tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-165171282024-03-23T10:47:04.376-07:00the ess spaceesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-33472441995009029602007-11-12T07:08:00.001-08:002007-11-12T07:35:28.754-08:00Today's story: "Crime DOES Pay" or "Grandma Was A Kleptomaniac"Who'd have thought a stolen ashtray would've rewarded me with a contest win? Not I... and certainly not my grandmother when she decided to "borrow" an ashtray she admired from the Woolco's cafeteria in 1979.<br /><br />Have I lost you? Let me back track.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stormsillustration.com/">Patricia Storms,</a> a talented illustrator (and a super nice and encouraging person as well) has illustrated a book called <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Good-Granny-Bad-Mary-Mchugh/dp/0811855929/ref=sr_1_10?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1194880537&sr=8-10">Good Granny/Bad Granny</a> written by Mary McHugh. Patricia was running a little contest to find the best Good Granny/Bad Granny stories from readers of her blog called <a href="http://storms.typepad.com/">Booklust.</a><br /><br />I submitted the tale about my grandmother's indiscretion and it was chosen as one of the winning entries. You can read my tale <a href="http://storms.typepad.com/booklust/2007/11/good-grannyba-3.html">here.</a> I'm eagerly awaiting my autographed copy in the mail.<br /><br />Christmas is coming so if you have a Granny (good or bad) you may want to think about picking up the book and popping it under the tree for her. Um, but even though my tale of shoplifting turned out well, you should probably think about paying for your copy before you leave the store.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-88822115151178140642007-10-24T21:18:00.000-07:002007-10-24T21:25:42.567-07:00Maybe It's The Salmon Talking<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZ9SBQLkXHXZ5FiZA6GaOP1DWusgSC_e_o-ApTUW9ue2-fIYgU_Z-zp1440WOBhNJ1UP4_HVWvMLGgioWA7cxSMQKhUK3IFXSjnYaVmQ_Q2d-wggZyr0Ifc4Bc6qliDekk2ZYvg/s1600-h/cartoon-plain.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZ9SBQLkXHXZ5FiZA6GaOP1DWusgSC_e_o-ApTUW9ue2-fIYgU_Z-zp1440WOBhNJ1UP4_HVWvMLGgioWA7cxSMQKhUK3IFXSjnYaVmQ_Q2d-wggZyr0Ifc4Bc6qliDekk2ZYvg/s400/cartoon-plain.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125124377980754482" /></a><br />Maybe the giant piece of salmon I had at dinner tonight inspired this. <br /><br />Behold... my very first cartoon. Ah, when I look back at this one day I'll laugh... but not in a good way. For now though, I think it's just dandy. I may redo it in a traditional medium at some point to give the lines a little more soul. Sole? <br /><br />Ouch... terrible pun.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-61174144432693146832007-10-21T19:42:00.000-07:002007-10-21T20:03:42.100-07:00Nineteen Eighty-Four<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8fge2CPoCa0NoccT54izHN5KtbYKNBfKIq8hDKvDQCnEdxEG7-chwlrN2SJMa8nFtQlctPCmsb_OmYenRo5obs4QJgQjhkmZ7JDeOP4DKRQvn38jWXVGYGPszTv627U7repNdvQ/s1600-h/1984a.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8fge2CPoCa0NoccT54izHN5KtbYKNBfKIq8hDKvDQCnEdxEG7-chwlrN2SJMa8nFtQlctPCmsb_OmYenRo5obs4QJgQjhkmZ7JDeOP4DKRQvn38jWXVGYGPszTv627U7repNdvQ/s400/1984a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123988758138654466" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmhBMdBlp0y4X59cIOVlor2f03N_CZvOZTeIR2uAZSd8nbloviwuShVvg-BAFy_0XBvo6TDotCnD00PQisC9N2-Jh7Cq-fP7ToHHs7vFtASuqXHR6EeYrFlxuNJS3OjR1iCIsNQ/s1600-h/1984b.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmhBMdBlp0y4X59cIOVlor2f03N_CZvOZTeIR2uAZSd8nbloviwuShVvg-BAFy_0XBvo6TDotCnD00PQisC9N2-Jh7Cq-fP7ToHHs7vFtASuqXHR6EeYrFlxuNJS3OjR1iCIsNQ/s400/1984b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123988762433621778" /></a><br /><br /><br />Have you ever wondered what it'd look like if I took a stab at designing the cover for George Orwell's "1984"?<br /><br />It'd probably look something like the two images above. I don't think I quite got there with them though... They look a little too light-hearted to me. If I were to do it again, I'd choose a font with an "8" that was more squarish and elongated in shape. That might help in getting the menacing tone of big brother across. <br /><br />Generally though, I do like the kernal of the idea for both of these and the placement of the elements on the covers.<br /><br />What do you think?