Considering privacy when there's nothing to hide

I'm looking for your opinions on this ... I think I know how I feel about it, but I'm aware that other people feel differently ... so help me understand here.

I've posted here before about people marking some of my Flickr photos as favorites in a post entitled "Gay guys totally dig me on Flickr." There's a contingent of gentlemen who think my chubby, hairy belly is dead sexy.

When I check recent activity on my Flickr gallery, I regularly find that people have marked some of the photos as favorites. When I click on the person's name to see their favorites, there's usually a theme. When it comes to the context in which I find my pictures, it's usually a collection of overfed and underdressed hirsute dudes.

Me -- I'm not that spooked by it. I find it flattering that people would find me so attractive they want to see my picture more than once. I don't feel threatened by it. My pictures don't portray me in a degrading fashion in any way that would impugn my character or smear my reputation. They're just photos of me that happen to appeal to a certain narrow demographic. I even stuck out my belly in one of the photos on our Cuba trip as a nod to my "fans".

Lately I've spotted a few people favouriting my girlfriend's pictures. And, likewise, there's usually a theme. Usually it's breasts, specifically cleavage, although one guy clearly had a thing for cute girls' armpits.

Now, this is where I acknowledge my opinion may diverge from others.

I'm not threatened by men on the internets looking at our innocent snapshots and finding my girlfriend to be hot. I'm kind of flattered that they think she's as sexy as I do.

Some people find it really really creepy that people would be looking at them like that. I don't think Amanda's comfortable with strangers finding her pictures sexy. I don't think she finds it threatening but she's clearly not into having her armpits fetishized for people who troll the web for shots that accidentally show the body parts they love most.

Now, I'm not taking pictures of my partner in sexy underthings and in suggestive poses to post on the internet to vampiristically solicit the drooling glances of other strangers. Not that that would be entirely unlike me, or some version of me from the past, but that's not appropriate, welcome or ... y'know, it's not a good idea. I get that.

Aren't I scared that these people are stalking me or her? No, I'm not. I don't believe these people are infatuated with anything more than the particular image they're looking at. I'm not afraid that someone out there has spotted my lady's 'pits or decolletage and is crawling the web looking for a way to get to her. I don't feel that kind of fear.

What's going on here is that we're posting perfectly reasonable snapshots that the average person would find innocent and plain. But people are devouring other peoples' photographed life and cherry picking the parts that turn them on, then saving them out to a collection that focuses on their particular predilections.

So what's a person to do? Cave into the peepers and go private with our otherwise unproblematic photos? Consider this: every parent who's posting adorable photos of their kids playing in the backyard pool are also sharing those family memories with oddballs who scour the web for pictures of children playing in backyard pools! Your little boy or girl could end up bookmarked for future insalubrious viewing by a guy whose viewing habits would make you throw up.

Where's it stop? If someone has a thing for women in red shirts, you may find your photos ending up in a collection along with other women in red shirts. Blue-eyed redheads? You're bookmarked! Flat-chested? Ample-bosomed? Somewhere in between or maybe a little heavier on one side than the other? Someone's going to fancy you! Someone's going to fancy you for a part of you you may not be proud of. And even if you're proud of it, are you comfortable with someone other than your honey bunny ogling you at the keyboard?

So, that's what I want you to meditate on and comment about.

How do you handle the knowledge that the material you post innocently to the web is likely being consumed by people who are using it for pervy purposes you hadn't intended?

Word of the day: unsalubrious

Morning editor Ruth floored me again with one of those words. One of those words that makes me stop her in mid-sentence and say -- that's new. I have to write that down.

Today it was "unsalubrious". The context was in a discussion of Maxime Bernier's girlfriend, and Ruth asking whether the government should now feel compelled to "screen all their dates for unsalubrious connections."

Wow. Good word.

Unfortunately, it's not quite the right word.

Although I find several mentions of the word through Google, the only appropriate dictionary mention I can find is for insalubrious.

Usually it refers to something "detrimental to health".

Still, good word. Clap clap for Ruth and her always inspiring vocabulary.

Congratulations to Amanda

My partner and sweetheart doesn't need this book because ...

... she's debt free today! Well before her 30th birthday.

After scrimping and saving, planning and plotting and forgoing some of life's luxuries, she's wiped out the last chunk of her student debt.

I'm so proud of her!

A few bloggy changes

I've tweaked a few itty bitty things on the blog. I hope you like 'em.

