’s always thinking and he’s passionate without losing sight. The man can relate the lack of Catholic faith to The Exorcist. It still makes me wonder how but he appears to have gotten it right. He may believe different things than I do but I can’t fault his reasoning at any juncture. There’s no point when he’s talking that I could (not that I would) blurt out, “AHA! You’re WRONG! See? THERE IS NO GOD!”

Even if Catholicism is a fiction, it’s a very pleasant fiction – some guy died just so we’d be nicer to each other and have some place to go when we died. Yeah, it’s nice. Sure, there are evil things done in the name of Catholicism – Inquisition anyone? – but Father Roger is actually able to communicate the meaning behind what I’ve always seen as empty rituals. He’s always teaching and I guess that’s why we get along so well.

We decided to go to his parish after spending the weekend at the Engaged Encounter retreat. However, we just recently actually started going. I don’t have a problem raising my children as Catholics (leaving the door open for them to evaluate their own faith when they’re ready to do so) but I’m not going to push for going to church if it’s not a priority.

We ran across Father Roger at a recent Engaged Encounter weekend (we help out on the first night, showing people around, taking their bags to their rooms, etc.) It brought back a lot of memories from last year: The uncertainty, the insecurity (hey, I was surrounded by a whole passel of Catholics whose judgment I irrationally feared.) and a lot of learning. And he remembered us. It had been a year and 50-75 married couples later, but Father Roger remembered us. And he reminds me of my uncle Al, minus the blindness and alcoholism and plus a few inches and some ceremonial robes.

So, we spent a very warm couple of evenings, cooped up in a back room of St. Michael’s Resurrection Church, learning how we… ahem… We are of the Royal Priesthood of Jesus Christ (well, excepting yours truly, who has not been, and will not be Baptized) and it is our duty as priests to bolster the faith of our young ‘uns. At one point, Father Roger said, “And it is not we, the ordained priests who perform the Baptism. Who is it?” The room was dead. The silence stretched. I offered, “Um… God?”

“Good answer, Liam,” the holy man said, giving me a Fatherly pat on the shoulder (pun intended). “But that’s not the complete answer.
It turns out that we are the ones who perform the baptism by offering up our children in the service of Jesus. Wow. We gots us some wicked God-powers. With the exception of me.

It’s amazing how little you’re allowed to do as an unbaptized person in the Catholic church. But hey, they’ll take the baby.

Old Neighbour, New Neighbour

Growing up, one of the most vivid memories of my life is sprinting the half a block to my friend Rob's house. I would call him up, make some sketchy plans and be there before he hung up the phone. The hours we would spend at his place, making time machines (I still don't know how we would have gotten that flux capacitor to fit in the dishwasher - don't even get me started on 88 mph or 1.21 gigawatts.), jumping on the trampoline (though how we survived the orange death-trap, I'm not sure), playing Intellivision (my most memorable moment of this was when I got the house's high-score on Frog Bog - all five minutes of my glory), playing D&D (although I have NO idea how long it took to convince me that Cameron was not going to kill me if my elf ran out of HP - that's why they suggest the game for 10 and up) or playing cards in the camper - it was my second home, Mr. and Mrs. Leddy my second set of parents.

We also spent a great deal of time at my house, playing Intellivision, playing Nintendo, playing D&D, just sitting around talking (what can I say? I didn't have a dishwasher on my driveway or a trampoline in the back yard.) Growing up, Rob and I were inseperable.

Well, it turns out that my friend Rob just finalized the purchase of a condo in my complex. He'll actually be closer than he was before, even if we won't have all the time we had before to laze about. This also means that I'll get to keep a closer watch on my god-daughters, Aurora, Sydney and Giorgianna. I've been too absent from their lives and I miss them. Now I get to see them whenever I want to. "... and the Liam saw that this was good."

Welcome to the neighbourhood, Leddy family. (How would one pluralize Leddy? Leddy's? Leddies? Leddys? This is a question that has stymied me since Rob was Robbie and my dad was asking an 8-year-old about his love-life.)

Wake-up Call

What does it take for a person to appreciate what they’ve got? In my case, it’s almost losing it. Or rather, the threat of losing it.

I received a call, this morning, from my wife. She sounded shaken. She sounded like she’d been crying. All she said was, “I called the doctor’s office. They say I should go to the hospital to get checked out. Can you come home?” ‘

Yesterday, we’d been a little worried because the baby hadn’t moved in a couple hours and that was during activity prime-time. We could normally forego the TV because the kid was more fun to watch in Kim’s tummy. I figured this was what it was about but the urgency in Kim’s voice made me realize just how shaken she was.

