Vote!

So, nine months after I invited people to ask me questions, I am almost finished with the answers. Cooper asked me:

boxers, briefs or thongs?

Before I give away the answer, I'd like to run a poll. Please choose from the options below:

a) ZF wears briefs
b) ZF wears boxers
c) ZF wears boxer briefs
d) ZF wears thongs
e) ZF goes commando

Here are some hints. Don't forget that my dad wears a thong bathing suit from time to time. Also remember that I am part Scottish.

Technorati Tags: questions, underwear, polls

So, Maybe I Complain too Much (and a comment on Iraq)

Today, many of us woke up to ice pellets, snow-covered ground, and forecasts (I actually typed forecats, which is something entirely different) of freezing rain. I even had to do a bit of shoveling for the first time this winter.

I think I am getting old, because I elected not to cycle today. Instead, I crammed myself into the subway system and got a little too close to way too many people. I was so close to some guy, I could have counted the hair follicles on his face. He missed a few spots, but I decided not to tell him. There was a woman, stuffed into a seat applying eyeliner. I posted about the public application of makeup in the past. It never ceases to amaze me.

Anyway, I prefer cycling out in the fresh air. I know, Toronto's air is not that fresh, but it is better than breathing in someone else's aftershave or perfume at 8:00 A.M.

I notice that the Iraqi government bungled another execution. They managed to decapitate Hussein's half brother in the course of hanging him. I hope Bush is happy that he got his man, after an expensive and pointless war that has made the entire region worse off, to the farcical trial and botched executions.

Technorati Tags: winter, Toronto, subways, TTC, transit, cycling, Iraq

Two Hours Later ...

Phew, I just got out of a two hour meeting concerning contract negotiations. We were discussing the finer points of promotion and salary. And, it occurred to me - once again - that meetings ought to be limited to one hour. In fact, I prefer power meetings that are 30 minutes or less. In fact, I prefer meetings in which business is conducted in hallways, by the microwave oven, or the fridge (we don't have a water cooler). I think you can accomplish so much while your leftovers are reheating.

It also occurred to me - once again - that I made the wrong career choice. I can trace this back to High School. Instead of joining the Cross Country Team and the Track & Field Team, I should have joined the soccer team. Mr. Posh Spice will be raking in almost $1,000,000 US per week. Maybe it's not too late to change careers. I can kick a soccer ball and I am still in good shape. How hard can it be?

Technorati Tags: meetings, careers, sports

Finally, More Answers (and It's Delurking Week)

Toryssa asked:

How old are you? And how old are your kids? And what's the last book you read?

1) How old am I? That is highly confidential. I think the Official Secrets Act prevents me from revealing that data. Wait, wasn't the name of the act changed to The Security of Information Act? In any case, my lips are sealed.

2) 5.5 years & 20 months. Both are far cuter than I am.

3) Shite's Unoriginal Miscellany. Hey, it's funny and educational. Of course, many would argue that it is a lame and unsuccessful parody of Schott's Original Miscellany, and I think they would be correct. Still, I did laugh a few times.

Update: I just read that it is delurking week. So, all of you lurkers, please delurk.

Technorati Tags: questions, answers

How to Fix Basketball

I'm not suggesting that basketball is really broken, but simply that it could be improved. I don't even watch basketball, or football, or sports of any kind - except the Olympics - although I used to. I'd watch hockey and baseball and football. But who has time to sit for three or four hours in front of the TV watching guys slap each other on the ass? I did watch parts of the World Cup, however, which included Bloody Marys and snacks and too many people in a small room.

Years ago, I was listening to Finkleman's 45s. I can't take any credit for finding this radio program or for even being a fan. K listened to it, and I was listening along one evening. Usually, Danny had a lot to say about coffee, and whether it was good for you or not. Every week, a new coffee study was released, and he gave us the good or bad news. The show could have been called the Coffee Show. Of course, I drank coffee back then, lots of coffee with lots of caffeine, unlike now. I drink decaf every now and then. I know it's probably uncool, but do I look like I care?

One day, after a survey of the recent coffee news, Danny offered three options for improving basketball. He said, and I paraphrase:

1) Start each team at 100 points, and let them play for 10 minutes;
2) Raise the height of the baskets to something like 15 feet, from the current 10 feet;
3) Enforce an average height limit on each team. This means that you could have a very tall player, but it would have to be balanced out by some shorter guys, the kind you might see in a circus or sideshow.

