Day 185: Afternoon Cats

I post a fair number of cat pictures and assorted cat-related content on this blog, but it has been suggested in some quarters that this is not enough! OK - I hear you - so let me now tell you more about my daily adventures with Chance and Slippers.

Slippers enjoys a tummy rub while Chance rests.

As I earlier discussed our morning routine, let me now discuss our afternoon routine. Ironically enough, it reads fairly similarly to morning. I normally arrive home at around 6PM - and Slippers considers this to be well past supper time - and immediately meows frantically awaiting some fresh Friskies. I've actually come to conclude that Chance, on the other hand, may prefer the Science Diet dry food that I give them - as he never gets too excited about the wet food and sometimes won't even eat it (he did this last night).

After dinner, Chance follows me around meowing - waiting for me to sit down so he can jump up on my lap. Slippers will follow me around too - but he generally doesn't get on my lap - he'll just curl up near where I am sitting - whether I am watching TV or playing poker. That's assuming I'm not eating dinner myself - because if I am, then Slippers goes into cat barbarian mode - and purrs and nuzzles, giving me sad eyes until I flick him precious pieces of my KFC.

But what they both really want is for me to go take a short nap so that they can join me in bed. If I do this (and I frequently do - for I am lazy), Slippers will come join me within seconds - purring ferociously and angling for a tummy and back rub. He can be quite aggressive in getting you to pat him - and no matter where your hand is, he will find a way to force his way under it and trick you into patting him. Chance will come bounding in as well - and will jump on my chest and give me a head butt. Neither of them understand why I need to go to work at all.


Chance stops to smell the flowers.

Actually - Chance is licking the plastic bag that the flowers are stored in. Previous to that, he was licking the tablecloth...

Day 184: Some Notes On Zimbabwe

The southern African nation of Zimbabwe holds the dinstinction of being the country which has seen the single greatest destruction of its wealth in the last 25 years by a country that was not ravaged by war. How and why has this happened?

To understand why, we need to go back 30 years to the dying days of "White Rule" in what was then known as Rhodesia. One of those who resisted the government of Ian Smith was a Marxist guerilla leader, Robert Mugabe. His committment to "anti-colonialism" made him a natural ally of a similar group in South Africa, the banned ANC, who were then resisting that country's apartheid government. In 1979, with the regime of Ian Smith collapsing, Mugabe helped negotiate an end to the civil war and duly won a landslide victory in elections the following year. He was seen as a noble liberator by his people, and was no doubt an inspiration to the ANC and many other Africans.

But what has happened since 1980 is an abject lesson on how to destroy a country. There were great inequalities in Zimbabwe - this is true. Whites made up less than 1% of the population but controlled most of the farmland. Coerced land redistribution was clearly a winning strategy for Mugabe, and even had a sense of justice behind it. But his main solution has been to steal the land from farmers and give it to his band of armed thugs - who don't know how to farm. As a result, Zimbabwe has seen drastic declines in agricultural production, and is now on the brink of famine. And the poor have gotten poorer. But this is all good news for Mugabe, because hungry people don't have the energy or time to plot rebellion - especially when no one thinks it will do any good.

March 31st sees a fresh round of parliamentary "elections" in Zimbabwe, as the 81 year Robert Mugabe seeks to strengthen his rule. He hopes to achieve a 2/3 majority which will enable him to rewrite the constitution as he sees fit - even though a majority of the population despise his rule. His healthy majorities are mainly a result of ballot stuffing - with thousands of dead Zimbabweans supporting him. In the last rigged elections, the opposition MDC officially got about the same number of votes as the ruling ZANU-PF party - but still remained powerless. And the MDC is barely trying this time due to all the obstacles put in their way by the corrupt judiciary. The mood in Zimbabwe is peaceful yet one of quiet resignation. They just hope the old man will die.

Mugabe may not know how to run a country without destroying it, but he's done a good job at stifling the opposition and currying favour with those outsiders who matter. And for Mugabe, only one outsider really matters - Thabo Mbeki, President of South Africa. Unfortunately, one senses that South Africa has already written up a press release praising the Zimbabwean parliamentary elections as fair and proper. Mbeki has not forgotten their days of joint anti-colonial struggle, and remains personally loyal to the despicable Robert Mugabe, who does not deserve his support. And since Mugabe has cleverly not invited any foreign observers who criticized the last (corrupt) round of elections, expect a clean bill of health from those who watch them this time.

But Mugabe will not live forever. When he dies, the rest of the world must hope that the people of Zimbabwe can dig themselves out of their current depths and join the growing ranks of African nations now on the road to prosperity. There is a coming African Renaissance - and Zimbabwe may yet participate.

Day 183: The Myth of Los Angeles

I want to live in Los Angeles
Not the one in Los Angeles
No, not the one in South California
They got one in South Patagonia
- Frank Black "Los Angeles"

For some reason, Los Angeles has a reputation as being a city with decent weather. I've certainly bought into it - and constantly sing "I Love L.A." by Randy Newman. But I wonder - if this is so, then why does the L.A. Open (aka Nissan Open) consistently have weather problems? And why does Tiger Woods, a native of Southern California, choose to live year round in Orlando? Could the typically horrible California weather have something to do with it? I had to find out.

A quick websearch reveals that average highs in L.A. in March and April are only around 20 degrees. Nice to be sure - but hardly warm - I'd still be wearing a sweatshirt. And that would be under my raincoat - for L.A. gets a great deal of rain between December and April - making a California Winter no picnic at all - and certainly nothing to dream about. True: the summers are dry - but they're far too hot - and there's no water anywhere to drink. Dying of thirst is an unpleasant way to expire - and is constantly a battle for the unfortunate Angelinos.

So the weather in L.A. is actually horrible year round - and no one would ever want to live there. I have uncovered the truth about the myth of Los Angeles.

