Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Horse First, Cart Second (The Dan-ist Conspiracy)
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Miss Mercedes, Male Privilege & Today's Question
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Saturday, October 10, 2009
Blogs, Breasts & Bodyslams
OSCW Thriller is this Saturday. 5$ of each ticket sold is going to breast cancer. So come out and show some support. The main event is a triple-threat match between Eclipse, "The Athlete" Alexander Hale, and "Cold as Ice (*)" William Saint.
Shoot me an email for ticket info or else pick them up at the door on the day of the show, which starts at 7pm sharp at Hazeldean Community Hall (9630-66 Ave) in Edmonton
I'll be assisting with meditation instruction this week at the Strathcona Library. I will be talking about Precepts. Which means I have to give some thought as to what I'm talking about it.
So I did what I always do when I need to work out ideas about something--I started a blog.
So now, in addition to my scandalously irregularly updated blogs about relationships, wrestling, comedy, and umm...psychotherapy for 80s toy robots (I'm embarrassed about that one), I now have a blog exploring Buddhism.
It's called the Compassionate Degenerate, and you can find it here.
See you at the show Monday, everybody. Have an awesome Thanksgiving.
UPCOMING EVENTS
COMEDY
Monday, October 12 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Wednesday, October 21 - Rouge Lounge, Edmonton
WRESTLING
Saturday, October 17 - OSCW Thriller, Hazeldean Community Hall, Edmonton
MEDITATION INSTRUCTION (I'll only be helping)
Saturday, October 17 - Strathcona Public Libary, Edmonton (10AM)
WRITING
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at suicidegirls.com. Latest article is here.
(*) And no, he doesn't use Foreigner as his entrance music. But he should.
Shoot me an email for ticket info or else pick them up at the door on the day of the show, which starts at 7pm sharp at Hazeldean Community Hall (9630-66 Ave) in Edmonton
I'll be assisting with meditation instruction this week at the Strathcona Library. I will be talking about Precepts. Which means I have to give some thought as to what I'm talking about it.
So I did what I always do when I need to work out ideas about something--I started a blog.
So now, in addition to my scandalously irregularly updated blogs about relationships, wrestling, comedy, and umm...psychotherapy for 80s toy robots (I'm embarrassed about that one), I now have a blog exploring Buddhism.
It's called the Compassionate Degenerate, and you can find it here.
See you at the show Monday, everybody. Have an awesome Thanksgiving.
UPCOMING EVENTS
COMEDY
Monday, October 12 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Wednesday, October 21 - Rouge Lounge, Edmonton
WRESTLING
Saturday, October 17 - OSCW Thriller, Hazeldean Community Hall, Edmonton
MEDITATION INSTRUCTION (I'll only be helping)
Saturday, October 17 - Strathcona Public Libary, Edmonton (10AM)
WRITING
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at suicidegirls.com. Latest article is here.
(*) And no, he doesn't use Foreigner as his entrance music. But he should.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Reasons I Love Comedy (# 13352)
"I kind of like bad shows. Because all of us have done lots of good shows and we never remember them. But when you're part of something truly awful...that's a show people will remember and be talking about for years."
-Andrew Iwanyk
-Andrew Iwanyk
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Saturday, October 03, 2009
New Suicide Girls Article Up
It's about How to Ask Good Questions. It's one of those skills that seems simple, but with a little refinement, comes in handy when making connections with people.
You'll find the article here.
You'll find the article here.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Good Decision/Bad Decision
I sometimes feel sorry for people who drive.
Walking home from the gig last night, I came across a church in Calgary called St. Mary's...which looked gorgeous under the moon. I never would have seen it had I not walked the 80 blocks from the show to the hotel.
I also would not have had the walk-in-the-dark-with-no-sidewalk-into-oncoming-traffic-on-a-six-lane-street experience, but a quick fence hop later, and things were fine. Except I was in a graveyard. No zombies, sadly.
I also seem to have a nose for finding comedy gigs. Partway into my walk to the Broken CIty show, I found the Comedy Cave two blocks from my hotel (doh!). On the way back, I came across the Elbow River Casino which hosts a Yuk Yuks show.
Walking a place really helps you get to know it better. The only downside is overpasses and fatigue--which leads to bad decisions.
It's been a busy weekend. I hosted a wrestling show Saturday, headed down to Calgary Sunday, did the show Monday, and have a conference presentation today. I DID miss Karaoke though--got back to the hotel too late.
I've learned over the weekend I have a game I like to play called Good Decision/Bad Decision. Basically what you do is you deliberately make choices that put you in a tough spot and then try and figure your way out in a way that minimizes the consequences.
The best part about the game is it's fun for people on both ends of the self-esteem spectrum because you can play the game as a way of building self-reliance or as a subtle form of self-sabotage.
Happy Playing!
Walking home from the gig last night, I came across a church in Calgary called St. Mary's...which looked gorgeous under the moon. I never would have seen it had I not walked the 80 blocks from the show to the hotel.
I also would not have had the walk-in-the-dark-with-no-sidewalk-into-oncoming-traffic-on-a-six-lane-street experience, but a quick fence hop later, and things were fine. Except I was in a graveyard. No zombies, sadly.
I also seem to have a nose for finding comedy gigs. Partway into my walk to the Broken CIty show, I found the Comedy Cave two blocks from my hotel (doh!). On the way back, I came across the Elbow River Casino which hosts a Yuk Yuks show.
Walking a place really helps you get to know it better. The only downside is overpasses and fatigue--which leads to bad decisions.
It's been a busy weekend. I hosted a wrestling show Saturday, headed down to Calgary Sunday, did the show Monday, and have a conference presentation today. I DID miss Karaoke though--got back to the hotel too late.
I've learned over the weekend I have a game I like to play called Good Decision/Bad Decision. Basically what you do is you deliberately make choices that put you in a tough spot and then try and figure your way out in a way that minimizes the consequences.
The best part about the game is it's fun for people on both ends of the self-esteem spectrum because you can play the game as a way of building self-reliance or as a subtle form of self-sabotage.
Happy Playing!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Upcoming Comedy
Come to My shows...
UPCOMING COMEDY
Monday, September 28 - Broken City, Calgary
Tuesday, October 6 - New City, Edmonton
Monday, October 12 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
One of the problems with having a busy life is you don't get to write blog entries about how busy you are.
Then by the time you have time to sit down and write stuff out, it doesn't seem as exciting.
Ah, the existential angst of blogging.
The October New City Show theme is Time Travel. If you can do it, jump forward a week and let me know how it went.
UPCOMING COMEDY
Monday, September 28 - Broken City, Calgary
Tuesday, October 6 - New City, Edmonton
Monday, October 12 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
One of the problems with having a busy life is you don't get to write blog entries about how busy you are.
Then by the time you have time to sit down and write stuff out, it doesn't seem as exciting.
Ah, the existential angst of blogging.
The October New City Show theme is Time Travel. If you can do it, jump forward a week and let me know how it went.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
New Suicide Girls Article
My latest Suicide Girls article is up. You can read it here. There are mysterious squares all over it, at least on my computer.
Head on over and solve the mystery.
In other news, this article is fantastic. Except for the fact that it's about baseball and I didn't write it. But it's funny and makes some great points.
Head on over and solve the mystery.
In other news, this article is fantastic. Except for the fact that it's about baseball and I didn't write it. But it's funny and makes some great points.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
An Editorial
A Facebook friend of mine posted this note. If you're too lazy to look (or not on Facebook), here's the short version: it's on marketing.
I found it kind of a downer.
This isn't a personal shot against the fellow who posted the note. I don't know if he personally subscribes to this mentality (He DOES refer to it as "Lies and Truth"). Heck, I don't even know if he wrote it himself or if he found it somewhere else and forgot to credit his source (Assuming a source could be found--not always such an easy thing on the internet, I've noticed).
Here's my problem with it.
All of the things in the note may be true. My beef is with the unspoken subtext: that success is measured by sales and popularity.
I have nothing against fortune and fame. I am allergic to many things, but you will find neither 'bling,' nor 'mad bitches' on that list. I would love to be rich. I would love to be famous (*).
HOWEVER...
I also think adopting sales or popularity as a benchmark for success is a great way to make yourself miserable. Because no matter how good your product, no matter how great your marketing plan, such things are largely out of your control. Yes, you can put yourself in the best possible position to succeed, but there are no guarantees.
To paraphrase something some editor said in a I once read book somewhere (**): "I can tell whether or not a book is good. I can't tell whether or not it will sell."
As I said, I don't have any moral objection to fame and fortune. I do have an objection to putting my sense of personal satisfaction in the hands of others.
Because you can't MAKE yourself commerically succesful. You can't MAKE yourself popular. That sort of status isn't something you can take. It's something other people give you for their own reasons in their own time.
As long as you are measuring yourself by outside standards, you are at the mercy of other people. You are tying your happiness to the mast to a ship that is not yours to captain.