• There's now a search bar at the top. I'm not sure how efficient or in-the-way it is.
• I know I mentioned it before, but I'm doing some sponsored posts now. As promised, I'm trying to incorporate things that go with the material you expect here, not shill for junk in the name of a quick buck. You'll see sponsored posts tagged with "ppp".
• There's a blogroll in the sidebar now. It's a list of blogs I visit regularly and/or enjoy greatly. Drop me a line if you want to swap links! I'm hungry for inbound traffic that isn't a Google search for "big ass".
• The layout is still broken below "BigAss Records, Inc." ... has been since the beginning ... and I don't know why. If you're an HTML expert who can straighten it out, gimme a holler.

Loud Latvians: Update

Lloyd read the news.

The Latvians went home. Well, I just saw the last four of them leave.

I've opened the windows.

Now I can sleep.

If the cats don't keep me awake.

Peace out.

Mastering a house full of monkeys

We've stumbled on a fun show on TLC called Jon and Kate Plus 8. For those who haven't seen it, it's a reality-type show about the life of the Gosselin family. They have two sets of multiples -- twin girls, and sextuplets -- three girls, three boys.

I guess I've reached the point in my life where kids are cute and hilarious. And parents, too.

The dad cracks me right up. I totally dig his sense of humour. I think I'd be a dad like him. The mom has a great voice and is almost equally funny. How they don't lose their minds is beyond me. The chaos of one or two kids looks maddening. They manage eight kids and still have a sense of humour.

TLC has been running sets of four episodes -- one new, three reruns -- in packages. They go onto the PVR, and 'manda and I can snuggle on the couch and crack up at the shenanigans. As reality shows go, it's very down-to-earth and not plot-driven.

One episode we saw tonight featured the kids getting a chore chart. It looked like they ordered a custom one from a web site. Only the two oldest kids, aged 7, can read, so the little ones followed the pictures. I don't know if it's brilliant parenting or just the nature of three-year-olds, but the little ones got right into the act and scurried around doing chores. Sweeping, making their beds, sorting laundry. Of course they don't do it right. You can't expect them to. They're three. But it's well worth rewarding.

I think I would've benefitted from such a chore chart when I first moved in with my lady. It took some training and tears to get me to load and unload the dishwasher the right way, sort the laundry, clean the bathroom, set the table and so on. I'm good at it now. She hardly even has to ask...more than once. I've become quite domesticated.


Oo! A lull in the Latvian noise outside! Perhaps I'll sleep tonight after all! No ... no, weight, they're at it again, louder. If I can't cope with a street full of Latvian hockey nuts, how can these parents cope with a house full of shrieking children?

LAT-VEE-UH! GO TO SLEEP!

The IIHF World Hockey Championship is taking place here in Halifax this week.

In fact, it's happening just outside our windows.

As my old friend C3P0 used to say, "This is madness!"

I'm delights to be living in the heart of a wonderful city, right downtown, in the heart of the action, plugged in to the buzz of the city, connected to the energy and excitement of action and excitement.

BUT THESE GODDAMN LATVIAN HOCKEY FANS ARE LOUD!

I mean, it's almost 11pm and they're outside -- literally right outside our window, even though we're about 80 feet up in the air -- banging drums and blowing horns in a rhythmic and joyous fashion.

Now I know what it felt like to be living on Carlton Street in Toronto when the Leafs won the playoffs. Okay, that's a bit of a lie. Because, as far as I'm aware, the Leafs never won the playoffs.

I just walked down the hall to throw the trash down the chute, and even in the middle of the hallway, in the middle of the building, the drumming, horn-blowing, and endless "Ole, ole ole ole" chants were melting my brain. The noise comes in through the windows ... up through the trash chute ... in through the bathroom vents ... up through the toilet pipes, too, I think.

This morning, radio station Q104 set up shop on the corner to run a contest and give away tickets. Brilliant! But at 7am, I'm trying to sleep! I was ready to blame it on the hockey fans.

And y'know what? Y'know what? When the IIHF tournament is over, and these wonderful folks from around the world go home after spending their hard-earned money in our glorious city, it'll almost be time for the Royal Nova Scotia International Tattoo!

What's that mean? Bagpipes! Drums! Drums and bagpipes! And brass bands! Outside our window at 7am! Noise that could wake the dead -- only, surprise, you're still alive!

I love this city. I love culture.

But anyone who knows me knows, I've never been a fan of hockey.

Especially hockey players.

You guys who beat me up in school -- you know who I'm talking about.

Thank goodness I have a box of earplugs. Something tells me that if the walls and windows don't cut the noise -- oh, there they go again with the ... oh, it's the na na hey hey goodbye song with ole ole shouts in Latvian -- the earplugs won't do much.

