PuBlog - Heartattack and Frank(s)

Fieldwork at the Elgin Street Diner, by Aggie, Woodsy, 4th Dwarf, and Coyote.

Pluses (Concepts to Steal)

• Big booths with comfy seating!
• A congenial view of Elgin Street, centre of the known universe;
• Beer on tap;
• ALL! KINDS! OF! POUTINE! They even have a dedicated section in the menu.

Minuses (Things to Avoid)

• Not so much space under the booth for illicit doggie types who were smuggled into the diner in backpacks and didn't want big trouble with health inspectors. They got kicked. I don't think anybody did it on purpose. Well, maybe that Dwarf. But he's such a shortass, he couldn't really reach me.
• The view of Elgin Street was kind of lost on those of us hiding under the table. Although the others were kind enough to describe what I was missing, and suggest that it was too bad I couldn't stick my head out to look, because the cat parade was really something;
• The beer on tap was domestic. Not microbrew. Selection, according to the Dwarf, was in the tradition of Canadian major brewers: thin, and kinda undistinguished;
• Poutine may just be the single most lethal food known to humanity Or caninity.

Background:
Longtime ESI readers probably suspect (correctly) that by now we've left enough loose ends strewn in our narrative wake to stock a world-class hair extension factory. PuBlog research is one such thread. It's about touring city eateries, baldfacedly swiping their best ideas, pewpewing their worst, and using the intel thus gained to start our own pub best damn pub in the world.

We recorded our last true PuBlog post even before the Dwarf started cooking up his Revolutionary New Dating Paradigm. You'll notice, if ennui hasn't knocked you out yet, that he's been on it for nearly two years and 30 posts. It still ain't baked. Sadly, neither is the ESI pub. But we persevere. And I dogress.

Summary:
We who orbit Woodsy and Aggie know all too well that, despite deceptively delicate demeanours, either is at any moment fully capable of inducing heart attacks in the unsuspecting, for all sorts of risque reasons. But I have never before witnessed 'em scarfing heart attacks on plates...

Dog-tired and starved after a full, lunchless day of full-bore Hallowe'en costuming, Woodsy dove straight for the four-cheese poutine. Amid heated speculation about which four cheeses, exactly, were involved, Woodsy double-dog-dared Agatha to order the same thing. Aggie, her blood glucose levels not so deficient that she couldn't rouse a mild fit of oppositional defiance, ordered chili poutine instead. The Short Guy, pursuing the best of all possible worlds, had a brace of chili-cheese dogs with fries. Nobody heard me ask for catburger from under the table, but all three slipped me fries off their plates to make up for it. Well, okay, the Dwarf tried to pelt me with his. But I am talented. I caught 'em and ate 'em. Thank you, Short Guy!

Conclusion:
Puh-lease. Exhaustion? Mega calories? Empty stomachs? Instant snooze-out. Everybody sloped off for post-prandial naps. At 6:30 on a Saturday night. Jeez, we're dull! Aggie said something about feeling really full and a little ill. But she still gave me a ride home. And let me stick my head out the car window and hang my tongue in the wind on the way. She indulges me. And maybe over-indulged herself...

ESI - Smarter Than Fifth Graders

Aggie's Pirate Chest Nestled Next to Her Favourite Port

Aggie, Fourth Dwarf, and I met at Pandora's house in the sky to play LOOT - The Plundering Pirate Card Game, and drink some of Aggie's economical winter drink.

"The game is for ages ten and up," I comment innocently.

"Oh, that means it's going to be hard," worries Aggie sweetly.

"A ten year old is a fifth grader," adds Fourth Dwarf.

"That's when kids are at their smartest," Pandora elaborates.

"That right, Pandora," concludes Fourth Dwarf, "and that's why so many people aren't smarter then a fifth grader."

Tea-Shirt Advice

I can't decide which Tea-Shirt by Fourth Dwarf I should order for myself.

What Tea-Shirt would you like to see on me?
	Coming Through
	Woodsy's Web
	Putting Out
	Mad for Tea
Free polls from Pollhost.com

NSFW*: ESI Corset Friday

Okay, the election does not engage us. Or, apparently, anybody except campaigning politicians. So far it manifests all the charisma of the Tory blue lint on the PM's "for advertising purposes only" sweater vest - which manifests rather more charisma than the PM. What to post, what to post?

A number of us this week have been riffin' on the redoubtable, antipodal NurseMyra's gig. Her weekly Corset Friday postings are kind of a big deal in certain circles. It's a bit complicated to explain, but they seem to cheer up the inmates patients at Gimcrack Hospital, where she works.

