Greetings from the Vancouver Winter Olympics 2010

Blogging on the fly; pardon all shit error and spelling.

Jumped off my flight and landed at Elixir for dinner, with these two gorgeous broads.


Not surprisingly, we were asked to quiet down from one of the adjacent diners. Also, we ate an apple tartatartartine, a sweet French dessert, the name of which I have likely misheard.


Kitty had never been to Granville, and so I took her for a stroll before we ate in the market. She had a chicken butter bowl and I had Mexico's most tasteless wrap, the name of which I have likely misheard. Note that: Kitty is snack size, smaller ever than the official Olympic mascotians.


Canada Gear 101


Dear Folks Visiting Vancouv for Olympics:

Overkill is indeed possible re how many CANADA gear clothing items you wear at one given moment.
You're welcome.
Love, m

First sign of 'winter snow' was upon our arrival at Cypress (Canadians can't spell; this you should know by now) Mountain, where we were to watch the Biggest Badasses in the History of Winter Sport; Men's Aerial-ists Freestyle Skiing FEARLESS Foxes. Copied word for word, that is exactly what is written on the backs of each athlete's bum. (Note: The American outfit appears to be flannel pyjamas. Canadians can't spell; American's can't fashion.)


Before we watched them, though, we were forced to play with two massive and very aggressive balls which, if not careful, would smack one in the head.


And immediately before we watched them, we watched how Canadian girls do it better; a gorgeous shut-out or shut-down or something against the really terribly aggressive US female hockey-ists. 2-0 wins Canada GOLD in female hockey-ing. (Beautifully done, ladies.)


(I have a video of the last 20 seconds of the game; will upload when home.)

Finally, we watched the FOXES aerial-ing, supported by a Smurf Army.


And finished our evening eating much too much sushi...or that which pretended to be sushi but was neither good, really, nor well wrapped at The Eatery. I strongly recommend you forego this place; but if you must, then only go for a very light and not-so-good meal, and just to enjoy the fantastic art creations hanging above and next to you.


All above photos are from the berry; once home, I will complete the circle and post nicer photos and video. xox from Vancouv. (Go Canada Go!)

Friday Night Lights Surprise: Austin Lisa, Goddess

This is the final entry about this just last trip to Austin.
I have written about Lisa before - a wonder of a woman who, from the moment we met, I began crushing on rather heavily. Lisa, by the way, is pregnant...having become so just around the time I last visited, and so I have begun calling myself her Fertility Charm. Unless her and her man need me to sit atop their bed while they copulate, I don't mind being such a charm. (Please wish her congratulations and send her your best belly energy - both men and women.)



Anyway. Point of this entry isn't her belly, but rather her wonderful and amazing sense of generosity where my very awkward love of COACH ERIC TAYLOR, HI! and Friday Night Lights is concerned.

Lisa, see, has a friend who works with the FNL crew. This friend was able to confirm two things for Lisa: (1) shooting locations of FNL; and, (2) that the day she surprised me with our little FNL sojourn, was not a day on which they would be shooting. Why this later? Because Lisa had no interest in placing myself (and by extension, herself) in an embarrassing situation wherein I would freeze, or worse yet, lunge into inappropriate touching of either COACH ERIC TAYLOR, HI!, Tim Rigglett Riggins, or Tammy Taylor.

Honestly, I would be hard-pressed to behave myself in such a situation.

First stop was the football field that the Dillon Panthers called home (GO EAST DILLON!). It was raining and I was exhilarated. Unfortunately, you can't really see the sameness between the filming and the reality and so my excitement was contained:





I tried to pick the lock that held the wire fence closed and that kept me on the other side of the field. Lisa suggested that perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea to attempt a break in, so instead, I quite sadly held on to the fence and stared at the field which eluded me, imagining COACH ERIC TAYLOR (!) putting The Dillon Panthers through their drills and making certain they played their hearts out on that field (because they are real people, who play real games, yes?). Eventually, Lisa wrestled me back into the car.

