Porpe - the plurality of purpose, or the plural of porpoise?

Chattin' with Saget

brad — Sun, 13 Jan 2013 06:09:09 +0000

Chattin' with Saget

brad Sun, 01/13/2013 - 00:09

In anticipation of my impending meet'n'greet with Bob Saget, I've been thinking of what to say during our brief yet awkward 20 second encounter. Top Ten Things to Say to Bob Saget 10. "Will you folllow me on Twitter?" 9. "I love you in How I Met Your Mother" 8. "Have you met........Ted?" 7. "Remember my face. Remember. My. Face." 6. "Could you move to the side? I'd like one of my wife and I." 5. "Why didn't you air any of my videos? Do you know how hard it is to get a cat into a dress?" 4. "I was nervous and FLUSHed when they rushed the PAIR of us STRAIGHT in to meet you, but it turns out we're practically THREE OF A KIND. Eh? Eh?" 3. "Everytime you laughed at a football to the groin, did you die a little inside?" 2. "Do you still drum for the Beach Boys?" 1. "I'm only here for the picture."

Daddy Merest

brad — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 05:29:16 +0000

Daddy Merest

brad Thu, 10/11/2012 - 00:29

I've just finished watching Taken 2 and I feel I have to comment on a disturbing trend in movies. Taken, Taken 2, Live Free or Die Hard. It's been growing every year. A subtle, insidious cancer, designed to break family bonds, sow discontent between father and child, and ruin the the traditional family unit. I'm talking about ultra violent super dads. Now, I love my kids. I do. Right now they're sleeping quietly in another room and I love 'em even more than I did when they were right here with me. Jumping, yelling, screaming, and sassing me. Much like the Dads in the movie (and to paraphrase Meatloaf; the singer, not the food) I would do anything for them. But I won't do that. Dads have had a rough go of it. From emotionally absent workaholic fathers who never saw their daughter grow up, to authoritarian beaters, to divorced child support skipping deadbeats, dads have never had much luck in movies. And I'm fine with that. I applaud that. In comparison, I come out looking like Bill freakin' Cosby. I can spend 2 hours at a movie straight from work, be completely absent from their lives all day, and still walk out feeling like father of the year. I taught my daughter to ride a bike. I'm their goto parent for owie kissing, sadness soothing, bad joke making, and kickass playtime imagining. I'm sure I'm more present than my Dad was, and than his Dad was with him. I am the embodiment of the constant evolution of fatherhood. But then these movies started cropping up. Men, dads, who go to extreme lengths to save their daughters. They wipe out entire crime syndicates with unerring precision. They blow up city blocks, destroy embassies, all without losing focus. Taken 2 upped the anti even further, having the bad guy be a dad out for revenge for the son Liam took out in the first one protecting his daughter! Two Dads going to extreme, improbable, expensive and definitely illegal lengths to protect, or exact vengeance for, their kids. To all of them, I say: Screw you. I love my kids, I do. If you're reading this, I would go to great lengths for you. But I will never drive a taxi backwards through the streets of Istanbul while simultaneously eliminating my pursuers and dialing a phone. If you get in that kind of trouble, I can promise you that I will feel bad, and I will call the authorities, the newspaper, the embassy, anyone I can think of. I can probably even manage a flight over there to be, y'know, in the area should they find you. I will even write a scathing blog about the ineptitude of the police. It will be poignant, heartfelt, and moving. People will weep uncontrollably when they read it. But that's about as far as I'll go. Hell, I can't even teach you to parallel park, which Liam did so beautifully. My, point, I suppose, is twofold: First, to Hollywood: Stop making me feel bad. I'm a good Dad. I don't need to feel like an inadequate wuss (That's what wives are for. Ba dum dum). How about a movie where the daughter can't find her way home from the mall on a Sunday after 6 when the buses have stopped running? I am all over that. Just dial it back a notch, to eighties level Dad heroics. Dabney Coleman, in Cloak and Dagger. Dress up in a flight suit and pretend to be a pilot to a two fingered old lady so they release you? Done. Pretty sure I would die when the bomb went off, but still - the heroic part would have been achieved. Refuse to sign a deed after my Goonie kids have found pirate treasure and a loveable adult whose mother horribly injured him as a child, then left him untreated until adulthood? Done. I'm even willing to compromise and jump forward a decade or two to Armageddon. Assuming I had the skillset to stop the life destroying meteorite hurtling to earth, I could totally shove my daughter's future husband into the ship and sacrifice myself. Well, I probably could. 60% sure. Not sure I could rip the patch off the spacesuit, though...are those things double stitched? Whatever. I'm getting off track. Point is, I can see myself staying behind on the meteorite to save the world and I can even reasonably fool myself into believing I wouldn't be blubbering like a baby while wetting myself. Work with me, Hollywood. Lift me up, don't beat me down. Secondly, to my children: Movies lie. Don't listen to them. If ever you see a heroic Dad scoff derisively, say something like "but can he sneeze a song out of his head?" and walk out. I love you. I will do everything I can for you. I will support you unconditionally. You will know you are loved, and you will know you always have a safe haven. I will teach you how to build a fence, how to maintain a house, how to google (that's a search engine popular at this point in the century). Juggling, stilt walking, done. I will embarrass you in front of your friends, but I will hopefully also make you proud. I'd say it's a 10/90 split right now, tipping to 80/20 in your teen years, and then settling into 30/70 in adulthood. Hopefully that's enough.