Oh, Lloyd Robertson ... please take me off to dreamland with the news.

And that's the kind of day it's been on this Tuesday, May 6, 2008. For some of you, the local news is coming up next.

Bacon + Vodka = Bacon Vodka

As simple as it sounds, in this recipe at Brownie Points:

Bacon Vodka

makes up one pint

Fry up three strips of bacon.

Add cooked bacon to a clean pint sized mason jar. Trim the ends of the bacon if they are too tall to fit in the jar. Or you could go hog wild and just pile in a bunch of fried up bacon scraps. Optional: add crushed black peppercorns.

Fill the jar up with vodka. Cap and place in a dark cupboard for at least three weeks. That's right - I didn't refrigerate it.

At the end of the three week resting period, place the bacon vodka in the freezer to solidify the fats. Strain out the fats through a coffee filter to yield a clear filtered pale yellow bacon vodka.

Decant into decorative bottles and enjoy.

'Nuff said. This sounds amazing.

Thanks to lilsis for the link.

A flame-broiled retraction

Just over a year ago, I levelled a heavy accusation at Burger King.

In a post titled "My Beef With Burger King", I alleged that the flame-broiled Whoppers at the airport outlet were not flame-broiled:

My other beef has to do with how I observed Whoppers being cooked at the Halifax International Airport (now Robert L. Stanfield Halifax International Airport).
Much to my surprise, it appeared staff were *frying* the burgers. Whoppers are supposed to be flame-broiled. Cooked with fire. Special machines. That's the whole BK gimmick -- flame-broiled Whoppers.
So I called Burger King Customer Support to inquire. They promised to call me back after investigation. It's been a month and a half, but no one has returned my call. So, I'm posting the audio of the inquiry. Here's a 3.2 MB MP3: bk-airport.mp3.

Well, we passed through the airport again on our way to Cuba.

I asked the chap behind the counter whether their Whoppers were flame-broiled. That just confused him. One of his coworkers said they go over fire. I took a closer look and, whaddya know, they do have a Whopper flame-broiler back there. Yes, they do. One of those belt-driven dealies that takes the patties on a conveyor from cold to hot and dripping with greasy grill marks. The airport Whoppers appear to be the real deal.

So, apologies to Burger King if I raised an unnecessary stink. You still should've called me back about it. We could've sorted this out a year ago!

A picture can say a thousand words ... or just a few

Before we went on our trip to Cuba, mom and dad sent a really cool card.

It was a picture of a cat exploring some luggage ... and the caption was something along the lines of "Going somewhere?"

I thought it was very unusual -- and cool. I think she explained that a local photographer made and sold them using his or her own photos. What a neat idea! It was just a regular photo print, like you'd get at the store, on a simple card ... but it had a real sense of personality and creativity that you don't quite get with even the most appropriately-chosen Hallmark or Carlton cards.

I even thought to myself ... now that's a smart way for a photographer to monetize a hobby. I think I even said it out loud. Not in a crass, commercial way. Just a little "well, isn't that one smart cookie?!"

Well, there are ways to do it yourself. Of course, you could print up your own photos and find the right card stock. I suppose you could even learn calligraphy and get stickers and decals and transfers and stamps. Scrapbooking hobbyists would have a blast!

Me, I'm not so fancy.

I know that my flickr photo account is linked to various services that let me print photo cards, photo calendars, photo beach balls perhaps, and photo albums that I ordered the first Christmas we were here to show the folks back home some of the pictures I took during Year One on the Right Coast.

But if you're not all flickrized and just want to do up some fancy Photo Cards, there are other options. CardsDirect has a whole mess of options available in color, B&W, sepia, borders, finishes, and whatnot.

I can imagine a lot of people would order them for family photo Christmas cards. Nice, but a little predictable.

How about:

• Look at our new baby!
• Look at our new pet!
• Look at our new baby and our new pet!
• We got new carpet -- see our first stain?
• The best shot from our vacation
• Hubby finally cooked -- can't you just smell it?
• Our province is flooded, and this is the last thing we saw before the house floated away ... wish you were here!
• Does this look infected to you?
• This is infected. Get yourself tested
• This is the last you'll ever see of me
• It's yours. Pay up
• Here's a photo of my new photo card
• Happy Festivus
• We got married and you missed it! Kisses!

Just a few ideas. I hope you find inspiration.

Worst case scenario, you can order a blank one with a non-sequitur shot of anything, and use it as a thoroughly amusing substitute for stationery. Now that seems right up my alley.