Day 182: A Poker Victory for SnowyCat

I've been badmouthing poker in these pages recently - and with good reason - because poker has many evil qualities:

1) Time Sucking
- Poker may well be a game of skill, but luck trumps skill over small intervals - so for any real success (assuming you are good), you have to put in the hours. This takes time and can take away from the rest of your life (assuming you have one).
2) Infuriating
You can play well for 3 hours and be $37.28 ahead - when all of a sudden some idiot makes a dumb move at you. You call because you're winning - you may even raise - and then the idiot catches a lucky card at the end to beat you and wipe away all your good work for the day. Infuriating!
3) Misleading
If it was so easy to make money at poker - why doesn't everybody do it? Well - it's just not that easy to make money at it. I think if I worked as hard as I possibly could, then I might be able to make $5-6 per hour - which doesn't even pay for cat food.

But Monday was not about such setbacks - it was a good day. I returned home from work without any plans (as is common) - but instead of going mainlining straight into the poker addiction, I calmly watched TV and ate ice cream while talking to Slippers and Chance. They were in good spirits and took turns licking the bowl.

Eventually I reluctantly agreed to a challenge match from Poker Pro Peter, who was playing at home at the Poker Factory. We resolved to play for 3 hours: no more, no less - and would then see who had achieved the biggest percentage stack increase (weighted for the fact that he plays much higher stakes than me). The results? I was +55% on my buyin, while Peter was not so good at -125%. I win!

But all this was somewhat lonely and boring. But I had some good news for people who love good news to celebrate yesterday: I got a raise at work! A minimum raise perhaps - but a raise nonetheless. Now this may surprise you - but some people think I do decent work and value my contributions. I guess I have them fooled! And with word that I'm finally going to get my rebate from Canuck tickets this past year (the one good thing about the cancelled season is my improved bank balance) - I decided to splurge on one $100 sit&go game. This is well out of my comfort zone - but I decided to do it just the once - in celebration of my achievements in the field of excellence.

So how did it go? Well doggoneit - I won the darned thing earning $500! You can read all about my exploits through this comprehensive hand summary here.

So now I'm slightly up for my entire poker career - and I never need to play again. Hooray for me!

Day 181: Panic On The Greens Of Fraserview

Happy Easter Monday! Many of you have holidays today - but not me - I'm slaving for a paycheck like a good member of the unwashed proletariat. Enjoy your rest and relaxation, bourgeois scum - the day of reckoning will come.

I've been a virtual shut-in for the last month, rarely visiting with friends (and not watching any movies), with only the dim flicker of an online poker addiction keeping me company. Fortunately, all that is changing. I've realized how sinister the poker thing is (despite what the pushers at cardplayer.com may tell you), and I've rediscovered golf. Golf - an ideal way to spend an afternoon. Poker - a killer of souls and destroyer of sanity.

The weather this Easter Weekend was quite iffy here in Vancouver - lots of rainstorms - but a clever soul could find the gaps in the storm, so I managed to get two rounds in: one Friday and one Sunday. The first round was at McCleery with Peter, while the second was played with Jeff and his teacher co-worker Mark at Fraserview. These were my first rounds in a month (due to a nagging shoulder ailment), so I had no expectations.

I played quite well both days - but didn't get the putter going (33 putts each time). My 75 at McCleery was easily enough to best Peter who struggled to an 80 and was heard muttering about his rapidly decaying body on the long walk of shame back to his doorway. But what was remarkable about Peter's round was that he had 5 birdies in a round of 80 (including 3 in a row from 7-9)! That is not easy to do - and John Daly would have been proud. But we've only had 5 matches so far this year through the end of March - and that's not good enough. My own round was unremarkable - I fought it to 1-over through 14 but bogeyed 15, 16, and 18 coming in to finish at that mediocre 75. The greens at McCleery were in excellent shape: soft and fast: perfect to putt on! But this experience would not benefit me for my next round on the greens of Fraserview.

On Sunday, I went to pick Peter up at 8:30AM for our appointed 9:30 tee time - but things were not wine and roses at the Factory. Peter had forgotten that he had arranged for a rat catcher to visit at noon (to hunt for the Rats in the Walls) and felt it best to stay behind - but I really think he just wanted to avoid another beating on the links. Ana had setup a chocolate easter egg hunt for Peter with hiding places "fit for adults, not children" - so we spent some time looking for chocolatey treats - I found a nice nest of Caramilk eggs inside a goblet! Later that evening, I was told that not all the treats had been found - Ana is a good Easter Bunny - and Peter is a poor finder.

With just three of us for our Sunday game, we determined that the best match would pit my score against the best ball of Jeff and Mark. I'm a 2 handicap, Jeff is an 8, while Mark was a 10 - so this had the makings of a good match. The course had been submerged under water at the start of the day, so the staff had sought out high places for all the pins. This meant that some were on severe slopes: the pin on #8 was tragicomical - only 8 feet from the front left corner and on a cliff. Ha! Also - with the previous deluge, the greens had not been cut and were very slow. Having just played McCleery with fast greens, this was going to be tricky.

I got off to a quick start on the boys with a birdie on 2, but quickly gave it back with a 3-putt on 3. I left a 45 foot putt 10 feet short. Oops - these greens are slow... I made two more bogeys on the front nine to post a 38, nipping Jeff by only 1 shot. He suffered an adventure with the unfortunate pin on #8 - while I fluked in a four footer (playing about 1.5 feet of break with speed). Unfortunately, Mark did not have a good nine and didn't contribute to their team best ball at all - so I was 1-up.

