The Definition of an Important Conversation

Scene: Nick is sitting at the kitchen table, using the laptop. Christene is on the couch watching TV. 

The phone rings.

Christene: Hello? ... OK, one second.
Christene rushes to the kitchen table. 

Christene: Nick, I need to use the computer for a second, can I sit down?

Nick: Uh, yeah, alright. What website do you want? 
Christene: Shoedazzle.com
Nick: You've got to be kidding me. I'm not getting up for that.

End scene.

:: Oops ::

Christene and my anniversary was Jan. 7 for those keeping track (and if you were keeping track, where the hell were you two weeks ago? More on that in a second). And to be honest, that date isn't exactly right... it's an arbitrary, kinda-close date we both chose because the real day, if you wanted to pin it down, conflicted with too many other things. Also, we could never figure out the right day anyway.

Our first real date, if you wanna call it that, was Dec. 31 – New Year's at Brett and Tara's house.

Before that, was my company Christmas party, which wasn't so much an official date (because some unnamed party was still, perhaps, married) as it was a 'Hey, you wanna come with the rest of us to the party? There's free booze!).

And in between those two days, there was Christmas, etc. So thats why we decided, three years ago, that Jan. 7 would be our new "anniversary." It came after the hub-bub of Christmas and New Year's, and it seemed as good as day to celebrate as any other. So we did.

Except for 2012.

We didn't celebrate it this year because both of us flat-out forgot.

I – like most guys, probably – tend to forget these things, but this time, neither of us remembered until Sunday night, when it sprung into my mind for one reason or another. It's not like we juuuuust missed it either; it'd been more than a week. I just laughed it off with an "oh well," but Christene was sufficiently rattled.

"This was going to be our last January anniversary," she said sadly, not because she's breaking up with me but because in 10 months (editor's note: Holy Fuck, 10 months!) our wedding anniversary (again, Holy Fuck) in November will trump the January date.

Not to worry though, Christene. Just wait until the first time I forget – or remember at the last, possible minute – our November anniversary. This won't seem like such a big deal then.

And hey, did I mention that it's only like 10 months or so away? Christ that's coming quick.

:: Christene's new blog ::

I've been meaning to post this for quite some time, but keep forgetting, but in case anyone is interested – and really, why wouldn't you be? – Christene has a new blog:

Christene Drinks Too Much Coffee

You should check it out.

:: Old School ::

This morning, I logged into blogger for the first time in quite awhile, and the log-in screens, dashboard etc had changed because, well, things change. Upon log-in, a pop-up officially, uh, popped-up on my screen, and asked me to click to use the new, upgraded, Blogger/Goggle interface, which I'm sure is sleek, streamlined and very innovative.

Trouble is, my blog is still stuck in about 2004 - I believe I wrote a post about this before. It's an old template, can't have subscribers or feeds or any of that fancy new shit. It's old school, and that's how I likes it.

But I'll admit, for a second there, when I saw the option to click the fancy "update" button, I felt kind of bad that I couldn't do it. Or, I could do it, but it would either have no effect or fuck things up something horrible.

But the feeling passed quickly when something happened that made me realize I'm not the only person in this house stuck in the early 2000s: An MSN Messenger message bubble popped up on my screen.

Yes, Messenger. (Actualy, upon further review, it was Windows Messenger. Even older!)

It was a work friend of Christene's, saying hello.

"Why is Messenger turned on, and why are messages coming through? Is this some mistake? Do you know this person?!" I asked, in disbelief.

"Oh yeah, that's (whoever) from work. We use Messenger at the office to talk back and forth when we want to make fun of somebody," came the reply.

Facebook chat. Text messages. GMail chat. iChat. Shit, quiet whispers are probably more "now" than MSN fucking Messenger. Yet that's how Christene and her friend roll, firmly stuck in a bygone era.

I ain't changing this blog yet.

:: Some news ::

Why, hello there.

Betcha thought I didn't have a blog anymore - I forgot for long stretches myself, as a matter of fact. But, alas, I am back. I can't promise posts on a more frequent basis - because I'd definitely just disappoint - and I won't necessarily even try.

But I'll try to try. And that will have to be good enough.