Day 2 - Great Falls

brad — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 14:59:43 +0000

Day 2 - Great Falls

He Said: 8:00AM - Breakfast - Interior. Cut to a table in the back corner of your basic hotel breakfast bar. A family of 5 are sitting there. The father, rugged and handsome, has his back to us. The mother, natural yet stunning, cups her hands around her coffee, as if the heat emanating from it is somehow recharging her very essence. The daughters, youthful and sweet, eat cereal politely, albeit with mouths never quite closed enough. And then we see the boy. He wasn't noticed at first, head under the table, short in stature as he is. But then he erupts upwards, a mix of sugar and milk, the story of his breakfast spelled out against his already ruined shirt. And then he begins: Boy Child: "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mommmm! What this is?" Mother (calmly, with a tone of resignation so heavy one fears the table might break beneath it): "Apple Juice" Boy Child (turning to Sister 1): "Mara. Mara. MARA! MARRRRRRA! Mara!" (the sister turns, finally, and fixes him in a stare) Boy Child (clmbing up on his knees, his excitement rising): "This is..This is..Mom, what this is?" Mother: "Apple Juice" Boy Child: "Apple Juice!" (The boy stands, now, hand supporting himself with one hand on the table, leaning past his sister to present his trophy to the other sister. Boy Child: "Gillian...Gillian....Gillian....GILLIAN!" Dad (as yet unspoken): "You have to be quiet in the restaurant" Boy Child (whispering loudly): "Gillian. GILLIIIAANNN." (the sister turns, looks) Boy Child: "This is...umm...This is...umm...This is. Mom! Mom! Mom! What this is?" Mom (with no change in her inflection from the first time): "Apple Juice" Boy Child: "This is apple joooooose!" (his eyes go even wider this time as he leans in, as if he is telling her it's the lost ark of the covenant). (The sister barely acknowledges this, perhaps nodding imperceptibly, before turning back to face forward. There is a pause, a beat, a brief moment of inactivity and then...) Boy Child: "I don't like this".
She Said: So instead of trying to top that I'll just fill in the details of our day. We shopped at Target this morning to get a few things we didn't pack. I definitely don't hate that store. Nice stuff. Good prices. Will be an improvement over Zellers. Then we went to the water park. It was perfect for us. Just a small pool with 2 waterslides, a splash park area and a tube ride. So nice that Gillian can swim now. She had a blast. Mara didn't get enough sleep last night, so wasn't willing to try anything and dug her heels in if we pushed. Ryan was all courage and no clue what he's capable of. He's going to be a lot of work this trip. Then we went to the MacKenzie River Pizza Company for lunch. Brad and I discovered it the first time we here (pre-kids) and it hasn't disappointed us yet. Back to hotel for much needed naps. Perhaps we'll take a stroll along the river tonight and find a playground for the kids. Mom - he didn't barf up his cereal - he's just a messy eater.

brad Thu, 07/19/2012 - 09:59

Comments

huh

so Ryan threw up his cereal and milk because of his distaste of apple juice

Good writing

Like it.