<br /><br />Wait... I've just thought of a rational for the light-hearted tone. Big Brother is there to help you and protect you. He has your best interests at heart, so it is only natural that he should look friendly and approachable while he looks in on you through your view screen. <br /><br />Yes... that's it! Good thinking on my part. Patting my back now for a job done double-plus-good.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-57914874971161175672007-09-30T19:19:00.000-07:002007-09-30T19:22:52.758-07:00Meow...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6IjLlbi5JXaUMfsGeGQJKfIGJUofXMRehU0n5cP29GsN2XiEySuiGfpoeeC3LrQD2Q4mZ6s8m3f3XXNzKf4CpMW1o11Y6FcoFMR1ahyphenhyphenH8Z1czPINL08rrNqOE2_xyWvWtk4bEQ/s1600-h/kitties.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6IjLlbi5JXaUMfsGeGQJKfIGJUofXMRehU0n5cP29GsN2XiEySuiGfpoeeC3LrQD2Q4mZ6s8m3f3XXNzKf4CpMW1o11Y6FcoFMR1ahyphenhyphenH8Z1czPINL08rrNqOE2_xyWvWtk4bEQ/s320/kitties.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116188049557098226" /></a><br />I'm just trying to get back into the habit of drawing more often. Two styles of kitties in two colour schemes. I'm not overly thrilled with the colour, but at least the styles are different. More to come.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-89432864003036963632007-09-28T08:07:00.000-07:002007-09-28T08:13:42.863-07:00I am alive and well<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8ZZ558G9ztSfGQr82wRzoQWbTrPZk-9PhKYPQxwfriuGI6Ni4aNCATyUqWXFojeDRC9V0Itf5SJFX07KOWAyFKirzUXZsnZc4r0g4VrkMhGDeEiGkQlcetakGnW2Zef6sgdluQ/s1600-h/santa.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8ZZ558G9ztSfGQr82wRzoQWbTrPZk-9PhKYPQxwfriuGI6Ni4aNCATyUqWXFojeDRC9V0Itf5SJFX07KOWAyFKirzUXZsnZc4r0g4VrkMhGDeEiGkQlcetakGnW2Zef6sgdluQ/s320/santa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115273479221087970" /></a><br />I hadn't really had much to post about lately, and didn't feel like complaining about anything, because even I was starting to get bored with myself. But... I've become a little more motivated recently and will try to post more frequently than semi-annually.<br /><br />I know it's not Christmas yet.. hell, it's not even Hallowe'en, but I worked this up a little while ago and I kind of like it. Maybe you will too. <br /><br />Do I hear Silver Bells?esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-70089753596273465832007-06-13T13:42:00.000-07:002007-06-13T13:55:25.634-07:00Well hello there... my it's been a long time.I haven't posted much because I haven't had much to say and haven't felt much like drawing anything either.<br /><br />If I don't post anything by the end of the month I may just shut this mofo down.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-85623830021516014912007-03-15T20:02:00.000-07:002007-03-15T20:39:36.380-07:00Supergirl Costume Change<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-K0qXs2vTHfPpM_U6fmfUvnNUPA5lOGNtsblyYi_jaeMhhm90xE2i_7LFWySzqjSsDuWi_LgtcNx_RXeFGfGmYVL45zE8qQ7KLB5xyC2aW-kQ5GMENFRrsjV0PdBaA61jWxQCQ/s1600-h/Supergirl2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-K0qXs2vTHfPpM_U6fmfUvnNUPA5lOGNtsblyYi_jaeMhhm90xE2i_7LFWySzqjSsDuWi_LgtcNx_RXeFGfGmYVL45zE8qQ7KLB5xyC2aW-kQ5GMENFRrsjV0PdBaA61jWxQCQ/s320/Supergirl2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042361320011070354" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.tencentticker.com/projectrooftop/">Project Rooftop</a> held an open call for the redesign of Supergirl's costume, but by the time I found out, they had already chosen which entries they were going to feature on their website. Oh well... better late than never. So here's my late entry.<br /><br />I kind of gave her a preppy uptown look. Nicely fitted sweater, shirt with cuffs, and of course a kilt. Who can resist a kilt. Not I.<br /><br />Oh and I figured she'd probably want a small handbag to hold some must-haves. Gotta have somewhere to put a compact in case your makeup gets smudged when Bizarro drops a building on you.<br /><br />So... here she is. Stylish and ready to kick some ass.<br /><br />Oh, and if you like this image... you might like <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/1600/s-b.jpg">this</a> or maybe<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/1600/depth.jpg"> this.</a>esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-67332096410439687912007-02-15T19:08:00.000-08:002007-02-15T19:37:25.898-08:00I did a bad thingThis evening while we were eating dinner, the phone rang. I hate when that happens. I hate it even more when it's a telemarketer. <br /><br />The person on the other end asked if he was speaking to Mr. Ess. I said "Yes." and didn't bother trying to hide the edge in my voice. He immediately plunges in to some bullshit lie about my having won a ski weekend at an out of town resort. This isn't the first call I got like this, it won't be the last and I suspect the same goes for you. As I said earlier.. I hate telemarketers.