Fuck that.
I know who I am. I know the standard I've set for myself, both as a performer and a human being. I know when I've done right and I know when I've fallen short whether there are 500 000 people watching, 15, or no one at all.
All things considered, I would rather have the 500 000. The more people I can reach, the better, especially if they're showering me with gifts, adoration, and cold hard cash. I want those things.
But I don't need them to tell me whether or not I'm successful. And neither, I suspect, does anybody else.
Because whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not, I think that is something that deep down, we already know.
(*) More precisely, I'd like to be famous for eight months, with an option to renew if I decided I liked it. But now we're splitting hairs.
(**) With that phrase, I officially give up my right to bitch about other people's lack of citations
I found it kind of a downer.
This isn't a personal shot against the fellow who posted the note. I don't know if he personally subscribes to this mentality (He DOES refer to it as "Lies and Truth"). Heck, I don't even know if he wrote it himself or if he found it somewhere else and forgot to credit his source (Assuming a source could be found--not always such an easy thing on the internet, I've noticed).
Here's my problem with it.
All of the things in the note may be true. My beef is with the unspoken subtext: that success is measured by sales and popularity.
I have nothing against fortune and fame. I am allergic to many things, but you will find neither 'bling,' nor 'mad bitches' on that list. I would love to be rich. I would love to be famous (*).
HOWEVER...
I also think adopting sales or popularity as a benchmark for success is a great way to make yourself miserable. Because no matter how good your product, no matter how great your marketing plan, such things are largely out of your control. Yes, you can put yourself in the best possible position to succeed, but there are no guarantees.
To paraphrase something some editor said in a I once read book somewhere (**): "I can tell whether or not a book is good. I can't tell whether or not it will sell."
As I said, I don't have any moral objection to fame and fortune. I do have an objection to putting my sense of personal satisfaction in the hands of others.
Because you can't MAKE yourself commerically succesful. You can't MAKE yourself popular. That sort of status isn't something you can take. It's something other people give you for their own reasons in their own time.
As long as you are measuring yourself by outside standards, you are at the mercy of other people. You are tying your happiness to the mast to a ship that is not yours to captain.
Fuck that.
I know who I am. I know the standard I've set for myself, both as a performer and a human being. I know when I've done right and I know when I've fallen short whether there are 500 000 people watching, 15, or no one at all.
All things considered, I would rather have the 500 000. The more people I can reach, the better, especially if they're showering me with gifts, adoration, and cold hard cash. I want those things.
But I don't need them to tell me whether or not I'm successful. And neither, I suspect, does anybody else.
Because whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not, I think that is something that deep down, we already know.
(*) More precisely, I'd like to be famous for eight months, with an option to renew if I decided I liked it. But now we're splitting hairs.
(**) With that phrase, I officially give up my right to bitch about other people's lack of citations
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Slow Ride
No exciting developments on the professional or interesting story front for a while. I DID however spend close to forty minutes yesterday imagining myself as the backup quarterback for an NFL team (I'm unspecific on which one because I haven't decided yet--New England would give me the most press, Green Bay is a sentimental favorite, but Atlanta apparently has a lot of attractive, educated women) who saves the day after the starter is injured.
Yep, clearly, NFL football season has started.
Time spent imagining the actual game: three minutes.
The rest was spent coming up with clever one-liners for post-game interviews.
Here's a sample:
INTERVIEWER: A storybook debut for you tonight on Monday Night Football, Dan. But what's your strategy next week against that tough Steelers defense?
DAN: I can't speak for my teammates, but I plan to call in sick. I'm thinking 'flu-like symptoms' or 'undisclosed lower body injury.'
INTERVIEWER & MILLIONS WATCHING AT HOME: Ha ha! This guy's great! Let's subscribe to his blog (In my fantasy I still have a blog. Although I have taken the liberty of making myself taller, younger, and more athletic, in every other respect, I am EXACTLY the same person and still have time to write and do comedy).
INTERVIEWER: Well, congratulations on your win.
DAN: Thank--cough, cough, sorry tickle in my throat--Thank you. (falls down clutching his leg) OWWW, MY GROIN!!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to compose my Hall of Fame induction speech. It'll be better than Jordan's (*), that's for sure.
(*)On a side note, my favorite basketball player, John Stockton was also just inducted into the basketball hall-of-fame. I appreciated him because he was relentlessly hard-working, smart, made the people around him better, and socially awkward--not unlike your humble correspondent. He was ahead of the curve on booty shorts.
Yep, clearly, NFL football season has started.
Time spent imagining the actual game: three minutes.
The rest was spent coming up with clever one-liners for post-game interviews.
Here's a sample:
INTERVIEWER: A storybook debut for you tonight on Monday Night Football, Dan. But what's your strategy next week against that tough Steelers defense?
DAN: I can't speak for my teammates, but I plan to call in sick. I'm thinking 'flu-like symptoms' or 'undisclosed lower body injury.'
INTERVIEWER & MILLIONS WATCHING AT HOME: Ha ha! This guy's great! Let's subscribe to his blog (In my fantasy I still have a blog. Although I have taken the liberty of making myself taller, younger, and more athletic, in every other respect, I am EXACTLY the same person and still have time to write and do comedy).
INTERVIEWER: Well, congratulations on your win.
DAN: Thank--cough, cough, sorry tickle in my throat--Thank you. (falls down clutching his leg) OWWW, MY GROIN!!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to compose my Hall of Fame induction speech. It'll be better than Jordan's (*), that's for sure.
(*)On a side note, my favorite basketball player, John Stockton was also just inducted into the basketball hall-of-fame. I appreciated him because he was relentlessly hard-working, smart, made the people around him better, and socially awkward--not unlike your humble correspondent. He was ahead of the curve on booty shorts.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Rage Of The Runaway Bride
Upcoming Comedy
Monday, September 7 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, September 26 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Saturday, October 17 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Saturday, November 21 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at www.suicidegirls.com. Current article is here.
More of Dan's musings on dating and relationships can be found on his Hot Chicks & Strangers blog.
I spent most of Saturday moping.
It was neat.
I used to get those feelings all the time this combination of sourceless unease and vague angst, kind of a 'what-am-I-doing-with-my-life-I'll-never-achieve-my-dreams" ball in the stomach. It didn't feel as strong or as intimidating as it used to. It was more like seeing an old friend.
So I ate Fruit Loops, watched wrestling DVDs, meditated, checked out some music and got enough work done on my comedy, writing, upcoming presentation for the CIRS conference (See? I can do Grown-Up Work too!), and other odds and ends that I couldn't get too mad at myself.
But Saturday night, ahh, Saturday night...
It was the Night of the Rage of the Runaway Bride.
Have you ever see a woman in a gorgeous wedding dress storming alone down a downtown street clogged with drunk partiers, homeless people and club doormen amidst a backdrop of nighclubs, Donair shops, and Money Mart loan places? It's an incongruous sight.
Here's what happened:
I was standing in line outside a bar with a bachelorette party. The bachelorette party was in good spirits, talking tipsily about their upcoming celebrations when out of nowhere this woman in a very nice wedding dress storms past screaming into her cell phone: "YOU RUINED MY WEDDING!! YOU DESTROYED IT!!!"
GIRL AT BACHELORETTE PARTY: (to the bride-to-be): This is NOT a good omen.
The bachelorette party reacted to her plight with the sort of compassion and nurturing for which tipsy young women are famous...they waited until she was out of earshot and started making fun of her.
But all of them had a nervous look in their eyes as they did so, like pilots joking about plane crashes. You could see it in their eyes. "If we laugh at it, maybe it won't happen to us."
Meanwhile, I went after the bride, partly because this looked like the sort of situation that called for a dating expert/crisis line worker and partly because I REALLY wanted to know what was going on.
She was quite far ahead of me at that point, but fortunately, a group of people eating at an outdoor patio saw me rushing past, noticed my suitjacket, leaped to a wrong-but-helpful-for-me conclusion and yelled, "Hey are you looking for a bride?"
I was.
They directed me around the block. I sprinted around the corner after my blushing blog entry-to-be...and skidded to a halt like a cartoon character.
There in front of me was the whole tableau. It looked like a painting: Newlyweds in Watercolor. In center foreground was our bride screaming at a young man in a tuxedo for "Dancing with HER at my wedding!" In the background left, a quartet of young east Indian men, oblivious to what was going on and yelling drunkenly at each other in their native tongue, and--and this is what made the piece for me, folks--off to the right, sitting surreptitiously on the curb at a polite, but still-within-earshot-distance of the unhappy couple, a woman in a bridesmaid dress with a bouquet in her lap and a cell phone in her hand, furiously texting play-by-play updates of the goings on back to her friends.
That's when I noticed something.
I wasn't moping anymore.
------------
As a post-script to this story, I ran into the bridesmaid later that night and chatted with her for a bit. As we were talking, the newlyweds came by again, this time holding hands.
