Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head, screaming out the words I dread

Thirteen year old boys smell like goats. I don't know what it is about them, but they do. I've shared my "boy smell like goats" thoery to many people, but least you think I'm kidding, lemme tell you about my bus ride downtown today.
So I hop on the good ol' No. 11 - well, "hop" might be overstating it a bit, I'm not a leparchun after all. There are, no surprise, few seats to be found so I move way way to the back of the bus. At the back there are three 13 year old boys sitting there. The seat next to them was free, so I sit.
Now these boys thought they were the bee's knees. They were acting all cool, leaning the way cool people do, talking tough etc. And as I sat there the faint smell of goat hit my nose. As cool as these little goofs thought they were, they smelled like a barnyard. And I couldn't help but laugh.

You can have it all, my empire of dirt

Is there a rash of alien abductions or something going on? Are Manitobans being kidnapped in the thick of the night? Have I been left behind? People seem to be disappearing on me. I am apparently a dangeorus person to know. GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!!!

And people wonder why I'm paranoid.

God help the boxer with no hands

Man, today's just been dragging by.

One of my co-worker's computer crashed or exploded or something, so she's using the fancy one I usually use in our "shared" office. That means I've been stuck in my little hovel (someone recently described it as a dump) office. I almost never work in here anymore. It's freakin' lonely.

It's also made me realize how much I hate cellphones. My office door is apparently made out of a type of wood that amplifies sound. And as people can't use cellphones in the library (located just down the hall), they invitably come out into the hallway to answer their phones and share their conversations with me. Pimply faces boys stand just outside my door and talk their girlfriends or girlfriend-hopefuls just to "chat"; highly accessorized girls call their friends, who are likely high acessorized as well, and loudly plan to go out and drink later that week; jocks phone their jock-y friends and loudly relate their drunken escapades and conquests from the night before. It's SO MUCH FUN to overhear.

And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night

All right.

I heard the greatest story in the world the other day from my friend, Jaimie. Jaimie often has killer tales, but this is, hands down, my favourite. I couldn't even hope to tell the story as well as she did, so I'll just quote her directly:At first, there’s just the hum of the connection. Then, mumbling, a man with a thick South Carolina accent gives his name and something that might be a phone number, and says that he’s looking for a book. Then nothing again. Suddenly, swelling out of the silence are the pulsing strains of “Eye of the Tiger”. Duh. DUH duh DUH. DUH duh DUH. DUM DUM DUM! The music continues on through the chorus, and I’m thinking, ‘okay, he forgot to hang up’. Then, the chorus ends in a fist-pumping fury, and he says “Thank you.” and hangs up.

Isn't that great? I think it says a lot about telephone etiquette. Being polite on the phone just isn't enough, folks. You gotta ROCK! How much you wanna bet that this man has a mullet, a thin Pedro-stache and a Confederate flag thumbtacked to his wall?

So, whatever you do today, ROCK IT, MAN!

They say it's your birthday

Happy Second Birthday to an amazing goddaughter, Delphine Marlowe Beckett; Del's indoubtedly one of my favourite little people of all time. Hard to believe that she turns 2 years old tomorrow. Where does the time go? This picture is from our adventures in a pool this past summer. Forgive topless Mike. No one needs to see me without a shirt on. Ever. I made the picture as small as I could to hide my terrifying pasty-white skin while still showing how adorable Del is.

Don't bother saying you're sorry, why don't you come in?

Grrrr... What a day.

I've spent the day cleaning the apartment and working. So my hands itch from the various cleaning products and my eyes sting from all the reading. I'd really like a nap, to be honest, but I have somewhere to be this evening so no sleep for Mike. At least no time soon.

Oh, and I shaved today, so my face is a not-quite pleasant tingly as well as all the other irritants. Stupid shaving. I much prefer the House unshaven look... not that I think it looks good on me (or bad for that matter), but it spares me the frustration of shaving. I view shaving like I view cleaning the car: it has to be done sometimes, but I’m happier when I can put it off for as long as possible. I can’t imagine being one of those shave-everyday guys.

She makes me so unsure of myself

So, today was an Otterburne day. Those of you who aren't hip to the 'Toba (oh dear, did I just say that?), Otterburne is this little town/hamlet/couple of buildings about half an hour from Winnipeg. I teach out there. It takes me a long time to drive out there.