I parred 10 through 12 (with another 3-putt on 12) to find myself 2-up through 12. Then Jeff had a world class up-and-down on 13! His tee shot on the watery par three cleared the water by 3 inches and was dry - but he had to play a left-handed putter from within the hazard as he had no stance or swing if he tried to go conventional. He hit a beautiful little running chip to 20 feet and then canned the difficult slider! Wow! Fortunately I made a 6-foot par save and turned his victory into a moral victory. But when Jeff birdied the next hole, the match heated up and I was only 1-up.

On 15, an untimely Robidoux three-putt (from 65 feet) left their squad 2-down with but 3 to play: a commanding position. Jeff was playing very well - and if he'd had a few less three-putts would have had a great round going. But as for Mark? He had only contributed on 1 hole (he parred 12 to halve me), and Jeff speculated that Mark must have been into the martinis the night before - because he was usually quite solid.

The 16th at Fraserview from the blue tees measured 165 yards to a back pin. Jeff and I had both been going long with irons most of the day (for some reason the greens were slow and hard), and Jeff was fed up with this. So he announced that he was going to hit an 8-iron. At the time, I was debating between 6 and 7 (I went with 6), and was a little flabbergasted at this proclamation. Jeff generally hits the ball a bit shorter than I do - so for him to hit an 8-iron while I'm hitting 6-iron is simply crazy. So I said so. I told him "Jeff - I have to have an intervention here - an 8-iron is not the right club for you." But he was persistent and annoyed at going long all day. So I hit first, and my easy 6-iron went right at the hole and finished 20 feet behind the pin - a makeable putt to seal the victory. Jeff then hit a crisp 8-iron with a little draw... could it get there???? No - of course not - he finished in the front left bunker at least 25 yards short of the hole. Jeff - I'm sorry - but that was the wrong club! After Jeff and Mark failed to make their pars, I was able to two-putt for a 3&2 victory and some richly deserved beer.

We finished out the round with nothing too special - I actually parred every hole on the back nine to end up at 2-over 74, while Jeff 3-putted 17 and failed to birdie 18 to be left with the always disappointing bubble score of 80. Mark's troubles continued and he salvaged only a 93. As soon as we got into the clubhouse, Mark announced that he had another game that afternoon at UBC in 20 minutes - and quickly departed for his second 18. I had to shake his hand - as this was most impressive - 36 holes is a wonderful day spent.

Jeff and I then sat on the back patio and played a most entertaining game of "quarters". The 18th at Fraserview has a large raveen running across it - so most groups have 4 people hitting from about 100-130 yards to the green. Our game was that one person would set the line on the total number of shots a group would take, and the other would have to choose "over" or "under". Then we would count their shots (while drinking our beer) - and cheering them on when they made or missed short putts, or put 1 or 2 balls into the creek. It is far more entertaining to watch others struggle than it is to actually play. For one group of beginners, their line was 20, and I was able to watch in triumph as the lady made a clutch 3 footer for 19! Another group of three women, we had set the line at 10.5 - but all three got down in 3 for an amazing total of 9. Some people are good.

So the lessons of the weekend? Golf is great, spring is here, and drinking beer is enjoyable.

And poker is best avoided.

Day 180: Loving the LPGA Tour

Like most golfers (and TV viewers), I've had only a passing interest over the years in the women's side of the game. The LPGA tour has had many image problems - from lamely commented telecasts featuring overweight women wearing shorts (a fashion faux pas) - to watching them hit 9-woods 220 yards all day - who wants to watch them hit shots you could hit when you could watch John Daly or Tiger Woods? The men's game has power, personality, and stars. The women's game doesn't. But will it? - because in reality the LPGA Tour is coming of age - with many interesting stories on the horizon. Nowhere is that better shown than looking at the tour's first major - the "Kraft Nabisco Championship" - which is better known as the "Dinah Shore".

Story #1: The Maturing of Michelle Wie

Michelle Wie prepares to take on the world
What more can you say about her? This 6-foot tall Hawaiian teen (she was born in 1989 when I was in Grade 12!) has a promising future ahead of her - and a promising present too. As of this writing, she's leading the Nabisco midway through the first round. She's already played in two PGA events (in her native Hawaii) and almost made the cut last year - and she's expressed a desire to qualify for the Masters one day. Will she do it? Keep watching. But what is certain is that she will become the Tiger Woods of women's golf very soon.

Story #2: But what about sex appeal?

Natalie Gulbis brings a winning smile to women's golf
Women's golf has always had an image problem (in contrast to tennis) in that there haven't been very many attractive women on tour over the years. Where is the Anna Kournakova of golf? Well some argue that she's now here in Ben Roethlisberger's girlfriend, Natalie Gulbis. A top-40 golfer already, she's just had a successful swimsuit calendar take the golf world by storm. What's next? Perhaps a major?

Story #3: What exactly does that "L" stand for???

It is a indisputable fact that the LPGA has historically had a high percentage of lesbians. Everyone knows this - and over the last 30 years the "Dinah Shore" has become as a sort of Lesbian Super Bowl (Try typing "Dinah Shore" into google and see what you come up with). In fact - this is the lesbian party weekend of the year in the USA - and a lot of the revellers probably don't even realize there is also a golf tournament. But you won't learn about any of this if you watch the telecast - for the LPGA has shied away from embracing their many lesbian fans, for fear of alienating those "red-staters" who hate all gays. But time is marching on, and I think it is only a matter of time before some prominent LPGA players admit to their sexuality and the country is forced to acknowledge their existence. And with this hopeful development, the women's game can only become more interesting. Because lesbians are hot!

So watch the PGA Tour - but keep an eye on the women's game too - you won't be disappointed.

Day 179: Love Will Find A Way

As people who know me are aware, I am a naive romantic, with thoughts unconstrained by objective or accurate views on reality. And those foolish amongst you who have asked for relationship advice (this has actually happened!), know that my answer is always the same: "Love will find a way". I've always felt that you should fight, work, and put up with a lot in pursuit of true love - because it's very rare - and when it works, it is what it's all about. Never stop fighting.