So the story had a happy ending after all.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Ex-ual Healing (Also:New Suicide Girls Column Up)
Latest Suicide Girls article is up. It's on leading, which means I'm anticipating a modicum of controversy in the comments section.
You will find it here.
In other news, I had the good fortune to run into an ex- of mine, Cat in the Hat Girl on the bus (*).
My favorite exchange was while we were talking about how the mind cannot always distinguish between reality and the internet. Cat in the Hat girl mentioned that they often use computer programs and visualizations to train athletes.
DAN: So by that logic XXXX must be a great swordsman from playing all that World of Warcraft.
CAT IN THE HAT GIRL: He's got saddle sores from riding his raptor.
I forgot how clever she is.
I've been lucky to reconnect with a couple exes recently. In addition to seeing Cat in the Hat Girl, The Slayer and I (and her little dog too--the reincarnation of some Tibetan Buddhist Advsior to the Dali Lama) are reconciling as friends, and I'm enjoying it. It's curious seeing both of them and my current girlfriend within short time span, because it's kind of surprising to see how much they have in common.
The thing with exes is, often when I think of them, I don't think of THEM so much as about what I learned or how I grew from the relationship.
I think this is sometimes a problem in ongoing relationships as well, at least some of mine. You and your partner get so got up feeding and watering and tending the Relationship it grows between you into such a enormous thing that you lose sight of each other. You get so caught up working to make The Relationship work, you forget to stop and and appreciate each other.
Seeing my exes brings them back into focus and I can appreciate them as people instead of as a story from my past. I remember the things I like about them and how cool they are. Cat in the Hat Girl's wit, her world-view, and her unique organizational system. The Slayer's way of treating people, courage, and general geekery. You get to see them again as people.
Which is nice.
Another nice thing was the show last night. I was more angry and aggressive on stage. I was able to express a different dimension of myself in front of a roomful of strangers, and they were not only okay with it, they actually liked it.
As the line in American Beauty goes, It's a good feeling knowing you can still surprise yourself.
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, September 26 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Saturday, October 17 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Saturday, November 21 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at www.suicidegirls.com. Current article is here.
More of Dan's musings on dating and relationships can be found on his Hot Chicks & Strangers blog.
(*) I know I've written at least three Journal articles about her, but I'm unsure if she ever made the blog. If you're that interested check in the December 2006-May 2007 range.
You will find it here.
In other news, I had the good fortune to run into an ex- of mine, Cat in the Hat Girl on the bus (*).
My favorite exchange was while we were talking about how the mind cannot always distinguish between reality and the internet. Cat in the Hat girl mentioned that they often use computer programs and visualizations to train athletes.
DAN: So by that logic XXXX must be a great swordsman from playing all that World of Warcraft.
CAT IN THE HAT GIRL: He's got saddle sores from riding his raptor.
I forgot how clever she is.
I've been lucky to reconnect with a couple exes recently. In addition to seeing Cat in the Hat Girl, The Slayer and I (and her little dog too--the reincarnation of some Tibetan Buddhist Advsior to the Dali Lama) are reconciling as friends, and I'm enjoying it. It's curious seeing both of them and my current girlfriend within short time span, because it's kind of surprising to see how much they have in common.
The thing with exes is, often when I think of them, I don't think of THEM so much as about what I learned or how I grew from the relationship.
I think this is sometimes a problem in ongoing relationships as well, at least some of mine. You and your partner get so got up feeding and watering and tending the Relationship it grows between you into such a enormous thing that you lose sight of each other. You get so caught up working to make The Relationship work, you forget to stop and and appreciate each other.
Seeing my exes brings them back into focus and I can appreciate them as people instead of as a story from my past. I remember the things I like about them and how cool they are. Cat in the Hat Girl's wit, her world-view, and her unique organizational system. The Slayer's way of treating people, courage, and general geekery. You get to see them again as people.
Which is nice.
Another nice thing was the show last night. I was more angry and aggressive on stage. I was able to express a different dimension of myself in front of a roomful of strangers, and they were not only okay with it, they actually liked it.
As the line in American Beauty goes, It's a good feeling knowing you can still surprise yourself.
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, September 26 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Saturday, October 17 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Saturday, November 21 - OSCW, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at www.suicidegirls.com. Current article is here.
More of Dan's musings on dating and relationships can be found on his Hot Chicks & Strangers blog.
(*) I know I've written at least three Journal articles about her, but I'm unsure if she ever made the blog. If you're that interested check in the December 2006-May 2007 range.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Dan Leaves Nookie On The Table
Saturday night, during a routine OSCW post-show triathlon (karaoke, drinking, and woman-charming), a couple of the wrestlers and I found ourselves in one of those uncomfortable two women and three-guys situations. The women invited us back to their van for some free candy, and I ended up the odd man out for the stupid, nitpicky reason that I have a girlfriend I'm madly in love with.
Which is kind of annoying. Granted, in most cases, having a girlfriend would disqualify me from sharing in any shenanigans but in this case I feel there were a couple of extenuating circumstances.
Circumstance One: Both the wrestlers were injured. There was no way they could manage a van orgy, what with one of then nursing a sore arm and the other with a knee that locked into position with every other movement. We in the wrestling business have certain standards to maintain.
Circumstance Two: One of the girls LIKED me.
You know how some people who grow up broke are obsessed with money or people who grew up hungry often have issues around food? I'm like that with women.
Because I was never popular with the ladies growing up, I developed a mental rule that could be best described as "take any woman who likes you whether you feel a connection with them or not."
Or as the voice in my head Puts It, 'Don't Leave Nookie On the Table.'
Tired? Not feeling the connection? Already seeing someone else? Too bad, the voice tells me (in case you're wondering, the voice sounds suspiciously like a well-known African-American stand-up comic). "There are nerds starving in Africa who would be happy with The Nookie. You can't waste The Nookie. You never know when The Nookie will come round again."
I'm sure the voice in my head is well-intentioned, but I'm not convinced of the rightness of its cause, especially when it resorts to such a stock comic device of repeating the word "The Nookie" over and over, hoping that makes the bit funnier.
That was also one of the reasons I've been deeply afraid of committing to one relationship in my life. I was always worried temptation would come along and I wouldn't be able to resist.
Saturday night, I didn't have to resist. The choice was no choice at all, despite the voice's protestations. I found how easily I was able to walk away reassuring. Maybe I can do this commitment thing after all.
I walked to Bastet's house without looking back (although I did make a mental note to check the two wrestler's Facebook pages for any combination of the words "van" and "orgy").
I slipped in the door, rubbed the cat's belly, and went upstairs. I slipped into bed beside my love. She murmured in her sleep and woke up. We exchange pleasantries, and stories about our day (including the one I'm telling right now--I love how honest I feel talking about things like this with her) and she drifted back off to sleep in my arms.
It doesn't matter how much Nookie is left on the table. This is the only woman I need.
I dozed and snuggled closer, feeling the familiar warmth of her body, hearing the familar rhythm of her breath. Inside, I was aglow with the warmth of love and the self-satisfaction of moral uprightness. I had faced my insecurities and emerged victorious. Remain on the table, Nookie; I am nookie-obsessed no longer.
Then, as I was fading into slumber, the voice in my head, calling out as if from somewhere far away:
"But she LIKED you."
It never ends.
Which is kind of annoying. Granted, in most cases, having a girlfriend would disqualify me from sharing in any shenanigans but in this case I feel there were a couple of extenuating circumstances.
Circumstance One: Both the wrestlers were injured. There was no way they could manage a van orgy, what with one of then nursing a sore arm and the other with a knee that locked into position with every other movement. We in the wrestling business have certain standards to maintain.
Circumstance Two: One of the girls LIKED me.
You know how some people who grow up broke are obsessed with money or people who grew up hungry often have issues around food? I'm like that with women.
Because I was never popular with the ladies growing up, I developed a mental rule that could be best described as "take any woman who likes you whether you feel a connection with them or not."
Or as the voice in my head Puts It, 'Don't Leave Nookie On the Table.'
Tired? Not feeling the connection? Already seeing someone else? Too bad, the voice tells me (in case you're wondering, the voice sounds suspiciously like a well-known African-American stand-up comic). "There are nerds starving in Africa who would be happy with The Nookie. You can't waste The Nookie. You never know when The Nookie will come round again."
I'm sure the voice in my head is well-intentioned, but I'm not convinced of the rightness of its cause, especially when it resorts to such a stock comic device of repeating the word "The Nookie" over and over, hoping that makes the bit funnier.
That was also one of the reasons I've been deeply afraid of committing to one relationship in my life. I was always worried temptation would come along and I wouldn't be able to resist.
Saturday night, I didn't have to resist. The choice was no choice at all, despite the voice's protestations. I found how easily I was able to walk away reassuring. Maybe I can do this commitment thing after all.