Anyways... I know back in June, I said I would post something longer on the Canucks losing the Stanley Cup. I didn't write much then because the pain was too fresh, the wound too deep. And even though we're now smack in the middle of August, I still haven't brought myself to do it. Oh, I've tried - three or four times, at least - but when I actually get passed the first few paragraphs, all that pain and anger comes back.

So I'd stop, and promise to come back to it later. I still will - I promise (There's that word again).

But until the time comes that I can eloquently write about the biggest disappointment I've experienced in some time, let's talk about something happier: me.

Well, me and Christene, to be more precise.

We are getting married.

For real.

Yeah, I know. I'm a little surprised myself. Not sure how it happened really, but it did, and I am glad. I know it was out of character/out of the blue, because after she said yes back in mid-July, these were some of the reactions I got from people.

"What the hell?!" (Christene... rather than, you know, saying 'yes')

"Holy fuck, are you shitting me?" (Bucholtz)

"WHOA!" (text message from someone I cannot remember)

"Wow! I never thought you would ever propose! (Kristyl, who apparently shared this view with Christene.)

"It's true. I kind of thought you never would. It would have been OK. We have the house and the dog, and I just didn't think you would." (Christene, when questioned about the above sentiment)

So yeah, it's fucking happening, folks. Clear your schedules, warn your livers, and send the kids to the neighbours, we're coming home loaded!*

*Because we're getting married in Las Vegas.

The tentative date will be early November, 2012. Likely at the Flamingo Hotel. Sure, there are much fancier hotels, but Christene and I have been to Vegas a lot over the last 3 years, and we agree all the new uber-fancy ones, which glittery and nice, seem a little too... corporate, for lack of a better word. They just seem to lack a little (or a lot) of that Old Vegas charm.

And since Christene and I are both bigger fans of historic Vegas than new Vegas, the Flamingo it likely will be. It's the perfect combination of Old Vegas charm/cheesiness, location, price, and well, it's probably one of the few older hotels that doesn't have bed bugs.

So there's that.

Consider yourself invited. (No, not you.)

:: Tough Day ::

"Everybody is no-showing. Is there a white-trash convention today that I don't know about? Or a monster truck rally?" - Christene, complaining of missed appointments by her dental office's decidedly low-budget clientele.

:: I fully agree with the statement below ::

Next month, Christene and I are going to a boozeless wedding – a friend of hers from her old job is getting hitched. The groom is a pastor, the bride is also religious, so that's why there is no booze, as is my understanding.

And while I must admit never having been to a alcohol-free wedding, it's a Sunday brunch-style reception, so it's not like I'd be getting loaded anyhow (probably). So I'm cool with it, and understand. I like weddings in general – they're fun.

What's less understandable is the wedding I was at a few years back. It, too, was supposed to be boozeless, until the bride's family was convinced at the last minute that it was a poor idea expect people to come to a Saturday night reception without alcohol. Brunch is one thing, but a conventional, Saturday-night party, without some of Grandpa's old cough medicine? Not gonna work, I'm afraid.

In the end, it was an expensive bar, which didn't open til late in the reception, and most people left when the dancing started (Again, religious beliefs. For serious). So yeah, it was a little boring.

Today, I mentioned these things to my brother, who some of you likely know is getting hitched soon – next year, I understand. Anyways, this is his "vision" for a proper wedding.

"I never understand why people wouldn't want (booze). I want my wedding to be the biggest, best party of people's lives. I want every single person to wake up the next morning and forget whose wedding they were at."

So yeah, you want to be invited to that wedding. Take a memo on your Newton.

:: This is what I'm dealing with here, people ::

Last night, driving home from dinner, this is what Christene decided to talk about (completely out of blue, of course).

Christene: You know, I could've totally dominated on American Gladiators.
Me: Uhh... what?
Christene: American Gladiators. The show. I would've dominated. Especially the part when you hit the gladiator with one of those giant Q-tip things. I would've been like (insert whooosh-sounding sound effects and some arm movements)... I would've kicked ass, take that Lace!
Me: Giant Q-tips? You mean the joust?
Christene: Yeah, whatever it's called. I would've won. I'd have been good at that other thing, too, where they strap you in that harness and you jump from the different platforms - what's that, the gauntlet? (editor's note: it's not the gauntlet).
Me: Are you actually saying these words?
Christene: Yeah, why?
Me: You think you would've won on American Gladiators?
Christene: Yes.
Me: Is this the same thing as the time you told me you'd definitely win at beer pong because once your team won Elementary School Sports Day, but then you completely sucked at beer pong?
Christene: Also, when I was about 18 I won two out of three games of laser tag! I lost the first one, but then I came back and killed everyone in the next two.
Me: Seriously, this is what you're bringing to the table? Elementary school sports day and laser tag?
Christene: It's all I have!