<br /><br />But I digress.<br /><br />After he completed his overly enthusiastic announcement, I told him "No thanks". <br /><br />He says "May I ask why?". <br /><br />You know, having my dinner interrupted is bad enough, but I'm not going to explain myself to some jackass on the phone. I could have blown up at him... I could have just hung up... I could have been brutally honest and said I know it's all a scam, but I didn't.<br /><br />Without missing a beat, I answered his question of why I would not like to claim my ski trip prize with a very deadpan "Because I have no legs."<br /><br />I honestly thought he'd know I was bullshitting and would just hang up on me. Instead there was a short pause followed by an apology. He thanked me and said goodnight.<br /><br />I felt bad about the fact that he actually bought it and that I lied about something like that.<br /><br />But at the same time, it felt like a little bit of revenge for the woman who kept trying to sell me on some sort of education fund for my kid. She kept saying "Don't you care about your child's future. It's important to save now. Don't you care?"<br /><br />I couldn't bring myself to tell her that my son had died a few days earlier. I didn't want her to feel bad. She didn't know. She couldn't have. I wanted to tell her but I couldn't.<br /><br />Ski trip guy must have triggered something in me and that's why I did what I did.<br /><br />Sorry ski trip guy.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1171383555299770102007-02-13T08:16:00.000-08:002007-02-13T08:19:15.343-08:00How do you tell someone their fly is open.This morning on the train as I was disembarking I spied a man with his barn door wide open. I wanted to say something but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.<br /><br />Now this poor schlub is walking around the city with a giant vent in his pants.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1169780306810991632007-01-25T18:58:00.000-08:002007-01-25T19:03:52.726-08:00Cold... so cold.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2098/1570/1600/406950/mr-freeze.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2098/1570/320/320303/mr-freeze.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Well it feels like minus 25 out there tonight – actually it IS minus 25 out there with the wind chill. I thought I'd take this opportunity to post something appropriate. This is a half done (quarter done?) illustration I did of Mr. Freeze. I don't feel at all interested in finishing it, so what better way to dispose of it than to post it here.<br /><br />The look on his face just about sums up my mood.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1169737793376261992007-01-25T07:01:00.000-08:002007-01-25T07:10:03.836-08:00How could I have forgotten?In regards to my last post, my wife reminded me that she says "Hi" to me all the time and not once has she forgotten my name. I would even go as far to say that if I didn't see my wife for 17 or 18 years, she would most likely remember my name no matter how fat, grey or wrinkly I got. Of course I'd have some serious 'splainin to do about my whereabouts for those 17 or 18 years.<br /><br />But the reality is, I probably wouldn't last more than 17 or 18 hours without her.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1169561076383754082007-01-23T06:03:00.000-08:002007-01-23T06:05:05.300-08:00RedemptionYou may remember my earlier post about starting the new year off right, with one of my patented bouts of social awkwardness.<br /><br />Well, today redemption was mine.<br /><br />Once again I was making my way through the underground PATH system and thinking about doing a blog on my inner monologue of my travel that morning through said underground. I happened to turn my head to the left just in time to make eye contact with the same former high schooler I mentioned previously. This time the interaction went much smoother, although I think that was partly due to the fact that we were both being swept along in opposite directions by two opposing rivers of commuters.<br /><br />She said "Hi" and called me by my name. <br /><br />I said "Hi", and the rivers carried us away before I had a chance to muck things up further. Ahhh, the sweet satisfaction of a job well done.