AndrewZRX: Motorcycles, Birth Classes and Roundabouts

This is a guest posting from AndrewZRX:

I recently blew up my motorcycle. I wouldn’t do this every day, but I’d highly recommend you try it at least once.

Wait - how does pre-natal classes at 7:30 am on a fucking Saturday morning sound? With my tongue still pickled, too, from the scotch the night before. Soften that cervix, baby.

No, the motorcycle sounds better. Or it did, anyways, before it blew up. Have you ever seen piston rods blasting out the front-end of a high-revving four-cylinder 1100cc motorcycle engine?

The midwife droned on for three full hours, using stained, filthy props and plastic posters of a graphical nature. The most interesting bit was the bit about the placenta -- or, more precisely, what people do with it afterwards. Some bury it in the garden during the full moon. Incantations are involved. Some people take them home and eat them. Apparently they’re quite tasty with garlic.

Actually, neither have I. (Seen the piston rods etc.). But as it was happening I was worried about grievous bodily harm, if you follow. Luckily all is well. So says my wife at least.

Do Canadians eat their babies’ placentas? I don’t know. But I sure miss Canada. I have a soft spot for those Canadian government screw-ups. Scandals in Canada rarely involve 25 million lost records, or illegal wars, or the shooting of innocents in the back. Canadian screw-ups are generally benign, and I miss them.

I miss the seasons, too, but at least over here I can ride my bike year round. It gets slippy in the roundabouts sometimes, but you can still do it. Roundabouts are a good thing. We should have them in Canada.

Here a few things you should know about roundabouts:

• If you like, you can go round and round. Just keep going. Beware of dizziness.

• There can be several lanes in a roundabout. Incorrect use of roundabout lanes can result in permanent disfigurement and embarrassment. Utilize with caution.

• It’s usually best to figure out where you’re going before you enter the roundabout. Otherwise you may get herded and end up in East Kilbride.

• Roundabouts can creep on a man. You can prepare yourself for this irritating tendency by driving faster than everyone else. When the roundabout materializes out of the Scottish mist, just claim it as your own.

• Roundabouts are not the place to be gentle and kind. Be assertive. Exercise your roundabout rights.

• When you start seeing signs for East Kilbride, you are lost. Do not head for East Kilbride. Circle back and try again.

• Drive on the left. This can take some time to master. But it’s fairly important. Watch for roundabout combatants coming from the right.

• Roundabouts are a serious business. Remember this and you’ll do fine.

It seems there are a few things you should know about labour as well. But I can’t seem to remember. She kept heading off on these strange tangents, telling fragmented stories. My mind wandered. Once in awhile my ears would perk up, expecting to finally hear something useful. But then she’d backtrack again, and I’d drone out. I was thinking about a bass riff in a John Scofield song called Over Big Top. The bass gets right in there and opens up doors.

We’re due at the end of January, so I just bought a new motorcycle. It’s black and shiny and pulls wheelies without much effort. Maybe I’ll get a sidecar for the wean. Hopefully I won’t blow this one up too.

AndrewZRX lives in Scotland and bought the opportunity to post here from Zoom in an auction on eBay. If you are wondering what placenta looks like, he offers this link.

Field Report from Audrey

Earlier today, the lovely Audrey sent this report from Venice to update us on the progress she and the Independent Observer are making on their Italian research mission.

8:30 a.m. The IO woke with a start and saw it was too early to get up. He channel-surfed through CNN, Sky News, BBC World Service, ten Italian stations, one French station, and one German station. 'Street Legal' was on in Italian. Another Canadian drama was on the French channel, with subtitles en francais.

9:30 a.m. Breakfast in the elaborately frescoed dining room with Audrey. The IO tried to ignore the insistent American tourist who kept badgering the Japanese waitress: 'Two cappuccinos... two cappuccinos... two cappuccinos... two cappuccinos...' The IO ate a croissant with jam, two slices of ham, two pieces of Swiss cheese, a bowl of tinned peaches and fruiti di bosco yogurt. He yearned for fresh fruit. Although he was longing for a coffee, he delayed ordering his caffè Americano because of the irritating American tourist.