"Sweet Fucking Jesus!"

When you get this type of reaction from your girlfriend upon letting loose a hellacious fart, you know you've done a good job.

:: Best dream ever ::

I didn't sleep well last night, for whatever reason. I went to be really early, like 9-something, and then tossed and turned for hours. But when I did finally fall asleep for good, I had a pretty awesome dream. And the fact that I can remember it – I usually don't remember dreams – makes it even better. 

Here's what happened.

A bunch of us were all camping somewhere out in the woods. In bear country. There were, in fact, bears sightings all over the place. At some point in our camping adventure, Christene needed to get something from Sean's tent, and when she left, she forgot to zip the door back up.

And soon after, a bear got into Sean's tent and tore shit up. Pretty awesome so far.

Sean, of course, went nuts, and got really mad at Christene for leaving the door open (because, as everyone knows, zipping up a thin nylon door keeps bears out). Basically, he blamed her for the bear attack. Then I, of course, got mad at Sean, and we started arguing/fighting.

And here's where the dream gets really good. I won the fight when I, wait for it..... picked up a grizzly bear and threw it at Sean.

Yes, I hit Sean in the face with a bear. 

Take that, asshole. 

:: Voice of the street ::

This conversation took place yesterday evening, after I changed the radio station because the Beastie Boys came on the air – a band I do not like.

Christene: Good, I hate the Beastie Boys.

Me: So do I.

Christene: What can I say, I like my beers cold and my rappers black.

Me: What about Eminem? He's good.

Christene: No, I don't like Eminem – he's too damn whiny. He's always going on about "oooh, look at me, I'm from the streets, I'm from Detroit." Detroit? Well you know what? I'm from Surrey – now that's a tough city. Eminem wouldn't last one day in Cloverdale.

:: Jump the Shark ::

A few nights ago, neither Christene nor I could sleep, and as often happens, we ended up lying in bed, talking about random stuff. And as often happens, that random stuff was mostly about one of our favourite things – TV. The conversation eventually turned into a Complete Guide to Popular Television Shows That Jumped The Shark. Honestly, we talked about it for at least an hour. This is why we work well together.

For the uninitiated, Jump the Shark – a term Christene and I use all the time, but we might be the only ones – is described as the following:

"...an idiom used to describe the moment of downturn for a previously successful enterprise. The phrase was originally used to denote the point in a television program's history where the plot spins off into absurd story lines or unlikely characterizations. These changes were often the result of efforts to revive interest in a show whose viewership has begun to decline."

The term originated from an episode of Happy Days, when – with writers fresh out of story ideas – had The Fonz jump over a shark on water skis. The episode was absolutely ridiculous, and marked the beginning of the show's downfall.

So now, with that out of the way, here's the list the two of us compiled from our own television-watching experience. Buckle up, it's a long one (That's what she said.)

Fresh Prince of Bel-Air:

A great show, but it actually has two Shark Jumping moments. The first is one found in more than just this show – the quick-aging process for a young cast member.

In the series' later years, little baby Nicky Banks suddenly morphs from an infant to a four-year-old between seasons. (The fact that Uncle Phil and Aunt Vivian had another child so late in the series actually smacks of shark-jumping just on its own, when you think about it. Hello, New Cast Member – another trick to revive interest in a show.)

A similar tact was taken in the 1980s sitcom Growing Pains, where midway through the season, the youngest daughter, Chrissy Seaver, grew up about six years between seasons. And since we're talking about that show, the quick-aging-daughter wasn't, in fact, the show's Jump the Shark moment – we'll leave that to the time-tested method called, Introduction of a New Cast Member, one Leonardo DiCaprio, a poor orphaned, homeless kid.

Fresh Prince's second JTS moment, and this one is according to Christene: when they replaced Aunt Viv with Aunt Viv 2.0. (After the third season, actress Janet Hubert-Whitten was replaced by Daphne Maxwell Reid.)