I have another idea:

Reduce the points awarded for slam dunks from 2 to 1. Let's not forget that James Naismith, the Canadian doctor who invented the sport, argued that the baskets ought to be high enough to prevent a player from simply pushing the ball through from above. Well, that idea failed badly.

The slam dunk just seems too easy, especially if one is tall enough. Throwing the ball requires more skill. After all, they award free throws, not free dunks, because throwing the ball in the basket is obviously harder than stuffing it in from above. By the way, when I was in high school I could touch the rim!

So, in summary, I would like the NBA to award 1 point from slam dunks (and maybe even for lay ups), 2 points for a basket, and 3 points for shots beyond the arch. Maybe they could even award 4 points for shots taken past half court.

The sad truth is, I still would not watch the game.

Technorati Tags: basketball, sports, Finkleman's 45s, coffee

Keyword Mayhem, Part 5

OK, so here is a new list of keywords that people have used to get here. Some of them are truly bizarre and perplexing. My concern is not so much why they ended up here with these search terms, but why on earth are they searching for these things? Someone tell me, please.

picture of a hot men wearing a speedo: my dad, evidently - shudder.

steak and kidney pie is nasty: agreed

fungus pee: say what?

how to eat a banana: isn't it obvious?

diapers on train in china: yup, I have a whole post on that!

japanese adult diapers: who know, the man (or woman) might have a problem

edible petroleum: there's nothing finer than edible oil products. Mmmmm.

the moose is on the loose elliot: I hate this theme song, and I am stunned that this is probably the most common search term people use to find this blog. People want the lyrics, even though they are crystal clear and inane .

Why do people think librarians are mean?: who thinks that? I am a nice guy.

shirley olympic hurdles smoke: What?

we killed marian the librarian: believe me, she is not dead.

"only one valid reason to drink or use milk": as far as I am concerned, there is no good reason, but I have been through that before.

stupid stores toronto: I could name a few.

fish lost appetite: it will soon die, I suppose.

drink milk boob: fetish, maybe?

whorish makeup: fetish, maybe?

peeing in pool water turns purple: all kiddie pools have pee in them. Get over it.

sister sucks her younger brother's penis: honestly, I never said anything of the sort. Must be a case of a bad retrieval.

Zydeco Clothes: I wear them everyday.

"erect nipples video": obviously, a guy entered this search term.

book report on - on my honor by marion dane bauer: someone trying to plagiarize?

lithuania deodorant: huh?

nude OR naked "lost bet" -casino: strip poker?

"an elderly gay man": Hmmmmm, looking for a date?

nympho librarian: that's not me, and I don't know of any.

sexy filipina: not me either, and I don't know of any.

the difference between white trash and redneck: Well, my brother is whitetrash.

closer bone sweeter meat: Pervert!

i hate getting paid monthly: who doesn't?

princeton rub: yes, I did mention that once.

Technorati Tags: keywords, web searching

And Still no Snow in Toronto

If you haven't seen An Inconvenient Truth, you should. If you haven't seen The End of Suburbia, you should. Just don't watch them back-to-back; that would be far too depressing.

I recommend Al Gore's film just based on the fact that it demonstrates the most outstanding use of PowerPoint I have ever seen. Too many people make such atrocious use of PowerPoint, it should be - in the hands of these people - renamed RedundantPoint or BoringPoint. Al does it correctly.

You know what I am talking about: someone at a conference or a presentation projects slides full of text. You read each in a few seconds, and then you have to wait for them to read it. Boring, boring, boring.

Anyway, while the cycling guy in me is loving this winter, I am feeling really sad for the polar bears. A huge chunk of Ellesmere Island just broke off. It is 3 degrees in Toronto, heading up to 5 degrees later today. And, there is not a flake of snow in sight.

I really hope this winter will convince those jokers (notably Stephen Harper and George Bush) to do something, like ratify the Kyoto Accord. That would be a nice thing to do before part of Manhattan is flooded.

Technorati Tags: winter, global warming, Kyoto, PowerPoint, End of Suburbia, An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore

Trapped in the Women's Washroom: A True Story (or, finally, I have finished this post)

I think it was Edmunston, New Brunswick on the drive back from a soggy camping trip, during which I camped in the rain in all three maritime provinces. Forget rain dances or cloud seeding: if you want rain, just hire me to go camping where you want it to fall. I am rain man.

By Edmunston, my bladder needed relief, so we (A and I) pulled up to some sort of a mall-like place and headed in. This was long enough ago that I cannot remember the name of the store, but it was something like Zellers or K-mart. Anyway, we found the washrooms easily enough, but they were locked and a notice said that we had to ask to be buzzed in. Just as I was about to ask the attendant, A said, "just come into the women's washroom."

