Your next CANADIAN IDOL!

Okay, so one of the guys who delivered by new bed from Sleep Country Canada on Tuesday told me he tried out for Canadian Idol, but didn't make it past the producers, into the audition room with Sass, Zack, Jake and Farley. The producers told him he was too shy. He also thinks he chose the wrong song, because a lot of people sing Stand By Me (the movie of the same name, incidentally, is one of my all-time favourites).
He also told me he isn't in a band, but sings Karaoke a lot. Uh-oh! Should that set off alarm bells? You be the judge. Pepe also participated in a contest run by Tourism Ontario, singing its newest jingle. You can check it out and vote for him online: http://memelabs.com/ontariotourism/index.php?play=605&page=61&mode=recent
He says he'll try out for Idol again next year. I told him I would watch, because I now have a reason to, and haven't watched Canadian Idol, because I can't stand Ben Mulroney.
By the way, if you check out the link, you can vote for my new friend, too, and help him in the tourism jingle contest. He says a lot of people are voting for others, by using a lot of bogus email addresses.

Oh, one more thing: By the time you read this, it will likely be time to say "White rabbit". :)

Drum roll, please... NUMBER TWO-HUNDRED!

Thanks for joining me and being part of this momentous occasion in my teeny-tiny little corner of Cyberspace -- and thanks for the suggestions about what to post. I will use some of those suggestions, and ignore the rest of them, such as the photo of me wearing nothing but my Crocs.

THE PLATFORM SHOE INCIDENT
It was March, 1976. I had turned 18 about a month earlier, and was working at the Cinequois Theatre, the movie theatre in my hometown of Iroquois Falls. The Cinequois was owned by my best friend's Mom, and I was affectionately referred to as The Assistant Manager.
The previous summer, I had visited another friend who was working in Toronto for the summer, and bought the most bitchin' pair of platform shoes -- zippered boots, really -- with a two-inch sole and three-inch heel. They gave me extremely painful shin splints, but sure were cool, especially when I was also wearing elephant pants and puffy-sleeved shirts.
On this fateful night, I wore the boots to work at the theatre. During the nightly screening, it had rained outside, then the temperature dropped below freezing, leaving a nice coat of ice on the sidewalk. As I was leaving work, I slipped on the ice, fell forward, and braced my fall with my hands. The next day, my left wrist was extremely sore. So I went to see the doctor, and ended up in a cast from my fingertips to my elbow for a month, with my hand at a double-90-degree angle in the cast. I had broken a little bone in my wrist not much bigger than a fish bone.
I never wore those stupid shoes again.

Finally, to use one more suggestion from my Cyberfriends, here's a photo of moi on my second birthday -- February 8, 1960. Colour photography wasn't very common, good or affordable back then, but no, my father did not chisel this photo out of a stone tablet.

So that's it: Post #200. Kinda underwhelming, eh? For 201, I'll tell you about the kid who delivered my mattress today, and could be the next Canadian Idol.

What should I do for Post #200?

Yes, my next post will be number 200. So I'm looking for ideas on how it should reflect that milestone.

I like revelling in life's little accomplishments or achievements or acquisitions that to others might seem trivial. But hell, why not?

For instance, I'm awaiting delivery sometime in the next couple hours of a brand new bed, my first queen-sized bed (No, Kitty, it doesn't mean that at all). And in case you didn't notice, last week I was celebrating having booked my trip to Dubai. By the way, did I mention how jazzed I am about it?

So let's hear from you: What can I do to mark post number 200 on my blog?

I'm gonna be on the Interweb Thingy

I am featured in today's edition of "Inside A-Channel" on AChannel.ca/ottawa.
I'm producing tonight's 6:00 pm show, and our anchor, Sandra Blaikie, interviews me about what's coming up. It should be online by four o'clock.

Before you say anything, I'm having a bad hair day, hence the pouffy thing at the front (it's time for a haircut), and the red Senators T-Shirt is because our station observes Wear Red Friday every week, in honour of Canadian military personnel. Also, you'll see that the computer I'm working at has two monitors. The right-hand side one has the photo of me and my sibs.

Okay, watch away and comment away: I'm ready for it.

