Number 2 just officially made my list of “activities I’ve tried several times and just do not enjoy, so that’s that” list:

1. attending large parades

2. ice skating

I looked up where the word “Zamboni” comes from and feel a little silly that I didn’t know that it’s  named after Frank Joseph Zamboni, Jr. He first built them on a Jeep chassis. Now we mistakenly refer to all brands of this kind of machine as the zamboni. (You know…like Kleenex and Band-Aid.) I, for one, think that Zamboni sounds a lot better than “ice resurfacer.”

Through an odd alliance at the office, I was given a ticket to tonight’s Rangers game against the Penguins at Madison Square Garden. (The last time I’d been in the Garden? The Millrose Games!)

I haven’t seen a live hockey game since I was in the single digits and the NY Islanders were winning Stanley Cup after Cup. Mom and Dad took me and Brother to a game at Nassau Colliseum, which was A Big Deal. I remember being riveted, cheering my lungs out (for the Islanders, natch). That memory induced me to accept the ticket–that, and the tantalizing possibility of blood on the ice. Yes, I just wanted to see the gloves come off. MMA chilled, if you will.

Whoa. Rangers fans are really dedicated! And they all dress alike–hockey jersey and jeans. No variation on the theme. White guy, white guy, white guy, white lady, white guy, white guy. A lot of ‘em look like they’ve taken a frying pan to the face one too many times, too. I am not being judgemental–I’m just used to the suits who come to baseball games on summer nights.

Being a hockey novice, I had no idea of the rules and never understood why they were booing and shouting things like, “Fuck this!” I was determined to catch on, because I too wanted to contextually yell “Fuck this!” in public. Alas, it all moved entirely too quickly for me, so I mostly gave up trying to follow the game and instead paid attention only to see when and if a fight would break out. At one point in the third period it looked like there might be a skirmish, so I shouted “Smash him! Push him! Kick him!” but to no avail. The Pens won, and the Rangers fans drooped out of the arena. Me? I drooped out because I missed the Zamboni.

Live posting from the Portland Winterhawks game. You saw it here.

CTV is doing a great job putting up a Live Webcam @ Vancouver 2010 Olympic Torch Relay with a Google map show where they are. You can also follow the Torch at Twitter. Check these out, quite cool. Got to see a bit of Canada and where the Torch is traveling.

I’ve blogged more about the live webcast technology in “Dejero Labs – Powering Live Webcast of Olympic Torch Relay“.

P.S. At the end of the day, it is not the about the Olympic flame. It is not about the Olympic Torch. It is not even about the famous Canadian stars and people carrying the Torch. It is about the lovely Canadian towns and cities that the Olympic Flame has traveled to. It is about the Canadian hearts and minds the Olympic spirit has touched. It is about us.

The following are pictures of some Olympic Torch bearer: John Ells, Rodney Helpard, Cia Tweel, Sarah Bryson, Sidney Crosby, and Mallory Sanford on a Zamboni. I’ve also included a video clip of Sidney.

Here is a video of our beloved Sidney Crosby running with the Olympic Torch. (sorry no audio).

CTV has a report with better picture, “Sidney Crosby runs with Olympic flame in Halifax“.

Note 1: The @CTVOtorch Live Webcam went down or became “temporarily unavailable” many times over the live broadcast, including moments during the Sidney Crosby coverage. Now, considering the complexity of this brand new technology, I think it did an admirable job.

Note 2: For the record, the following are some of the Twitter updates @CTVOtorch at the time of me writing this blog entry (the first picture captured at the top of this post) showing who are carrying the Torch and where the Torch is going next, etc. And the status in French too!

Le flambeau est en train de passer d’Enfield à Waverly, N.S.
8 minutes ago from TweetDeck
We are finished in Enfield and are now on the way to Waverly, N.S.
10 minutes ago from TweetDeck
Larry Corbin is carrying the torch in Enfield, N.S.
15 minutes ago from TweetDeck
Richard Niedermayer is the current torchbearer in Enfield, N.S.
18 minutes ago from TweetDeck
We are now in Enfield. N.S.
19 minutes ago from TweetDeck
Donna MacNeil is currently carrying the torch.
20 minutes ago from TweetDeck
John Marshall has the torch!
23 minutes ago from TweetDeck
Actuellement, Elizabeth Wile porte la flamme.
26 minutes ago from TweetDeck
Elizabeth Wile is the current flame runner in Elmsdale, N.S.