The switch coincided with the arrival of Nicky, and the only reference to the character swap came in the Season 4 premiere, when Jazz says to Vivian, "You know, Mrs. Banks, ever since you had that baby, there's been something different about you."

Married... with Children:

I was never a fan of this show, and mostly just caught the late-night reruns, so this one is all Christene (even though she refused to write the following blurb herself. "Writer's block," she said. Pffft.)

In season 7 (the series inexplicably lasted 10 years) a new character, a boy named Seven, enters the show for a 12-episode run. According to IMDB Seven was "the young son of one of Peggy's relatives who is left with the family."

I don't know if he was meant to be a full-time character, but the fact that he lasted little more than half a season probably explains how much he sucked. Another website called Seven "the most annoying character ever to appear on Married... With Children." Considering that show was chock-full of annoying characters, this is saying something.

Grey's Anatomy:

I'll admit, I watched this show for one season – the first one – and one season only. I was sort of expecting it to be an E.R.-type drama, and when I realized it was simply a soap opera designed to brainwash women into thinking it was T.V.'s greatest creation – the same way women think the Sex and the City movie is Oscar-worthy – well, that's when I stopped watching.

As for a Jump the Shark moment, well, take your pick: When a new lead actor started getting written off the show every week – the black guy, the gay guy, the blond chick – or maybe, and this is my choice, the JTS moment came when a fucking ghost showed up. Yeah, I'd say that's the one.

The Simpsons:

Sure, the show is long past its seasons 3-7 heyday, but this show is still one of the smartest on TV, and still has it's hilarious moments – it's actually gotten better the last couple years, after a lull – and because it is the longest-running, most successful, best show to ever grace a television screen, I am not prepared to say it has ever Jumped the Shark.

Seinfeld:

Like the aforementioned The Simpsons, Seinfeld never Jumped the Shark either – it was too good, and it called it quits before it could get bad. Some argue that the series finale, where the group is arrested for "doing nothing" and then all the old characters are trotted back out as character witnesses at the court case, was a Jump the Shark moment, but it was the last episode of the whole damn show, and if they want an excuse to bring back the old characters, you damn well let 'em. Not JTS for this show, either.

The O.C.

Another bad show I'll admit to watching for a season or two, before losing interest. This one's JTS moment likely came when they started killing off characters – was Marissa her name? You know, that skinny annoying bitch? – and replacing them with other random people. For a show that was a pretty big success early, it really took a shockingly quick nosedive before being cancelled altogether.

Dinosaurs:

One of the worst shows ever to appear on primetime TV, you may remember this show as a key member of the TGIF lineup. The Jump the Shark moment? Let's go with either the first time the theme song was played, or maybe when the "Baby-hits-the-dad-with-the-frying-pan" gag became a recurring them. Or maybe the true JTS moment came when some idiot TV executive decided that sinking millions of dollars into a show about animatronic/puppet dinosaurs was a good idea.

I hated that show.

Step by Step:

Another TGIF staple that tried to be a modern-day Brady Bunch, its' Jump the Shark moment is sort of twofold.

One, Christene says, is when the character Cody – who, if you remember, lived in a van in the driveway – was written off the show because the actor, Sasha Mitchell, was in legal trouble for smacking his real-life wife around. He was written off the show as "going to Russia" for some unexplained reason.

Then, in an continuation of the same shark-jumping moment, Cody returned briefly to the show a few years later for one of the final episodes of the series. In that appearance, he announced that he'd just "been on a road trip, changed his name to Steve," and oh, mysteriously and unexplainably "come into some money." So he pays Patrick Duffy and Suzanna Somers a bunch of money for letting him live in their driveway all those years. Then he's gone again.

Family Matters:

Another good TGIF show – I always liked this one when I was a kid – and when trying to think of its Jump the Shark Moment, Christene and I had trouble because, well, there were so many options: Steve Urkel's transformation machine (which turned him into ladies man Stefan Urquelle); Urkel moving in with the Winslows; the orphan boy 3J being inexplicably added to the cast....