I'm the big bad wolf

I participated in something today that is, frankly, disturbing.

For a series called "Stranger Danger" which will run during fall ratings coming up next month, we at A-Channel in Ottawa asked parents to let us know if they wanted their children tested, to see if they knew how to respond to being approached by a stranger. The idea came from the disappearance of Cédrika Provencher in Québec last month.

Today, we tested two girls. I played the part of the stranger. I was equipped with a hidden camera and microphone. One of our ENG camera operators was using a camera hidden in the back of a van, while the reporter putting the series together used a mini-cam in the van, getting the mothers' reaction while each scenario unfolded.

In the first scenario, I was looking for Zoey, my lost dog, as ten-year-old Chelsea came walking down the street, on her way to school. I asked her if she had seen Zoey, and gave her a poster with Zoey's picture on it. Chelsea immediately started talking to me, calling for Zoey herself, telling me her name and where she lived. When I asked if she would come in my car to look for Zoey if I dropped her off at school, I could feel the wall go up between us. She kept walking towards school, and said if she saw my puppy, she would phone me.

In the second case, five-year-old Stephanie was brought to a park by her mom, who works part-time in a building on the edge of the park. After playing for a few minutes, Stephanie's mom told her she had to get something at the office, and she should sit on the bench and have some candies and water. After Mom walked away, I walked over to Stephanie, called her by name, and said I worked with her mom and she would like me to take her to her. With no hesitation, Stephanie started packing up her things and came with me. She wouldn't talk or hold my hand, but responded to all my questions with head gestures. When we reached the parking lot and the camera van, Mom opened the door and stepped out.

Each mom was shocked and upset, but kept repeating how glad she is to have participated in the exercise. It gives them a starting-off point to reinforce or expand on their warnings about stranger dangers.

Chelsea passed when it came to not getting into the car, although I could have easily dragged the little thing into the vehicle. Stephanie, as it turns out, did not talk to me, taking her mom's warnings literally.

Phase 2 happens in a couple weeks, when the kids will be tested again in different circumstances, and approached by a woman.

From my standpoint, it was an eye-opening, disturbing experience. It was too easy to engage the girls and get them to go along with what I was suggesting. I felt creepy but didn't realize how much the first case (Chelsea) rattled me until I tried to start the car. My hand was shaking so badly, I had to steady it with the other hand to put the key in the car's ignition.

I sincerely hope that when the series airs, it prompts families right across our viewing area to discuss stranger danger with their kids, in enough detail.

DUBAI, HERE I COME!

I am so jazzed. I just booked my flights to and from Dubai. I leave Nov. 22 and return Dec. 2. Und I land in Churmany on ze vay zere und ze vay beck -- Munich und Frankfurt, respectively.
Not bad for a guy who never left the continent until less than two years ago, huh? In fact, except for a couple quick trips to Michigan (as in a couple hours) and a hockey tournament or two in New Yawk State, I had never left Canada. And by "leaving the continent", I mean once to Cuba and once to the Dominican Republic.
Have I mentioned that I am so jazzed?
Work is being very co-operative, too. Of course, I can't go until after fall ratings, the final day of which is the day before I leave, but Boss Peter said book the trip, and we'll make it work.
Have I mentioned that I am so jazzed?
I intend to fill my one-gigabyte memory stick on my new camera. If you think Kitty posted a lot of his vacation pictures, all I can say is "Hah!"
Have I mentioned that I am so jazzed?
Okay, bloglodytes, start envying in three... two... one... NOW!

Household Hints from Bob

Today's episode: Cleaning those nasty Crocs -- the fun rubber shoes that anyone who is anyone is wearing. After all, they come in a veritable kaleidoscope of bright, fun colours.

Glad you could join us on this sunny September day. We hope you had a great weekend.

Y'know, it doesn't take much for a really excellent idea to cross over to the fourth dimension known as [fast, dramatic violin riff in reverb] The Urrrrrbbbbbaaaaannnnn Mythhhhhhhhh.