I am not sure why that sounded like a good idea. I must have assumed that this would have been a small washroom with one stall. Later, I wondered if it had to do with a childhood experience. When I was 12 or 13, I had a part-time job doing some custodial work for a local idiot. I tidied up, emptied ash trays (that skill came in very handy when I later worked as a bartender), and some other mundane tasks.

The highlight came when I went into the women's washroom after some event. What a palace! The men's room can only be described as dirty, ugly, utilitarian, and boring. You know, there were urinals, toilets, sinks, paper towels, mirrors, etc. In contrast, the women's washroom had bizarre dispensers on the wall, better colours, and get this - a sofa! I had never seen a sofa in a washroom before. What luxury. What decadence. Even at that age, I knew that women tended to go to the can in herds, and now I knew why. They sat on the sofa and lounged.

You see, that would never work in a men's room (for many reasons). Besides, no one wants to linger too long in a men's washroom. There is too much risk of an overt attack on one's olfactory nerve.

Years later, I wondered if I went into the women's bathroom to verify that there is some serious inequities in washrooms. In all of those years, I have never encountered anything that could be described as luxury in a men's washroom. Well, there were those few washroom attendants who hand you towels, but I always felt sorry for them, having to sit there listening to men fart and groan.

So, I went in and was amazed to discover a huge washroom, complete with about 10 stalls, half a dozen sinks, but, sadly, no sofa or chair of any variety. This was New Brunswick, so maybe that was the reason. Clearly, there are no urinals in female restrooms, so I choose a stall, dropped my pants, and then, before I could even start, about ten women came in. There I was, pants around my ankles, afraid to go, fearing that the sound of masculine micturition would give away my gender, when I had already done so, by dropping my drawers. Women, I found out later, do not do that: they only pull them part way down. Who knew?

Eventually, I had to go, and managed to keep it quiet. The trouble was, there was a constant stream of women coming in, and I panicked that I would never be able to leave. A loitered in front of the mirror, waiting for a good time to usher me out of my temporary prison. After half an hour, or so it seemed, she gave the all-clear. We walked to the door, and opened it, just as a large group of women flooded in. We got very strange looks and one women looked so perplexed, I thought she would summon security, so I fled as fast as I could - without looking like a shoplifter - to the Volkswagen in the parking lot.

Technorati Tags: Edmunston, washrooms, restrooms, bathrooms

My Pants are Falling Down

I am now boycotting Gap & Old Navy denim (I should have done this ages ago when I heard about The Gap and slave labour). I remember, back in the day when I was concerned about the appearance of my ass, always worrying about whether the denim I was about to purchase would shrink, and by how much. These were key issues in my younger days. After purchasing jeans from The Gap & Old Navy, I find myself wondering just how much they will stretch.

A few days after I had first purchased this inferior denim, I thought I had suddenly dropped ten pounds. They hung down around my ass like those hip hop guys, exposing the waistband of my underwear. I kept pulling them up, worrying that they would fall off while I was standing in front of a class of undergrads discussing searching techniques. Then, I put on another pair of my pants, and they fit fine. It was like I was in that episode of M*A*S*H*. You know the one.

The next time I bought jeans from The Gap, the same thing happened. I tried them on; they fit; then, they stretched all to hell. I clued in after that and I bought the next pair two sizes too small so I could stretch into them. The problem is, that pair had a kind of distressed look. A small imperfection suddenly grew into an enormous hole only after a few weeks.

That's it for me and jeans from these awful stores.

Technorati Tags: New Year's resolutions,resolutions, jeans, denim, Old Navy, Gap

The Best of Zydeco Fish 2006
(read best of 2005)

It may seem a bit ridiculous to recap 2006, since it was almost a non-blogging year. I did blog, but with great gaps between posts and far fewer posts than usual. I was even called a twit once! Such strong language from the right wing; it almost makes me blush.

So, here it is - my top five posts of 2006:

1) The End of Bathing - I have re-written this and made it much longer, but I am not sure when it will be ready for public viewing.

2) The Paranoid Side Step - I am feeling nostalgic recently about lots of stuff, including music. That might have prompted this post.

3) I have to Ask Myself - On Christmas trees and my family. I think I chose this post because of the photo :-)

4) An Open Letter to Jacob Richler - Because I am an avid cyclist.

5) Untitled - Perhaps the best post ever...