P.P.S. “Crosby to join Olympic torch run in Halifax“. Sidney is cool but I think the story is the Canadians in big or small places across the country.

I do not enjoy shopping for food.   As far as domestic chores go, I would rather clean a toilet.

I can handle Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s but something called SAFEway gives me pause.    Why do I need to be convinced that the food they sell is safe?  Of course, this makes me think it isn’t.

And another thing:  I have become paranoid about touching the handles of those nasty metal carts.  Not to mention the fact that somebody ALWAYS leaves some sort of questionable “something” in the bottom of the cart.  Crumpled wrappers, empty cups of god knows what.  One time I found a diaper.  A DIAPER!

Who does that??

Um….probably the same people who leave them in fast-food parking lots side a disgusting pile of cigarette butts from their emptied ashtray?? There’s nothing like the sweet smell of baby shit mixed with a smoldering pile of unfiltered Camels to brighten your day, right?

But I digress as I so often do.

Here’s the real question:  why the hell is it necessary to have those crazy, brightly colored  plastic ”kid carts” the size of a Zamboni?  You know what I mean.  Those ridiculous plastic behemoths the kids gets shoved in  so they don’t scream bloody murder when mom (or the nanny if you happen to be in Malibu) snatches the Volkswagon-sized box of Lucky Charms from Junior’s vice grip??

Now, I like kids as much as the next guy but there has to be some balance here.  What happened to being satisfied with those adorable pint-sized metal carts that the kids could fill up and slam into the shins of other shoppers?  Wasn’t that good enough?

If supermarkets are going to force me to endure 3 year olds on ice rink equipment, the least they can do is provide some basic adult necessities like LED flat screens playing endless re-runs of Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

For the record, I am a rabid supporter of  Whole Foods.  They do not condone the use of Zamboni machines in their stores.  I do most of my food shopping there when my friends start using words like “scurvy” to scare me into replenishing my cupboards.

Today is one of the best holidays around, in my opinion. Forget all the blood and gore…give me the carved pumpkins, pumpkin-based food and beautiful fall colors.

We can’t forget the costumes, either. Some are just a hoot! For the hockey fans among us…

A Zamboni rider at the Bruins game today was dressed up as an “accountant?”. He was wearing a black suit and tie, greased back hair and black-rimmed glasses. He was waving to the audience as he drove by. “That guy’s never gonna get a date,” was the announcer’s response. Only a hockey fan could appreciate seeing a Zamboni driver in suit and tie.

Another fan came to a game as Don Cherry, aka “Grapes”. He was at ScotiaBank place during HNIC. It was hilarious! The camera flashes over to him as he’s descending the stairs while waving at the audience. Him and his brightly, color-coordinated outfit. lol

Then there was Jonathan Toews dressed up as part of the “Dumb and Dumber” duo. He was in orange, complete with hat. “Apparently his concussion has come into play,” was the announcer comment. lol

We can’t forget all the fans dressed as Superman, Batman or some other super hero. Too cool.

This is one reason it’s so much fun watching hockey on Halloween.

Even if you don’t watch fun-filled hockey, have a great holiday!!

The term I mentioned above is most certainly one that is getting used more and more.  Most Canadians (and Americans I’m assuming) will graduate from high school and a good number of those will move on to at least do an undergraduate degree or some sort of post-secondary training.  It’s this first educational step that has made the job market ridiculous.

Early Twiggy make-up tutorial. All you need really.

I was perusing the City of Vancouver website the other day looking at their job postings and was killing myself laughing.  Every position required a degree, several certificates, licenses and diplomas.  I understand that these are necessary for some careers such as Transportation Engineer (you might want them to have read a few books on the subject) but a certified landscaper or a licensed zamboni technician?  Come on!