Today's tip comes from that dimension... and is pulled back to Reality. I know you've heard that Ethel's mother's best friend's niece's twins' kindergarten teacher sent a note home, demanding that the twins' dirty Crocs be cleaned, before she would allow them back into the story circle. Teacher's suggestion: Put the dirty little buggers in the dishwasher -- oh my goodness, I mean the Crocs, not the twins! Heavens to Mercy!

"Pishtosh!" you exclaim. "The dishwasher??? Tsk, tsk. The dishwasher is meant exclusively for dishes, and seeing as you wouldn't eat out of the Crocs, they don't qualify. How trailer park!"

Well, someone has their nose much too high in the air, now, don't they, hmmmm?

That's where the crack research staff at Household Hints from Bob comes in, as usual, to put the theory-slash-myth to the test and -- pardon the vulgar sound of this -- de-bunk it.

So we put our favourite pair of red and black Ottawa Senators Crocs in the dishwasher with the usual stuff that goes in there, and set the dishwasher to run in the wee small hours. After all, we must all do our part to conserve energy and protect this great planet of ours, so that we can continue offering Household Hints from Bob for generations to come.

Drum roll, please, as morning arrives and we open the dishwasher... [brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (drum roll effect -- you can come up with better?), [BING!(cymbal crash)] ...and my stars, it worked! They're so brand-new shiny clean, we would eat out of them before the twins put them on their grubby little feet and smear toe jam in them again.

There you have it, another urban myth dragged back into the third dimension, joining the Household Hints from Bob Household Hints Hall of Fame!

Join us next time, for the episode we like to call "Get rid of that deep-seated belly button lint, without going to the garage to get the extra heavy duty shopvac".

Thanks for joining us. Have a great day, and may you get your next goose long before Christmas Day! Buh-byeeeeeee.

Clean out your lint traps!

There's no joke here. It's a word of caution that I hope you'll help spread around.
My second cousin and his wife, who live in a house across the road from our cottage, have lost their beautiful home to a fire, caused by a blocked lint trap on their clothes dryer. Luckily, they woke up at 1:00 a.m. (I'm not sure, but probably from a smoke detector) and got out of the burning house with the proverbial clothes on their backs.
At first, it was thought that the house was just gutted, and could be restored. But on the phone tonight, my Dad told me that once they could inspect it, they learned that it has to be torn down and totally replaced.
I've heard of this before, and hope you keep your lint trap cleaned out. It doesn't stop at the screen that traps most of the lint from each load, either. Get in behind it with your vacuum cleaner on a regular basis. It's surprising how much lint gets past the screen. It builds up and eventually catches fire.
One time that I heard of such a thing was at a fire that I covered in Timmins as a videographer. Damage was very minor that time, because it was one o'clock in the afternoon in an urban residential area -- not one o'clock in the morning, in a rural area some ten kilometres from the nearest fire hall. Anyway, the lady in that house neglected her lint trap, and it caught fire, killing her cat. The fire chief told me that when cats sense fire, they hide -- under a bed, in this instance. And because a cat's lungs are so small, it takes very little smoke inhalation to kill it.

So please, check that lint trap regularly, and go deeper than getting the lint out between loads.

My weekend at Lac du Cerf

The weather was beautiful, and the company was great -- even if some of the young people were drinking beer and smoking dope before breakfast. Oh well, they are family, and not my responsibility. Every family has a little bit of white trash, doesn't it?

Here's a pic of Zoey, my dogniece who I sometimes babysit, and who ate the poopy diaper and licked the peepot. Hey, maybe the white trash got her stoned, and she had the munchies! Isn't she pretty?

Speaking of pretty, check out these two beauties. Claire and Caitlin are five months old, the daughters of my second cousin Charlie, and his wife, Trish. They also have an almost-three-year-old son, Carter, who's quite the little cutie, too.
I learned from Claire Bear and Caity Cait that I'm too old to be a Daddy, but I'm going to be an awesome surrogate Grandpa to Little Bro Dan's eventual kids. Yep, old Uncle Bob has the touch. I rocked Claire to sleep twice, and Caitlin once. Of course, I do have that effect on women of all ages.
We had a lot of laughs and ate a lot of great food this past weekend. I only wish this stupid sinus infection for which I'm now on antibiotics hadn't made me feel like crap. I had three beers all weekend -- between Friday night and Monday afternoon!

