Vacation. It's all about the fake meat

You wouldn't believe how many different varieties of phony meat I ate while I was away. In Toronto I had gluten "Chicken" at the Lotus Garden, possibly the best vegan Vietnamese restaurant in all of Canada, maybe the world. At Le Commensal in Montréal there was more varieties of tofu and seitan meats than I can possibly remember. And then at this little Thai place called ChuChai on rue St. Denis I had more "chicken" and "shrimp". That's right. I mention all of this to gross Rebecca out. I can only assume that if she thinks soy milk is unnatural, then fake meats must be an abomination. Oh, and here's more stuff to gross everyone out. My sweet sweet breakfast from the morning I left. Choco-Puffs in soy nog. It should come with a surgeon general's warning.

Perfect For Breakfast

I ran out of soy milk today. What would a normal person do? Have toast? Borrow a roommate's regular milk? Skip breakfast or grab something at Tim's on the way to work? Maybe. But if that's what being normal is all about, I don't want any part of it.

Fortunately, Noël is fast approaching, and I happened to have some soy-nog in the fridge. And lemme tell you, soy-nog on cereal rules absolutely. Especially on sugary cereals, because sugary cereals aren't sweet enough on their own; they must be augmented by sugary beverage. And at the same price as regular soy milk, it doesn't feel like I'm throwing money away. Good-bye regular soy milk, see you in January.

Magic Blog!

Okay. So last entry I write about how much I like Glenmorangie. Then I come home and there's a bottle of it sitting on the counter. I'm starting to think that maybe this blog is one of those magic talisman thingys where you type what you want, and then it happens. Let's give this a try...

Wow, I could really use a record deal for my band, and a tour van would be nice. Or at the very least some rich benefactor that is willing to throw a whole lot of money at us to make our musical dreams come true.

The last miracle only took about four hours. I'm not sure how long I should wait for this one. Maybe if I pray to the virgin grilled cheese sandwich it will happen even faster.

I am to have a good one

Whenever I go to the gym on the local military base (it's not as scary as it sounds. Sure there's a few no-necked uber-buff men there, but you get that at any gym. It's just that there's more military-issue moustaches at this gym) the comissionaire always says "Have a good one!" as I enter the base. Often when I leave, the guy behind the front desk at the gym also says "Have a good one!"

I have no idea what the proper response for this command is. Is it "back at ya, dude!", or "true dat!"? I don't know. Part of the problem is I don't know what the "one" in question is. It's not a good workout, because the comossionaire doesn't know that I'm headed to the gym (and why would they say it when I leave as well?). I know it's not a beer, or he would say "Have a cold one!" It's not have a good day, because they also say it when I'm the last one to leave the gym at 11:00 at night. And why "have a good night"? Why not just "good night!"?

Anyone have any suggestions?

Thursday Afternoon Falling Asleep

I didn't get trashed last night (although I did have a couple of glasses of scotch. Should I admit to liking Glenmorangie better than Laphroaig? The former tastes like chocolate and banana bread, the latter like medicine, rubber and peppermint. The choice seems obvious to me, but Laphroaig always seems to be considered classier.) but I was out way too late. Whose dumb idea was it to have an 11:00 starting time for a show on Wednesday night? And did the show organizer forget that Al Tuck was on the bill? I love that guy, but seriously, he takes for ever to get from start to finish, what with all the false (or two minute) starts to songs, tuning breaks, and muffled between song banter. The Secret were were fun, but by then I was too tired to enjoy it as much as I wanted to. And their merch is so cute even a cat wants to buy!

Speaking of cats, here's the list of things I'll miss about Tigger:

1. playing fetch
2. cat kisses
3. Muh, mew? purr. purr.
4. snuggling in bed and he actually stays put for a while.
5. him sleeping on my lap while I rub his ears.

Things I won't miss:

1. ow, quit digging your claws into my stomach!
2. ass in my face in the middle of the night.
3. whine whine WHINE!
4. sniff. sniff. sneeze.
5. he only wanted to hang out with Rebecca anyway. Seriously, Tigger developed a really big crush on her this past week.

Hope to see you soon, stinkbutt.

New Stuff!

One of the best things about getting a new roommate is that there's all this additional cool stuff in the house. For example, when Wendy moved in, suddenly there's a rice cooker/vegetable steamer, and an asian style table where you sit on pillows on the floor. Now that Rebecca's moved in, the household has a kickass crowbar, a crappy violin that makes the most excellent screeches, and an awesome lamp made out of a white plastic flower pot and lite-brite style pegs.

Sweet. I'm off to do some prying. Later, cats.

Now We Are Three

Rebs moved in. We all got drunk. The end.

According to Rebecca, if people cross paths in this house, Halifax will sink.