I've always believed this in my heart - but I have to admit that my faith is fading these days. Maybe I've been wrong all these years - perhaps there is no magic bullet, and love can't conquer all? A horrifying thought to be sure. Perhaps we should all just settle for less?

No - I think I'll stay idealistic and simple. Love does conquer all - and love will always find a way. There is no need to face the harsh light of day.

Day 178: My Disgusting Hovel

I live in filth.

It's not a pretty admission - but it is a pretty accurate one. There are several reasons for it - all of which are interesting but are things an industrious, resourceful person would have done something with by now. But I am not such a person.

The primary concern is my bathroom. It wasn't spectacular when I moved in but I was willing to overlook it on account of the rest of the place being so nice - but it is getting worse. The bathtub is chipped and peeling in many places - and though my landlord promised to get it sorted out, he didn't bother - and I haven't been bugging him (because I am lazy?). But what's worse is the ceiling - clearly they didn't use a proper bathroom paint - and it is now completely peeling above the shower, showing off a pink coat underneath.

Nothing is more fun than watching paint peel

Clearly I need to repaint it (I'm thinking green?) - but my colossal industriouslessness and laziness are taking over the better part of my time - so I have done nothing but glare at the evergrowing eyesore.

And when things couldn't get much worse, my vacuum cleaner has stopped working, resulting in more filth. You may laugh and wonder how often I actually vacuumed - but I actually have been vacuuming a lot on account of the cats and their love of shedding fur everywhere. But now the fur is accumulating daily and I have to pick it up by hand - either that or get my vacuum cleaner fixed (or buy a new one). Here's a picture of the fur piling up on the floor.

You can't see it - but there's fur everywhere!

So - I definitely need to get my act together if I want to make my place presentable for guests again.

Day 177: On Egg Salad Sandwiches

The world's most disgusting food

I have many hangups in this world - but I think the largest relates to a fear of "moist food". Just the thought of a soft gooey sandwich makes me nauseous. But I'm apparently alone in this - because I see people eat such sandwiches all the time - it is a staple of North American cuisine. I don't get it - hunger isn't really so bad - you can live without food for quite some time - so there is no excuse for eating something foul.

As a child, I avoided sandwiches and lived in fear of being forced to eat one at social gatherings. "There are sandwiches on the table!" "Ohhhh - thanks..." So for years I managed to avoid them - and it was not until I was 20 before I finally tried an untoasted sandwich. It was OK - but only because it was fresh and was an excellent type of bread. But "normal" sandwiches served dripping wet on a slight/normal bread are not good - and I was right to shun them.

Sometimes they have lunchtime meetings at work and they promise "Sandwiches will be served" as if this is a treat and not a sinister threat. Obviously I don't eat the disgusting wet sandwiches - but that isn't the worst of it - I have to sit next to other people as they eat them: slurping and chomping away. I sit in silence, absolutely horrified. So as a rule I avoid activities that take place at lunchtime and have a good probability of sandwiches being served.

When I do eat sandwiches - they are always toasted - and never with any sauces. I disdain salad dressing and abhor mayonnaise beyond all other things. I used to dislike mustard - but have grown to tolerate it (though Dijon Mustard is of course completely foul). The ideal sandwich consists simply of cheese on toasted white bread (but not a grilled cheese sandwich - those aren't good - and by cheese I mean "a good type of cheese" - which is to say Edam, Cheddar, Swiss, - not a gross runny cheese - and certainly not a fake processed cheese slice).

But my special contempt is reserved for the most foul of all sandwiches (which I've already explained are foul on their own): the egg salad sandwich. It combines eggy grossness with gooey mayonnaise and has nothing solid or tasty. It's a complete mess and is fit only for the trash. So do yourself a favour: make an egg salad sandwich, look at it, spit on it, say "Yuck!", and then throw it in the dustbin - you'll be doing yourself a big favour!

Day 176: Morning Cats

We are all creatures of ritual - and few more so than me and my cats. I am not quite an OCD case-study, but I do tend towards the routine - it saves the difficult decision making for important things.

Chance and Slippers always sleep the night on my bed - Slippers on my left, and Chance on my right. They rarely vary in this, which I find interesting. Chance occasionally comes right up to my face while I'm sleeping and licks it. At around 7AM, Slippers decides that breakfast is soon - so he grows very friendly and comes right up and nuzzles me. If I so much as move an arm, he thinks I'm getting up and will dart off the bed - ready to race to the food bowl. Chance never seems so concerned about the food, and will just follow Slippers around if Slippers gets too excited.

Eventually at around 8AM, I get up - and Slippers will meow like the world is ending - afraid that I will leave and not notice his hunger. Chance usually follows Slippers into the kitchen, but he gets bored and goes and sits on the living room rug. I open the tin and feed Slippers - then I have to go find Chance and force him to eat too. I probably don't need to force feed a fat cat - but if I don't do it, he will eventually wonder where his food is too.

After a shower, I find the cats in their traditional morning locations. Chance resting against my pillow (he thinks he's a person!), and Slippers either on my couch or footstool.

So are they cute? Don't take my word for it - here's the proof!

Chance rests on my pillow


Slippers angles for a tummy rub

Day 175: When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'm wearing green today - are you? It's not too late to go home and change.


St. Patrick's Day has always been a special day in my family - especially for my father (both his grandfathers were born in Ireland). He sends me a St. Patrick's Day card every year - which I always put prominently on my TV. This year was no exception - and he expressed his wish that we were golfing together in Roscommon. Next year, Dad!