Has anyone seen my damned camera cable?

I'm jonesin' here to start posting pics from my weekend, but I can't find the stupid cable. It can't have gone too far -- this is only a two-bedroom apartment, and I usually keep all that junk on or in my desk.

ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!

Catholics, please pray to St. Anthony for me. It used to work for my best buddy's Mom, when she had misplaced something.

Any other suggestions for finding it?

Happy Labour Day

Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, have a great, safe time.
I'll be at my cousin's little piece of Heaven in the North Laurentians, and will report in with photos next week.

Let's be juvenile

I left a comment on Kitty's blog (misster-kitty.blogspot.com) that anyone who lurks there and here probably hasn't seen yet, because it's part of his last post about being away for a while.

I know what let's do: Let's scare the shite out of him the first time he checks his blog, by running up the number of comments to that most recent post. I've started, it's your turn. You know: while the Kitty's away, the blogmice will play...

I am SO 12 years old!

Woo-hoo! My 189th post!

Being the iconoclast that I am, I am not waiting until #200 -- I'm celebrating post #189 in all its glory (or lack thereof, if that's how you glass-half-empty types want to look at it).

Besides, fellow Bloglodytes, to quote that wise philosopher, N@, "I gots nothin'."

HEY, MONTREAL: What's goin' on?

We're hearing here in the A-Channel Ottawa Newscentre that part of the Métro has been shut down/evacuated.

What's up with that?

I'm peeved. I must vent

There are some issues that just should not be used to play politics. With about six weeks to go until a provincial election in Ontario, Liberal Premier Dalton McGuinty is considering a petition to rename part of Highway 401 in honour of Canadian soldiers who die in Afghanistan. That's a very noble gesture that I support wholeheartedly, regardless of my own political beliefs and support, and regardless of the timing. Then this afternoon, we got this news release in our newsroom:

FACT CHECK: MCGUINTY AND THE ARMED FORCES

The facts get in the way of Dalton’s story

(Toronto, ON) – A story in today’s Globe and Mail says that Dalton McGuinty is considering renaming a stretch of the 401 the “Highway of Heroes” in honour of Canada’s war dead.

It’s a worthy initiative, to be sure. But it also begs the question of Dalton McGuinty’s sincerity when he says, as is reported in the Globe, that Ontario needs to look for opportunities to lend support to Canada's soldiers and thank them for their sacrifices.

Over the last two years, Dalton McGuinty has had no fewer than two occasions to help out those Ontarians serving in Canada’s Armed Forces in real and meaningful ways, and he rejected both of those options right out of hand.

Opportunity 1: When Dalton McGuinty broke his promise to the people of Ontario and brought in the single largest tax hike in the history of the province he called it a “health premium” and made it so that Ontario’s men and women in the Armed Forces had to pay it.
But they don’t use Ontario’s health care system.

During the spring of 2006, John Tory and PC MPP John Yakabuski led the call in the Ontario Legislature to have the McGuinty government, at the very least, repeal the health tax for our men and women in the Armed Forces. Dalton McGuinty and his ministers were given nine separate opportunities to say that they were going to repeal the tax. Instead of doing so, Dalton refused to answer the questions put to him and his Minister of Finance defended the practice – saying that the families of Armed Forces members used Ontario’s health care system.

So what happened when those families tried to access those health care services?



Opportunity 2: The Phoenix Centre for Children and Families near CFB Petawawa provides mental health services for the children of soldiers who are serving in Afghanistan.
In September 2006, Greg Lubmiv, the executive director of the Phoenix Centre, and Lieutenant Colonel Dave Rundle, the base commander at CFB Petawawa addressed a letter to Dalton McGuinty’s Minister of Children and Youth Services asking for special funding to deal with a huge increase in the need for mental health services for the children in and around CFB Petawawa.

The Minister refused the request and told Mr. Lubmiv and Lt.-Col. Rundle to ask the federal government.

When asked about it , Dalton McGuinty’s minister gave this appalling answer:

“It’s [the increase in the need for children’s mental health services] a direct consequence of federal government initiatives.”

