I have a hard decision ahead of me.  It shouldn't be a hard decision.  It should be an easy decision.  It should be a question like: what shirt am I going to wear today? or should I watch three Star Trek movies this week?  But, I am forced to seek advice.  If you read my post about my Vancouver bootcamp exercise program (which rules, by the way) a few weeks ago, you may be aware that I am trying to get into a shape that doesn't resemble overweight and blob-like.  It is going well and I am starting to feel a whole lot healthier.  I haven't really "lost weight" yet since I am bulking up in the muscle department and someone mentioned that I am looking "thinner".  I don't see it, but hey, you need to start somewhere.

This brings me to the beer question.  I have been doing a little reading on exercise and how to make it pay off and I found some literature about alcohol and how it keeps your body from exercising successfully.  According to what I was reading, drinking two drinks effectively prevents your body from burning fat for up to 48 hours.

This discovery has horrified me!  So, if I have a couple of beers on Saturday night, my exercise on Monday won't do very much.  Yikes!  So, I have been tinkering with the idea of stopping my consumption of beer and wine.  I think I can do this successfully but I was taking stock of a lot of the social gatherings I attend and many of them are booze-centric.  I suppose I hadn't realized the extent as to how much liquor is central to socializing in this town.

I think I have made my decision to cut booze out of my diet (yes, I reallllly like my beer) and I think I can stick to it but it will be hard.  What do you all think?

Technorati Tags: beer, alcohol, stop

I was reminded this morning via my Facebook account of a personal experience that I try to forget.  The incident is known (at least, to myself) as the rubber egg incident.  It has not been forgotten by those involved nor has it been forgotten by me.  Who was involved?  My entire family with a possible exception to my mother.  Actually, scratch that, she didn't put a stop to the rubber egg incident, so, she doesn't get by on her motherly virtues this time.  To give you an idea of how deep this event scarred me, let me just say that, I will never enjoy the love of a rubber egg ever again.  Never.  Again.

It all started at a family party.  I don't recall what the party was celebrating (probably Christmas or some such holiday) but I do remember there were a sizable number of people in attendance.  The evening was quite happy.  Wonderful food and delicious dessert was served.  Coffee, beer, and harder liqour was in abundance and, I remember, I was having a good time.  You can't put a price on the happiness that you may feel at a family gathering but, in retrospect, perhaps I was merely lulled into a false sense of security for their simple need for cheap laughs at my expense.

This brings me to the egg in question.   The egg was made of rubber.  This much was established that evening but I know there was more to it.  I had found the egg earlier and it was revealed to me to be a trinket of one of my cousins.  (When I say cousins, I mean, evil doers.)  The egg was white and it was indecipherable from a real egg.  This fact will come into play a little while later but, for now, let's all picture the image of a rubber egg.  The egg you've now pictured in mind's eye is evil.  Evil drips from the egg you are now thinking of.  It seethes with evil thoughts, pulsates with slimy puss, and smells much like you would imagine an evil egg would smell like.  Let's just say, and I may be jaded in my memory, but I know, deep down, that rubber was indeed evil - pure, condensed evil.

We come to the incident.  The evening progressed as my family gatherings normally progressed and I was able to wander their home, full of all kinds of scrumptious food, to my heart's content.  But then, without warning, my typical family supper experience changed.  As I made my way down the hallway from the family room to the living room (yes, I don't know the difference either) I was caught unaware that I was being stalked.  From what I could only assume was a secret hidden room complete with arrow firing slits, a rubber egg, seemingly harmless, bounced off of my forehead.  I fell down or, as what I like to recall, ducked for my life.  It was like slow motion.  My life, as short as it was then, flashed before my eyes.  The time I bruised by spleen after running into a baserunner during a baseball game (or he ran into me, we were never really sure) was, up until that time, the most horrible event in my life.  But the egg changed all that.  I hit the ground and laughter ensued as my cousins, who shall remain nameless in this retelling but you know who you are, fell about themselves as they witnessed the hilarity of my reaction.  The rubber egg bounced along the floor where it was retrevied by one of my evil doer cousins.  I regained my composure (as much as a young child can) and proceeded to go about my business.  I think "about my business" may be roughly translated as I ran for my life into an adjoining room.  I believe this was the kitchen.  But, the kitchen held no comfort as, from the door opposite to the one I had just entered, a small rubber egg flew with precision and impacted itself upon the side of my head once again.

It wasn't long before my head met with the rubber egg again. 

More laughter. 

And, as I am sure you may have already guessed, the egg bounced off my head again.

And again. 

And, I believe, again.

Several egg beatings later, the egg assault wained.  I would like to think the egg attacks were just getting old.  But, alas, it was not to be.  The weapon was changing as was the intended target.

You see, since the rubber egg was just that - rubber - someone thought it would be a good idea to use a real egg.  Fortunately, for me, the real eggs were not to be used on my person and I was spared.  These newly acquired eggs were hollowed out with some magic that I don't remember (something to do with a pin and sucking the yolk out) was used and they were substituted for the rubber egg.  Several were thrown, a few were mashed, and the evening escalated until a fully armed and operational egg was used upon my uncle's head.  His unhappy response ended the egg invasion and, I hoped, it was over.  Fun had been had.  People had laughed and a few experienced real egg on their faces.  But, what I can only was two or three moments, it happened again.  Sitting on a black couch with an orange floural motif, I had cuddled into my mother.  I thought, for some reason, that my mother would protect me from the rubber egg.  Sadly, no, this was not to be.  The rubber egg, again, found my forehead.  More laughter was had.  This new barrage of rubber eggs continued for some minutes ending with my uncle squatting over my face as I lay on the couch (in a futile attempt to evade flying rubber eggs) and letting out a trumpeting fart.  Additional laughter.

Over the years, I have looked back upon this event as a character building exercise.  I thought I was over it.  I thought I had put it all behind me.  But, today, I realize, this is not so.  I have never sought revenge for this egging but, now, all these years later, I shall have it.  I am reminded of Shylock, the persecuted Jew from Shakespeare's play The Merchant of Venice.  He was assaulted by uncaring Christians and picked upon.  I am sure you may remember his speech to Salarino:

If you prick me, do I not bleed?
If you tickle me, do I not laugh?
If you poison me, do I not die?
And if you bounce a rubber egg off of my head a hundred times in an evening, shall I not revenge?

I did take a few liberties, of course, but I will have my pound of flesh!  I will revenge!  Or they can buy me a beer and call it even.  I make myself laugh sometimes, I hope I was able to entertain you as well.  Damn those rubber eggs.

Technorati Tags: rubber eggs, memories, family, evil doers

For the last few days, I have been asking some people to see if they may be interested in live blogging the Creative City Cabaret.  I realized I hadn't posted anything here about it.

So, what do I want?  I want bloggers to cover this event that Left Right Minds is presenting at the Roundhouse in Yaletown this coming Saturday, November 8th, 2008 at 9pm onward.  I am looking for bloggers, photographers, and even some audio and video bloggers.  If you are interested in politics, love to blog, like to take photographs - drop me an e-mail.

The goal is to talk about how Vancouver is now a "creative city" and what this means for the arts in this town and arts in Canada.

Technorati Tags: creative city cabaret, left right minds, live blogging