I want to be clear that I by no means think that a City Landscaper is an easy or mindless job, but to require someone to train to be a certified arborist before you let them fondle your ferns is just silly.  I think that the human resources departments of many corporations, offices and cities should just read the length of someone’s curriculum vitae to deduce that, because of experience the applicant can complete the task at hand.  They read the name of the candidate and count the number of letters that follow it.  If it’s eight then they’re hired, if it’s four or fewer…sorry.

The same goes for make-up artists.  I work with a handful of extremely talented individuals, some of whom have never set foot in a make-up classroom and who don’t have a yellowing diploma hanging on their walls (or stashed under their beds).  Time and time again though, the question they’re asked most is: “Do you have your diploma?”  That’s usually about the time the artist leans softly into the person on whom they’re working and writes “STUPID” in lipstick on their forehead.

Models at the Gossip Show. 2008. Hair by my friends Jeph and Spencer. Clothes by Amanda Anderson. Make-up by yours truly.

Granted, there is the idea of learning for learning’s sake and I’m all for that.  If you have an interest in something and have the time and the means to pay someone to teach it to you then sure, go get yourself a diploma or degree or certificate.  At the end of the day though, the actual work experience will be where you gain the most knowledge.

I suppose it comes down to the fact that everyone might be a little over qualified.  In the days of old, you’d just show up to the office in your best trousers (they called them trousers then) and a pressed shirt and tie and with a firm handshake, asked the manager for a job.  They’d call your references and before you knew it, boom!  You were a lawyer!  Perhaps it wasn’t that simple but for the sake of this blog let’s pretend it was.

Nowadays we have a mass of people of varying age groups with six or seven degrees and little experience who are going back to school for more certificates and diplomas to get the job that they want.  Eventually businesses are will have to realize that they’re just going to have to hire someone and no mater how many letters that person has behind their name, they’re going to have to train them too.

That last bit reminds me of an incident that happened a year and a half ago.  I had heard that to be hired as a make-up artist for print jobs in this city, and indeed in most other places now too, the artist should be completely proficient in hair as well.  I was taking the make-up course from the Blanche MacDonald Institute (sounds legitimate eh?) and the director of the school arranged to have the owner of a popular chain of blow-out (hair styling) salons come in to tell us about a “special offer.”

The gentleman owner discussed how he was offering a session styling course for an extremely reasonable price and he and the director convinced us all that this was a fantastic opportunity to get inexpensive training and to make ourselves invaluable to agencies and photographers.  Sold!

The course was informative and I learned everything I needed to work well on shoots.  Here was the catch though: the “course” was actually training to hire the stylists for new salon openings around the city.  Getting people to pay for their own training?  That’s crafty.

After the last class concluded, we were set up with interviews which I skipped.  Suckers.  The good news is they also went to the trouble of printing up a little “certificate” which I’ll be sure to mention in my C.V.  And if I do apply to the city of Vancouver, this extra little piece of paper will make me irresistible.  Money well spent I guess.

Sincerely,

Blair Petty, B F.A, C. MA, DSS…J/K

O título desse post é como ele próprio define seu som!!!

Abraço ao Norba que essa hora está fazendo turne pela Europa e gravando um cd em Amsterdã.

Nesse ele esta empunhando a guitarra e cabeludo…..toca muito!

Abços Norba…

Deve dar uma luz gravar um cd em Amsterdã….

Hockeynördarnas favoritsticker fick en ny vinkling när nya dator/konsol spelet NHL 2k10 igår lanserades i New York. Alexander Ovechkin hade anlitats som dragplåster och anlände som det anstår en superstjärna eller kanske snarare en hockeystjärna. Ovechkin körde nämligen en Zamboni upp till NHL butiken på 6th Avenue.

I met this fella downtown during my friday night spaghetti dinner at the diner, except this time it was turkey. It was t-day itself, the deadline to get your snuzzlebuddy. I thought all the good ones had been taken, but I was wrong.

There he was – tall, dark, and covered in layers.

He struck my fancy.

We spent that winter riding his zamboni, until it thawed out.