Barbecue August 18, 2012

brad — Wed, 18 Jul 2012 04:24:01 +0000

Barbecue August 18, 2012

brad Tue, 07/17/2012 - 23:24

Edit: had some last minute inspiration. And managed to get a poster up to continue the streak. http://www.porpe.com/media-gallery/detail/249/347

It's back! No poster this year, but please don't let that damper your enthusiasm. I am rejuvenated and ready to go this year. I've sourced some rare pop, some even rarer BBQ sauce, some fresh burgers and, hopefully, a smoker to take those ribs up a notch. As usual we'll have lots of food, lots of entertainment for the kids. Tug of War, small bouncy castle, play tents, basketball skill shooting, and much more. We're going for a carnival theme this year. Please check out previous years' posters here: http://www.porpe.com/galleries/barbecue As per usual, please bring nothing. We'll do the first batch of food about 12:30. I'll put fresh fixins and salads out about 2:30, and then another batch around 4:30. We have our patio in and the new firepit, so there'll be a weiner roast in the evening if anyone is still around. No RSVP is required. This is our 10th one and our first in Edmonton with a (mostly) finished yard and basement, so we're looking forward to it. Bring your kids, bring your parents, bring your out of town relatives. If you've never been before, it's burgers, dogs, smokies, chicken, ribs, the usual salads, fruits, ice creams, and so on. This year we're stocking the minibar downstairs with drinks you can't get in our neck of the woods, fresh from Idaho, Montana, and Washington. We're also upping the BBQ sauce a notch with a special blend of what Gillian calls "the best tasing Ribs ever". And wait until you see what we cut the watermelon with! It's been awhile but this year may see the return of Atomic Buffalo Turds. I'm also thinking of cracking out the spaghetti ice cream and the dreaded Octo Dog. There may even be balloon amimals. Hope you can make it, even if just for a few minutes.

Happy Anniversary

brad — Fri, 25 May 2012 02:43:59 +0000

Happy Anniversary

Comments

Ycmu

brad Thu, 05/24/2012 - 21:43

It's that time again. I've been lobbying every year and it's still not on the calendar, but you all know it's here. I can't think 'Happy Anniversary' without hearing Barney and Fred serenade Wilma (that's right, I said Barney & Fred, not the reverse. Deal with it). It's stuck in my head like an icepick to the brain. And speaking of icepicks to the brain...Happy Anniversary to my wonderful wife! As the classic Abbott & Costello routine goes: "Can you tell me how many years you've been married?" Nein! "C'mon, just tell me" Nein! "Jerk". I don't know why I love shouting "Nein!", but I do. You married this. Seriously though, now is not a time for jokes. Now is a time for quiet reflection, for a heartfelt outpouring of emotion and feeling. I am not one of those guys afraid to get gooey (if you know what I'm sayin'). We're gettin' gooey, woo woo. Gettin' gooey, wah wah... Sorry, where was I. I got distracted. My wife was being all sweet and chatty and I finally had to yell at her to leave me alone for 10 minutes so I could write this letter about how much I love and res - aww, crap. Does that count as ironic? Anyway. Train of thought, train of thought. Thank-you, for NEIN! wonderful years. Thank-you for all your love and support. Thank-you for finding a way to be alright with my genius, not jealous. For being happy I get better looking with age, not bitter. For feeling proud of my legendary prowess, not inadequate. Thank-you for bearing with me those times I've been mildly less than endearing. I know it had to be shocking the first time it happened, roughly 4 years in. I remember it clearly. I deliberately didn't pull your chair out for you, and the origami rose I made out of the napkin was sloppy at best. And that second time, a couple months back when I burned all your clothes and plastered your facebook account with horrible obscenities. But we made it through, and we're all the stronger for it. Oh how we laugh. For your gift, I didn't want to give in to crass materialism. I hate living in a world that says you must buy your wife diamonds. A world that says you'd rather adorn yourself in shiny trinkets than watch the happiness that a new TV brings me (sarcastic, but you kinda agree). We will build a better future for our daughters. Instead, what you've always loved about me, is my humour. My wit. My YCMU. So, I give you the gift of YCMU. You pick the movie, anything you want. The Crow, Buckaroo Banzai, Big Trouble in Little China. You pick, and I will provide 90 to 100 minutes of my most insightful, hilarious, commentary. I don't want to sway your opinion, but the Highlander comes with my amazing Connor Macleod impression. I love you, Shannon. We've always clicked. You are my inspiration for everything I've done since the day we met. I know I'm not easy to live with. I used to spend nights obsessing over every possible outcome to every possible trivial task. You made me believe it would all work out. You believe in me, you encourage me. I am incredibly lucky to have you. From the Scrabble on our wedding day to the bottle of Coke you just brought me, you know me. I look forward to the next nine years together. Nein!

That's my girl!

brad — Mon, 14 May 2012 06:07:06 +0000

That's my girl!