Breaking several traffic laws, my mind raced furiously. Unfortunately, it dwelled on all of the negative possible outcomes of this trip to the hospital. I made it home in record-time, sprinted up the stairs, collected my wife and drove to the hospital.

For once, there was no wait. The lady at the front desk called up to Obstetrics and, a few wrong-turns aside, we made it to the appropriate place.

Once Kim was hooked up to the fetal monitor, the tension just oozed out of the room. The baby’s heart was strong. And as a show of defiance (great, we’re gonna have a rebel-child), the very second the monitor was on, the littlest Johnstone decided to start a one-player soccer game in the womb.

Drained, relieved and newly-paranoid, I’ve learned my lesson: Nothing’s as scary as being a parent.

I find it a little weird that the perception is, nothing’s safer than the womb. After that, you’re exposed to all kinds of dangers. But you can’t tell how your baby’s doing so the anxiety is that much higher.

Father's Day

Ah, the great tradition of celebrating the contribution that fathers bring to the family unit. There are few greater things than Father’s day. The appreciation of a job well-done. The appreciation that one can show his own father. The emotional bonding that cannot help but bring a family closer together.

Oh yes, and the presents.

A hand-made card, a memo-holding bobble-headed mouse, a chain (not a “necklace”, but a “chain” according to Nicholas) and the crowning piece of booty (remember when that meant “treasure” and not “bum”?), a green-and-white bouncy ball. These were the gifts that I was given by my son and wife. My in-laws came over with a new mattress for Nick and they brought presents for me as well: a new hand-saw and a Dr. Phil book. The saw was given to me by my father-in-law. I don't know what the usual protocol is for fathers-in-law but it seems that Howard followed it to the letter. He handed me the saw, unwrapped and said, "Hey, you don't have one of these, do you?" No gloss, no wrapping, no fuss. I don’t know how I feel about Dr. Phil but the guy’s heart is in the right place. We’ll see what he has to say about putting “Family First”.

I was also treated (after an attempted knee-drop-wakeup-call from my son) to breakfast in bed. The breakfast was Mini Wheats, lemonade, coffee and chocolate-chip cookies. You can guess who decided on the menu. All of this was eaten as Nicholas jumped, rolled, ran and goofed around on the bed, beside, around and on top of me. Luckily, nothing was spilled and the day was enjoyed by all in the Edmonton Johnstone clan.

Some time ago, I read a book called “Lord of the Isles” by David Drake. I liked the book, although there were some problems with the writing. The second book in the series, the name of which I cannot recall, was, as far as I can remember, terrible. I think the name of the book was “Queen of Demons”. Regardless, I had a hard time getting even as far as I did into that book. I’ve never been one to give up easily, so I’m re-reading “Lord of the Isles” (is it “King of the Isles”?) to get my bearings for “Queen of Demons” (if that’s what it’s called.) I’ve owned the books for seven years, so I feel I owe it to them to get them read.

Speaking of outstanding books, I read “Voyage of the Jerle Shannara: Isle Witch” recently. Terry Brooks keeps churning them out and I keep reading them. I’ve owned this book since 1999 or 2000. I had a hard time getting into it when I first bought it but I finally made it a priority and enjoyed it.

I bought myself a PDA last week. I’m completely amazed at how easily a little piece of electronics can help me organize myself. I’ve got all of my appointments, my friends’ addresses, a budget, and even daily news on there. I know, I’m geeking out about something that everyone and their dogs has already heard about, learned about and done. I used to hate it when people would get so excited about something that I already had. “Did you know that I sent an email to someone in Australia?” “Yeah, so?” “I just thought that was so cool.” “And how does that pertain to our management class?” “I just thought it was cool.” “Die, bitch. It’s 8:00 in the morning and I’m learning the difference between click and double-click and I gotta hear you ramble on about your Australian e-adventure? DIE!” And yes, I realize that there are daytimers, contact lists and spreadsheets on desktop computers (and have been daytimers, spreadsheets and address books since about 1987 or so) but I’ve never been motivated to use them like I am now. (Well… that and my wife told me that if I bought it and didn’t use it she’d kick my ass)

All hail the Sony CLIĒ, organizing Liam’s life since 06/13/2005!

THE EVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED

That’s because we will not evolve until we get rid of TV.

I will grant that there are television shows that stimulate the mind, dazzle the imagination and inspire truly great things. There is also a whole lot of shit. Reality Television, to cite one example, is the technological equivalent of marijuana. It numbs you, makes you laugh at stupid shit and quite honestly, you’re dumber after it than you were before it.