There are so many options here, in fact, I'll just cut and paste the show's bio from IMDB and let you read for yourself. The whole thing reads like one big Jump the Shark moment:

"As the years went on, Urkel developed a special transformation chamber to allow himself to change into suave Stefan Urquelle, whom Laura fell for; it was a way for the nerd to finally win the object of his affection. Laura eventually got to appreciate Urkel's company, and eventually, fell in love with him. Carl was eventually promoted from sergeant to lieutenant, finally attaining the rank of captain. In later years, Urkel moved in with the Winslows when his parents abandoned him in moving to Russia (editor's note: What's with TV writers' infatuation with Russia? There are other "far away" places, you know...); and Carl and Harriet (long after their daughter, Judy, disappeared from the scene without explanation) adopted 3J, a local orphan who was friends with Richie."

(Interesting Family Matters' sidenote: Did you know that the actress who played daughter Judy – the one who disappeared with explanation from the show – grew up to be a drug-addicted porn star? She later appeared on Celebrity Rehab. Her list of credits on her IMDB profile takes a pretty stark, direct leap from "family shows" to hardcore porn titles. I find this hilarious.)

That 70's Show:

A classic example of a show that lasted one or two seasons too many, so this one's easy. The JTS moment came in the final couple seasons, when all the regular cast members left for greener pastures, and the show added an "Eric replacement" character named... well, I can't remember his name, but he sucked.

The Cosby Show:

This sums it up right here:

"At the start of season six Cosby believed that Keisha Knight Pulliam, as youngest daughter Rudy, had grown up too much to be considered "just cute" like she was when she started the series at age five. Cosby decided to bring in young Raven Symone, who was cast as the stepdaughter of Huxtable daughter, Denise. Symone was obviously trying too hard to be cute and came off more often as annoying. Two seasons later Erika Alexander joined the cast as Pam, who was taken in by the Huxtable family. With her came a slew of new characters to play her high school friends and before long the cast had swelled to over one dozen. With the arrival of Pam came the departure of ratings and Cosby decided to end the show at the end of the 1992 season, it's eighth."

[via Associated Content]

Saved by the Bell:

One answer: The Tori Paradox.

In the final season of the show, two main actresses, Tiffani-Amber Thiessen and Elizabeth Berkley – whose boobs would later go on to great things in Showgirls – refused to sign new contracts for the year. So tough-girl Tori was introduced, and episodes featuring her alternated with already-taped episodes featuring the other two. No mention of Tori was made in the non-Tori episodes, and likewise, the Thiessen/Showgirl episodes never mentioned Tori. She must've been home sick from school those days.

Full House:

If you really think about it, there were probably a million Jump the Shark moments, but the easiest one is when they suddenly introduced those two stupid, shaggy-haired asshole twins to the equation.

For starters, they did the suddenly-age-four-years-in-one-offseason thing. And secondly, how many fucking characters did that show need? I mean, I know it's a full house, but c'mon – they had so many people living in that place, that when the twins came along, the show's producers suddenly had to have the Tanners discover that, "Hey, look – we have this giant, high-ceiling'd livable attic that's big enough for a family of four!" I wonder where that came from. I mean, did nobody ever go up there in the shows first six seasons?

(Also, how come Joey didn't get really pissed off when he had to move out of the basement so Jesse could have his stupid music studio down there? The man was 35 years old – you'd think he'd be a little more protective of his own space. Instead, I think he just moved upstairs next to all the stupid kids' rooms... not ideal.)

Boy Meets World:

Another staple of the TGIF lineup, this show starred Fred Savage's brother and that chick who played Topanga, who every teenage boy at the time thought was hot, even though she actually looked like fish.

This show Jumped the Shark when the group graduated from high school. To start with, Cory and Topanga got married and then most of the college episodes dealt with how they struggled to live on their own, but pulled through in the end because they love each other. Also, the series finale was ridiculous – it was the obligatory "somebody leaves town" ending (Cory and Topanga move to New York) but then, suddenly, Cory's older brother and also his best friend, Shawn, show up in the final scene and say, "Hey, we're coming too!"

And then they drive off up the road, as if all is well. Forget the fact that Cory and Topanga's apartment in NY probably isn't big enough for 4 adults – I mean, have to heard how expensive NY rent is? – it doesn't matter, all the friends are staying together. If the show continued as some kind of spin-off (Boy and Friends meet New York, perhaps) I'm sure Mr. Feenie would've somehow appeared as Cory's new bos, or something. I mean, Christ — the guy was his elementary teacher, elementary principal, high school teacher, high school principal, college professor and fucking neighbour.