Comments

In all seriousness

I have to add, should she ever read this, that I had an awesome time. I was originally going to do a short blog about how I've never been prouder at that moment. The gleam in her eye, the drawn out pause then the capper. The delivery was perfect and totally me. It's always great to see yourself in your kids.

brad Mon, 05/14/2012 - 01:07

I'm afraid I may have made a grave, grave, mistake with my children this year. 2-7 years of exemplary parenting has been undone in a single motion. As I may have set in motion a chain of events that could lead to a destructive tyranny as yet unseen in this world, I feel I must publicly apologise. As good politically correct enlightened parents, we have endeavoured to guide our children to raise above their baser human nature. How hard can it be to override centuries of consistent, repeatedly demonstrated behaviour? Obviously no previous generation has been enlightened enough to simply tell their kids otherwise. So far, it's been a roaring success. They're delightful, respectful citzens of the world who eschew war for love, fists for dialogue, and anger for peace. We use wonderfully expressive gender neutral terms like 'child', 'sibling', and 'thespian'. They say "This lesser aged person I know" instead of "My friend", so as not to make other kids who may overhear feel excluded. We teach our kids to use their words, not their fists. Your 2 year old sibling will appreciate your 5 year old words of wisdom and stop pulling your hair. You'll then engage in a mutually complimentary dialog about how your voices were heard, followed by a brief nod. We've never bought the kids a toy gun because it's been proven that every tragedy in the history of the world was perpetrated by someone who, at some point, had one. Cause and effect, people. Cause and effect. Thanks to that choice our children have, up to this point, being idyllic with no semblance of bloodlust. Every time my son thrusts a stick at me to make imaginary Jiffy pop, I beam with pride. I still have to correct him that popcorn goes 'pop pop' not 'pow pow' and I'm 'dad', not 'dead', but that's a different topic; my other children have problems with descriptive vocabulary too. I'm not sure what that is. My oldest often mistakes 'creepy' for 'cool' whenever I do something awesome, and my equivalently-valued additional child is constantly saying she 'hates' us instead of 'loves'. That's a different blog, though. Anyway. This year, we decided we were alright with water guns. It's not about the violence, it's about a fun way to cool off in the summer we told ourselves. Despite our many technological advances, there doesn't seem to be a decent non-gun based airborne water delivery system. Today, G and I had our first no holds barred, full tilt, Mutually Enjoyable Water Exchange Session with our "water fun squirters". At first, it seemed my apprehension was unfounded. We had fun, we laughed. Whenever I ran out of water she would stop and wait for me. Noticing the instructions said to avoid the face, she instantly changed her pattern. We were changing the world, one moment at time. Then, about halfway in, we took a break to refill. We chatted. I was standing by the door, while she climbed up onto the deck. I commented on how hot it was. And she got this look. I'll never forget that look. She looked at me with this glint and her eye and said "Yeah, I'm hot too...<pause>...hot for war!" And which point she doused me, smiling gleefully and laughing. Forgive me world.