I've found myself increasingly bored out there this semester. Not the class - that's fine (actually better than expected). I mean the inbetween time. Last semester was all right because there were a few people to talk to, but with no computer in my life, and people either not there or avoiding me, the time I'm not in class just DRAGS by.

Taught Sylvia Plath's "Daddy" today, so you know it was like a giant party in class. Suicide and patricide - the room was rocking with mirth, merriment and laughter.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well. S. Plath

And I wanna rock your gypsy soul

And the award for most surreal conversation overheard this morning: the two blind people on the bus complaining about how bright it was yesterday.

Time and time again, the bus inevitably proves to be the most clear example of why I am an anti-social person: humanity packed in together, dangling conversations about people you don't know or things you don't care about, screaming children. The other day, this guy sits done next to me, which annoyed me right off the bat, as there were open seats where he wouldn't have to sit next to anyone. What's worse is that he smelled. There was the over powering smell of tobacco, but there something else mixed in with the tobacco, cigarettes don't usually bother me. But this guy had cigarette smoke and something, feces? raw sewage? going on. And I knew when he sat down and pulled out a textbook, this guy was in for the long haul down the university.
So I did what any person in my situation could do (I mean, other than running away): I turned my body into the window... and dug my keys into my leg to take my mind off the stank

I think you're smart, you sweet thing

I don't really have anything to say today, but why should that stop me from writing something on this thing? I never have anything of any merit to say.

I thought I'd explain the phrases that make up my bizarre titles, because people have asked me... all right, that's a lie. No one's asked me, I just can't think of any thing else to write about. Though, I'm pretty sure some people have wondered.

They come from songs, usually songs I'm currently listening to on my mp3 player. They're lines that pop out to me as either hilarious or inane. Today's, for example, comes from the Flys' "Got You Where I Want You," which was featured in that 5 star epic, Disturbing Behaviour before the Flys buzzed off into obscurity.

There's nothing like an election to hammer home the Grand Canyon-like difference between rich and poor. If you're broke, wearing dirty clothes and shoe boxes on your feet, and talking absolute glibberish, you're crazy. If you have some money, are dressed up and talking the same glibberish, you're a politican. The other day I read an article/interview with a group of Manitoba MPs. They were asked mostly ridiculous questions like "What's on your iPod?" and "What's Gwen Stefani mean when she says she ain't no Hollaback girl?" Frankly, I don't know what's more pathetic: that that people running this country are so COMPLETELY obvilious to what's going on the world of pop culture or that this is what constitutes thoughtful journalism. Is it more pathetic that four adults who represent us have no idea who 50 Cent is? Or that a journalist got an opportunity to ask questions of people who make/break policies that effect the entire country and instead of asking about platforms or issues asked (and I wish I was making this up - but I don't have time to make stuff up anymore) "What you gonna do with that junk? That junk in your trunk?"

I see Hugh Laurie won a Golden Globe for playing of Gregory House on "House." Way to go, Hugh. I've said it before, if there's an actor better than Hugh Laurie currently working on television, I'd like to see it.

I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore.

Some little known facts about Mike

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Mike!

1. Mike can run sixty-five kilometres an hour - that's really fast!
2. The canonical hours of the Christian church are matins, lauds, prime, terce, sext, none, Mike and compline.
3. The air around Mike is superheated to about five times the temperature of the sun.
4. New Zealand was the first place to allow Mike to vote.
5. Ancient Chinese artists would never paint pictures of Mike!
6. If you toss Mike 10000 times, he will not land heads 5000 times, but more like 4950, because his head weighs more and thus ends up on the bottom.
7. Red Mike at night, shepherd's delight. Red Mike at morning, shepherd's warning.
   
8. Marie Antoinette never said 'let them eat cake' - this is a mistranslation of 'let them eat Mike'.
9. Ostriches stick their heads in Mike not to hide but to look for water.
10. The water in oceans is four times less salty than the water in Mike.

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

Who knew?

The best line? "Look out for haughty hotties." Story of my life.




You're Great Expectations!

by Charles Dickens

Coming from humble beginnings, you have become pretty stuck-up in your
later years. While hard work and dedication were the path you first walked on, a sudden
fork brought you glory and fortune. Unfortunately, you have changed even more than your
bottom line. You really should turn back to your old friends and at least respect your
old life. Look out for haughty hotties.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Come on join the joyride

Teaching Austen's Persuasion tomorrow. I think I'll begin with a thoughtful analysis of crinolien and swooning; maybe delve into fainting spells.