And while we're tearing holes in the show (Which I actually did quite like as a kid, by the way) – does anyone else remember those episodes/seasons where Shaun lived with his tough-guy, mullet-wearing teacher for awhile? What the hell was that?

So, anyways, there's your recap. If you have any other shows in mind – and the corresponding shark-jumping moments – feel free to leave 'em in the comments.

:: Priorities, continued ::

Christene: You know, I'm convinced that you'd miss the birth of your own child for a Canucks' playoff game.

Me: Oh, c'mon, give me a break....

Me: .... Well, what round of playoffs?

This was probably not the right answer.

:: Priorities ::

After a year and a half of "training" I finally thought I'd made some headway with regard to turning Christene into a sports fan, and more importantly, a Canucks fan. I mean, she's already professed her love for her beloved Alain Vigneault – "Vins" she calls him – and his snappy suits, and then there was the time last year where she yelled at the TV.

I'd never been prouder.

But then she goes and does something like this..... 

This morning, her brother and sister-in-law had a baby – a little girl named Veronica. So, instead of coming to Davy and Colleen's house with me to watch Game 4 of the Canucks/Blackhawks series, she has the audacity to want to see her new little niece tonight instead.

Unbelievable! I mean, I'm sure little Veronica is cute as a button – I mean, she's a little baby, of course she is – but c'mon, it's the playoffs!

Clearly, I have more work to do yet. 

:: Poor efforts ::

In the last month or so I've noticed a disturbing lack of new blog posts from my esteemed blogroll on the left - namely Christene, Kelsey, Meghan and Lanette.

Now, there are other blogs I link to as well – Jason Mulgrew, The FYC – that have been pretty delinquent lately too, but I don't know those people, so I feel bad calling them out. Besides, Mulgrew just wrote a fucking book, so if he wants to not blog for awhile, give the dude a break.

But as for the rest of you... well, I know you all personally and feel quite fit to point out your blogging inadequacies. And let me tell you, your lack of effort is shameful. 

Because it's a slow afternoon here at the always-prolific/constantly updated/fan favourite Classic Times, I took a few minutes to crunch some numbers, math being my specialty.

Not including this post, here are some startling numbers: 

Christene 

Last post: April 6; Classic Times posts since that date: 8 (7 plus 1 guest post)

Kelsey  

Last post: March 31; Classic Times posts since: 10

Meghan  

Last post: March 21 and then she closed up shop altogether; Classic Times posts since: 16

Lanette  

Last post: April 25 (But before that, no posts since April 9; Classic Times posts since April 9: 12

So there you have it. And I don't want to hear any whining about lack of internet or moving or quitting sob-stories or any of that crap. I didn't post for over a week because I was in Vegas, and then when I returned there was no Internet at the house for 4 days (technical difficulties) and I still managed to out-write the shit out of all of you.

Consider yourselves called out.

:: Something only Christene and the Canucks themselves are happy about ::

Now that the 'Nucks have dispatched the L.A. Kings in six games, it was announced today that no matter what the second-round matchup turns out to be, the Canucks' second-round series will not begin until Friday.

Today, in case you were not aware, is only Monday.

So once again, Canuck fans have to sit around twiddling their hockey-gloved thumbs – or more likely, over-analyzing the shit out of the next round – while, on a positive note for one girlfriend, Christene gets her boyfriend's full attention for an amazing four consecutive days.

(Except Wednesday. I have baseball.)

:: Get to know your girlfriend ::

Earlier today, while we were sitting around after dinner, Christene sort of giggled to herself for no reason. I asked her what was so funny, and she said she had a random memory pop into her head.

When she was in her early 20s, Christene dated a deadbeat guy named Dan* for a couple years. For their second anniversary, they went out for a fancy dinner. During the meal - probably with his mouth full of food - Dan looked across the table at Christene and blurted out this gem: "Ya know, we've dated for two years, and I don't even know you."

The dinner ended a little later that night**, and the relationship, shockingly, ended soon after.

*This isn't just me looking down on her ex-boyfriends. He really was a deadbeat.
**Christene had to pay because Dan was broke. Told ya he was a deadbeat.

Anyways, the story quickly morphed into a contest between Christene and I to see who really knew the other person better. Christene passed almost all the questions I threw her way, and quickly, I may add.

Then she asked me a bunch. The correct answers are bolded.