I've concluded that The Cure's "Disintegration" is still a good album. It was the first "alternative" album I ever bought (probably in 1991) - and it helped convince me to throw off the shackles of a "classic rock" upbringing. Their live show in 1992 is probably the best concert I've seen: I saw it with Gned T. Gnome - we had floor seats and stood on chairs! Great stuff - of course I was still a teenager then. I remember being upset they didn't end with "Disintegration" - but I suppose it was the "Wish" tour.

"if only i had thought of the right words
i could have held on to your heart
if only i had thought of the right words
i wouldn't be breaking apart
all my pictures of you"
- The Cure "Pictures of You"

Day 174: So Impulsive

I'm continuing to reflect on my personality traits - and one that bothers me more than most is my impulsiveness. I can be quiet, brooding, even lazy - you may think I'm too conservative - but suddenly I will decide to something important and new without thinking. I've never met a crazy idea I didn't like! When house-hunting - I usually take the first apartment I look at (see also laziness); I bought my new car in a single day - and I frequently spend hundreds of dollars shopping when I didn't even plan to go shopping. You may assume that I plan my vacations - but I sometimes wind up in a different country than I originally planned just on a whimsical mood change (that's how I ended up in Switzerland, for example). My visit to Christchurch while in NZ - that was just something I decided to do over breakfast one day, and by lunch I was gone. Interesting.

And this impulsiveness can even show up in poker. I'll be going along steadily and then Impulsive Snowy strikes - and I've made a stupid bet I didn't mean to make. I'm trying to control it - but it's hard.

It's annoying to have these little things still crop up after 32 years of careful self-analysis. Sometimes I even wonder if I've learned anything.

Day 173: Snowy vs. Pontiac

I hate my car. There's no nicer way to put it. We had a good run, my car and me - but we're on the outs now.


The weekend had started off well. In celebration of Bumbly Bee's birthday (which was Saturday), a group of us journeyed up to Whistler for a relaxing stay in a rented condo. The condo was right in Whistler Village - which was terribly convenient. Despite an appalling lack of snow on the mountains, most of the group chose to snowboard/ski. Jude and I, however, chose not to ski, and soon discovered that we shared a common hobby: sleeping in.

Jude and BB slept together in the master bedroom - and if you think this didn't lead most of the guys to make lots of "L Word" jokes, then you don't understand men. The rest of the gang took beds upstairs, while Cindy and I made do in the living room. Cindy had the idea to take the mattresses off the couch-beds - this was brilliant! You avoid the metal poking in the back! Anyways, we were duly woken up by the merry skiiers at 7AM when they came in to prepare breakfast, put on their noisy ski boots and chat about "ski this", "snowboard that", etc. Most annoying. But by 9:00, the interlopers were gone. Thus began Nap #1.

At around 11:00, I stirred, took a quick look for Jude, found that she was still asleep, and decided to take a shower. Then I lay down for but a moment and quickly immersed myself in Nap #2.

At 12:30 I stirred again, found Jude awake - and we ventured out for lunch. Jude was in the final stages of the much ballyhooed "Wild Rose" detox diet (it was her third time), and praised its effects and chastised me not to eat so much nonsense. Shaken, I ordered a salad instead of fries - and stated that "I should try this thing". After lunch, the nastier side of Wild Rose reared its head on poor Jude, and we had to make a hasty return to the condo. It was about 2:30PM and peaceful - none of the skiiers had yet returned - and although we were anxious to get out shopping and seize the day, a short stay on the couch somehow turned into Nap #3.

At 4PM, the main group returned, ready for their naps. Jude and I, now awake, went out into the city with one goal - to find unstylish me a stylish new outfit. We succeeded. I bought a full ensemble: a new pair of jeans, some simple black t-shirts, a nice new blue cool shirt, and even a strange beaded necklace. Back at the condo, I baked a lasagna (... ok - it was a frozen lasagna) and we ate merrily. Then we had cake and ice cream and sang Happy Birthday for Bumbly Bee. Hooray!

At 9:30, all 11 of us ventured out to the niteclub, and a usual amount of mayhem ensued. I'm not sure how it happens, but Jude and BB managed to get quite drunk without ever having to pay for a single drink (or even the cover). It's good to be a girl. At the end of the evening, we ran into recording artist Melanie Dekker, as she had been in town playing a local club. We chatted briefly - and she seemed in good spirits, though attempts to meet-up with her the following day for breakfast failed miserably due to more extreme sleeping in on our part.

Sunday was another peaceful day - though going shopping with Jude/BB resulted in them buying almost nothing, and me buying lots more stuff. The drive home passed without issue (BB stayed behind one extra day - so I only had Jude as a passenger). But what we didn't realize at the time was that my car was a time bomb waiting to explode. Tick. Tock.

The car didn't explode when dropping Jude off at her house, because for some reason I didn't stop the motor. No it waited until I stopped at a local restaurant (possibly KFC) for dinner and to buy cat food at the nearby Safeway. Upon returning to my vehicle, there was no power - the engine would simply not start. I was perplexed - I had just driven from Whistler - you would think that it would be charged! I eventually tracked down Gilman (who lived only 3 blocks from my car's resting place), and as he was (presumably) baking their traditional Sunday shrimp/rice meal, he sent his brother in his stead. Gilman's brother heroically jumpstarted my car and I was able to drive home. But once home, I tried to start it again - and it was dead. Dead as a doornail. Blasted car!

What to do - what to do? If you suggested "Panic", then you'd be right - for that's exactly what I did. I am a self-confessed autophobe and am capable of truly muddled thinking with regards to my vehicle. Just when hopelessly confused and thinking poorly, Peter phoned me and dictated a reasonable plan to me. He was working until 8AM at a local casino, so offered to come by afterwards and help me deal with things. He proved a big help.