I walked to Bastet's house without looking back (although I did make a mental note to check the two wrestler's Facebook pages for any combination of the words "van" and "orgy").
I slipped in the door, rubbed the cat's belly, and went upstairs. I slipped into bed beside my love. She murmured in her sleep and woke up. We exchange pleasantries, and stories about our day (including the one I'm telling right now--I love how honest I feel talking about things like this with her) and she drifted back off to sleep in my arms.
It doesn't matter how much Nookie is left on the table. This is the only woman I need.
I dozed and snuggled closer, feeling the familiar warmth of her body, hearing the familar rhythm of her breath. Inside, I was aglow with the warmth of love and the self-satisfaction of moral uprightness. I had faced my insecurities and emerged victorious. Remain on the table, Nookie; I am nookie-obsessed no longer.
Then, as I was fading into slumber, the voice in my head, calling out as if from somewhere far away:
"But she LIKED you."
It never ends.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Still Dan Brodribb. Tell Your Family I Said Hi
At the show yesterday, I was telling Sean Lecomber about my new approach to comedy and my frustrations at not always being able to make it work.
DAN: You know, I tell myself each time I go up, I'm going to do stuff differently. I'm going to be high energy and pump up the crowd, and then I get up there..."
SEAN:...and you're still Dan Brodribb.
DAN: Pretty much.
There's a moral in that exchange somewhere.
In other news, This is one of my favorite blogs.
If you enjoy voyeurism into someone's life and sexual dynamics, check it out. She's also a wonderful writer, which helps.
I enjoy reading it. It's been a springboard for some nice discussions with Bastet. I've occasionally wanted to write her a message telling her how much I enjoy her writing (Or worse, give her advice, which is doubly stupid considering what I myself wrote in paragraphs five and six of one of my own articles), but I can't quite figure out how to do it. I always found it disorienting when people who read my articles in the paper would come up to me and start talking about my personal life. Now I'm on the other side of the fence and trying to figure out how to show my appreciation without sounding creepy.
Let's try one out and see how it sounds.
"Hi
My girlfriend and I love your blog. We love deconstructing your personal life and analyzing you in between Scrabble and trips to the Farmer's Market. We especially like it when you try and find your place in the world, so keep up those feelings of alienation. We need the conversational fodder.
Dan
PS - Tell your family I said hi."
Hmm. I don't know.
Of course, I know she reads my blog, so maybe what I could do is write a post saying how much I like her writing but I'm uncertain about how to tell her.
And then she'll read it and send me a message going "I never know you felt that way. I like your blog too."
And then I'll be like "Will you be friends with me and my girlfriend?"
And she'll be like, "Yes, of course. I love your blog and your girlfriend's, which I magically found and identified, even though I have know way of knowing who she is or where I could find her blog because you feel it's intrusive to post anything that would allow anyone to identify your romantic interests to the casual reader. I like her. You two are a wonderful couple. I only wish I could somehow find the peace, happiness, and sagacity you two have found over the winding course of your life journey together."
And I'll modestly go. "Well, it's important to understand that these things take time. You can't rush them. Bastet and I have a special connection, true, but it's been forged in the fires of our--let's see what's the date today?--three months together."
And she'll be like. "Wow. Do you have any advice for me?"
And I'll be like: Well, I DO hate to give advice, but...(insert pearls of glorious golden wisdom here)
And she'll go: "God, of course. How could I have been so blind? Thank you Dan Brodribb. You are wise AND hilarious."
And she'll go on to be one of our closest friends and we'll get letters from her (REAL letters in flowing feminine script) updating us on her life and how much happiness she's found since she took my words to heart. And each year for the rest of our lives she'll send us a Christmas card from her, and Bastet and I will read them together, our eyes twinkling in our aged, weathered faces while a fire crackles warmly behind us in our cozy little house and then I will put my arm around Bastet and hold her close and I will be filled with a warm contented glow right up to the point I remember that NOTHING I WROTE IN THE LAST EIGHT PARAGRAPHS HAS ACTUALLY HAPPENED.
Yep. Still Dan Brodribb.
That's "Pretty Decent" Dan Brodribb to you.
I wouldn't be anyone else for the world.
DAN: You know, I tell myself each time I go up, I'm going to do stuff differently. I'm going to be high energy and pump up the crowd, and then I get up there..."
SEAN:...and you're still Dan Brodribb.
DAN: Pretty much.
There's a moral in that exchange somewhere.
In other news, This is one of my favorite blogs.
If you enjoy voyeurism into someone's life and sexual dynamics, check it out. She's also a wonderful writer, which helps.
I enjoy reading it. It's been a springboard for some nice discussions with Bastet. I've occasionally wanted to write her a message telling her how much I enjoy her writing (Or worse, give her advice, which is doubly stupid considering what I myself wrote in paragraphs five and six of one of my own articles), but I can't quite figure out how to do it. I always found it disorienting when people who read my articles in the paper would come up to me and start talking about my personal life. Now I'm on the other side of the fence and trying to figure out how to show my appreciation without sounding creepy.
Let's try one out and see how it sounds.
"Hi
My girlfriend and I love your blog. We love deconstructing your personal life and analyzing you in between Scrabble and trips to the Farmer's Market. We especially like it when you try and find your place in the world, so keep up those feelings of alienation. We need the conversational fodder.
Dan
PS - Tell your family I said hi."
Hmm. I don't know.
Of course, I know she reads my blog, so maybe what I could do is write a post saying how much I like her writing but I'm uncertain about how to tell her.
And then she'll read it and send me a message going "I never know you felt that way. I like your blog too."
And then I'll be like "Will you be friends with me and my girlfriend?"
And she'll be like, "Yes, of course. I love your blog and your girlfriend's, which I magically found and identified, even though I have know way of knowing who she is or where I could find her blog because you feel it's intrusive to post anything that would allow anyone to identify your romantic interests to the casual reader. I like her. You two are a wonderful couple. I only wish I could somehow find the peace, happiness, and sagacity you two have found over the winding course of your life journey together."
And I'll modestly go. "Well, it's important to understand that these things take time. You can't rush them. Bastet and I have a special connection, true, but it's been forged in the fires of our--let's see what's the date today?--three months together."
And she'll be like. "Wow. Do you have any advice for me?"
And I'll be like: Well, I DO hate to give advice, but...(insert pearls of glorious golden wisdom here)
And she'll go: "God, of course. How could I have been so blind? Thank you Dan Brodribb. You are wise AND hilarious."
And she'll go on to be one of our closest friends and we'll get letters from her (REAL letters in flowing feminine script) updating us on her life and how much happiness she's found since she took my words to heart. And each year for the rest of our lives she'll send us a Christmas card from her, and Bastet and I will read them together, our eyes twinkling in our aged, weathered faces while a fire crackles warmly behind us in our cozy little house and then I will put my arm around Bastet and hold her close and I will be filled with a warm contented glow right up to the point I remember that NOTHING I WROTE IN THE LAST EIGHT PARAGRAPHS HAS ACTUALLY HAPPENED.
Yep. Still Dan Brodribb.
That's "Pretty Decent" Dan Brodribb to you.
I wouldn't be anyone else for the world.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Happy Anniversary to Me
I just realized that this summer marks(*) the 20 year anniversary of my pro-wrestling fandom.
That's longer than all but two of my closest friendships and almost ten times longer than every committed romantic relationship I've ever been in COMBINED(**).
As Ron Simmons would say..."DAMN!"
I don't know how I will celebrate this. Definitely tonight ring-announcing at the OSCW show at the Hazeldean Dome. Maybe I'll treat myself to this DVD from Jim Cornette's website.
I've been watching the PPV from 1989 that started it all for me, SummerSlam 89 and trying to notice little things I didn't see the first time such as when the Red Rooster injured his knee in the match against Mr. Perfect, forcing them to improvise the rest of it on the fly (***) or trying to figure out where Michaels and Santana were during the 6 man tag that left them unable to break up the pin on Marty Jannetty (****)
Weird seeing a guy in a wrestling match laid out by a basic punch, but that's the Rockers for you. Glass-jawed and stupid. Hard to believe they were my favorite tag team at the time.
What was I talking about?
A mark of my fandom is there are certain matches, events, or storylines that bring me back to certain periods of my life, the same way hearing "Stairway to Heaven" reminds most people of my generation of their first grope at the end of a high school dance. I won't say wrestling is my music--music is my music, and always will be--but it's interesting.
The Wrestlemania X ladder match reminds me of working at Pizza Hut, because I was told about it before I saw it by a morbidly obese co-worker. I even remember exactly where I was standing (In front of a counter, with a knife in my hand).
My relationship with Cat in the Hat girl was inextricably tied to wrestling. One of our first dates was at an MPW show headlined by Heavy Metal and Nite where she sewed a button onto my coat--a coat that was later stolen at an Ace Frehley concert that I went to with Heavy Metal, Slammer, and Ace Davidson. Shortly before we broke up, I remember reading about a one hour match between Shawn Michaels and John Cena on her laptop after she left for work while the back of my mind was thinking, 'this isn't working the way I thought it would.'