<br /><br />I think I was most impressed that she remembered my name. Not because I am completely forgettable. It's just that on the very rare occasions when I do run in to someone that I peripherally knew in high school, I'm usually addressed by the name of either of my two life long pals. The person usually gets me right on the third try. <br /><br />Hmm I should ask my pals if the same thing happens to them. Fellas, care to weigh in?<br /><br />Anyway... today I'll bask in my small victory of not making an ass of myself again.<br /><br />Tomorrow... well that's another day.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1168446648250591302007-01-10T08:07:00.000-08:002007-01-10T08:44:25.696-08:00Ah've got blisters on me fingers!!!<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2098/1570/1600/231511/JL.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2098/1570/320/200020/JL.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Yep, me and John Lennon... blisters on our fingers, which is probably the only thing our guitar playing has in common. <br /><br />My dear wife got me a gee-tar for Christmas. Had I asked for one? Nope! Do I love it? YES!!! Is it possible for someone with hot dogs for fingers to play the guitar with any kind of proficiency? I sure as hell hope so.<br /><br />Actually I've been fiddling with it for about two weeks now and I feel like I get better and better all the time. Although I still have a long way to go to be considered a "terrible" guitar player, but I'll work up to it. Once I get there I'll shoot for "poor", then "barely adequate" and so on.<br /><br />Learning an instrument as an adult is a bit of a cruel twist of fate. Generally by adulthood you have more patience, you're willing to practice without being nagged and can be satisfied with small steps in progress. The down side is that adults don't have the same ease of training the memory of their muscles, which comes in handy when both hands are doing two different things.<br /><br />Practice makes perfect I guess, but I'll settle for "barely adequate".<br /><br />Oh... and if you don't get the "blisters" remark I opened with, have a listen to Helter Skelter off the White Album.<br /><br />I'm off to pluck and strum and fret.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1168351741906992642007-01-09T05:43:00.000-08:002007-01-09T06:09:42.733-08:00Starting the new year off right...... with a healthy dose of social awkwardness!<br /><br />Before I get to that, I just have to explain that I haven't posted anything for 2 months because, well... I had nothing to say. But y'know, material just has a way of finding you. <br /><br />Take this morning for instance.<br /><br />On my way to work through the underground shopping labyrinth, I was remembering a conversation with my good buddy Chris (you may remember him from such posts as <a href="http://ess-space.blogspot.com/2006/07/mini-ravioli-interview_15.html">"jumbo can of mini ravioli"</a>). He was chastising me for not posting anything on my blog in a while, so I was giving some thought to what I could put up here, when lo and behold I ran smack into my next post.<br /><br />I had looked up from my mini brainstorm session and saw the face of someone familiar, someone I went to high school with. She caught my gaze, and I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes (not sure if she remembered exactly who I was).<br /><br />I smiled and said, "H-eyyyyyyyy!" and she said, "H-iiii?". <br /><br />Her gloved left hand happened to be sticking out, and my left hand was free, so we did some oddball left-handed Bizarro world handshake. All of this was done while we kept walking in opposite directions from each other.<br /><br />Then she stopped and I half turned and kept walking. I said "Gotta go" (actually I think it came out "guhg-o"). She looked at me puzzled and said "Oh you have to go?". I nodded and smiled, and kept going.<br /><br />Awwwk-ward. <br /><br />What the hell? I can be so socially inept at times. I'm surprised I ever got married.<br /><br />In my defence though we we're both being swept along by rivers of opposing human traffic. And 20 years of catching up definitely demands a slightly more tranquil setting.<br /><br />I think I'll wear a bag on my head in the underground tomorrow.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1163041267424057282006-11-08T18:35:00.000-08:002006-11-08T19:01:07.610-08:00This is a chestnut<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/1600/chestnut.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/320/chestnut.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />See those things up there? Those are chestnuts.