Someone's Sad Samsung Story

brad — Tue, 06 Mar 2012 04:10:38 +0000

Someone's Sad Samsung Story

brad Mon, 03/05/2012 - 22:10

I know, my return should be a trifle more auspicious than griping and moaning, but it is what it is. The fire in my belly has long been extinguished by the daily struggle to survive work, three continuously sick kids, and neverending house renos. If something's motivated me enough to write I might as well embrace it before it fades. Enter Samsung. On Boxing Day I bought a PN59A550. I'd reseaarched it for some time and it seemed like a good combination of features and price. Plus I've always been a Samsung fun. Besides the countless monitors, I'd had the PN50A450 for the three years prior and absolutely loved it. Going a few models up seemed like a safe bet. Up until now it has been. I love it, the kids love it, even my wife. It's made enjoyable the unenjoyable, enlightened the unenlightened and united the ununited (I know. Go with it. 'Divided' is for paramecia). Fast forward to Friday, 67 days later. I turn on the TV. Starts out fine. About 15 minutes into some inane cartoon geared to gently engrain societal norms into my children I noticed something shimmering, a bit like a water spot or star. I thought "oh, there's a star forming in the sky. Weird". Then I notice a line across the TV. It stood out because it went across the person's face. By chance it lined up with the siding on the house, so I thought it was a weird cartoonist mistake. Quality control FAIL. Then the 'star' continued to grow as did the line. I spent a while turning channels and trying the test display before I realized it was the screen itself. If I touch the screen it seems fine. Smooth, not a chip in the glass at all. But behind the glasss it looks like a star-shaped crack. Which seemed really weird. I don't know how that can happen. I went to google, my first source of information and found: http://forums.cnet.com/7723-13973_102-340997/internal-crack-on-my-tv-panel/ Not good. Seems like I'm not the first by far to have this happen and it sounds like warranty support is nonexistent. I call Samsung, they seem friendly. I send in the necessary picutres, documentation, etc. For the most part it's unbotrusive. I grew so used to the line I barely noticed Saturday. I was zen-like in my lack of concern about the situation (No more fire in the belly, remember?) Then I turned it on on Sunday. Now I had a solid white bar covering 1/3 of the screen as well as two black lines, rendering the TV unsuable. On Monday Samsung calls me back. Based on the photos it's physical damage which renders the warranty completely void but they'd be happy to send me to a service centre. That's it. 20 seconds, end of discussion. It wasn't physical damage, evidenced by the fact that there was no physical damage. I saw it occur. Apparently that makes me a liar. Now I'm ticked. Take my money, sell me shoddy merchandise, fine. Everyone's out to make a buck. But don't call me a liar. I asked to speak to a manager but they don't do that. I'm told I have no further recourse, noone else I can complain to other than an opinion e-mail if I'd like to register my thoughts. I'm sure it's useless but at this point I might as well. Maybe I can get a TV's worth of employee time spent on it. They also apparently don't believe in the BBB. All in all, a very disappointing experience. I used to swear by Samsung. Even my last TV packed it in after 3 years, but I thought "eh, 3 years isn't bad". Our Samsung dishwasher was a nightmare, but I figured "eh, that's not their strong suit. They know their displays". I guess they don't. So, for what it's worth, if you happen upon this blog - My advice is to avoid anything Samsung like the plague. Unless you enjoy shoddy merchandise and being called a liar. Myself, I'll do the usual complaining. I used to be a decent squeeky wheel. Tootsie Pop with no centre, teeth breaking cherry pits, leaky Oldsmobile engines. Always managed to get some sort of recompense. I'll contact the local TV troubleshooters. I'll e-mail that opinion e-mail. If I can find a physical address anwhere, I'll send a letter. They aren't registered with BBB but I can still comment there. In the meantime it looks like PC Financial might come through and solve this whole mess. They have a handy 90 day insurance policy that I might qualify for. It won't completely cover it but it'll be close. Fingers crossed. Maybe I'll be back here in 10-15 business days complaining about them.

Movember

brad — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 15:08:18 +0000

Movember

brad Wed, 11/02/2011 - 10:08

Go here:

http://mobro.co/quirkybrad

That is all.

Holy Insecurities Batman!

brad — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 19:33:06 +0000

Holy Insecurities Batman!

brad Sat, 10/29/2011 - 14:33

Whenever I try to play Batman with Ryan, he's quite insistent that "No, you're Robin!". Two years old and he already thinks >I'M< the sidekick? Time to make a child cry. I can't quite decide if that's immature or sound parenting. Isn't it a Dad's job to make sure his children are humble and respectful? A litle fatherly reality check?

I was thinking I'd start with:

"A sidekick who can eat candy whenever he wants and doesn't crap his pants! " <KAPOW!>

And follow that up with a dash of:

"You're flying. Seriously? You think Batman flies? I don't know who your Daddy is, but when you find out, ask him why he dropped you on your head so much." <BLAMMO!>

Maybe go right for the jugular with a:

"Does Batman get sent to bed at 8 so Robin can do his Momma?" <KABLOOIE!>

Then wrap it up with a well-timed:

"Who's your Batman now, baby?!?" <BOO-YAH!>

Kids these days...

Scanning the Cosmos

brad — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 17:48:27 +0000

Scanning the Cosmos

brad Thu, 03/24/2011 - 12:48

I was in the check out line today and noticed Cosmo offering up "50 ways to seduce a man in a minute or less". Fifty? Why? Here's four guaranteed ways right off the top of my head. 1. Exist. 2. Look at him. 3. Make contact in any way, even if it's to pull noodles off his t-shirt. And if he's really playing hard to get, there's always - 4. Look at him and say "Wanna?".

Unless they're talking about seducing a total stranger, a married man, someone playing for the other team or in a coma, fifty is WAY too much effort. In fact, forget everything I just wrote. You can seduce a man in under a minute simply by having that Cosmo on your table. Here, now, is an exclusive first hand look into the male thought process. It goes a little like:

"I'm sitting, I'm hungry, I'm kinda nervo - are those boobs? Oh, words. A magazine. Cosmo. Nice. 'How to seduce..." Awesome. This didn't spontaneously appear. She made a conscious decision to purchase this. She wants to seduce a man. I'm a man. I'm here. She wants to seduce me! Wait'll I tell my buddies."

And, bingo. We're good to go. And if we misunderstood, 5 minutes with the magazine'll do.