Second stop: Landing Strip, the locale at which the Riggins brothers as well as Buddy Garrity hang. It is a strip bar, and as it was the middle of the day and Lisa and I were without a man (as an excuse to enter), we merely creeped around the entrance and enjoyed it from the outside. Being in Texas meant not even the hint of lesbian-anity.





Third stop: Broken Spoke. I really don't have anything interesting to say about this joint except that I wanted to return in the evening to enjoy a little honky tonk, but never made it. I am interested in having a dance-off with a local; any local, and so have decided to make this my top priority next trip.




Finally, and most notably, was the burger joint at which most of season 1 was filmed. This place is recognizable as soon as you pull up to it, and Lisa said I in fact jumped out of the car before she had placed it into park. More incredibly, she said that as soon as we walked in, I short-circuited and staring at the ground, turned a complete 360 laughing to myself. I think she's lying because I don't remember any of that. I do, however, remember how I felt as though I were to come crashing out of my own skin when I laid eyes on the restaurant, and for those of you familiar with FNL, you will immediately recognise the location spot in the photos.











In summation, the following picture is worth a thousand words. This was taken by Lisa while we were seated in one of the booths at the restaurant (the staff of which would not let us pay and who wanted to feed us french fries, because of the energy vibeing off of us, no doubt). When C saw this expression, she said: "That's the exact same expression Nora-May had on her face the entire time she was in The Princess Castle".



Nora-May is five years old.

Thank you Lisa.
Love you.
Owe you.

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P.S. I have just returned from Costa Rica. I have been getting caught up with everyone and am relatively exhausted and so not very write-y. I promise to make up for this soon enough - thank you for your amazing emails. Love you all.

Longhorns defense take a snooze and then experience an Intifadah

This is the third and final post to part 1: Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake & remains clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch & COACH ERIC TAYLOR and part 2: Americans throw the pig's skin around and HI! COACH ERIC TAYLOR! .

Intifadah: To awaken from slumber.

Before the game began, pomp and circumstance were the leading culprits on the field. Wherever one looked, there were sad little people wearing costumes which were likely sewn by Lou-Ellen in 1963. Take this gentlemen, as example, and the unfortunate reality of his long torso, as stuffed within his Cowboy Cartoon outfit. No doubt, on a regular day, he rocks his everyday clothes, and so it must be with great distress that he meets UT's insistence to dress as Woody from Toy Story, rather than the Marlboro Man...from my dreams.


Alongside the band was a crew of UT students flopping around next to and beneath the State of Texas flag. Among the more memorable points of the evening was when a few of them were caught beneath the flag. Uncertain as to whether or not they would ultimately survive, I overheard one gentleman cry out 'Oh ma Gawd, them kids is caught'eneath the flag. Fkn BIN LADEN!'

The audience watches as the team comes out on to the field, and as each player slaps the horns of a longhorn beefer hung on the wall. This ritual was not at all a surprise as I have learned from Friday Night Lights, each team has a very specific baptismal right of passage through which each player must enter and exit before hitting the field (e.g., before exiting the locker room, each Panther slaps the 'P' on the wall. PANTHERS SUCK! GO EAST DILLON!). What was wholly unexpected to me was the eruption from the fans; literally, as the images began to float across the Godzillatron, the audience erupted and kept erupting long past the point at which the entire team was on the field. I was so busy being shocked that I in fact missed the Longhorns' run out on to the green.

Before the game began, the Longhorns had a little chat with Jesus, because no one - and I mean no one - pays more attention to Longhorns football games than Jesus Christ (peace be upon him). When it's game night, there is no room for poverty or lepers, war, famine and disease for The Lord; no doubt, he changes from white robe to pumpkin orange robe on game day. (All snarky sarcasm aside, I think it's all kinds of awesome that they say a prayer before the game; I really do. GO LONGHORNS! I'll say a little prayer for you with Allah.)