Apparently somebody has been riffing much longer. Harmony commented yesterday that some unnamed vandal had used their Mad Photo Editing Skillz to add an item of intimate apparel to my sidebar icon. So I braced the Short Guy. He said, nonchalantly, that he'd put it there weeks ago.

Weeks? Weeks?! I draw two ummm, three lessons from this:

• First, Dear Reader, keep your eyes on all parts of this blog at all times: ya can't keep up to it without a program. Even, apparently, when you're an Irregular.
• Second, if you Photoshop a coyote's photo, you will be repaid in kind...
• Third, and just in: it seems that tagging an image with "crossdressing dwarf" is a recipe for instant search engine megahits. Who knew?

* Not Safe For Work. But you knew that already...

Slavishly Devoted to Buffy

I asked Fourth Dwarf if he liked Buffy.

"Do I like Buffy?" he responded in his usual sexy voice. "Buffy the Vampire Slayer? I was only slavishly devoted to the show since the third episode originally aired. You know how I'm obsessed with Battlestar Galactica? Buffy was worse."

"Well, hum, Buffy is going to be at Westfest," I squeaked out.

I paid for my deceit. Dwarfie loved this other Buffy too, but so that he could see above the crowds he insisted on sitting on my shoulders during the whole evening.

FLASHFLASHFLASH!!!!!

Uh oh. Suddenly, Shania Twain is single again... and 4th Dwarf is a die-hard country music fan. When in his cups, he's been known to publicly bemoan the fact that Canada's Country Music Cutie In Incredibly Abbreviated Outfits ever got married. He always said it should've been her bed his moonboots were under. Fourteen years ago, and the shock still feels just like yesterday to him. She broke Dwarfie's heart. Oh, sure, he says he burned all of her CDs, but on certain dark nights, the sound of her digitally-enhanced voice could still be heard seeping beneath the door of his grotto, singing harmony to loud tormented wails. It was all very embarrassing.

What effect this earth shattering news will have on his revolutionary new dating paradigm research is anybody's guess. Will Dwarf's hope rise, phoenix--like? I dunno. But I bet this'll probably be interestin'...

Taxi Driver Story I: My Don Juan

A few nights ago, after a date with a cute pixie, I hailed a taxi to go home.

“Hello pretty lady,” the young, swarthy taxi driver amiably says even before my itsy bitsy rear end is comfortably positioned on the seat.

Hmmm, he’s good, I think. He’s managed to cover up creepiness in his voice completely. So, what’s he up to? Is this just an innocent comment? Something he says to all the women who get into his cab?

He starts chatting. I learn that he is a full-time taxi driver and a part time student, and that he is 20 years younger than I am.

Then, somehow in the midst of talking about school and the courses he is taking, he turns on the overhead light, spins his head around to face me, flutters his long black eye-lashes at me and declares, “I prefer mature women!”

He turns back to facing the road, and turns off the light. I hear him chuckle.

“You prefer mature women? How mature?” I question.

He turns around again, the light goes on once more, and he presents me with a pout this time. “Your age.” he says softly.

I can’t help but feel that this young Don Juan pup has taken lessons from 4D in wooing women.

He returns to a safe driving position, the light is turned off again, and another chuckle is perceived.

“And why do you prefer older women?” I ask, determined to control the conversation.

“I like that they are experienced, that they do not have inhibitions, that they never have headaches, and that they take care of me…”

“So, are you married?” I ask, knowing fully well that he is. He wears a wedding band.

No chuckle this time. He is serious as he says, “I don’t know why, but I feel comfortable telling you this. I don’t usually tell women this (I don’t believe him), but my wife is cold. She is a good mother and a good wife, but she is cold. You understand what I mean, right?”

It’s a long ride and he continues, asking me directly at one point if I will consider being his lover. The overhead light is turned on many times, and many times he twists around and purrs, “Look at my lips… Don’t you want to know more about these lips? Don’t you want kisses from these lips?”

I am quick at deflecting, and getting him to talk more about his wife and children.

He starts laughing after a while, and resorts to chatting in a friendly manner. He stops pursuing me, and wants to know what kissing means to me. It is a serious question.

When we arrive at my place, he tries one last time, “Are you sure that you are not interested?”

“Yes, I am sure.” I repeat confidently.