Technorati Tags: Zydeco Fish, best, review, blogging, 2006

Happy Whatever

I hope you all have a fabulous holiday, if you get one, that is. This is my last day at work until early January. I may or may get around to posting during the holidays, but you are all used to that anyway.

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, etc.

Technorati Tags: holidays

What do you get when you cross a Cockroach with a Spider?

In a recent dream, evolution took a strange twist. The giants insects that invaded my house were half spider and half cockroach. Imagine a cockroach that could spin a web. Unfortunately, this evolutionary change was not such a good one for the poor roach, because half the bug wanted to hide when it sensed danger, while the spider half really didn't care. So, whenever I entered a room, the cockroach side tucked itself away, leaving the spider half exposed. So, I was able to easily step on the enormous bugs, leaving a gelatinous bloody pool on the floor.

Dream interpretations are welcome.

Technorati Tags: cockroaches, spiders, insects, bugs, dreams

A New Year's Eve Story from Long Long Ago

I like Reggae. I really do, and I have one Bob Marley CD to prove it. I have a UB40 LP too - you remember vinyl, right? - and some English Beat on cassette if that counts. But, I am getting ahead of myself.

I've been noticing that New Year's Eve is coming up. Xmas too, but that's another issue. In my youth, I would stay home on New Year's Eve while my parents went out and drank somewhere with friends. Later, I suspected that some serious wife-swapping was going on, but I had no proof. At home, my brother and I (and sometimes my sister) would stay up late drinking pop and eating chips. Well, that was until my sister was old enough to go out with boyfriends in their cars and my brother hooked up with his ex-hooker girlfriend.

On occasion, a friend might come over and we would watch Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve. Evidently, the man is still alive. Until Dick had his stroke, I assumed that he was some sort of robot, never aging and always boring. But, that is not what this post is about. This post is about Reggae music: Bob Marley, Eddie Grant, Mighty Diamonds, Musical Youth.

Maybe it was the fact that I was in Waterloo at the time. I went to University there for two years once, but before that, I knew very little of the place. One New Years' Eve, we ended up at a strange and small party filled with the socially-desperate. It's difficult to say why that happened. Wait, it was because of the woman I was with. She attracted the social misfits, not that they were necessarily bad. Some were fascinating, but not this bunch. They were ostracized for good reason.

So, some dude showed up with a boom box and some CDs. He put on a Reggae disc and we chilled. Somebody broke out the Dubonet on ice (I can't think of that without reflecting on Berlin), but I stuck with beer as this was back in the days when I could drink beer. I drank; I chatted - as best as I could with the socially-challenged, or maybe they were socially-desperate.

A full two hours after the dude put on the first CD, some sharp cookie (and it wasn't me) realized that no CD could really be that long. Here's the punch line, in case you are scanning for it: he had hit repeat. But, we didn't listen to the same CD twice or maybe three times. We had two hours of the same Reggae tune. It took two hours for someone to notice! Not even the dude who brought the CDs noticed.

Ok, so this story is not as funny as I thought it was.

Technorati Tags: New Year's Eve, Reggae

New

OK, so here's a new template. I was sick of the old one. I haven't migrated to the new version of Blogger, because Blogger says I can't. I may choose a new template when I do shift over. Happy Monday.

Technorati Tags: templates

Self Portrait #7
(Self Portrait #6)

That's me.

Technorati Tags: self-portraits, zydeco fish

Door Prize

A few weeks ago, I went through the laborious chore of choosing new eyeglasses. And that reminded me that if I were an optician, I would install a digital camera tethered to a computer monitor so that people can take photos of themselves and then see what they look like in new frames. Otherwise, one ends up in the undignified position of being a few millimeters from the mirror, squinting like an idiot, trying to discern if the frames are an abomination. It's not a good scene, and I often worry that I will end up looking like Woody Allen or Bono. Happily, I made a decision and was comforted by the thought that I would, for the first time in my life, have a back-up pair of glasses. Oh, the luxury.

Perhaps I was day-dreaming or maybe I was just walking like a bored automaton the next Thursday evening, still wearing the old frames. I headed down the hall to my evening class, about to turn left through the door when it happened. A door came flying open and smacked me in the face. My glasses shattered and landed on the floor in more than one piece. I had a searing pain in my head.

The dude who walked through the door, a little too aggressively, I would say, looked mortified. He helped me find the pieces and apologized. I thought about taking him down with a solid left hook, but my eyesight is so bad, I couldn't see more than a few inches in front of me.