<br /><br />Twice in the span of one week, at 2 different stores (2 different chains in fact) I had run-ins with teenaged cashiers who had to ask me what the things in the plastic bag were. <br /><br />Chestnuts.<br /><br />I know they're usually available only at this time of year, so it's not something they see everyday, but c'mon... You work in a grocery store... your job is to know the food, take five minutes and look around... read the signs, if you can. I know it's "like so hard" to remember "like" everything, and "eww that stuff is like so gross."<br /><br />Same thing happened two weeks ago with fennel. My stuff was being rung through and the girl at the next cash asked the customer what the thing in the plastic bag was. He said anise (technically you can call it that), then she asked my cashier who shrugged her shoulders... I told my cashier it was fennel, who then told the other cashier it was FUNNEL. No dear... a funnel is for something else... Not only do you not know what fennel is, but apparently you don't know what a funnel is used for.<br /><br />It happens all the time... sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts, or any herb... if it doesn't come in a box with a UPC on it, a teenaged cashier is completely stymied.<br /><br />Somebody give these kids some damn produce, before I'm forced to smack one of them in the head. Forget it... they deserve a smack in the head just for being sullen.<br /><br />Harumph!!!esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1161264047680855882006-10-19T05:45:00.000-07:002006-10-19T13:53:35.876-07:00And... I'm back.I just haven't been feeling the urge to write or post anything on here lately. Nothing much to say and I certainly have not done anything creative with a pencil for quite a while.<br /><br />But the urge is back... at least for today.<br /><br />Our story opens as I travel north along Bronte Road to my home, my wife and my dinner. But wait! What's this? What's lying in the middle of the intersection of Bronte and the QEW on-ramp? Why it looks like a giant cylinder... can barely make it out. Wait.. getting clearer... yes I believe it is a sod flattener. A giant weighted metal roller used to flatten freshly laid sod. Quite a dangerous object to be laying in the middle of the intersection.<br /><br />The scene it set.<br /><br />The police station is conveniently located about 150 metres from that intersection. I decide to zip in and let them know about it so it can be removed before it gets too dark and hard to see. Let's pick up our little play from here.<br /><br />ESS (that's me) approaches the desk where a policeman sits puzzling over a crossword puzzle. ESS waits for acknowledgement. And waits.<br /><br />The policeman (let's call him Constable Grouchy) slowly looks up at ESS and drawls "Can I help you?" in a slightly annoyed tone.<br /><br />ESS: Hi, yeah I just noticed a sod roller lying in the intersection of Bronte and the QEW.<br /><br />CONSTABLE GROUCHY: Southbound?<br /><br />ESS: Well it is sort of in the middle of the intersection.<br /><br />CONSTABLE GROUCHY: NO! The southbound ramp?<br /><br />ESS: Uhhh?<br /><br />CONSTABLE GROUCHY: IS IT NORTH OF THE QEW?!?<br /><br />ESS: Yeah yeah north of the QEW.<br /><br />CONSTABLE GROUCHY: Hold on! Thats OPP jurisdiction.<br /><br />Constable Grouchy picks up the phone and suddenly his Grouchy persona melts. "Hello upstairs... We have a report of a steamroller in the middle of the interesection of Bronte and the QEW north of the bridge. Oh you have? oh ok great thanks." He hangs up the phone and with that Constable Sunshine disappears and old Grouchy returns.<br /><br />CONSTABLE GROUCHY: The OPP already know about it and are taking care of it.<br /><br />ESS: Oh ok thanks.<br /><br />And..... scene.<br /><br />WTF? Why was this guy acting like I did something wrong. And don't make me look like a jackass by saying there's a steamroller in the middle of an interesection. A steamroller and hand pushed sod roller are two very different things. I've been able to tell the difference since I was six.<br /><br />I wasn't looking for medal or Commisioner Gordon to come down and say "Job well done Batman, you've saved our collective asses again!". But maybe a "Thanks" would have been nice or perhaps making an effort to not treat me like some kind of stupid little pest.<br /><br />And this was only a minor incident... Is it any wonder why people don't want to talk to the police when they witness a crime? Don't bite the friggin' hand that feeds you.