- FiF-

p.s. Did you know walnuts have the natural ingredient in Viagra?

http://stanford.wellsphere.com/healthy-eating-article/are-walnuts-the-new-viagra/986

In my dream, I was being held against my will in the basement of a building. It was something like a clinic with various quasi medical apparatuses in a few different rooms. I was concerned about a middle-aged woman who was not there at the time. She dressed similarly to a nurse, but I perceived she was much more like a warden. I remembered having tried to escape, but somehow I had not succeeded, perhaps because of her or one of the unseen attendants.

In one dimly-lit room, there were about 9 people standing in a few rows. They were vacant, almost inanimate zombies. Their androgynous, naked bodies were slick with blood diluted by sweat and who knows what else. Every few minutes a tone sounded, and they would all adjust a limb or change their stance into a new pose so that their muscles would not grow rigid. I feared that I was to be made one of them very soon.

Then I was showering. Sensing that I was momentarily unattended, I made for the way out, still wet and unclothed. I went up a  stairwell that was painted in white enamel. The stairs came to a glass-enclosed landing. I pushed through the door into a government office with a long service counter behind which stood many gaping public workers. I told them that I am being held captive and need help. They just stared at me uncertain of what to do. I was naked. They could do nothing to help to me. What little compassion or ethical obligation they may have had was not enough to motivate them to action. I exited the same door into the parking garage, then–no longer naked–out through the traffic of a busy New York City street.

A small park was across the street, and there was a stand of neatly-planted  shrubs that formed a canopy of dense red foliage, knee-high above the grainy, dry soil. I momentarily took cover there, and then moved on.

At the park’s far end I met the street that ran perpendicular to the one I had crossed. A slow moving service vehicle crawled down the street toward me. It was made of heavy diamond plate patterned metal with worn yellow paint, an atop were two men operating it. I went between parallel-parked cars into the street and thumbed a ride, climbing aboard as it lumbered past. When I got on, there was only the driver. He wore old jeans and a coat, both of faded denim, and a red and black flannel shirt. He was poorly shaven and had a thick mustache of course blond whiskers that looked very blue collar.

Moments later we were in a parking garage that was painted in glossy white enamel, with railings painted with glossy yellow that accentuated them. It was very clean. I then knew that it was the same building from which I had just fled.

He parked not far from a clear glass door that apparently went into a residential area. He told me about how he was going to have a procedure performed that shrinks the brain to 1/4 its size. As he explained this, I watched a diagram showing an overhead view of the silhouette of a normal-sized brain, and a 25% scale silhouette aligned to the upper left of  the larger image for comparison. It had the appearance of high quality medical marketing material. Very slick and technical.

“Once done, you don’t have to think ever again. They got a TV channel with ultimate wrestling championships 24 hours a day. You can just watch,”  he said.

I then understood the zombies.

I asked him if I could take the Zamboni back out. It wasn’t a real Zamboni. I just called it that, tribute to Schultz’ strange Zamboni period in Peanuts.

The moustache-man handed me a keyring heavily-laden with keys. Then another that was even heavier. The second was so that I could get inside when I got back. I told him “Okay,” even though I knew that if I managed to get out, there was no way I would be coming back.

____

When I woke up, I told Heidi a brief version of this dream.

Longtime NHL stars Tony Amonte, Tom Barrasso and John LeClair, the 1998 women’s Olympic team and the late Frank Zamboni are headed to the United States Hockey Hall of Fame.

Amonte scored the winner at 17:25 of the third period versus Canada in the deciding game of the inaugural World Cup of Hockey in 1996. In 1 174 games over 15 years in the NHL, he recorded 416 goals and 484 assists.

Barrasso won back-to-back Stanley Cup championships with the Pittsburgh Penguins and won 369 games in the regular season and 61 more in the playoffs.

LeClair was the first American-born player to record three consecutive 50-goal seasons in the NHL and finished his career with 406 goals and 413 assists in 967 games.

The ‘98 women’s hockey team won gold at the Nagano Olympics, beating Canada 3-1 in the gold-medal game.