A gondolier sailed past the window singing O sole mio and the IO turned to the window and focussed his camera on the party of tourists in the boat. One of the tourists, a cute brunette, focussed her camera on him.

10:30 a.m. Leaving the hotel for a day of sightseeing, the IO says hello ('ciao!') to the comely receptionist, and wondered yet again if she was really Italian (she seemed to speak perfect Italian), or if she was Austrian, German or Swiss. Or Swiss-German? She was fair with freckles... He thought about asking her where she was from but Audrey's beckoning kept him on his path to the front door.

11:30 a.m. - 8:30 p.m. The IO was kept busy with tourist activities: the John Singer Sargent exhibition of Venetian paintings (marvellous!), shopping with Audrey (Her frequent plea: 'Sorry, sorry , sorry, but could we just look in this shoe store...'), a tour of the Doge's Palace, a walk along the canals, making mini-movies of pigeons in Piazza San Marco with Audrey.

8:30 p.m. Audrey asks 'Is that your friend?' The IO turns to see. A glamorous blonde floats across the Piazza San Marco in a long white skirt with a tight, light-pink blouse. It is the friend the IO is to meet. She embraces the IO and extends her hand to Audrey. All the men nearby are envious. The IO decides that it will be an interesting evening...

11:30 p.m. All have finished dinner. They are walking along the street, near the Rialto Bridge. The glamorous blonde is looking for a café that she remembers from the week before, when she was out with her classmates. Audrey is looking dejected - she is footsore and tired of drinking. She does not love wine as the others do. Plus, she is the third wheel! The IO does not notice that the glamorous blonde wants to be out and about, to have fun, to be seen, to be admired. His repeated requests to stop at quiet bars or to sit at quaint piers are rejected. However, when it is time to go home, he gallantly escorts the glamorous blonde to her boat, and then across the canal to the island where she has an apartment. He kisses her goodbye, on the cheeks. He returns to the hotel by vaporetto.

Venice has blindsided this reporter with her beauty.

In lieu of Conch Shell's Thursday post...

Our favourite street...

Another Weekend in Outer Space

Jupiter Ray Project

The Jupiter Ray project is a band. They played at Irene's on Sunday night. They have a cute lead singer named Shannon. She is married to the guy who sings beside her. He has a good steady government job. The band has enough material for one set, so for upcoming performances, we can expect opening acts. (Like Casey Comeau and the Centretown Wilderness Club who are worth seeing on their own.) Their name came from a TV show with a cult following, maybe the Simpsons. They fired one of their first drummers because he was too heavy (with the drumming, this wasn't a weight prejudice thing) and there are no hard feelings.

[How do I know all this? I ask questions. I was really smooth with the marital status: "Is that tall, attractive, blonde woman the lead singer for the Jupiter Ray Project?" I asked one of my informants. Upon being informed that she was, "What does her husband do?" See... That's the smooth way to find out if she's single.]

Here are some of the ways their music has been described by others:

• Folk rock;
• Country rock;
• Canadian roots;
• Melodic, rythm-centered, moody, often trippy, usually acoustic, roots-based music;
• Roots-rock-reggae with a touch of ska and soul; and
  
• Soulful country.

These are all fine with me. If the band is called something like "the Cowboy Junkies"...

But when they're called "The Jupiter Ray Project", I want laser beams, lyrics about robots and DNA and a theremin instead of a fiddle. (Even if it is that incredible Michael Ball fellow playing the fiddle.)

Plan 99

Given the disappointment at Irene's on Friday, I was pessimistic about the Plan 99 reading on Saturday. It was in this bar on Elgin Street called the Manx. Still, Plan 99 is from Outer Space, so perhaps I'd be in luck.