Christene: What's my favourite colour?
Me: Blue?
Christene: No.
Me: oh, purple!
Christene: No.
Me: Green!

Christene: How many jobs have I had in my life?
Me: Four!
(long pause)
Me: Five!
Christene: It's seven.
Me: oh.

Christene: What's the best concert I've ever been to? I know I've talked about this before.
Me, without hesitation: Weezer, when you were in the luxury box!
Christene: Nope.
Me: Tenacious D!
Christene: No.... it was David Lee Roth in 2003*. It was fucking amazing!

*The fact that David Lee Roth is Christene's favourite concert, and not some fruity new pop band or something else lame, gives her big-time points in my books.

Christene: What was my first car?
Me: Hmmm.... a Sunfire?
Christene: No.
Me: That old Audi?
Christene: No.
Me: Some kind of Asuna?
Christene: NO!
Me: Oh, the Neon. The Neon was the first!
Christene: The 1990 Ford Tempo!

For the record, Christene didn't guess my first car either - she chose the Mustang over my real first car, a rusty 1983 Honda Accord. But other than the real easy ones ("What colour are my eyes?) the only mildy tough - and I stress the world mildly - question I answered correctly on the first try was when Christene asked me how many dogs/cats she had at various points growing up, and their corresponding names.

For the record, the answer was the following: Dogs: 1 chihuahua (Mitzy), 2 boxers (Molly and Louise), and one Boston terrier (Athena). Cats: 2, Felix (who had no tail) and Little Mo (who is still kicking, and is pretty rad).

But overall, yeah, a pretty forgettable effort. But two things still work in my favour.

For starters, I have nine months to bone up on these facts before our second anniversary, and secondly, no matter what - even if between then and now I forget the things I did answer correctly, I'd still never stick Christene with the bill on our anniversary.

Unless, you know, the one thing I forget that night is my wallet.

:: Christene waits for her car to be fixed ::

Christene had about 45 minutes to kill the other day, while she waiting not-so-patiently for the Dodge dealership to be done with the quick-fix of her car's mirror. She was bored.

The following are messages I received in about a 45-second span.

"I wish a giant* would come along and write me one of those big cheques and pay for the car to be fixed."

"All the salesmen here are slimy douchebags."

"Seriously, I don't like them. If I had to work here, I'd drive one of the cars through the big glass windows."

"You know... just like the monster truck in Roadhouse."

Then, mercifully, a 10 second break...

Christene: The fixing guy just walked past me and told me that my car is almost done."

Me: The fixing guy? You mean the mechanic?

Christene: I suppose you could call him that.

The lesson here? Don't let your girlfriend break her car's side mirror. And if she does, maybe turn off your phone while she gets it fixed.

*full disclosure: Christene and I have an inside joke about giants. Usually she wishes "a giant would come along" because she wants to be picked up by said giant and moved to wherever it is she is too lazy to go.

:: New digs ::



Behold, our new house! Or at least a close approximation (our house is indeed brick, but is not an end-unit. This was the best picture I could find online).

We don't move until September-October though, so right now our "new house" is actually a pile of dirt, but it's still exciting. Until then, we'll play the waiting game.

It's been retardedly stressful the last month, between deciding to sell/actually selling/paperwork/offers/revised offers/revised-a-third-time offers/roof issues, etc... but it's all coming to a close now, and in a little less than a month, I'll have vacated my former home and will be temporarily shacking up in Cloverdale, where the rent is cheap (good) and we share a basement with an old, friendly orange cat whose company I've grown to quite enjoy (better) and a large, always stocked wine rack (best).

It's going to be sad to leave this place, for a number of reasons I'll get to in a later post, but for now I won't get to nostalgic for the days of yore (ie: four years ago when Kyle and I used to get blitzed at 3 p.m. on Friday afternoons, watching Simpsons re-runs while others worked.)

No, now is a time for looking forward. To bigger and better things. To new (larger) mortgages, a new address, and most importantly, a new strata-free existence where I can paint my fucking house bright god-damn yellow with blue stripes if I want to and no strata-president douchebag can tell me otherwise.

If it's OK with Christene, of course.

:: Track records and over-reacting ::

"When you said you were coming over, I thought we were going to have to clean out the basement again." - Christene's mom, when Christene went home for dinner one night this week, without me, because I had a prior commitment.

I guess this sort of thing has happened before.