Good TV, bad TV, great thought-provoking, imagination-dazzling, lights-out television – they all have one thing in common. They are all represented by the most inane, bottom-dwelling, lowest-common-denominator-catering ads out there.

This is the best thing I can say for advertising: At its best, advertising makes fun of itself because it knows it sucks. Ads with the bald Goodyear guy are funny but they’re still a waste of my time.

At their worst, ad are what are wrong with society, if I can say that without a white belt and pants hiked up to my armpits. They (ads, not my armpits) lay there, under the radar, shaping perceptions of perfection, feeding self-doubt, allowing people who are perfectly fine to believe that their lives are shit and that everything they want is a simple dye-job, mascara-shade, bottle-of-beer, pack-of-condoms or fast-food burger away.

Not only do these degrading and demoralizing ads shape people’s perceptions of themselves, they distort standards of beauty sought in OTHER people.

Want someone to love? If you’re anyone worth loving, you’d better want someone with a good rack, decent cleavage and rippling abs. We’ve become a bunch of people who care more for the shape of an ass than for the content of a person.

I’ll be the first person to admit that physical beauty is a good thing – I married the great beauty of my life – but our priorities as a whole are way-off.

Dark tan, bleach-blonde, rock-hard abs and tight buns are a necessity, you might be led to believe by the beer commercials, makeup commercials – pretty much anyone who sells something that will not sell itself.

I’m sure that most people will agree that there’s a whole lot of useless shit for sale out there. There’s shit you stick on your face to make you “pretty”. There’s shit you drink that makes you so stupid that you don’t know you’re too stupid to drive. There’s shit to eat that makes you really, really fat. These are just a few of the many pieces of shit that won’t sell themselves.

First, there’s makeup. On the surface, it looks like makeup sells itself. It seems to be a great way for someone to improve their self-image – and people should feel good about themselves. I agree with that one hundred percent. However, the way that makeup gets you to improve your self-image is by insinuating that you are less without it. Makeup insinuates itself into the mainstream of a young lady’s life through celebrities. Everyone wants to be famous, to generalize grossly. Girls see the grown-up famous people and want to be like them. They wear makeup. The girls on the makeup commercials look like (and often are) the same celebrities that attract the adoration of the young ladies in the first place. The smooth skin, the shaded eyes, the full, vibrant lips… You try telling your daughter that she can’t wear makeup when she sees Alicia Keyes out there pimping some cosmetic. I’ll admit that, to my eyes, makeup can improve someone’s looks – but that’s because I’ve been raised in a world where women wear makeup. Can I get a do-over? Regardless of, and probably blind to, the self-doubt that this creates in the fragile ego of the typical pre-teen/teenaged girl, not to mention the priorities it helps boys of the same age develop, cosmetic companies continue to hammer home the notion that makeup = fame and beauty. It’s all about the bottom-line.

Beer is another product that seems to sell itself. Many a teenaged boy cannot wait (and quite often does not wait) until he is eighteen and can have that first cherished sip of beer. The Old Man takes Sonny-Boy out for the first drink and tradition is preserved. It’s a rite of passage – a harmless way to let off steam after work. A large majority of beer companies’ work is done for them by “tradition”, “rites of passage” and “expectation”. All they have to do is steer you toward their beer. Enter the buxom women, bungling men, backyard barbecues, amazingly-smokeless bars where the women have an average weight of 92 lbs and none of them have their natural hair-colour. It’s very tempting. The ads play up the parties, the romantic possibilities, and camaraderie. They play down the hangovers (not completely, because it’s funny when someone else has a hangover). They don’t play alcoholism, fatal crashes caused by drunk-drivers or families torn apart at all. After all, life’s a party!

Fast food is really shit. You’d be better off drinking rat-poison than eating fast food. Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Okay, it’s total bull. Still, fast food is not healthy. It makes you fat and unhealthy. (Which would rather be? Fat or unhealthy? Later…) The big companies don’t want you to think about obesity or diabetes, though. They focus on heartstrings – a family doesn’t have time to eat at home – the fast-food joint around the corner is the perfect place! They target your kids (Fine, we’ll go! Just stop WHINING!) with toys, cartoons and sweets (like Hansel and Gretel, walking through the woods). They only have to get you in there a couple of times, since their food is physically addicting. Trust me – I know.

How do you sell something that’s useless?