“Listen,” I say, “think about this when you go home to your wife tonight. You claim that you like older women, correct? Well, that beautiful young wife of yours will one day be a mature woman. She will be the kind of woman you desire.”

He smiles at me. I suspect that I have made a point.

As I hand him the fare, he takes my hand and kisses it gently and says goodnight.

I am not offended. He has conceded defeat in a gentlemanly manner.

But, I am left to wonder about one part of the conversation… what does kissing really mean to most people?

Another Friday Night with Fourth Dwarf

"Care to see a flick Friday night?" a pretty pixie asked me this week.

Always liking it when the lady makes the first move, I happily agreed. "What are we going to see?"

"There will be Blood," she told me.

"Gee, sweety," I said. "I don't like vampire movies."

"Don't worry," she said, "it's not a vampire movie. You'll like it, I promise."

"Oh, ho!" I thought. "It must be a pirate movie!" (Wrong, but I'm getting ahead of myself.)

Dinner at the Buffet Moni Mahal

The Buffet Moni Mahal has the best Indian buffet in downtown Ottawa or the Glebe. (I've tried them all unless a new Indian restaurant has opened in the last month.) The price is lower than most and it has a wider variety of items. In fact, at least double the number of dishes you'll find at Haveli or the East India Company.

There is always butter chicken. There is always egg plant. There is always spinach.

We both enjoyed our meals. The staff said nothing about the number of plates I used.

Moni Mahal Buffet
164 Laurier Avenue West, Ottawa, ON K1P 5J4
Tel: 613-234-8882

[Many online references have the Moni Mahal on Laurier Ave East. This is wrong. And may embarrass you if you take a taxi from Slater Street.]

There will be Blood

It's not a vampire movie and it's not a pirate movie. It's a mining movie! To be specific, it's about the early days of oil drilling, but it starts in a gold pit. It brought me back to my youth, I tell you.

I was fascinated because I've had little experience with oil. Sticking mostly with salt, coal and of course, the precious gems and minerals. But I can tell you, the scenes in the pits were realistic.

The movie also had lovely music from the London Philharmonic except that a lot of the time you could tell that something horrible was going to happen just because the music was so loud and screechy. Can't they hear those violins? Don't they know that she's about to blow?

Favourite quote: "I'd like you better if you didn't treat me like I was stupid."

Noteworthy credits:

• Standby Greens - Ryan Bust [He has an entry on IMdb; And this article says "The greensman is a specialist who decides how and where to place plants and greenery in the film scenes."]
• Albert Chi as himself [How can a movie set between 1899 and 1929 have someone playing themself? But on IMdb, I see that he is listed as "assistant: Mr. Anderson" and Paul Thomas Anderson was the Director.
  
• "This motion picture was carbon neutral" [Which is quite an accomplishment given that they had an oil well fire and some cool explosions. On the other hand, Industrial Light and Magic had lots of credits, so maybe that was all animation. Still, I had to wonder, if ILM was involved, why couldn't they make it look like the wheels on the old cars were rolling forward instead of backward?
  

Avatar Battles: What I'm talking about

Best quote: "We need a dwarf!"

The Seven Things Chain Letter

Megan, whom we normally like, fucking tagged us. So we're supposed to do a posting with seven random facts about us.

1. The Elgin Street Irregulars are six actual human beings and not one disturbed individual pretending to be different people.
2. Coyote has been reminded by 4D at least once that he is an actual human being and not a literal coyote.
3. Agatha once decided to write postings profiling each of the ESIs but only wrote one for the Chair.
4. The other ESIs have all acted like they are okay with this, but we probably all wonder why she didn't write that one profile about us instead.
5. There is no fifth random fact about the ESIs.
6. The "no fifth" running gag began when some of the ESIs decided to start using "fifth" and "muse" in their postings so that the Fifth Muse might find us if she did a vanity google.
7. The Fourth Dwarf likes to think he would be Doc, but is far more often compared to Grumpy.

Now, we get to tag others. Any nominations?

Slight technical difficulties...

"I told ya not to fire them damn rockets, Short Guy. I don't know how to navigate uppy-downy arcs through the freakin' air. Especially at high speed. After that explosion on the Decarie, er, launch pad, we're really lucky we even went the right direction.

"So, why doncha just cool yer jets while that nice RCMP guy in the front of this cruiser checks our IDs. Ya gotta expect these kindsa holdups when ya land in a flaming wreck in the Parliamentary Precinct before dawn. And hey: I can smell Elgin Street from here!