For the first half of the game, it appeared as though the Longhorns defense were either asleep or drunk. Either way, I was surprised to watch them get their asses kicked all over the field by Denver (or Colorado). So much so that I expected, as COACH ERIC TAYLOR (HI!) would have done on Friday Night Lights, Mack Brown to be Angry Hair Yelling at the team. But he was not; instead, he was mostly squatting and watching and secret-talking into his headset. For those of you who watch Longhorns football, you will have seen the Official Mack Brown Squat, which is him, legs bent, hands on knees, looking like he is ready to go for a poop in a Vietnamese bathroom. My guess is that somewhere behind his bum and atop his hamstrings is an invisible $3M cushion which makes this comfy - the $3M being his annual salary.


Luckily, the Longhorns made a serious and amazing comeback and went on to win the game. I will not bore you with the details of the game itself, as you can find them on line, though I will say I would make an excellent football commentator as I was filled with gems such as "The hell?" "What?" "Are they drunk?" "Is that Billy Riggins?" "Do you know Taylor Kitsch?" "Oh! They're running really fast" "Is my hair ok?" & "Where can I buy a pretzel?".

I won't even tell you the final score since, honestly, I can't remember. I will, however, tell you that for every touchdown, there were cowboys in the corner of the stadium who would fire a cannon...a Longhorns game is not for the faint of heart..after which, this gentleman would run out on to the field and wave the giant Longhorns flag, followed by five others with a flag each, spelling out T E X A S because subtlety is key.

Overall, the experience was amazing and I found myself yelling loudly and with serious pain and excitement and anxiety during the fourth quarter. I had become invested without even knowing it. It helped that I was surrounded by a wonderful group of folks, two of whom are Connie (HI!) and Tams (OLA!). Connie very diligently and awesomely sends me Longhorns updates almost post every game. As of today, the Longhorns have ten wins and zero losses. These boys may just go all the way this year with Mack Brown, making it the Longhorns' second Championship under his coaching (he would only require one more to equal the championships under the leadership of Darrel Royal - whose son, incidentally, was named 'Mack'). If this happens to be the case, I plan on taking all of the credit.

In closing, please enjoy the near-religious-fervor overcoming the crowd after the win; this is a video of the Longhorns fan singing the UT anthem...under my breath, I was singing MC Hammer's Can't Touch This, in my small effort to sing-along.

Hellos from Malibu

My camera battery died, shortly before we began our drive along California's Highway 1, and so this is the only video from our California Roadtripping. In fact, the entire photo set (to come) of the drive currently sits on disposable cameras, so I am excited to see their outcome.

Once stories from Austin are wrapped, I will write a few short pieces about California. Enjoy xox.

Part 2: Americans throw the pig's skin around and HI! COACH ERIC TAYLOR!

This is part two to Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake & remains clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch & COACH ERIC TAYLOR.

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The Stadium
After washing my banana down with the last drops of my citrus honey tea, I walked into the stadium which is bigger than the official Senators stadium here in Ottawa. I was stunned, partly due to the banana headache and also due to the sheer magnitude of this place.

One hundred thousand people and I was the third one to walk into the stadium. Fun Fact: University of Austin has an approximate student body of 50,000. Of these, 49,881 are Asian, whereas the other 119 - a mix of boys named Vondrell and Patrick - sit on the Longhorns' football roster. (I did that without a calculator.)

Taking the half an hour stroll to my seat, I walked past the Longhorns' mascot, a bull (or something similar to) named Bevo. I was too scared to go near it and so don't know if it was in fact inside of its car. Surely this thing had bananas?

I arrived at my seat and noticed it was bare, whereas some other seats had these awesome and comfortable looking pumpkin orange leather cushions with backs. Naturally, I grappled with one in an effort to pull it over to my seat because I thought 'First come, first served'. While struggling to move the comfy bum-cushion, I was told - rather gently - that these seats one had to purchase and so, in essence, what I was trying to do was steal someone else's seat.

I could have been shot for doing this, because that's what they do in Texas.