Zamboni, who originally owned a plant for manufacturing block ice, patented the world’s first self-propelled ice resurfacing machine in 1949. They have since become standard at rinks around the world.

Beach "Zamboni", Ogunquit Beach, ME

My favorite time at the beach is very early morning, like when the sun is just coming up.  The crowds are a couple of hours away and the place is generally empty.  The only ones around are a few runners, some walkers, the seagulls, and maybe a photographer or two.  Oh, and if you’re lucky, the guy driving what I like to call the “beach zamboni”.

A zamboni, of course, is a machine used to smooth the ice on a hockey rink (or a rink used for any kind of skating).  If you’ve ever been to a hockey game, you know that they come out between periods to clean things up.  Everybody loves zamboni’s.  There’s even a great song about the danged things.  If you’ve never heard it, go on YouTube and listen to the “Zamboni Song” by the Gear Daddies (here).

The guy on the beach is smoothing out the sand, obviously, and not ice.  But it kind of has the same effect.  When the first folks arrive to claim their piece of sandy real estate, they can be confident that all of yesterday’s bumps and grooves are gone, that it’s once again a virgin beach.  If some kid dug a hole in the sand that’s 3 feet deep, well that’ll be gone, too.  It even picks up some of the trash.

Then tomorrow morning we can do it all again.  Me, the runners, the seagulls, and the zamboni guy.

With only a few fun-filled days remaining until V-AK Day, one dare not speculate what sort of wacky hijinks our future ex-Gov might get into before the Relief Gov comes a-slouching into Bethlehem.   Alas, only time will tell…  Time, People, Letterman, Beck, The Star… all of the ever-vigilant media, that is.

My secret hope is that she follows her own analogy and goes with the flow right out of America’s scuppers; the reality, however, is that she will most likely fall hard into the starboard side of the political lazarette and flip-flop around until someone tosses her over.  Oops.  Well, you read it here first:  I lose more husbands that way.

We were just going with the flow

It doesn’t matter how you feel about Sarah Palin, the bottom line is that she has left an indelible mark on people across the state, nation, and blogosphere.  Possessing a terrifying combination of confidence, attractiveness, unattainability, a flair for secrecy and exotic elocution,  the future ex-Gov definitely emits a certain je ne sais quoi that makes her equally irresistable to fan and foe alike.

One particularly troubling aspect of her rising star is that pesky love-hate relationship with media in all its forms.  She plays to the people but resents the reviews.  According to a well-worn adage of Alcoholics Anonymous, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  Or, as the amazing girl from Homer succinctly re-stated in response to Palin’s recent attack on the tv/radio/blog babe, ”The Lady protests way too much.”   

This can also happen if you go with the flow

The bottom line is that a significant demographic of America’s voting populace thrives on a steady diet of virtual reality information that is predominantly gleaned from the internet superhighway in various modes of  hard news, eclectic bloggage, utube, or still-tweeting roadkill.  We aren’t going away and neither, it seems, is Sarah Palin.  That said, she might well reconsider her definition of going with the flow.  Hailing from a comprehensive fisheries background, I can attest with confidence that more than just dead fish go with the flow.   In fact, I am a well-known aficionado of the catch-n-release-significant-other policy, and have no qualms about applying it to my elected officials.  In other words, Miz P, can I call you a cab?

Some WSWomen have nice Zambonis

As for the incoming Governor Parnell, I am thinking that he will have to arrive on a big-ass political Zamboni if he intends to resurface the image of our State post- Hockey Mom.   This visual does not confound me nearly as much as the really big question:  If he’s coming into position this late in the game, will he still have that delicious new-governor-smell?

In closing, I must digress slightly to something that I recently jacked from the Immoral Minority, who apparently jacked it from u-tube.  I reckon if due credit is given, then it’s not really considered “jacking,” is it?  Regardless, it is brutally funny and too good to keep to myself.

PHOTO CREDITS:  Thanks to this site for the political demotivational poster, to Richard Neubauer for fishing griz pic, to these blokes for the B & W dead fish pic, and finally to youse guys for the Zamboni photo!