1) You convince people that it’s cool. “See that car? The one that looks like a big fucking bubble? You see that shit? That’s some cool shit. That’s the brand-new Sssportero from CARnival. You’ll want to be the first on your block…” Granted, advertisers are better at being subtle, but then, I’m not trying to sell you anything… (unless you’re in the market for a crappy Nissan that hardly runs. It’s cool! Trust me.)
2) Convince people that they can’t function without it. “I don’t know how people LIVED before the Breakfastomatic. Scramble eggs? Who has the time? Eat bacon? I’m in a hurry. The Breakfastomatic purees the breakfast of your choice and injects it STRAIGHT INTO YOUR VEINS for a BREAKFASTOMATIC BURST OF ENERGY that lasts ALL DAY!” Infomercial heaven.
3) Convince people that they are shit and that their only shot at redemption is through whatever product you offer. “Oh NO! I have a little red PROTRUSION on my face! If Hunk Hunkerson sees it, he’ll just KNOW it’s full of pus – JUST LIKE MY SOUL! I’M NEVER GOING TO THE PROM! WAAAAA! Unless I cover it with Acne-A-Way Concealing Tape. Thanks, Acne-A-Way.” Another girl’s homecoming dreams just homecame true!
4) This is a special case – when you can’t convince someone they need your product, you can’t come up with a way to redeem your fallen consumers with it, and Goddamn it, it’s just not cool enough, use sex. Scantily-clad women, dark blue lighting, husky music, innuendo, and insinuation – all of these tools are invaluable toward the selling of the truly useless. “ ‘Why should I rent a limo? I’ve got a good car.’ ‘I’ll suck your dick. But I won’t – cuz that’d be prostitution and I’d go to jail. But I might. You’ll never know from the ad.’” It’s just THAT subtle.

Sex is truly mainstream in advertising. Need proof? In READER’S FUCKING DIGEST, one issue (I don’t have volume or issue numbers – but it’s got Nelson Mandela on the cover) has THREE (3) advertisements with topless women. One is sinking into a tub, advertising a contest or something. Another is a full shot of a woman’s torso, her arms covering up the unmentionables. I think they were selling soap. The last one had half of a woman’s breast exposed in profile, advertising a FUCKING MEDICAL ADHESIVE! I did not bother to count the number of cheesecake shots advertising other things.

I find it exceedingly ironic (or is it hypocritical) that the magazine that would print a quote to the effect of:

“The job of raising children has become much more difficult. In the past, we were expected to raise our children with the help of society. Now, we must raise them despite society.”

would have no problem displaying topless women to sell products.
The Evolution will not be televised.


(Giant disclaimer: I am not condemning Fast Food, beer or makeup. These are just examples of things that are advertised in a way that I believe is detrimental to viewers of television. I am also not trying to label anyone who drinks beer as a drunk, anyone who wears makeup as an insecure person who values only her looks, or anyone who eats fast food as a lard-ass. I am that lard-ass and I enjoy fast food. I will continue to eat it. Does that make me hypocritical? Nah, just a dumb lard-ass.)

Sean broke his alarm clock

“Mnrh… unh… grmh… Xander – quiet.” The cats had kept Sean up again. If he could just get Xander to be quiet. He rolled over and glanced at the clock.
“Huh? Whazza? Six a.m.?” Sean’s confusion cleared. It was not the cats this time.
“Six A.M.?!” His brow creasing in mounting fury, Sean rose to a sitting position.
As Sean became a physical manifestation of pure rage, his hands curled into fists.
“Another… NIGHT… WASTED!!!!” He had reached the point of no return. There was no rationalizing with his rage, and Sean liked it that way.
The look of the bald city-worker would have burned furrows in the wall if temper were converted to temperature. Kittens, knowing the inevitable war-path that this uncontrollable choler would take, scurried out of the room, glancing over their shoulders, knowing that distance was all that would keep them safe for now.
As one fist-capped arm came up, Sean’s angry gaze fell on the closest horizontal plane. Yes. Only that could soothe the savage beast.
Leveling a blow at the end-table-top, Sean raised his other fist at that same moment.
Jackhammers could not have made a more thorough job of the destruction that Sean’s fists of anger delivered upon the source of his ire, the alarm clock/radio.
As he razed the timepiece, Sean bellowed like a Viking warrior, “I AM ANGRY!!!” bellowing his defiance at Time, itself.
Never again would its shriek pierce the early-morning air, ensuring the prompt arrival of its client and target.
Sean rose from his bed, spittle just short of foam dripping from his face. Rage sated, he scratched his rear through light-blue briefs and trundled off to the bathroom to prepare for the day.

Into the bowels of the bowels of the library

Saturday, my wife, my friend and I went to a book sale at the Edmonton Public Library. These sales apparently happen three to four times per year. If I’d been informed of this earlier, my book collection would be much, much bigger.