Anyway, the old man who told me was nice enough to take my picture, as a memento of this near-thieving occasion. I was trying to take one of the seats to my right, as you can see in the picture.

First the banana, and then a cold ass. Wicked.

But you know what's more important than my cold ass? The GODZILLATRON. Texans are very creative and imaginative when it comes to the naming of things - like their children when they call them Colt, Cody, or my favorite? Hunter, because Texas is The Days of Our Lives and everyone within lives their realities in technicolor. And for those who don't? There's capital punishment.

Luckily, my ass didn't stay cold for very long, because hello, college boys, all athletic and in tight clothes and without sleeves. This is Team Colorado or Denver - I'm actually not sure which and that's how much attention I was paying. They are very smart, as you can see by their chosen outfits. GO SLEEVELESS!



Giddy and smiley I remembered I could take video. Notice what happens to my sense of focus at around the 25 second mark.



I was also quite nearly rendered deaf by the sound of techno music being blasted through the stadium. I dunno, but it must be something specific to Texas because the Denver boys were making fun of the music and dancing as though at a rave. (This very made me nearly scream TEAM DENVER! because they were so funny.)

But enough about the losing team, Denver, and instead, let's next take a peek at the Longhorns warming up. (I almost video'd them praying before they crushed Denver, but thought it would just serve as another reason for me to have my ass shot off by a Texan.)



The Set-Up: Key Players
Before ending this spazy commentary, I would like to introduce you to all key players who make the Longhorns the team that they are today.

Jesus, may peace and blessings be upon him. (As a Muslimah, I do not concur with the sandy-blonde and fair skinned fella many y'all pray to and so there shall be no image of this man on this site.)

Mack Brown, the legend himself as he appears on the GODZILLATRON:

And then later in his angry headset: (COACH ERIC TAYLOR wears it better. HI!)

Other important people milling about. Mostly, they run ahead of the team as the team gets on the field and they yell and scream and cheer them on. They say things like JESUS LOVES YOU! and WIN THIS FOR JESUS!:

There was also this guy, who was just sort of an interesting guy because he didn't yell or scream, but he did look like he belonged there and could crush Denver all by himself. Also, he's very attractive, yes?

Another Coach who, suspiciously, looks very much like Mack Brown and has the same skin coloring as Jesus (coincidence or conspiracy? You decide.):

A supremely old dude who clearly refuses to use either a cane or a walker. I took his photo because he is so very old...and between you and I, I wonder if he is still living:

One of the ESPN cameramen who bring you your pigskin and who stands on a zippy platform that...zips...at very high and aggressive speed:

And two of the three young men who likely get the most action in the State of Texas and who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders...QB1 Colt McCoy, who didn't impress me much:

& WR Jordan Shipley, who impressed me to the point of jaw-dropping hurrah-ing (remember this kid's name because very soon, he will become among the elite of the NFL):

Missing from these pictures is the image of the third young man - RB Vondrell McGee - who works with the rest of the team to kick the shit out of every other football team in the Big 12. Vondrell also impressed me to the point of jaw dropping hurrah-ing, and I expect that he too will soon enough become among the elite of the NFL, and his is a name you should remember.

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Next up is Part 3: The Game.

Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake & remains clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch & COACH ERIC TAYLOR

Note: This is entry no 1 of 2, as the story is too long for one spell.

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Fascist Blogger thought my original title was too long and so forced me to cut it short. This should have been called 'Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake, becomes an honorary Austinite (& yet manages to remain clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch's Riggins and Kyle Chandler's COACH ERIC TAYLOR), part 1 of 2'.

I do hope that changing its name at the last minute hasn't given this entry an identity crisis which will land her in the beds of strangers when she is a young teen, begging for love in all of the wrong ways.

Whatever.
FOOTBALL!
Pigskin football in all its fanatic-fueled glory.