It wasn’t until the Ombudsman stepped in that the Phoenix Centre got the money Dalton McGuinty’s government previously said didn’t exist.

John Tory and the PC Party of Ontario also believe that support for our men and women in uniform must happen 365 days a year – not just at election time.




It is disgusting that the Conservative Party would use the issue to try to score political points. I hope it comes back to bite them in the collective arse.

Tasteless joke time

Q: What do Rosie O'Donnell and Michael Vick have in common?
A: Their careers were both ruined by a dogfight.

I can't take credit/blame for this -- I heard it on Letterman last night.

My Pride and Joy is 25 today

It is hard to believe that the big-eyed little guy I met 14 years ago last month is 25 years old today.
As anyone who's ever lurked here knows, Little Bro Dan is my pride and joy.
While I wouldn't change a single thing or take back a single second of being Big Brother to my Dano, I would be lying if I said I don't miss the little guy who moondanced around the Mini-Putt doing his Robin Leach imitation ("Champagne wishes and caviar dreams...") that Wednesday night in July, 1993; the same little guy who would snuggle up next to me on the couch at the cottage while I was doing a crossword and try to help, or commandeer the puzzle ("What's a domestic feline pet, three letters, first two are C and A?"); or, while driving in the car one day, asked what would happen when he turned 16 and the Big Brother match officially ended ("It's just a number. You're not getting rid of me that easily," I replied. "Good," he said with obvious relief, "I was hoping you'd say something goofy like that.").
I could go on and on, and often do without much prompting.
The bottom line is that being a Big Brother is the most rewarding thing I've ever done. I am so proud of the young man Dano has become. To say I'm thankful that he is an integral part of my life would be a total understatement.
Happy Birthday, Buddy. Your Big Brother loves and cherishes you.

Where were you?

Thirty years ago tomorrow: August 16, 1977. The death of Elvis Presley (if you truly believe that he's dead). He would be 72 if he was still alive.
It was my Dad's 46th birthday, and I was just a couple weeks from leaving home to start university, at what was then Ryerson Polytechnical Institute. After birthday cake for dessert, I borrowed my Dad's car to get together with my buddies for one of the last times before we dispersed to various colleges and universities. I had just pulled out of the driveway when I heard on the radio that the King had died. A couple of weeks later, on Labour Day weekend, the radio waves were full of Elvis tributes and music.

Your turn. Where were you when you heard?

This is for you, Ma:

Just 'cuz.
I took this photo beside my Dad's driveway, right next to the neighbour's house. Do I like my new camera? Well, yeah!

It's been kind of quiet in our little Blog family lately, hasn't it? What with vacations, etc., I guess people other than me are spending less time online. But I kinda miss 'em. Come back: all is forgiven.

Have a great day.

The McIntyre Kids

Left to right are me, my sister Dale and brother Danny. He's a year and a half older than I am, she's three and a half younger.

Danny and his wife, Candy, spent the weekend in Ottawa, staying at my new deluxe pad. They left early this morning, and informed me last night that next time they come to town, they will also stay at my deluxe new pad.

We are close, but not in-your-face close. We do spend time together whenever possible, but living eight hours apart doesn't make it possible too often. Regardless, if we ever need each other, we know we're no farther than a phone call or MSN message away. And of course, although I usually have supper at Dale's house every Sunday, it's rare that the three of us are in the same place at the same time. So we had a nice weekend: pizza at my place Saturday night, supper at Dale's last night. While I was at work during both those days, Danny and Candy did stuff with their son, Scott -- who also lives in Ottawa and joined us for pizza and Sunday supper -- and with Dale and her husband, Den.

I love this picture of us, taken last night at Dale's. We took a similar one two years ago at Danny's house. I showed it to people at work, and said it was me with my parents. One co-worker commented on how young my mom looked! Dale got even: she showed it to people where she works, and told them it was her two dads! Yes, we are a bunch of jokers, and have a lot of laughs when we are together.

So here's to siblings, and the connections unique to them. To people who don't communicate with their sibs (such as most of my stepmother's five kids), I say that life is too short for that crap. Swallow your pride, and pick up the phone, before it's too late.