The new class has, apparently, levelled off at 22. It's not 15, but it's very managable. Hopefully there are some stellar writers in that 22.

And it burns, burns, burns, the Ring of Fire

Finally got a catch to catch James Mangold's Walk the Line this weekend. Now, I've been curious about this film since I first heard it was being made. And while I could see how Joaquin Phoenix would make a compelling Cash, whose demons are well-documented, I was more than a little baffled by the decision to cast Reese Witherspoon as June. Now, Reese is hilarious in Election, but as June Carter Cash? Come on.
And after seeing the film? I think Reese Witherspoon deserves an Oscar.
She brings out the strength and complexity someone who, for better or worse, lived a good part of her life in the shadow and at the side of Johnny Cash. That's how most people think of her, smiling away at her famous husband's side, forgetting that she'd been performing (with her famous family) since she was child and helped Johnny battle drug addiction. June's introduction into the film, and to Cash, is an incredible contrast of the "June Carter" stage persona and the real June Carter, the difference which she explains to Cash in a later scene: I learned to be funny so I had a place to fit in.
The story is as much about June as it is about Johnny.

I know I love you cause I'm watching my weight

All right, so the class of 15 magically DOUBLED in size from the issuing of the registeration list (Tuesday) and the class (Wednesday afternoon). So either everyone brought a friend, or I have twice the marking to do for that class. Wish I had the power to multiple other things like that - money, shoes, bagels.

The only other thing to report (or describe or whatever it is I do here) that that I was struck by a very bizarre reality yesterday: I'm being stalked by the music of Tom Cochrane. It's playing everywhere lately. Whenever I'm driving in the car, his songs are on the radio; when I go into a store, his songs are being piped through the sound system. Currently it's limited to "Life is a Highway" and Sinking Like a Sunset," but the way this is going I'm afraid that "My Boy's Going to Play in the Big Leagues" song isn't far off. And it's not like these are new songs - they're at least a decade old now. Why are they being played so much????

I'm striking matches with explosives so near

You'll have to excuse the blog-silence (blo-ilence?); it's completely unintentional. I'm housesitting this week and can't, for the life of me, figure out how to connect to the internet. The last time I housesat I had no trouble connecting and stayed on-line a huge portion of my time there. Now I'm filling my time with reading, writing (with pen and paper, like a sucker) and a little Smallville. Season 3? Good, good, good (though the inherent flaw in having someone as beautiful as Lana "wait for Clark" is a black smudge on an otherwise intelligent show).

First new class of a brand new semester tomorrow (my other class is a full year carry over). 15 students in it. Good number. I hope they're talkers. I find myself telling the stupidest stories to illustrate points when no one talks. Today, for example, I talked about a theory of female insanity that Dave Foley once shared on the Bill Maher show about menstration and the frequency of periods. And it was to a ROOMFUL OF FEMALES, which is sort of like explaining French to people from France, don'tcha think?

And Resident Evil 4 gives me nightmares.

And who says there's no culture in Manitoba?

Mike and Rachel Boyce basking in the wonder that is Happy Rock

Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle

One of the films I saw over the Christmas holiday was Peter Jackson's King Kong. Now I've been trying to think of something profound or witty (or even reasonably clever) to say about this film, but, alas, everything that can be said about this film has been said already; and by people far more intelligent, handsome/pretty, better dressed etc, than me. So all I can really offer is a pathetic watered down analysis.

First, it's too long, far too long. Everyone's said it, and it's true. I believe the run time is about 37 and half hours: it should be an hour and half tops. Seriously, Peter. You have a monkey, you have a building, you have a girl. An hour and half is plenty of time for you to tell that story. But as long as it was, they still could have added a scene where Naomi Watts grabbed a coat, a jack, a shawl, anything, to cover herself up in the final scene. Winter in New York and on top of the Empire State Building? If the planes didn't kill her, then pneumonia certainly will.

The special effects are, indeed, special and effective. But, as with the run time, it’s all too much. Yes, it's awfully impressive that you can have a fake gorilla fight three fake dinosaurs, but when it goes on as long as the Ali-Frazier fight, it becomes significantly less impressive. Similarly, it's glorious that you can have Kong slide and scamper around on the ice of Central Park and that his fur moves the way fur is supposed to move and all that, but do you need to include that 20 minute vaudville routine when you're building to climax? I think a far better use of 1.5 million special effects artists would have been putting them to work on making Adrian Brody look somewhat human.

