Sunday, November 11, 2012

With my brother's voice echoing in my head, IronMan and I headed off to my first Beaches Remembrance Day ceremony. Given it was a sunny, warm Sunday, there was a good lot of people. A small parade of bag pipers and a WWI reenactment contingent closed, and rightfully so, Queen St E for about half a kilometre leading up to Kew Gardens.

Bernice, I think that was her name, was our MC. I say "I think" her name was Bernice as the audio system could best described as 'shoddy.' Poor thing was 90 if she was a day and she had to apologize thrice - for leaving the programs in her car, for leaving the flag that was to be blessed in her briefcase (in her car) and for the absence of her cohost. I just hope he wasn't left inside her car. With the windows closed. It was rather hot and sunny for a November Sunday.

There were a number of wreaths to be laid, and while I don't want to be disrespectful, if there had been one more, I'm sure it would have been sponsored by the local Starbucks. The usually reserved IronMan giggled as HE cracked that joke.

Wondering home, I thought of all those that made the ultimate sacrifice which affords me the opportunity to stroll about at my leisure on a Sunday afternoon. When I think of WW II, I think of Churchill, the Queen and all things English. So, as IronMan headed off to visit his 102 year old grandmother, I put my mind to make a proper English Sunday dinner.

Roast beef was on sale this week so that was step 1. I had also purchased rapini, granted, not English, but good for us none-the-less. Of course there had to be yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, gravy and dessert.

As I started to clean up, I realized I had dirtied 6 pots and pans, additionally, there were mixing bowls, knives and other assorted kitchen crockery. An awful pile of dishes for 2! Not very much like the war, what with the rations and drab fashion, but I did my best.

With my belly full and a glass of wine in my hand, I would like to thank all the veterans for making it possible.

Wednesday, November 07, 2012

No No No!

I recant my offer of last week to CJ, her beau and Kitkat. There will be NO American Horror Story episode 5 watching extravaganza followed by a deliberation on whether to watch the rest of the season.

Having just forced myself to sit through episode 3, which added to the mix of aliens, exorcisms etc, Nazi war criminals, Anne Frank (yes, you read that correctly) and a mutant, boil laden, legless nymphomaniac and such outrageously bad acting, I am mercifully pulling the plug on this series.

Apologies to Jessica Lange, but this show is TERRIBLE! If I may paraphrase....

It is hard to believe how incredibly stupid it has become. Stupid as a stone that the other stones make fun of. So stupid that it has traveled far beyond stupid as we know it and into a new dimension of stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid cubed. Trans-stupid stupid. 

Stupid collapsed to a singularity where even the stupons have collapsed into stuponium. Stupid so dense that no intelligence can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot summer day on Mercury stupid. AHS now emits more stupid in one minute than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. 

It cannot be possible that anything in our universe can really be this stupid. This is a primordial fragment from the original big stupid bang. A pure extract of stupid with absolute stupid purity. Stupid beyond the laws of nature. I must apologize. I can't go on.

I don't think that I can summon the strength mock the shows moronic premise. Drivel. Duh.

I'm going to bed

Sunday, November 04, 2012

Halloween and an Apology

Hello once again. Three times in a week, just like I said. This post is mostly pictures from Halloween, a crappy practically washed out Halloween, but any evening out with my crew and a drink in hand is never all bad.

What is all bad, is the new season of American Horror Story. Or as I like to call it, American Horrible Story. I am so witty. After raving about season I to CJ and her beau, they have tuned in for season II. Although they both claim to be enjoying it, I can't help but feel I have sold them a bill of goods.

J'adore aliens (a la x-files, alien, space balls etc), a good exorcism (like, well, the exorcist), a good torture scene (hostel) as much as the next person, but all of them together? It's a bit like mixing gin, scotch and champagne in a cocktail shaker and slamming it back. Alone, each of these libations are delicious! Together you have a concoction reminiscent of Marilyn's pant remover in Gentlemen Prefer Blonds and a sure fire hangover.

We are three episodes in and I am hanging by a Jessica Lange thread and the promised return of Dylan McDermott. That, shirtless and strapped to a bed, now we're talkin'. I'm all in for two more episodes. Perhaps episode five will be a CJ, Beau, Kitkat get together followed by a deliberation and final judgement on whether or not to proceed.

In the meantime, here are some rather ghoulish pics from a rather soggy last Wednesday.