Somehow, I managed to reassemble the frames, and if I didn't move my head, they would stay in one piece. After class, I found some glue at a nearby store and did a quick repair on a bench under a streetlight. I worried that a passing cop might think I was shooting up, 'cause I was hunched over and looking far too intense. Despite getting super glue on my hands, I managed to glue the glasses into one piece amd I cycled away.

Thankfully, I like the new glasses, which came in a couple of days later. I make sure that I keep well away from that door.

Technorati Tags: glasses, eyeglasses, doors, accidents

Cockroaches

OK, so I just found a cockroach in my office! I put my hand in my drawer to get something, and my hand came out with a cockroach on it. Yikes! I may need to move my office higher in the building. I have lived with these little bastards in two different places, and I hate them. I have a few choice cockroach stories, but I'll leave that for another day. The good news is, the exterminator is coming. That means we will be seeing lots of dead and dying insects, since an infestation was recently discovered in the staff room. I guess they migrated to my office.

On my way to give an instructional session to 25, or so, engineers yesterday, a bird shat on me. I hear that's good luck, but, not on a black shirt. I had to find a bathroom and try to get the shit out, but when there are no paper towels, that is a hard thing to do. That's the trouble with hand dryers. Damn the hand dryers. I hate the noise they make anyway, but they can make your hands nice and toasty.

When I got to the class, I discovered that the TA was missing and, after a few minutes, I realized that he probably had a better offer. So, I had to collect the assignments, introduce myself, and then thank myself. I did a good job, of course.

Happy Friday.

Technorati Tags: cockroaches, roaches, insects, vermin, pests, TAs, teaching

Survivor is out of Ideas

I guess it had to happen. Survivor (starting September 14th) is pitting the races against each other in the upcoming season. The four tribes are African-American, Asian-American, Hispanic, and White. I have no idea why the last two aren't Hispanic-American and White-American, but that's another story.

Survivor already did the gender wars and the old versus young, and, since the rating were low last time out, they needed some new and controversial angle. If the series can hang on after this season, I have plenty of other controversial ideas, like:

lawyers vs comedians
gay vs straight
dwarves vs librarians
cops vs ex-cons (when Richard Hatch is released from prison)
porn stars vs nuns & priests
obese vs skinny
children vs adults
drug addicts vs alcoholics
Canada vs USA
Bloods vs Crips
farmers vs chefs
pilots vs bakers
presidential interns vs rent boys

And that's just off the top of my head. Feel free to add yours.

It just occurred to me that it feels like Monday, and then I realized that it is Monday.

Technorati Tags: Survivor, reality TV, TV

Away

Just when you thought I might be back, I will be unable to blog for the next week, or so. Yesterday's post is good, so read that.

The End of Bathing

This is about my mother. She is fragile, in her late 60s, vacant - the doctor said so. He said she was empty, but the meaning is the same. She stares a lot, says little, except when she remembers to take her pills. On those days, she speaks with hypermania. It's a challenge to keep up.

Her red skin is contoured with blue veins, just like her father's. She wears a red and blue map on her face. Her grey hair is tinged with yellow from 50 years of cigarettes, 50 years of exhaling into emptiness. I remember her portrait softened by smoke, stinking of stale tobacco. She is old now, older than her years.

She found her way into the bathtub, managed to lower herself with her frail arms. Bathing is out-of-fashion in the house she shares with her mother. They prefer to stand over the sink and sponge bathe. Installing a shower is too expensive, not that there is any shortage of money. The bank accounts are full, the house paid, but my grandmother still buys her clothes from thrift shops and lawn sales as though it is 1935.

I try not to picture it - my mother clawing at the side of the white enamel, failing to achieve any kind of grip, her feet finding no purchase in the slick tub. She calls for help from her 87 year old mother. Maybe she can lift her out, but my grandmother is too weak herself, with her two plastic knees and two plastic hips. She looks as strong as ever, kind of like an ox or a streetcar. She is thick, heavy, with fingers that point in all directions of space at once, thanks to her arthritis.

The next thing to do is call to the neighbour to free my mother. I am reminded of that old folk tale, the Enormous Potato. They will form a chain: my grandmother, the neighbour all pulling. Soon, there will be a dog, a cat, and a mouse all lending a hand. Instead, the neighbour fails and they resort to contacting Emergency Services. Someone dials 911. An ambulance arrives with two paramedics. They hoist her from the tub, leave the stretcher by the door, and retreat to talk about that one with their colleagues. This is the one about the woman who couldn't get out of the bathtub. It's not an urban legend.

Technorati Tags: mother, grandmother, bathing, bathtub, 911, emergency, trapped