That said, I did like the film and was generally entertained (well, until the afore mentioned ice skating sequence, which was, frankly, just plain silly). The casting was first rate (Jack Black and Naomi Watts in particular); and the story is interesting (giant gorilla smashes stuff real good" is a classic plot); but I really don't think this film topped the achievements of the original film. The effects of the original Kong were MORE revolutionary at the time than WETA's effects are now. The only real improvement is found the scene when Kong, looking for Naomi Watts' character, picks up random blondes off the street and throws them over his shoulder when he discovers they're not Watts.

But of course alll of this is moot when compared to the profound moral lesson articulated in the final frames by Jack Black: it was beauty that killed the beast... and obviously guns... and probably the fall of the Empire State Building helped a little bit.

Pretty fly (for a white guy)

As the year has now come to an end, I think it's time that I, for the sake of king and country, prosperity and the what-not, compose some sort of list. That's what New Year's is for, isn't it? Lists and ridiculous resolutions that you really have no intention of keeping?

Let's start with Literature.

Since I read an incredible amount (of books no one really cares about) for work, I'll try to limit this "Best of" to books I hadn't read before, that I enjoyed and that I believe others, somewhere, might benefit from.

1) Neil Gaiman. Read a few of his books this year and they were all fantastic. If you like fantasy and you've not heard of this man, get some of his books. American Gods and Neverwhere were personal favourites.

2) Evelyn Waugh. Read a couple of his books for my last comprehensive exam and I really like his dry wit. Taught Vile Bodies this past semester, and though not everyone liked it, I believe most of them read it - which is something of a minor miracle.

3) Graham Greene's Ministry of Fear. Hadn't read this one before. Great psychological thriller set in WW2.

4) post-rapture radio by Russell Rathburn. Christian fiction that wasn't set either 1)a hundred years ago or 2) a rural town with quirky characters. Smart, funny.

5) Cavell on Film. My advisor turned me on to philosopher Stanley Cavell a couple of years ago. This is the latest volume of previously uncollected material. Heady, but there are few people producing the kind of quality work in film studies as Cavell.

6) Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz. Two Christian books on one list? That has to be some sort of record. If more Christians approached questions of faith with the insight, honesty and humanity that Miller does, people wouldn't tune them out.

7) Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by David Eggers. Few books make me laugh out loud and want to throw them down in frustration all at the same time.

8) Colin MacCabe's Eloquence of the Vulgar. A bit heady, but a brilliant analysis of culture/pop culture.

9) Notes from Underground. Am I a 19th century Russian bureaucrat?

10) Long Way Down. It's the new Nick Hornsby novel, which, in all fairness, I've only just started but I think it'll be good. I wasn't crazy about his last one (How to be Good), but so far this is more About a Boy/High Fidelity.

New Movies

1) Chronicles of Narina. Damn.

Honourable mentions: Pride and Prejudice. Call me a sissy, this was a solid film. King Kong. This was a ridiculously long film, which occasionally felt like watching someone else play a video game, but it was good. It just needed about an hour cut out of it. Serenity. Still bitter about Wash and Book, but an entertaining film. What Star Wars: Episodes 1-3 SHOULD have been.

Television

1) "Veronica Mars." Pick it back up, CTV-morons!
2) "House." If there's a better actor than Hugh Laurie on regular, week to week TV, I'd like to see it.
3) "Smallville". Superman cum Dawson's Creek. And that Lana is just so darn cute!
4) "Kitchen Confidential." I have no idea if this show's still going or if it's cancelled, but this was a smart and inventive show.

And the "What happened to that show?" mention: "Alias". Okay, so you kill off Vaughan after implying he's been a bad guy all along; the lead actress gets pregnant with an Affleck-spawn, but you write the pregnancy into the storylines so that a cool, kick-ass spy CAN'T DO THE COOL ASS KICKING WE ALL LOVE HER FOR!'CAUSE SHE"S ALL KNOCKED UP: then you stick in a bunch of new faces for what you've admitted is your FINAL SEASON! J.J. Abrams: please stop ignoring you shows. You're going to need as much as possible to fall back on when Mission Impossible 3 tanks at the box-office.