At 8AM, we drove to a local service station (that he recommended), bought jumper cables and drove back to my car. There, despite our best efforts, I couldn't get it to work. Giving up, we drove off to the local Starbucks - but in the middle of the back alley - I noticed a sign that said "BCAA". This was worth a look. The staff were out back smoking (they were due to open at 9AM) and I got good advice on what I needed to do to get help. I went inside and signed up for BCAA and then got emergency roadside assistance (which took the full 45 minutes to arrive). The guy in the towtruck jumpstarted my car using a funky generator and I drove it to the service station by 10:30, and then Peter nobly drove me all the way to work in Richmond. What a hero.

So now my car is fixed (the battery needed to be replaced) and I have to bus back to Vancouver to pick it up before 6PM. What an ordeal!

I hate my car - I wish I had a boat.

Day 172: Happy Birthday to Bumbly Bee!

"Cat, Dog, Bee"

Auggie and Slippers sat in the kitchen sharing a bottle of brandy as they baked Bumbly Bee's birthday cake, resolving once and for all the eternal dispute between cats and dogs. Howard and Chance were in the other room chasing a sunbeam.

"So Slippers - I suppose it is settled. Cats are better than dogs! Your carefully structured argument has persuaded me. I am quite convinced."

"As right you should be, Auggie - let us now go and tell the others."

Auggie and Slippers shuffled into the adjoining room. Chance had just caught the sunbeam and was pleased as punch. Auggie cleared his throat and began to speak.

"It is true that cats are better than dogs. Everyone - it's true!"

"Hooray!"

"Look Howard - the cake is ready!"

At that very moment, Bumbly Bee returned home and saw the cake. Auggie had crafted a wondrous three level cake: one layer of dogs, one layer of cats, with a giant bee on top. Auggie was a wonderful chef.

"I love birthdays!"

"Goodbye Bumbly Bee - it was fun to know you."

After some tender hugs, Auggie and Howard left, and there was not a dry eye in the house.

"Goodbye Auggie and Howard!"

Day 171: Sleep While You Can

I'm quite excited today because I managed to get a good night's sleep (7 hours) last night, which is a rarity. Sleep is great. Getting a good rest is something I've always battled with and you certainly realize what you've been missing once you experience a day with actual energy.

Usually it's mild stress or my mind refusing to stop that keeps me up and restless. And when you start losing sleep because you're stressed about losing sleep: then you know you are in trouble. Insomnia totally sucks. I avoid caffeine in the afternoon - and I'd love to cut it out of the morning - but it has become a necessity.

I know there's people out there who sleep comfortably on a regular basis. I envy you people - you are doing something right!

Day 170: The Decline of Civilization

Scene: A small Victoria bedroom circa 1995. An unshaven and rumpled engineering student sits in front of a PC playing hour after hour of Sid Meier's Civilization. Each late-night session is played better and more efficiently than the last - he is getting good at this! In another part of the city, a debonair computer science major forgoes a night amongst friends in his equally lonely quest for Industrialization, Theology, and the Hoover Dam. From afar, this is perplexing and rather sad: there's no money in it - it never seems to go anywhere - and there isn't even a real human opponent - but the victims are entranced - Civ-addicts quietly killing time till death.

Flash forward: Ten years later. Many years have passed since I kicked the Civ habit and returned to a semblance of normalcy: I don't even have Civ installed on my home computer! But a new menace has entered my sphere of influence: Online Poker. I should be afraid.

For poker is far more addictive than even Civ was - and with the theoretical potential of actually making money at it - I could get into trouble here. Poker relies on concentration and making quick mathematical calculations: exactly my greatest strengths - I know that I can do well at this game. But at what cost?

For I ask you this: If there had been money to be made at playing Civilization - would I ever have got a job or even changed out of my pajamas? I think not - I'd still be in that darkened room waiting for the next round of Settlers to appear.

Day 169: Marc Crawford's Biggest Mistake

March 8th, 2005 marks the one year anniversary of Todd Bertuzzi's infamous hit on Steve Moore, and all of Vancouver talk radio is filled with speculation, legal questions, blah blah blah. But unlike a lot of American media pundits who feel fit to comment on things they don't understand, I was at the game in question, watched the play develop from my perch in the cheap seats, and will tell you my two cents.


So who do I blame for the hit?
1) Marc Crawford
- Everyone in the building watching that game thought a Canuck (probably Bertuzzi: a man often given to impulsive acts) might try to do something to Steve Moore - especially when the score got out of hand (I think it was 8-1). So late in the third period when we saw Bertuzzi and Moore on the ice at the same time - we watched the two of them, afraid of what could happen. Marc Crawford should never ever have let Todd Bertuzzi on the ice while Moore was out there late in the third period of an 8-1 game. That is bad coaching and is unforgivable. Crawford cannot be considered a great coach for this one horrible move alone.

2) Steve Moore
- I'm not even talking about the original cheap shot on a star here (though it was that) - but I blame Steve Moore for not realizing that he was liable to get killed by Todd Bertuzzi in that game. I thought something bad could happen and I'm not an expert. Of course - I didn't expect the hit to be quite that bad (who did?) - but Steve definitely should have been watching his back. It is a sad case now as Moore will probably never play another NHL game - but he probably never would have anyways - as he was a marginal 4th liner before - but now he's a marginal 4th liner with concussion problems.

3) Todd Bertuzzi
- I will admit that I was glad that they hit Steve Moore - he definitely did deserve retribution for the hit on Naslund - but he didn't deserve what he got - not even close. Bertuzzi is quite simply not a nice man - but I really don't blame him for the act. It's like blaming Slippers for barfing on the rug - that's just what he does. Bertuzzi was sticking up for a friend and overreacted horribly in a moment of madness. But the coaches knew what kind of player he is - and how he was feeling about Naslund and Moore - and they should have protected Bertuzzi from himself.

On March 8, 2004, Marc Crawford let down Todd Bertuzzi, and the Vancouver Canuck fans suffered.