There are others. Some involve close friends. Some involve my brother. Happiness, heartache, and everything in between...Four-sevenths of my life has taken place in front of a backdrop of bodyslams and spandex.
Weird.
Hope to see you at the show tonight.
You know, I'll be there.
Upcoming Comedy
Sunday, August 30 - The Comic Strip - Edmonton
Tuesday, August 4 - New City - Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, August 22 - OSCW August Action, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at www.suicidegirls.com. Current article is here.
More of Dan's musings on dating and relationships can be found on his Hot Chicks & Strangers blog.
(*) Pun intended. For those who know such things.
(**)Depending on your math and what you count as a commited romantic relationship
(***) It's earlier than I thought--when he scoops Perfect for a bodyslam (I think). He actually tries to hobble through quite a bit, before they decide to go home. Too bad about that injury. It was shaping up to be a nice little match.
(****) Here we go (Deep breath) Shawn is brawling with Raymond. Santana is originally chasing Martel, but gets caught arguing with the ref (idiot) allowing Martel to slip away and nail Jannetty, who is originally fighting Jacques but has his attention caught by manager Jimmy Hart allowing Jacques to roll him up from behind. Jannetty reverses, and that's when Martel makes his move. Shawn is caught up by Raymond and Santana is too far away (though it doesn't help that he drops to the floor to come help instead of rolling into the ring) to get there in time. You're welcome.
That's longer than all but two of my closest friendships and almost ten times longer than every committed romantic relationship I've ever been in COMBINED(**).
As Ron Simmons would say..."DAMN!"
I don't know how I will celebrate this. Definitely tonight ring-announcing at the OSCW show at the Hazeldean Dome. Maybe I'll treat myself to this DVD from Jim Cornette's website.
I've been watching the PPV from 1989 that started it all for me, SummerSlam 89 and trying to notice little things I didn't see the first time such as when the Red Rooster injured his knee in the match against Mr. Perfect, forcing them to improvise the rest of it on the fly (***) or trying to figure out where Michaels and Santana were during the 6 man tag that left them unable to break up the pin on Marty Jannetty (****)
Weird seeing a guy in a wrestling match laid out by a basic punch, but that's the Rockers for you. Glass-jawed and stupid. Hard to believe they were my favorite tag team at the time.
What was I talking about?
A mark of my fandom is there are certain matches, events, or storylines that bring me back to certain periods of my life, the same way hearing "Stairway to Heaven" reminds most people of my generation of their first grope at the end of a high school dance. I won't say wrestling is my music--music is my music, and always will be--but it's interesting.
The Wrestlemania X ladder match reminds me of working at Pizza Hut, because I was told about it before I saw it by a morbidly obese co-worker. I even remember exactly where I was standing (In front of a counter, with a knife in my hand).
My relationship with Cat in the Hat girl was inextricably tied to wrestling. One of our first dates was at an MPW show headlined by Heavy Metal and Nite where she sewed a button onto my coat--a coat that was later stolen at an Ace Frehley concert that I went to with Heavy Metal, Slammer, and Ace Davidson. Shortly before we broke up, I remember reading about a one hour match between Shawn Michaels and John Cena on her laptop after she left for work while the back of my mind was thinking, 'this isn't working the way I thought it would.'
There are others. Some involve close friends. Some involve my brother. Happiness, heartache, and everything in between...Four-sevenths of my life has taken place in front of a backdrop of bodyslams and spandex.
Weird.
Hope to see you at the show tonight.
You know, I'll be there.
Upcoming Comedy
Sunday, August 30 - The Comic Strip - Edmonton
Tuesday, August 4 - New City - Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, August 22 - OSCW August Action, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at www.suicidegirls.com. Current article is here.
More of Dan's musings on dating and relationships can be found on his Hot Chicks & Strangers blog.
(*) Pun intended. For those who know such things.
(**)Depending on your math and what you count as a commited romantic relationship
(***) It's earlier than I thought--when he scoops Perfect for a bodyslam (I think). He actually tries to hobble through quite a bit, before they decide to go home. Too bad about that injury. It was shaping up to be a nice little match.
(****) Here we go (Deep breath) Shawn is brawling with Raymond. Santana is originally chasing Martel, but gets caught arguing with the ref (idiot) allowing Martel to slip away and nail Jannetty, who is originally fighting Jacques but has his attention caught by manager Jimmy Hart allowing Jacques to roll him up from behind. Jannetty reverses, and that's when Martel makes his move. Shawn is caught up by Raymond and Santana is too far away (though it doesn't help that he drops to the floor to come help instead of rolling into the ring) to get there in time. You're welcome.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
"Man, I Wish There Were More Fat Chicks Here Tonight"
It would be a lie to say every bad decision I've made recently has started with a phone call from Heavy Metal, but it seems like a significant number of my misadventures are marked with the fingerprints of the reigning OSCW champion.
Last night, I was feeling very smug, self-satisfied, and proud of how responsible and mature I was being by going to bed early on a weeknight when at 11:11pm, the phone rang.
HEAVY METAL: Hey man, Boris (aka '1') and I are on Whyte avenue and it's dead. Where's a good bar to find women on Tuesdays?
As it happens, I know of one, within walking distance of my house, and relayed the information to Mrs. Metal's handsome son.
HEAVY METAL: You should come out with us, brother.
ME: Sorry, I'm going to bed. Next time, for sure.
HEAVY METAL: Come on, it will be fun.
ME: I work tomorrow. Have a great time.
HEAVY METAL: Come on. It will give you a story for your blog.
Say what you will, Heavy Metal knows the right buttons to push.
I justified my decision to go by thinking, "Well, maybe I'll have an awful time like the last couple bar visits and it will reinforce my decision to stop doing this to myself."
I arrived at the bar late and was confronted with an impossible line. For a moment, I thought fate had decreed I should go home-- "Pretty Decent" waits in line for no man--but one of the bouncers recognized me and waved me through.
Heavy Metal was there. Boris was there. A number of pretty girls and cool guys I remember from my bar-hopping days so many months ago were there and greeted me enthusiastically.
Damn it, I remember thinking. I'm supposed to be growing beyond this. The last thing I want to do is have fun tonight.
Unfortunately, I had fun anyway, even if The Work Countdown was going on in my head: "If I leave right now, I'll get to bed at 1 and have seven hours of sleep...If I leave right NOW, I'll get to bed at 1:45 and have six hours and fifteen minutes of sleep...If I leave right NOW...etc.
Heavy Metal taught me how to reverse a hammerlock on the dance floor, Boris started doing Boris things (jumping up and down, "accidentally" blocking women trying to walk past, and vanishing into the Phantom Zone), and the night was on.
I soon became painfully aware my social skills have been badly eroded by weeks of not going out and meeting strangers. I'm not too bothered--thank you, newfound Buddhist equanimity--but I find it hard to be a good wingman when I'm standing around smiling politely not saying anything and wondering if anyone notices me hemmoraghing game from a social sucking chest wound.
One does what one can. Heavy Metal became smitten with a rubinesque young woman, and I went in make the necessary introductions. That's how I met Brent, a handsome young man who makes a habit of hitting on overweight women in bars so he can get free drinks.
"I'm a terrible person, but I'm hammered and I've only paid for one drink all night!" he crowed to me, before saying words I've never heard an 18-22 year old male utter in a nightclub before. "Man, I really wish there were more fat chicks here tonight."
Brent demonstrated his method on a nearby overweight woman. I lacked both the heart and the balls to be a part of this but Heavy Metal played wingman, distracting the more attractive of the two so Brent could do his thing (another sentence I don't think I've ever written before).
Heavy Metal drew his woman onto the dance floor and began dancing with her from behind (*). By now Brent had lost interest and wandered off, so Heavy Metal's girl grabbed her zaftig friend and pulled her onto the dance floor. The result was a rather odd dancing formation: Heavy Metal with his arms wrapped around the woman from behind while she simultaneously held her friends hands with her own.
I wonder who leads in that situation.
I made a couple attempts to join in and entertain the friend so Heavy Metal could work his air guitar magic, but my heart wasn't in it, and everyone (except Heavy Metal, who was busy neck-nuzzling his new love) knew it.
I begged off and went to look for Boris, who had ninja-vanished, as is his custom. (I expected to see him clinging to the ceiling with a katana between his teeth, but no luck)
Meanwhile, Heavy Metal's vertical threesome continued for a while until a better man than me stepped in and peeled the friend away so Heavy Metal could grind in peace.
Heavy Metal tried to get the girl's number, but she faked him out with the "Oh-let-me-get-YOUR-number-instead-and-I'll-call-you-sometime" move that I once used on a gay guy (**)
Heavy Metal was despondent. As the three of us left the bar (Boris had rejoined us, doubtless after assassinating the busboy with his laser-guided throwing stars dipped in rattlesnake venom), he would not shut up about his lost love--a love that he had known for approximately forty minutes.