Survey Time

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Mike
2. Michael (used to be only my grandmother ever called me that, but now it's more common)
3. Mizzle... no, not really

THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. Um, sense of humour.
2. er, I think I'm very personible (unless you cross me)
3. and I'm exactly the right height (for what, I haven't yet discovered)

THREE THINGS YOU HATE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. Procrastinating nature
2. my mistakes
3. my inability to fly

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. English
2. Scottish
3. German

THREE THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND:
1. People, more specifically women. Someone should write a book.
2. Quantum physics
3. Paris Hilton

THREE THINGS THAT ANNOY YOU:
1. People who expect you to go to the mat for them, but won't return the favour
2. Line dancing
3. Games

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Line dancing
2. needles
3. ...dark alleys at night; dark alleys during the day, however, are perfectly acceptable

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Music - can't have the soundtrack of your life be the rustling of your jeans as you walk, you NEED TUNES!
2. Food - good food, mind you
3. affection

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Pjs
2. grey t shirt
3. fluffy wooly socks that have recently been darned

THREE THINGS YOU SAY THE MOST:
1. Fine (which has, in my vocabulary, about three hundred different meanings
2. Sorry
3. Tis

FIVE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS AT THE MOMENT:
1. Beatles - always number one
2. Franz Ferdinand
3. Wolf Parade
4. The Who
5. Velvet Underground

THREE REASONS YOU'VE BROKEN UP WITH EXES:
1. insanity
2. sexuality (hers, not mine)
3. Bad timing

THREE THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Personality - must have one, and it should be a good one
2. Appearance - not to seem crash, but let's be honest, if she has a third eye or 2nd degree burns she's not APPEALING (this is not to say I couldn't get past appearance either)
3. Ability to dance

THREE THINGS YOU CAN'T DO:
1. Dance
2. Watch "Everybody Loves Raymond"
3. Give blood

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES
1. Reading
2. Watching movies (though that is more work)
3. Accumulating pointless trivia to bore people with

THREE THINGS YOU WANT REALLY BAD RIGHT NOW:
1. A drink
2. Another game for my Gameboy
3. My next chapter to be finished

THREE PLACES YOU WOULD GO ON VACATION:
1. TO - home and I love Toronto; don't care who knows it
2. Some place tropical
3. England - I love England and I don't care who knows it.

It's beginning to look a lot....

... last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.

Well, the fun of holidays is now officially over. I got up this morning, putzed around for a while, and then headed out to figure out what I'm going to do this semester. I have it narrowed down to either 1) interesting and thoughtful analysis of literature or 2) wacky made up stuff, an intricate web of lies to suit my fickle whims. Meh, I got another day or so to decide, right? No rush.

Finished my first chapter of the dissertation last night. It'll likely need some editing, but to have a mostly completed chapter sitting there, staring at me, is both strangely comforting and unnerving. Just four more (and a brilliant introduction that ties everything together) to go. No sweat.

Listening to: Badly Drawn Boy's The Hour of Bewilderbeast - a fan-freakin'-tastic album.

So THAT was Christmas?

Happy Holidays! Happy New Year and whatever other well wishes you think you deserve. All right: pleasantries out of the way, down to business.

The holidays were, mostly, fine. I did find myself trapped with two very sick people for the greater (and I mean that strictly in terms of quantity) part of my time in Saskatoon. So I spent a good deal of the time washing my hands and staying out of the path of germs.

We did stay a little longer than we expected to, as the weather was not cooperating with us. Stupid weather. By Friday we figured we'd risk it and drove from Saskatoon to Regina in a thick fog. Once we were out of Regina, the fog let up and it was pretty much smooth sailing the rest of the way to Winnipeg.

Part of the reason for "risking it" was that we'd been invited to a wedding for New Year's Eve. Fortunately, we made it back and headed up to Gimli (not the dwarf) for hands down the GREATEST wedding I've ever been to. The only drawn back was that we hardly knew anyone there. Once the table we were seated with left, Rachel and I were pretty much on our own. Still, I had a nice time nursing a Dark Ale and watching people dance - there's something strangely surreal about a heavy set dude in a cowboy hat dancing enthusiastically and singing along to "Any Man of Mine" by Shania Twain. Less surreal and more frightening was the Grizzly Adams looking guy, who hand an inch thick ring through his nose, stunk of putchelli and flung his body around the floor like he was having some sort of fit. Maybe he was having a fit? Who knows. Closer to midnight Rachel and I took to the floor and, um, danced on it: she danced well, I...not so much. But I had (some) fun, and I didn’t hurt anyone.