Day 168: Lost Weekend

A self-proclaimed "expert" at poker, I meticulously read my glowing press releases and reached the point where I felt that Johnny Chan, Phil Hellmuth, and their merry friends would soon be singing my praises at each stop on the "World Poker Tour". All hail Snowy - the fresh new face of poker!

With a resounding triumph over Gilman and Bumbly Bee in a social poker game under my belt, I set-up an online account at PartyPoker and calmly ventured out into the brave new world of cyber-gambling. Surely there was no conceivable downside to this: this was a license to print money!

Hmmm.... Not exactly.

I won't bore you with details of the financial disaster of this past weekend - but suffice to say that my first 48 hours online were not a roaring success. I almost bankrupted my initial investment and only the lure of a "bonus credit" for reaching 1050 raked hands keeps me motivated. So what did I do wrong?

1) I underestimated my opponents. It's true that many aren't that good - but there is no excuse for not playing by sound principles.
2) I overestimated my ability. I started calling more bets thinking that I could outplay my lousy opponents. This didn't always happen.

But this was my Achilles heel:
Many players at the low limits are curious cats and call every bet. Players who play like this are called "Calling Station" and are not considered good. I know these people are out there and I like taking their money. But what is even more effective is to look like one of these players while holding a monster hand: people think you stink and bet big into you! This happened to me a few times before realizing what was going on. So some lucky geniuses out there took my money. Bastards!

Below is a picture from the epic poker battle. This photo captures a fleeting moment of happiness shortly before Gilman's ultimate and inevitable defeat.

Day 167: On Natural Medicine

I admit that I have a problem with "natural medicine", "special herbs", and "funky detox diets". They have a subtle inference that modern medicine is horribly misguided and concealing ancient truths from us. In reality the indigenous peoples and ancients were usually quite dumb - and any remedies they lucked upon were as likely to kill you as help. The Romans liked to eat lead, and the Polynesians ate each other (and got rare brain diseases like Kuru). People didn't really get healthy until the Industrial Age and the development of mass agriculture.

As for detox diets? They are probably helpful in that the promotion of a good diet is beneficial - but the body (liver) is better at removing toxins than herbalists usually give it credit for, so this aspect is overdone. Consider these two articles on the dangers of detox diets (I think they're specifically referring to Wild Rose in the first one as the $27 price tag matches exactly).
Article 1, Article 2

But if you want to know what I really think of herbalists (they're scary!), read the scientific mumbo-jumbo in this typical article: the authors positively hang themselves and discredit their entire movement.

OK, OK, For all I know the actual products that herbalists recommend may even work well - I can't comment without evidence - but I take issue with their notion that herbs are best discovered "outside of science". They are not. Scientists should study herbs (and they do, by the way) - and if they can't find the benefit in them - then the herbs probably have no benefit and old wives tales are not enough to recommend their usage to a gullible and ill-informed public.

Day 166: One Golf Tip and One Poker Tip

I somtimes sound like an expert on things I know little about - so today I will stick to subjects I understand: golf and poker. I've played golf for over 20 years and poker for but a few short months - but I have reached expert proficiency at each - so my words on these subjects carry clout, and you are advised to pay heed.

"Golf Tip #1: You're Not That Good - Play Safe"
I sometimes see a hacker attempt a shot that I wouldn't even try - and I have to turn away in horror. They'll try a soft delicate flop shot over a bunker from a thin lie, or a high shot over trees from the rough to a tucked pin, or they'll try to a split a tight fairway with water on both sides with their unusually suspect driver. What gives? Just because you're not experienced or talented doesn't mean you have to be stupid. So play safe. Do a shot you might actually expect to pull off. If you have never practiced the shot you are about to hit - don't do it - do something you know how to do. But this is not to say you shouldn't be confident, because a confident aggressive swing is important. Just be confident about doing the smart shot. Most hackers would be surprised to learn how good a score they would shoot if they just learned to stop shooting themselves in the foot.

"Poker Tip #1: Don't Slowplay Great Hands"
I'll frequently hear that some rival player has had a horrible beat while holding Ace/King (a great hand) because their opponent has caught a lucky card on the river (the last card). "Bad beat!" I'll say. But then the truth comes out - they didn't make their opponent pay to see their cards. For unlike in Gilman's famous hand against Slippers, they did not make an initially strong bet with their excellent hand in a misguided effort to trap the opponent. By not forcing the opponent to pay to see the flop, they bring in all sorts of no-hopers who can outdraw them. And then they bet big after they've been outdrawn! This is the reverse of good poker logic: putting no money in while you're ahead, and then making a big bet when you're behind. Try the reverse and bet when you're ahead - it will work: people will call you and then you will beat them and take their money. I see otherwise good players try these crazy traps too - so my wisdom must not be conventional - but it should be.

Day 165: An American Century?

I am disappointed with the current government of the United States.

If things continue as they are going (and they certainly will), the world will become a much worse place than it was just a few short years ago. It is important to understand why this is so - because we're all going to live in the future and it will be good to know how we got there.

First off, here is what I believe:
1) I am not anti-democracy. Democracy is not just "another system of government" - it is the best one and even Arabs should have the right to it.
2) I am not anti-capitalism. I think it's good to have lots of money. I want my share.
3) I am not anti-American. I think the USA is a great country with a good system of government that can teach a lot to the rest of us (even us smug Canadians).
4) I am not anti-war. I do think that war is sometimes the only option. WWII taught us that I hope.

Ok - but what's wrong with what the US is doing, you liberal pinhead? Don't you support the spreading of democracy to the benighted Middle East? Isn't the US just cleaning up the mess that everyone else (including the hypocritical French) left? Why can't the US smash terrorism - isn't that a good thing? And wasn't Saddam a very bad man?