Fortunately, we saw the girls getting into a car. Even more fortunately, I devised an elaborate plan that involved me stepping out into the road in front of the car to stop them and then either a) faking being hit to provide a distraction or b) being pulled out of the way by Heavy Metal.
It was a brilliant plan and would have worked great...if we were in Europe. I stepped out into the wrong lane and the car puttered merrily past us while I got honked at by taxicabs coming from the opposite direction.
I have a rule. One near death experience per outing (three if Big Jess is driving)
It was time to go. The last I saw of Boris and Heavy Metal, they were sitting on the curb trying to figure out how they were going to get home with no money and houses on the opposite sides of the city.
Hope they made it. I wouldn't have a blog without them.
(*) I love watching drunk grinding couples when the guy is dancing behind the girl They can't see each other's facial expressions but you can see both of them. It's just a kaleidoscope of emotion: lust, boredom, resignation, oh-shit-is-this-the-best-I-can-do-what-will-my-friends-think? I will miss the club scene for that alone.
(**) Have I shared that story? It seems like something I would have written down, and yet I can never remember if I've ever put it in writing anywhere or not. Plus, I'm too lazy to look through the archives.
Last night, I was feeling very smug, self-satisfied, and proud of how responsible and mature I was being by going to bed early on a weeknight when at 11:11pm, the phone rang.
HEAVY METAL: Hey man, Boris (aka '1') and I are on Whyte avenue and it's dead. Where's a good bar to find women on Tuesdays?
As it happens, I know of one, within walking distance of my house, and relayed the information to Mrs. Metal's handsome son.
HEAVY METAL: You should come out with us, brother.
ME: Sorry, I'm going to bed. Next time, for sure.
HEAVY METAL: Come on, it will be fun.
ME: I work tomorrow. Have a great time.
HEAVY METAL: Come on. It will give you a story for your blog.
Say what you will, Heavy Metal knows the right buttons to push.
I justified my decision to go by thinking, "Well, maybe I'll have an awful time like the last couple bar visits and it will reinforce my decision to stop doing this to myself."
I arrived at the bar late and was confronted with an impossible line. For a moment, I thought fate had decreed I should go home-- "Pretty Decent" waits in line for no man--but one of the bouncers recognized me and waved me through.
Heavy Metal was there. Boris was there. A number of pretty girls and cool guys I remember from my bar-hopping days so many months ago were there and greeted me enthusiastically.
Damn it, I remember thinking. I'm supposed to be growing beyond this. The last thing I want to do is have fun tonight.
Unfortunately, I had fun anyway, even if The Work Countdown was going on in my head: "If I leave right now, I'll get to bed at 1 and have seven hours of sleep...If I leave right NOW, I'll get to bed at 1:45 and have six hours and fifteen minutes of sleep...If I leave right NOW...etc.
Heavy Metal taught me how to reverse a hammerlock on the dance floor, Boris started doing Boris things (jumping up and down, "accidentally" blocking women trying to walk past, and vanishing into the Phantom Zone), and the night was on.
I soon became painfully aware my social skills have been badly eroded by weeks of not going out and meeting strangers. I'm not too bothered--thank you, newfound Buddhist equanimity--but I find it hard to be a good wingman when I'm standing around smiling politely not saying anything and wondering if anyone notices me hemmoraghing game from a social sucking chest wound.
One does what one can. Heavy Metal became smitten with a rubinesque young woman, and I went in make the necessary introductions. That's how I met Brent, a handsome young man who makes a habit of hitting on overweight women in bars so he can get free drinks.
"I'm a terrible person, but I'm hammered and I've only paid for one drink all night!" he crowed to me, before saying words I've never heard an 18-22 year old male utter in a nightclub before. "Man, I really wish there were more fat chicks here tonight."
Brent demonstrated his method on a nearby overweight woman. I lacked both the heart and the balls to be a part of this but Heavy Metal played wingman, distracting the more attractive of the two so Brent could do his thing (another sentence I don't think I've ever written before).
Heavy Metal drew his woman onto the dance floor and began dancing with her from behind (*). By now Brent had lost interest and wandered off, so Heavy Metal's girl grabbed her zaftig friend and pulled her onto the dance floor. The result was a rather odd dancing formation: Heavy Metal with his arms wrapped around the woman from behind while she simultaneously held her friends hands with her own.
I wonder who leads in that situation.
I made a couple attempts to join in and entertain the friend so Heavy Metal could work his air guitar magic, but my heart wasn't in it, and everyone (except Heavy Metal, who was busy neck-nuzzling his new love) knew it.
I begged off and went to look for Boris, who had ninja-vanished, as is his custom. (I expected to see him clinging to the ceiling with a katana between his teeth, but no luck)
Meanwhile, Heavy Metal's vertical threesome continued for a while until a better man than me stepped in and peeled the friend away so Heavy Metal could grind in peace.
Heavy Metal tried to get the girl's number, but she faked him out with the "Oh-let-me-get-YOUR-number-instead-and-I'll-call-you-sometime" move that I once used on a gay guy (**)
Heavy Metal was despondent. As the three of us left the bar (Boris had rejoined us, doubtless after assassinating the busboy with his laser-guided throwing stars dipped in rattlesnake venom), he would not shut up about his lost love--a love that he had known for approximately forty minutes.
Fortunately, we saw the girls getting into a car. Even more fortunately, I devised an elaborate plan that involved me stepping out into the road in front of the car to stop them and then either a) faking being hit to provide a distraction or b) being pulled out of the way by Heavy Metal.
It was a brilliant plan and would have worked great...if we were in Europe. I stepped out into the wrong lane and the car puttered merrily past us while I got honked at by taxicabs coming from the opposite direction.
I have a rule. One near death experience per outing (three if Big Jess is driving)
It was time to go. The last I saw of Boris and Heavy Metal, they were sitting on the curb trying to figure out how they were going to get home with no money and houses on the opposite sides of the city.
Hope they made it. I wouldn't have a blog without them.
(*) I love watching drunk grinding couples when the guy is dancing behind the girl They can't see each other's facial expressions but you can see both of them. It's just a kaleidoscope of emotion: lust, boredom, resignation, oh-shit-is-this-the-best-I-can-do-what-will-my-friends-think? I will miss the club scene for that alone.
(**) Have I shared that story? It seems like something I would have written down, and yet I can never remember if I've ever put it in writing anywhere or not. Plus, I'm too lazy to look through the archives.
Upcoming Fringe Shows By People I Know
Ryan Ash is the mad genius behind The Dr. Kevin DuBrau Variety Hour. It is about luchadores and Kevin Dubrow is also the name of the lead singer from Quiet Riot. Which may be completely irrelevant.
Lars Callieou, Andrew Iwanyk, and Sean Lecomber are coming back for their third consecutive Fringe show. It's stand-up comedy. I've worked with all of them, and they are fun to watch. Check-check-check-it out, as the Beastie Boys would say.
Lars Callieou, Andrew Iwanyk, and Sean Lecomber are coming back for their third consecutive Fringe show. It's stand-up comedy. I've worked with all of them, and they are fun to watch. Check-check-check-it out, as the Beastie Boys would say.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Damn It Feels Good To Be A Hipster
Spent all weekend at the FolkFest with Bastet. I suppose I should talk about the music, but what really stood out for me was the fact that FolkFest security all wore red shirts.
If you're a Star Trek geek (or any kind of geek at all) I don't have to explain this further. If you aren't...well, that's why I left you a link.
This led to a discussion about Red Shirts. I think it would be a funny in-joke if one of these unnamed, unmourned, silent characters standing awkwardly in the background actually survived every episode. Everybody would be tuning in constantly to see when he met his demise...which would occur in the series finale, just when everybody thought he was finally safe.
Bastet and I also talked about hipsters. Apparently--and I had no idea--being a hipster is a BAD thing. Apparently it's an epithet roughly on par with "douchebag" or "Celine Dion Fan." Darn it. I thought being a hipster was cool. I WANTED to be a hipster.
Instead, according to Bastet, I am a "nerd." I thought that was bad, but she insists that being a nerd is trendy and cool, and I don't think she was just saying that to make me feel better.
The funny thing is, I'm not much of a nerd either. I have nerd friends, and most of them regard me as kind of a faux-nerd. I can usually fool the masses by mentioning X-Men, Buffy, or Lord of the Rings in a blog post, but once I start to get grilled about the finer points of anime or gaming, I am instantly revealed to be a nerd poseur.
Sigh. I guess I'm a man without a label. Doomed to walk alone, like the guy in the lyrics of Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again. (*)" The nice thing about being labelled 'Pretty Decent' is you always know where you stand.