<br /><br />I know quite often the police have a thankless job and they've been burned more than once by people not being truthful, but too bad... that's your job and you have to treat every member of the public as an individual and not as a collective of feeble minded morons.<br /><br />Harrumph! Now I'm grouchy.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1160574367014111922006-10-11T06:45:00.000-07:002006-10-11T06:46:07.046-07:00GONE FISHIN'Be back later.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1160131622053215112006-10-06T03:28:00.000-07:002006-10-06T03:47:02.063-07:00It's been a whileMy posts of late have been somewhat shall we say... non existent. All apologies. It's just that I haven't had much to say, or felt like saying anything at all. Just couldn't muster the effort. But I may be coming out of it. <br /><br />Part of that has to do with the 4 hours of Japanese Taiko and Samba drumming I did the other day. Extremely therapeutic. There is nothing like taking your frustrations out by repeatedly hitting something with a stick, and being encouraged to hit that something as hard as you can.<br /><br />The whole drumming experience was part of a work related getaway day, and there was a general concensus that hitting drums was good, and that there should be more hitting of drums more often. <br /><br />As well as being therapeutic, it was incredibly physical, especially the Japanese Taiko drumming. It's been two days and my biceps still hurt the good hurt. If you have the chance to do this in your area, I highly recommend it. It doesn't take alot to pick up the basics. We took our classes at the Royal Conservatory of Music here in Toronto, but I'm sure if you're in any big metropolis there are similar resources available.<br /><br />Well, time for me to go, I hear the drums calling. But I'll be back soon.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1158325412261567942006-09-15T05:48:00.000-07:002006-09-16T08:07:58.956-07:00Shit rolls down hill... and sometimes from the sky.As I dragged my sorry ass to my car in the parking lot last night, I was assualted.<br /><br />But the attacker wasn't human in nature. No... this attack came from the air. Yes that's right... I looked up in the sky to see not a plane, not Superman, but an ordinary bird.<br /><br />SPLAT! Hot fresh birdshit on my collar. Cue canned studio laughter.<br /><br />Apparently I can't win the lottery, or count on the healthcare system, or hope that the police might trouble themselves to respond to numerous calls about drunken teenagers smashing beer bottles, pissing and puking on my house... but I do have enough "luck" to be in the path of a seagull with the runs.<br /><br />I've heard it said that being shit on by a bird is good luck. Well then Lady Luck, lay it on me. I could use some right about now.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1157071477176615552006-08-31T17:31:00.000-07:002006-08-31T17:44:37.186-07:00Sex on Planet XI can't explain it, but I'm on a real Bullwinkle kick. Maybe it's nostalgia. Maybe I finally understand it. I don't know. The fact is, I just can't get enough. <br /><br />While watching an episode the other day I started looking in the backgrounds because... because, well I don't know. Anyhoo, I happened to notice a book with an interesting title on a bookshelf in one scene.<br /><br />Now bear in mind, this is 1959 and a children's program. This little hidden gag wouldn't be out of place on the Simpsons or the Family Guy, but it defintiely wasn't the norm in '59.<br /><br />See for yourself.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/1600/Sex-on-Planet-X.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/320/Sex-on-Planet-X.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1156439466620278612006-08-24T10:00:00.001-07:002006-08-24T10:11:06.623-07:00Odd, odder, and odder still.Truly truly odd.<br /><br />As I was walking back to the office, I was thinking about bringing in some of the photographs I've taken, and framing them in large frames. I thought about the one I shot of the kid leading a group of people in a Christmas carol at the Santa Claus parade a few years ago. And I thought about the shot the I posted in the<a href="http://ess-space.blogspot.com/2006/08/window-shopping-in-chinatown.html"> entry below</a>... and as I looked up from the sidewalk, the subject is standing right there in front of me. He had the hat on... he had the bag slung over his right shoulder and resting on his left hip, and on the middle finger of his right had was a big ass gold ring.