The Tailgate
There was, originally, the intent to head over and crash tailgate parties in the main UT parking lots. Unfortunately, that day was the day I was (wonderfully) lost in the streets of Austin for six hours, and so my little feet weren't excited about the prospect of propping my ass up for anything beyond critical mass. Rather than spending 2 hours experiencing the 'tailgate', I instead managed 30 minutes cruisin' for a bruisin', only without the bruising.

Interesting this tailgate phenomenon, the likes of which exist minimally in Canada. As we are a nation of hockey lovers, and hockey is played on the ice, and a hockey season spans 18 of the 12 months of the year, Canadians tend to drunk inside of the arena, rather than in its parking lot. They may do things differently in the Country of Calgary, but that's their problem, readers. (Re 'drunk', I did not use the incorrect vowel; re '18', I did not use the wrong number.)

Tailgate is the celebration pre and often post game. Wandering around, I was offered at least seven beers from random strangers. Certainly, they felt sorry for my sad state of citrus honey tea in a Jo's cup, but I was sick and so sinning against my Islam would have to wait until post antibiotic completion. (I may or may not be lying.)

To them, I was an obvious out-of-towner, which struck me as strange because I was in jeans and leather boots, waving and smiling at everyone, which in my limited understanding of Texans, is precisely what they do. As soon as someone caught site of me, I was asked "Where you from? Come have a drink." I would chalk this up to drunk folks waiting for a game, but in all honesty, I believe it attributed more to Texas warmth and generosity.

Because of this warmth, I felt awkward about my camera and didn't take too many pictures. Amazing this, as I am usually completely oblivious to the social graces of picture taking. During my first trip to Vancouver, I asked a homeless man - with whom I was sharing my lunch and his bench - if he would mind smiling while we had our picture taken. (I may or may not be lying.)

Apart from the bar-b-ques in the lots and the massive tents, there was everything ranging from little picnics on blankets to corporate parties fully catered with a serving staff. The one thing everybody had in common was the Longhorns color of pumpkin orange. It was a sea of pumpkin pie as far as the eye could see and if I could have, I would have been hanging out in the handstand position so as to ensure that my own pumpkin leather colored boots were added to the top of that sea. As I am a weakling, I couldn't do this, so instead walked while inconspicuously kicking up my legs as high as possible. (I may or may not be lying.)

The Entry
They frisk you before letting you into the stadium and coaching you on The Secret Handshake of The Longhorns, which, by the way, I refused to use until the very end, choosing to instead use The Maha Longhorns Secret Handshake comprised of index fingers by the temples, wiggling. More on this later.

So, they frisk you to ensure you're not carrying alcohol or anything illegal (and off of which they can't make more money inside of the stadium, such as food). I wasn't allowed to take in either my tea or my banana. You read that right - my banana, which is not code for anything sexual, but rather the same sustenance enjoyed by our simian brothers and sisters.

Bananas were working for my sore throat, and even though they did not sell bananas inside of the stadium, I wasn't allowed to take it in with me.

I attempted the tried, tested and true "I'm Canadian", but still, the Longhorns Stadium Police weren't allowed to let me in. In their defense, they were very nice about it and apologized for their entirely money-driven rules.

Because 95,000 seats and 95,000 t-shirts and 95,000 leather attachment seats, and 95,000 beers, and 95,000 pretzels, and 95,000 water bottles and ESPN paying to film per game doesn't generate the same cash flow as the absence of one banana and citrus honey Jo's tea. So...before I was granted entry in to the infamous Longhorns stadium which seats 95,000 fanatics and serves as home to one of America's greatest football teams, I stood to the side and defiantly and with much pride and honor, ate that banana while declaring "YUM-ME" to every passerby.

Maintaining my Texans Behave Like This focus, I also kept up my spirited waving and smiling at all while declaring "I'm Canadian and don't know shit about football. I'll see you inside! OH, wait! Have you seen COACH ERIC TAYLOR? YUM-ME!".