In other Bastet news, she wrote some really nice things about me on her blog. My first reaction was to be charmed and embarassed. My second thought was to print it out and send it to every woman that's ever rejected me with certain parts emphasized with a colored highlighter pen.
In other news, I have recently updated a blog I'm embarrassed to publicly admit I'm writing. It's called Robot Therapist and combines two of my favorite subjects, counselling and giant transforming robots. Anyone not intimately familiar with the 1980s Transformers(the Michael Bay movies won't help you here, my pretties)--will understand a word of it.
Maybe I'm a nerd after all.
(*) Maybe my label is 80s metalhead throwback. Except that I constantly mis-hear the "going down the only road I've ever known" as "Going down the only road on Lebanon" so that's out too. Like a gypsy, I was born to walk alone I guess. Though I though Gypsies travelled in caravans as opposed to being solitary vagabonds like Conan or the guy from Kung Fu or the Littlest Hobo.
If you're a Star Trek geek (or any kind of geek at all) I don't have to explain this further. If you aren't...well, that's why I left you a link.
This led to a discussion about Red Shirts. I think it would be a funny in-joke if one of these unnamed, unmourned, silent characters standing awkwardly in the background actually survived every episode. Everybody would be tuning in constantly to see when he met his demise...which would occur in the series finale, just when everybody thought he was finally safe.
Bastet and I also talked about hipsters. Apparently--and I had no idea--being a hipster is a BAD thing. Apparently it's an epithet roughly on par with "douchebag" or "Celine Dion Fan." Darn it. I thought being a hipster was cool. I WANTED to be a hipster.
Instead, according to Bastet, I am a "nerd." I thought that was bad, but she insists that being a nerd is trendy and cool, and I don't think she was just saying that to make me feel better.
The funny thing is, I'm not much of a nerd either. I have nerd friends, and most of them regard me as kind of a faux-nerd. I can usually fool the masses by mentioning X-Men, Buffy, or Lord of the Rings in a blog post, but once I start to get grilled about the finer points of anime or gaming, I am instantly revealed to be a nerd poseur.
Sigh. I guess I'm a man without a label. Doomed to walk alone, like the guy in the lyrics of Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again. (*)" The nice thing about being labelled 'Pretty Decent' is you always know where you stand.
In other Bastet news, she wrote some really nice things about me on her blog. My first reaction was to be charmed and embarassed. My second thought was to print it out and send it to every woman that's ever rejected me with certain parts emphasized with a colored highlighter pen.
In other news, I have recently updated a blog I'm embarrassed to publicly admit I'm writing. It's called Robot Therapist and combines two of my favorite subjects, counselling and giant transforming robots. Anyone not intimately familiar with the 1980s Transformers(the Michael Bay movies won't help you here, my pretties)--will understand a word of it.
Maybe I'm a nerd after all.
(*) Maybe my label is 80s metalhead throwback. Except that I constantly mis-hear the "going down the only road I've ever known" as "Going down the only road on Lebanon" so that's out too. Like a gypsy, I was born to walk alone I guess. Though I though Gypsies travelled in caravans as opposed to being solitary vagabonds like Conan or the guy from Kung Fu or the Littlest Hobo.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Immovable Object Meets Unstoppable Trainwreck
A penitent sinner pays her respects to Powermann at the New City Relgious Theme Show
"Pretty Decent" (The Topless Tuesday Bible Hour)
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Saturday, August 01, 2009
Upcoming Shows and Book Recommendation
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Monday, July 27, 2009
The Other Good News (Dan Writes Poetry)
As regular readers know, I like to walk places I haven't walked before.
What I don't like is overpasses. And underpasses. And weird turny-roads. And hills that lead to indeterminate destinations.
I ran into all of these this morning walking home in the blazing sun with no sleep from the Folk Fest. I knew where I was. I could see where I wanted to go. And in between those two points...a labyrinthine swirl of bridges, and under- and overpasses. Lanes here, lanes there...it looked like of Dream Theater's Systematic Chaos album cover.
The good news is, I made it successfully.
The other good news is it inspired me to poetry.
I've entitled the following Haiku "Walking From the Muttart to Jasper Avenue On No Sleep Under The Killer Sun."
Hot, Tired, Pissed Off
I wish I were dead right now
Cars speed to oblige
It isn't as powerful translated into English (tired is two syllables, purists). Read in the original language, it looks like this:
Fucking Fuckery
Fucking Fuckety Fuck FUCK!
HOLY FUCKING SHIT!
What I don't like is overpasses. And underpasses. And weird turny-roads. And hills that lead to indeterminate destinations.
I ran into all of these this morning walking home in the blazing sun with no sleep from the Folk Fest. I knew where I was. I could see where I wanted to go. And in between those two points...a labyrinthine swirl of bridges, and under- and overpasses. Lanes here, lanes there...it looked like of Dream Theater's Systematic Chaos album cover.
The good news is, I made it successfully.
The other good news is it inspired me to poetry.
I've entitled the following Haiku "Walking From the Muttart to Jasper Avenue On No Sleep Under The Killer Sun."
Hot, Tired, Pissed Off
I wish I were dead right now
Cars speed to oblige
It isn't as powerful translated into English (tired is two syllables, purists). Read in the original language, it looks like this:
Fucking Fuckery
Fucking Fuckety Fuck FUCK!
HOLY FUCKING SHIT!
Love In the Time Of Diverse Male Facial Hair...and Bicycles
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Sunday, July 26, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
New Suicide Girls Article up (PLUS: Bonus Self-Indulgent Angst!)
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Friday, July 17, 2009
Things Dan Loves About Comedy (part 13 923)
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Sunday, July 12, 2009
Searching for Dawn/Adventures in Babysitting
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Thursday, July 09, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Saturday, July 04, 2009
(Wrestling Thoughts) Domestic Partnership: A New Twist on an Old Routine
The upcoming OSCW show has me thinking of wrestling and how refreshing it is to see new twists on tired gimmicks.
For example there's a tag team on the indy scene right now called Domestic Partnership made up of Deryck Cross(e) and Bobby Fletcher. They work the "bad guy of ambiguous sexuality gimmick", which is as old as the hills, hearkening back to Gorgeous George, down to Adrian Adonis to the Genius, to Goldust to Billy & Chuck and a million indy workers looking for cheap and easy heat.
But when Domestic Partnership does it, it works, and to me, there are two things that set them apart.
a) They MIGHT be gay, but they can DEFINITELY kick your ass
A lot of times the 'gay character' is played as cowardly, and physically ineffectual, with an offense of eye pokes, slaps, and effete back scratches. Problem is, it makes it very hard to use them except as comedy characters because nobody can come out of a match with them looking better than they came in. If the good guy beats the gay character, it's no big deal since the guy is an effete wimp, and if the good guy loses, he looks like a complete buffoon. Domestic Partnership are credible as ass-kickers so there's no shame in losing to them and beating them is an accomplishment. It gives them a nice versatility so you can use the characters in anywhere on the card.
B)They aren't Pro-man, they're ANTI-WOMAN
DP spend a lot of time running down women, which I don't remember seeing any other gay characters do a lot. It's something that sets them apart from the rest of the ambiguous sexuality pack (always a good thing when being a memorable character is your bread and butter) while making them more despicable. Bleeding heart liberals (yes, some of us watch wrestling too) like myself feel uncomfortable booing a character based on his sexual orientation. But Domestic Partnership aren't just possibly gay...they're MISOGYNIST gays, so I can boo them guilt-free to my politically-correct heart's content.
Kudos to them for taking an old gimmick and making it fresh and memorable.
Upcoming Comedy
Monday, July 20 - The Comic Strip - Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, July 11 - OSCW Rumble Aftermath (AFTERNOON SHOW AT 2PM), Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at www.suicidegirls.com. Current article is here.
For example there's a tag team on the indy scene right now called Domestic Partnership made up of Deryck Cross(e) and Bobby Fletcher. They work the "bad guy of ambiguous sexuality gimmick", which is as old as the hills, hearkening back to Gorgeous George, down to Adrian Adonis to the Genius, to Goldust to Billy & Chuck and a million indy workers looking for cheap and easy heat.
But when Domestic Partnership does it, it works, and to me, there are two things that set them apart.
a) They MIGHT be gay, but they can DEFINITELY kick your ass
A lot of times the 'gay character' is played as cowardly, and physically ineffectual, with an offense of eye pokes, slaps, and effete back scratches. Problem is, it makes it very hard to use them except as comedy characters because nobody can come out of a match with them looking better than they came in. If the good guy beats the gay character, it's no big deal since the guy is an effete wimp, and if the good guy loses, he looks like a complete buffoon. Domestic Partnership are credible as ass-kickers so there's no shame in losing to them and beating them is an accomplishment. It gives them a nice versatility so you can use the characters in anywhere on the card.