"I'm pretty sure we'll get past the whole racial profiling thing with flying colours; no terrorists here. You're a short-arse space pirate, I'm a smartass talkin' dog, and we just plowed into the lawn behind the Parliamentary Library -- what could be more normal? We'll get outta this in plenty of time for you to scoff fries when The Usual Spot opens.

"Meantime, why doncha mellow out and watch the pretty eclipse? Us coyotes always say ya don't have to actually land on the moon to appreciate it..."

The Long Road Back to Elgin Street

Umm, so, here I am in the interestin' position of shotgunnin' in 4th Dwarf's primo ride, on the way back from the ESI Beachfront Timeshare™. (Don'cha just love WiFi?)

Unfortunately, we've been stuck in permanent gridlock on the Decarie Expressway in Montreal for days now. Something about a subway collapse downtown rerouting all the traffic out here in the 'burbs. And, oh, maybe the fact that the navigator is a teensy bit bad with maps.

Lookit, I work mostly by smell, for cripes' sake.

While I can handle the gnashing teeth and sotto voce cussing (Hey. I'm the one doin' it, after all...) I am becoming increasingly nervous when the Short Guy starts muttering darkly about "cracking the taps on the liquid oxygen tanks and torching off the retro boosters to get the f*ck outta here". 'Specially since all I can see back there is a two-horsepower Evinrude and a coupla leftover propane cartridges....

We'll make it back eventually, I keep telling him. We'll be fine. Hell, we have Jerky Treats™ up the wazoo in this thing. But all he does is moan about the perfection of the fries at The Usual Spot on Elgin Street, and how long it's been since he's had any, and droolin' in a most unseemly way. Frankly, I fear for his sanity. And maybe mine...

Fourth Dwarf on Facebook

When I first heard about Facebook, I assumed it was the devil's tool. I still think it may be. 4th Dwarf announced last evening that he is a proud Facebook user and that he has lots of "friends", including an ex who solicited him to be her "friend" moments after his setting up the account.

I asked Dwarfie to explain what he does on Facebook and he said, "I talk to my friends." He seemed pleased with himself. He also talked about the "wall", and I never understood what this was all about. Writing on the wall? Everyone sees the writing on the wall? I don't get it.

Dwarfie was particularly proud of his Facebook photo which he said was very flattering. Congratulations to 4th Dwarf for being the most technologically advanced Irregular!

An example of 4D's luck with dating

I'm back - with deep thoughts

Yes, it's been a long time since I've posted here. I may have a Publog report up later today. Why so quiet on the blog? Two reasons.

First, I've been trying to get somewhere with ESI merchandise. The holiday season reminded me that I promised a long time ago to come up with the Elgin Street Irregulars Boardgame.

Second, I read Agatha's Random Musings hmmph, I thought, I suppose Aggie thinks she's the only one who has deep thoughts like that. I know people think of me as the comic relief around here, why else am I the only one who gets left hanging out to dry and blamed for everything that gets wrong? But I have deep thoughts too, you know.

And I have been compiling them for you:

1. If the people who make CSI can show you the path of a bullet going through a person's torso shattering organs and blood vessels at a microscopic level, how come they can't make the wheels on cars look like they're rolling forwards?
   


2. If I wrote fan fiction, I'd write: Harry Potter and the Mature Students Association. Harry goes back to magic grad school in his 40s. Ron and Hermione tease him about his 25-year-old classmates.
   


3. If Howard Epstein, the Nova Scotia MLA gets his An Act to Repeal the Treasure Trove Act passed, will it be a good thing or a bad thing? (A) With the act repealed if I find pirate treasure, I get to legally keep it all, but (B) I'd keep it all anyway, because since when does a pirate tell the government about finding another pirate's treasure, and (C) suppose I bury some treasure in Nova Scotia, the repeal of the Treasure Trove Act might make law-abiding non-pirates go treasure hunting because it will be more lucrative for them. So... bad thing. If only we pirates were better politically organized.


4. If I ever suspect that someone I know is a space alien, I will invite them to a birthday party. If they bring a gift in a box that you can open by just lifting off the nicely wrapped lid, I will know for sure they are an alien because only people on TV wrap gifts that way and space aliens learn how to impersonate us by watching TV. Also if they use words like "rassin-frassin" to swear, I will know they only got broadcast TV and not cable.


5. Should the ESI game use a spinner? or giant dice?

Speaking of the the game again, it looks like my best ideas have already been taken by an Asian company:



[Explanation available at short pants, long story]

[p.s. I've posted another brilliant Google Poem]