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Part 2: The Stadium & The Game, coming next...and then, Friday Night Lights with Lisa. I will leave you with this preview of the first of many...most of which I can not recall anymore...goose-bump raising moments on the field - the entry of Denver to techno rave music.

Treasures & Treats of Austin (day 2.0 to 3.5 without the 2.5)

Last I was in Austin, I had decided to purchase a piece of local art that I would keep forever and ever, and as an ode to the fact that Austin seems to be my 'magical place' (thank you Baby Jane!). I chatted with one local artist - from whom each piece which interested me was sold out. I saw one lovely piece of art work and never found the time to return to the shop to purchase it; a little piece I have thought about regularly since my initial return to Ottawa.

One of my first stops in Austin was to seek out the later, and to my luck, it was the last one left and the one I had hoped to find. This is a handmade protection packet, a part of the religious culture in Latin America. See the Saint in the middle? I don't know who that is, but s/he's pretty. Also, s/he's surrounded by money and seeds ensuring fertility (hurrah!), protection, increase of funds, repelling of evil, seeking of patience & longevity, transformation for protection & complete cleanse (a direct middle finger to LA's master cleanse, I am certain). I love it, and it's already up adorning one of my walls. Like the weirdo I truly am, I am scared to pull her / him out from her / his safe plastic covering and so s/he is currently like one too many sofas, covered, protected, sterile. Soon, I'll manage the courage to free her / him from this particular confine. Also, I will find the courage to peek beneath and locate her / his gender, as this is most important.

If s/he is possessed with some evil magic, I will call Jared Padalecki to exorcise the evil entity. I shall also feed and bathe him, as required by Supernatural contract. Note: He of the Great Genetic Tribe or Whatever I Initially Called Him is in fact a Texan. I told you they breed them differently down in the South. HI!

Magical place, why?
Because magic happens there for me - Austin is filled rich with amazing, eclectic and wonderful folk, each of whom I miss already. All of whom made fun of my Maha-unique Longhorns secret handshake (the wiggly fingers @ temples), one of whom called me 'tatonka' for it (Native American for 'Buffalo'), two of whom posed for this picture in celebration of it.

Magical because on my first morning at my hotel, I woke up to find that someone had pinned the poem Morning next to my door.

Magical because I went for a walk and lost my way for six glorious hours where I met Baby Jesus and his peeps hanging atop the Little Mexico's patio roof and of whom no one stopped to cock a brow or take a photo or yell 'REALLY? SERIOUSLY? OK, HI!'.

Magical because I stopped to eat the fresh figs I discovered...I am renaming myself Christopher Tatonka Columbus...growing on the front lawn of the home of an old woman who waved at me through her window whilst melodramatically cocking her shotgun...I'm Canadian.

Magical because the Resistencia bookstore is kitty corner to the man who creates art from iron and steel and it's so huge, that it makes Quentin Tarantino's head look relatively tiny (HEY TARANTINO! You need to stop. Go to Austin. Visit Roadhouse Relics. Purchase. You are welcome.)

Magical because it is filled not with coffee shops or cafés, or pretentious...as I for adding the accent to the word 'café'...and annoying genetic and generic Starbucks and Timothy's etc. ad infinitum, but rather Caffeine Dealers, to each and every one of whom I proposed marriage on hand and knee right before I stole half of their honey for the ailing throat and sinus sl*t still killing my body.

Mostly magical, because at near the end of my 6 hour walking ordeal, I realized I was not lost at all, but rather surrounded by signs that pointed the way to the one thing that keeps us all found and at home.


Love? REALLY? SERIOUSLY? Well...no, not really. I just thought it was a pretty picture and wanted to simply end this fkn entry already. Do you have any idea how long it takes to upload pics? No? Then how about: I'm Canadian. Or, maybe, Love = the Magical Places that belong to us and only us?...stop laughing at me; I'm sleep deprived.

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Still to come: Saturday Night Football (Longhorns kick the shit out of Colorado or maybe it was Denver) & Friday Night Lights - a special day with Austin Lisa (I love you Coach Eric Taylor!).