B)They aren't Pro-man, they're ANTI-WOMAN
DP spend a lot of time running down women, which I don't remember seeing any other gay characters do a lot. It's something that sets them apart from the rest of the ambiguous sexuality pack (always a good thing when being a memorable character is your bread and butter) while making them more despicable. Bleeding heart liberals (yes, some of us watch wrestling too) like myself feel uncomfortable booing a character based on his sexual orientation. But Domestic Partnership aren't just possibly gay...they're MISOGYNIST gays, so I can boo them guilt-free to my politically-correct heart's content.
Kudos to them for taking an old gimmick and making it fresh and memorable.
Upcoming Comedy
Monday, July 20 - The Comic Strip - Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, July 11 - OSCW Rumble Aftermath (AFTERNOON SHOW AT 2PM), Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan Brodribb's Geek Love appears every two weeks at www.suicidegirls.com. Current article is here.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
New Suicide Girls Article Up
Read it while it's hot.
It's on self-disclosure, an essential skill which applies not just to dating, but to general conversational skills---unless you're working on a crisis line or as a ninja in which case it's probably a no-no.
There's a little more "straight technique" in it than in previous articles, so I'd love to hear any feedback on how people found the explanations or any questions.
It's on self-disclosure, an essential skill which applies not just to dating, but to general conversational skills---unless you're working on a crisis line or as a ninja in which case it's probably a no-no.
There's a little more "straight technique" in it than in previous articles, so I'd love to hear any feedback on how people found the explanations or any questions.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Roses Have Thorns They Say
Anybody who spends time with me knows I'm a fan of music nobody my age should still listen to. Most of the time, the lyrics to these songs are pretty stupid, but sometimes they surprise you. The Pussycat Dolls have occaisionally hit on some pretty interesting relationship dynamics. The lyrics to Rihanna's Disturbia, would cause many a Buddhist to smile and nod knowingly.
One song I've been thinking about recently is Lady Gaga's Just Dance. Is it a party anthem celebrating the power of music? Or is it about desperation and self-reassurance in the face of overwhelming evidence that you are making very bad lifestyle choices?
As someone who works in show business, I see a lot of partying, and there seem to be two types of people who do it. There are the kind who party because they enjoy it, and there are the people that do it to run from something else.
So which type is Lady Gaga singing about?
To me, the pivotal line is in the chorus: "Gonna be okay."
Does she really believe it? Or is she trying to convince herself?
To quote James Ball: "Discuss. Groups of five."
One song I've been thinking about recently is Lady Gaga's Just Dance. Is it a party anthem celebrating the power of music? Or is it about desperation and self-reassurance in the face of overwhelming evidence that you are making very bad lifestyle choices?
As someone who works in show business, I see a lot of partying, and there seem to be two types of people who do it. There are the kind who party because they enjoy it, and there are the people that do it to run from something else.
So which type is Lady Gaga singing about?
To me, the pivotal line is in the chorus: "Gonna be okay."
Does she really believe it? Or is she trying to convince herself?
To quote James Ball: "Discuss. Groups of five."
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
New Suicide Girls Article
Latest Suicide Girls article is up. You can find it here. The topic is dating cliches.
I've also been posting like mad on my Hot Chicks and Strangers blog, for those who can't get enough of my dating pontifications.
I've also been posting like mad on my Hot Chicks and Strangers blog, for those who can't get enough of my dating pontifications.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Cereal Monogamy
Have I mentioned how much I adore my day job co-workers? They certainly keep things interesting.
While making the arrangements with Someone Special--whose anonymity we will preserve by giving her an every-day, ordinary, generic female name, say, Bastet) to drop of the cereal at work, one of the women in my office overheard the conversation.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: Is your girlfriend coming here?
ME: She's not my girfriend.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: If she's dropping things off for you, she's your girlfriend.
I should pause to explain most of the people at this office are women. And they love stuff like this. Another male co-worker of mine is getting married and the Girls have taken it upon themself to make a countdown calendar for his impending nuptials and update it daily.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: I may have told Office Woman #2 about your girlfriend coming to visit. But just her.
OFFICE WOMAN #3: (coming up out of nowhere): Hey, when does this girl we've all been hearing about get here?
OFFICE WOMAN #1: Well, you shouldn't have told me if you didn't want people to know.
I shouldn't have been surprised. These are after all, the same women who upon hearing some of my woman troubles last year, considered the idea of turning my personal dramas into a skit and performing it at the company Christmas party.
It was an interesting feeling: three parts mortified and one part loving all the attention.
Then again, I write stories about them on my blog, so I guess we're even.
Still, I felt I needed to get a little emotional revenge on Office Girl #1
ME: Now, I'm worried she's going to stand me up.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: And if she does, the whole office will know about it! Ohh that would be so horrible. I would feel so bad for you.
OFFICE WOMAN #3: (from across the room) Hey, I'm on your Facebook right now. What's your girlfriend's name? I want to creep her pictures.
ME: She's not my girfriend.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: Hello? What part of "bringing you cereal" did you not understand?
ME: I don't really see how...
OFFICE WOMAN #1: It's an emotional commitment! When a woman brings a guy breakfast products at work, that's a sign that she's investing herself in him and he should appreciate her effort by not spending his entire Friday night playing video games with his STUPID LAME FRIENDS, when he knows it's the only time he and his girlfriend will have together for the whole weekend, because she's spending her only free Saturday this month helping HIS mother plant a vegetable garden. Hypothetically.
Anyway....
Bastet showed up and I went to reception to meet her....while a few doors away half the women in the office were watching on the security monitor, yelling instructions at the screen like football fans at a Super Bowl Party.
"Public display of affection! Yes!"
"Relax, you'll sscare her off!"
"No, you jackass, walk her to the elevator as she's leaving..."
At this point Bastet and I stepped into the camera's blind spot. Ten seconds later the reception phone rang as one of the women in the office phoned down for an update. Which was awkward for the receptionist since we were standing right beside her.
RECEPTIONIST: Mmm-hmm...Oh, interesting...Yes, that would be fine.
Afterwards, the ladies debriefed me--I was thoroughly chastised for not walking her to the elevator. OFFICE WOMAN #3 was most excited as she actually saw Bastet in person ("I walked PAST her on the way to get photocopies!")
I love my job.
While making the arrangements with Someone Special--whose anonymity we will preserve by giving her an every-day, ordinary, generic female name, say, Bastet) to drop of the cereal at work, one of the women in my office overheard the conversation.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: Is your girlfriend coming here?
ME: She's not my girfriend.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: If she's dropping things off for you, she's your girlfriend.
I should pause to explain most of the people at this office are women. And they love stuff like this. Another male co-worker of mine is getting married and the Girls have taken it upon themself to make a countdown calendar for his impending nuptials and update it daily.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: I may have told Office Woman #2 about your girlfriend coming to visit. But just her.
OFFICE WOMAN #3: (coming up out of nowhere): Hey, when does this girl we've all been hearing about get here?
OFFICE WOMAN #1: Well, you shouldn't have told me if you didn't want people to know.
I shouldn't have been surprised. These are after all, the same women who upon hearing some of my woman troubles last year, considered the idea of turning my personal dramas into a skit and performing it at the company Christmas party.
It was an interesting feeling: three parts mortified and one part loving all the attention.
Then again, I write stories about them on my blog, so I guess we're even.
Still, I felt I needed to get a little emotional revenge on Office Girl #1
ME: Now, I'm worried she's going to stand me up.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: And if she does, the whole office will know about it! Ohh that would be so horrible. I would feel so bad for you.
OFFICE WOMAN #3: (from across the room) Hey, I'm on your Facebook right now. What's your girlfriend's name? I want to creep her pictures.
ME: She's not my girfriend.
OFFICE WOMAN #1: Hello? What part of "bringing you cereal" did you not understand?
ME: I don't really see how...
OFFICE WOMAN #1: It's an emotional commitment! When a woman brings a guy breakfast products at work, that's a sign that she's investing herself in him and he should appreciate her effort by not spending his entire Friday night playing video games with his STUPID LAME FRIENDS, when he knows it's the only time he and his girlfriend will have together for the whole weekend, because she's spending her only free Saturday this month helping HIS mother plant a vegetable garden. Hypothetically.
Anyway....
Bastet showed up and I went to reception to meet her....while a few doors away half the women in the office were watching on the security monitor, yelling instructions at the screen like football fans at a Super Bowl Party.
"Public display of affection! Yes!"
"Relax, you'll sscare her off!"
"No, you jackass, walk her to the elevator as she's leaving..."
At this point Bastet and I stepped into the camera's blind spot. Ten seconds later the reception phone rang as one of the women in the office phoned down for an update. Which was awkward for the receptionist since we were standing right beside her.
RECEPTIONIST: Mmm-hmm...Oh, interesting...Yes, that would be fine.
Afterwards, the ladies debriefed me--I was thoroughly chastised for not walking her to the elevator. OFFICE WOMAN #3 was most excited as she actually saw Bastet in person ("I walked PAST her on the way to get photocopies!")
I love my job.
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