<br /><br />Now I realize that I am only a few blocks from where I shot that image last summer, but I had never seen this man before... or since. That is until now. And odder still is that my last post on here was of this guy. <br /><br />A happy distraction... and I really needed one today. Maybe I'll post more photos.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1155870761085300242006-08-17T20:10:00.000-07:002006-08-17T20:12:41.086-07:00Window Shopping in Chinatown<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/1600/windowshopping.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/320/windowshopping.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Which way do you think this guy is leaning... blonde? Or blonder?esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1155870605161129022006-08-17T20:07:00.000-07:002006-08-17T20:10:05.176-07:00A luke warm solution...The new cartridge arrived yesterday for my leaky shower. I installed it (yes I remembered to turn the water off) in about 10 minutes... No drips... no drops... and all the luke warm water anyone could want.<br /><br />I just don't have it in me to take it apart and adjust the setting so that we can have hot showers. That's a weekend job no doubt.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1155605180353061002006-08-14T18:00:00.000-07:002006-08-15T06:02:07.946-07:00I wet my pants... Or... How not to fix a leaky tap.I'm not the handiest man of the house that ever lived, but I figured I could hold my own against any ordinary Joe when it came to minor household repairs. Apparently... not so.<br /><br />It was pointed out to me a week or two ago that the shower head in our bathroom was leaking. This past weekend I finally got around to taking a look at it. I started with the obvious and pulled off the whole shower head. Water was trickling out in a slow but constant stream. That meant the problem was not with the shower head.<br /><br />I moved on to the shower knob, a great big faceted piece of finely crafted clear lucite. I had seen these taps removed before. you have to pry the facing off. No problem... had it off in a second. <br /><br />"This'll be a cinch" I thought to myself.<br /><br />Next came a couple of plastic and brass gears that regulate how far you can turn the knob. Got those off and the tiny little o-ring as well. I had a little trouble with the brass collar but eventually figured it out too. No obstacle was too big for me to overcome. <br /><br />The next piece was in there pretty good, but I was confident I could pry it loose as well. I got my screwdriver in and started wedging the piece off. Just as I started to pull it out with my hand I got hit in the face (and chest and legs and crotch) with a firehose-like blast of water.<br /><br />The moment it hit me I realized I had forgotten one minor detail. I hadn't shut the water off in the house.<br /><br />Luckily it's an enclosed shower stall, so I shut the door before anything disasterous could happen. I ran down to the basement looking for the shut off. I was reasonably sure I was looking right at it, but I noticed it had a ground wire connected to it. Indecision hit me. I'd already made one mistake, but I wasn't ready to gamble on grabbing hold of some thing that may or may not be electrical in nature while soaking wet. After a little back and forth in my mind, I gambled and grabbed the handle and gave it a not so mighty twist. The water was shut off. Half an hour too late... but off nonetheless.<br /><br />After finding what I thought was the problem and a quick trip to Home Depot, I fixed the tap. It no longer drips... instead it trickles a steady stream of water. <br /><br />Drip drip drip... splash!esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16517128.post-1155265826367048432006-08-10T20:05:00.000-07:002006-08-10T20:10:26.393-07:00Hmmmm... maybe a little too primitive<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/1600/fred_rocks.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2098/1570/320/fred_rocks.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I wanted to see how far I could go with abstracting things down to simpler forms... And who better to do that with, than the modern stone-age caveman we all know and love... Fred Flintstone.<br /><br />It's just not working for me though. He looks like a child drew him. I do like the tie though, that's really working for me. The rest.. well let's just never speak of it again. Although... you never know I may just have another go at it.<br /><br />We'll see.esshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17685293811014529247noreply@blogger.com0