This sale was incredible. It was held in the parking garage below the downtown library in Edmonton, Alberta. The books were placed spine-up on tables from one end of the garage to the other. When we got in, it was hard to tell where the line of tables ended. It was actually pretty intimidating.

However, we split up and plunged into the chaos that is bargain-hunting. Every eight-foot table had at least seven people, scanning the titles, hoping for that ONE book that would make the trip downtown worth it. I was no different. Any book that had the appearance of fantasy or even the illusion that I might like it, I grabbed and threw into a box. (Boxes that were left there, presumably after having carried the books to the tables in the first place)

Toward the end of my grab-and-stow, I was kicking two big boxes full of books. (My wife had come and dropped two large armfuls of books into the boxes). Satisfied, for the moment, with my haul, I dragged the boxes over to one side and began to sort.

I knew that I would not be willing to carry this many books to the car (My wife is pregnant and, while she may insist on pulling her weight, I won't let her) so I sat and scanned the backs of the books for something that would make me want to read them.

Gone were three "fantasy" romance novels, though if I could have torched them rather than just put them in the discard box, I would have.

Gone was the Shogun-era murder-mystery.

Gone was the historical fiction about Nazi Germany (silly me, I'd thought it was a history book.)

And gone were some genuine fantasy books that just didn't hold my interest.

I waffled back and forth about Elmore Leonard books. I like his writing style but I wasn't sure. In the end, they made it into the box.

Here, now, is the list of books that I bought at the book sale:

Sir Apropos of Nothing - Peter David

Two (2) Elmore Leonard books

Lord Valentine's Castle - Robert Silverberg (I believe this is the first Majipoor book)

CS Lewis' biography

Two (2) David Gemmel books about some assassin (I'm not familiar with Gemmel but I hear he's pretty good)

Taliesin and Arthur by Stephen Lawhead (Now I just have to find Merlin)

Two(2) Conan books by Robert Howard

Rebekah by Orson Scott Card

A collection of short stories by Stephen R. Donaldson

I would have gotten more but time was an issue and my wife had easily more than I did. Carrying the books we bought up three flights of stairs to street level was more than enough work for a Saturday.

In the end, we bought a large box of books (some of my wife's were pretty valuable) for twenty-eight dollars. (Hard cover books were two dollars, paperbacks were fifty cents.)

Most promising book: Lord Valentine's Castle. I'm curious about the Majipoor series.

First book read: Sir Apropos of Nothing - something about this book just caught my attention

.Best book found: My friend found a book on how to impersonate Elvis. Is this the best book ever? I don't know.

As it is, my book collection is now somewhat bigger, my wife and I are both happy in our purchases and my need for new books has been sated – until the next book sale.

Milk in the tooth-hole and other horror stories

Since having my teeth removed (by choice, no less!) I have been unfortunate enough to have holes at the back of my mouth, filled with sensitive, swollen gums.

My teeth have never been to happy about cold and I guess it’s only natural to guess that the tooth-holes left behind by my wisdom teeth would like the cold about as much.

Boy was I wrong.

The searing pain of a cold mouthful of milk invading my tooth-holes left me shaking and shaken. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced. However, I learned something about life in general and pain in specific. Everything’s mental. The pain that shot into my brain was trying to tell me that something was terribly wrong. My brain was not strong enough to deny these impulses and so had me shaking and shaken. I was even transported back to the dental procedure when I could feel the drill going into my jaw bone. It’s amazing what my brain will do to screw with me.

It’s all mental.

Three teeth, one low, low price

I find myself once again drawn to this blog spot. This morning, I had three wisdom teeth extracted. One was giving me a problem and I figured that getting it removed was going to mess me up enough so that getting three out would be more worth it than getting one out on several different occasions. The fourth one does not look like it is going to present a problem so we decided to skip that.

Now, my life is an endurance test - which will happen first? Will my wounds repair themselves or will I go mad? The pain is entirely endurable. The blood was off-putting but again, there was nothing there that could break me. Now, in the wake of my overwhelming desire for a steak, a cheeseburger or some potato chips, the itch coming from my stitches is driving me batty.

I enjoyed a protein-fortified milkshake this evening and my sister was kind enough to bring me by a Wendy's chocolate ice-creamy dessert. The relief that the cold brought to the inside of my mouth makes me happy.

I finished three books last week, and now I'm working on some more:

Smoke and Mirrors - Neil Gaiman: This is a collection of short stories by the author who wrote American Gods and Neverwhere. Some are weird, some are wrong, but they're all definitely readable.

The Fires of Heaven - Robert Jordan: The Book-11 re-read is on. The forsaken are making their moves, the tower is split and Mat gets real cool in this book.