And I was! Being completely unfamiliar with this Manx place, I had no idea that it is the closest thing Ottawa has to the Mos Eisley Cantina.

This fellow Steven Ross Smith began reading what we'd been told was "poetry", but I quickly realized it was something entirely different: viral software intended to shatter a human brain into a Tralfamadorian time warp where all of a life's moments happen simultaneously.

I innoculated myself from this by jotting lines down as I was able to catch them:

the contest poem is an unfettered dog...

recombinant dna alphabet drives me...

maze, a white-tipped sea...

five and a half decades slipping away...

Then Shane Rhodes read his viral programming. His work had more of a narrative flow and would have been less effective at creating time rifts, but most of the audience had been weakened by Ross Smith.

"The only way I've found to kill cockroaches is to tell them tales of depravity."

I was excited that he would be reading about the Birth of Venus until he mentioned it was a pretentious poem about a Botticelli painting, not an ode to the creation of a planet.

"How pretentious can you be when it's printed on napkins?"

But he ended the poem with the words:

"...uranium collapses on a deuterium core."

So it wasn't a total loss.

Oddly enough, he described his concluding piece as a country/western poem. In my experience, the old west and outer space often do not mix well (every cowboy plot episode of Star Trek, new or old, sucks.) But it's been suggested I should be more open-minded (i.e. FireFly).

Before leaving the Manx, I should point out that the art on the wall by an artist named Jenn Farr made me nostalgic for a number of alien planets I've visited.

Exploring Outer Space without a Spaceship

With the serious shortage of positions for trained space pirates, I've been forced to find creative ways to explore strange new worlds. This weekend, Coyote joined me on an inner solar system tour of Ottawa.

Lounging on Mercury

We started Friday evening with a voyage to the Mercury Lounge.

We arrived as the inhabitants were engaged in what is apparently a regular celebration they call World Beats and Eats.

Formalities at the entry port were easy, we simply exchanged currency and received a stamp. As we had no passports, they stamped our wrists.

Coyote and I pondered why the females were generally dressed much better than the males. Coyote said he'd heard that females dress for each other. I observed that I had no proof of this, but suspected it might be true of the males as well. Maybe the males deliberately dress like slobs so that other males will not assume they are gay and beat them up.

The Coffee Planet

Our next stop was Planet Coffee. All the natives were consuming a tasty warm beverage and we did our best to blend in. Coyote also ordered a lemon square (apparently sometimes a canine is not in the mood for biscotti). I ordered a Nanaimo bar. It turned out they don't have Nanaimo bars and the young woman taking our orders thought I also ordered a lemon square. This meant that I got a cheesecake square for the lower price of a lemon square.

While Coyote and I enjoyed our beverages, I teased him about his cousin Adrian in Chicago. Bad enough he was discovered and captured, but in a Quiznos!

Planet Ink and Universal Tattoo

Our orbital path home took us past both Planet Ink and Universal Tattoo, but we decided to save our explorations there for another day. Coyote seems to be particularly concerned that every part of his anatomy is heading towards flabby sag and therefore unsuitable for permanent markings.

Breakfast on Venus

Saturday morning the Research Director joined us at the Café Venus for a morning repast. We all enjoyed our breakfasts. I had to ask Coyote what type of meat he'd been given because I didn't recognize it. "Sausage," he told me. As a space explorer, you have to be prepared for this sort of thing: sausage that is flat and rectangular.

We had a wide-ranging discussion. The others were intrigued by my discovery of the PlentyofFish dating service where they make the users do a Meyers-Briggs personality test before they let them search for potential mates. As an ENTJ, this makes excellent sense to me. God forbid I should wind up with and E or I SFP.

Another feature of the PlentyofFish that we all found amusing is that people can specify criteria that others must meet in order to send them messages and one that women seem to often choose is "Must not have messaged users looking for intimate encounters or sex."

Apparently, these women live on a planet where they have a chance of finding a man who has never been interested in casual sex.

[The Ottawa Solar System Map]