Let me respond.

1) I support the growth of democracy. Democracy is on the move and many unlikely and disparate places (Indonesia, Ukraine, South Africa) are now fully democratic. This process will continue because democracies are by and large more successful economically than non-democracies and everyone is figuring that out. So we really just need to sit back and wait 50-100 years and democracy will do just fine. Unless the US buggers things up, that is.

2) Can the US really support the long-term occupation of Iraq without any help from anyone else against the wishes of Iraqis? No - not really - it's darned expensive. And with Bush messing up the US economy big-time with his crazy tax cuts and "Homeland Security" budget increases - the current US Empire is smelling a bit like the Roman Empire circa 220AD. The Roman Empire fell not because of barbarian invasions, but because of economic collapse - and don't you forget it. I'm not saying the US is going to go the same way - but it easily could: these things do happen.

3) Can the US smash terrorism? No - of course not. That would be akin to "defeating murder" or "defeating poverty". Terrorism is just a fact of life: and it's a sensible (but evil) way for poor enemies of the US to attack them. Since the whole point of terrorism is to win over the "hearts and minds" of local populations by forcing an overreaction by the other side, I'd say that the terrorists are winning. Unpopular terrorists can never achieve anything, and the US is doing its best to make them popular in the Arab world. How do you make crazed religious nutburgers popular? It's not easy but the US is doing it!

4) Wasn't Saddam a bad man? Um - yes he was - he was a war criminal and murderer. I'll even go so far as to say that Iraqis are better off under the US occupation than they were before. But that doesn't much matter - the invasion was still a bad idea. Iraq is a small issue and isn't crucially important. What is important is the integrity of the United Nations and a system of global governance. The US has thumbed their nose at the UN in a variety of ways and sees themselves as above the law. When the biggest country in the world is an "outlaw", how can we expect anyone else to "play nice"? We can't. The precedent has been set: Great Powers can do what they want, when they want it - na na na na na na. You may suggest that it was naive to suggest that was ever not the case - but it wasn't as recently as 15 years ago. George H.W. Bush respected the UN and didn't move into Baghdad in deference to the rule of law. He was a good president and I respected him. But his son - he is a menace to the world if for nothing else than he has introduced the deadly notion that "Preventive wars are just". This is wrong. Dead wrong. They are not justified ever! What a terrible precedent.

One century from now, the biggest and most powerful nation in the world will be China. Will it follow the American example of not using the UN? Probably. With the US and China outside the global order, then all bets are off: because anything can happen. We could even find ourselves in a tangled system of alliances circa 1914. When you consider how good things were looking just 5 years ago, we've sure fallen a long way. (Yes - I am a big fan of Bill Clinton).

I sometimes think "What if Al Gore had won in 2000?". Well, 9/11 would still have happened, Afghanistan would still have been invaded, and Americans would still be touchy about terrorism. But what wouldn't have happened is the invasion of Iraq and all the bad precedents that set. UN inspectors would still be in Iraq and Israel would still be in Palestine - but the UN would still be solid. On the whole, that world sounds pretty good - it's too bad it's gone - at least for a while.

Day 164: Happy Birthday to Nutmilk!

"A Farewell to Cookies"

Chance and Slippers leaped off the edge of the bed in a startled daze. Snowy was crashing about turning over tables and chairs in a mad panic. She was one very lost and confused little kitty.

"Aaahhhhh!!!! Where are the cookies?" she scowled, suffering the last painful stages of peanut butter cookie withdrawal. "They were here - I swear it. Barely an hour ago I ate one - and it was so delicious. They must be here somewhere!"

"No Snowy - you've eaten them all - there are no more. Why don't you lie down on the sofa," said Chance. "This may be hard to deal with - but deal with it you must. The cookies are gone - and that's just that. Now there are seven stages of grief that you will need to go through: you've gone through Stage One: Shock, and Stage Two: Denial but there are additional steps. This could take a while."

"Not so fast Chance - maybe we can scoop up the crumbs to make one more cookie. Look! This even looks like a cookie."

"No - that's just paint chips, Snowy." Chance looked over at Slippers, sunning himself on the windowsill. "We must be in Stage Three: Bargaining."

"You don't get it Chance - I can't live without those cookies - what will I eat? I'm scared."

"OK - that's Stage Four: Fear. This is going quite quickly - I would have expected..."

"Shut up you fat, stupid cat - you don't understand the pain I'm going through. Just because you watched one stupid PBS documentary does not make you an expert on grief. You're a bitter, twisted cat who delights in the suffering of others. You should be ashamed of yourself, Chance."

"Excellent - that's Stage Five: Anger. What's next?"

But Snowy was already collapsed in a shattered lump. "I guess there will never be any cookies for me again ever." She quietly sat in the corner and opened up a fresh bottle of red wine.

"Welcome to Stage Six: Despair! Now there's only one more stage to go, Snowy: Acceptance! Concentrate harder - because you can do it. Your entire future mental health depends on getting through this last stage."

Snowy calmed slightly and looked up. "You know what, Chance - I can do this. It's not hard at all - in fact..."

But at that precise moment, there came a knock on the door.

"It's Nutmilk. Happy Birthday!" shouted Slippers and Chance. Nutmilk was all smiles and tupperware.

"Thank you, boys! Now Snowy - I thought you might have run out of cookies, so I have brought you some more. They're freshly baked, so they will be quite hot."

"Hooray!" shouted Snowy, plowing into the tupperware container, crumbs scattering everywhere.

Chance sighed at Slippers, now shaking his head in disgust. "And just when she'd almost made it through. Now hope is forever lost."

"Oh well. Happy Birthday, Nutmilk!"

"Thanks Slippers - and I brought some Tuna Pounce for you as well."

Slippers leaped majestically in the air. "Hooray for Nutmilk!"