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?

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.

The People's Picasso of Havana

We heard about guys like this before going on our tour, but I still ended up shelling out 4 CUC for two quick-and-dirty caricatures of Amanda and I. Here they are, plus a shot of the guy who did 'em. I don't think they look anything like us, really.

Big Ass On Skis

Exploring the wilderness on skis., originally uploaded by BigAssSuperBlog.

We took advantage of the nice weather on Saturday by taking a trip to Ski Martock, about 45 minutes away from Halifax outside of Windsor, Nova Scotia.

I haven't been cross-country skiing in ... well ... 25 years? I feel really old to be able to say I haven't done something in 25 years. That just feels so wrong.

I skied (that doesn't look like it's spelled correctly) about as well as someone who hasn't skied in 25 years would, especially if he wasn't a good or even adequate or even passable skier 25 years ago.

As you can see from the "Scott The Explorer" shot above, I had wet spots on my pants from several falls. As you might not be able to see from the shot above, I landed on my poles. I (mostly) straightened them out.

All in all, a good day out.

More pics in the Big Ass Photo Gallery.

Anticipating many Google hits now for "big soggy ass" and "big ass poles" etc. Silly Google.

Additional notes ... yes, my glasses are fogged up there ... skiing is hard work! ... The photos were taken with a Motorla Razr2 phone on loan from Rogers Wireless to be reviewed on an upcoming episode of Maritime Morning. If anyone has any cool tips for using this phone, lemme know, 'cuz for all I know, it's just a really skinny phone with a good camera on it ... And, I lost my mittens. I think I lost them when I was returning the skis or boots ... I almost lost my beloved Boognish (Ween) hat early on the ski trail, but another (athletic, skilled, polite) skier picked it up and returned it. That would've been the second Boognish hat I lost, having had one fall out of a car at the Avalon Mall in St. John's, Newfoundland early in the decade.

Amanda's kitty is a lolcat

moar funny pictures

Gay guys totally dig me on Flickr

I've been meaning to write something about this for a while, but I don't really know what to say about it.

The bottom line is ... some gay men enjoy pictures of my gut.

Stop laughing.

The picture on the right has had six people label it a favorite. That, as far as I can tell, makes it the most favorited picture in my Flickr library.

The favoriters (word? is it? probably not) include men named tex - just tex, N!(K -- loveforphotography --, Cute_Boy_Wonder, bobjeffs00, matadormat_net, and, the name that seems to sum it all up, Overfed & Underdressed.

Clicking on any of those names will show you their favorites. (I don't suggest doing it at work.) You'll note that they're mostly pictures of topless, hairy, fat men. I'm in good company.

The picture of me with Randy from the Trailer Park Boys comparing big hairy bellies is also a popular choice among the same crowd. Actually, checking right now, I see it has 8 people counting it as favorite, including beardad4bears.

I suppose I'm flattered. It's nice to be considered a sex object, even if those objectifying me aren't the ones I'd expect to attract.

If I were gay, I suppose I'd be welcomed into the "Bear Community." Wikipedia has an article about this, with the following terminology.

• Admirer - a term that refers to someone who is sexually or romantically attracted to Bears (this term is often used in various communities to describe an outsider who has sexual attraction to people within that community). Also often referred to as a Chaser.
• Admirers/Chasers can be of any weight, hairy or hairless and any age.
• Bear - a man with a stocky or heavyset build. Can be hairy or hairless and can be of any age.
• Cub - a younger (or younger looking) version of a Bear, typically but not always with a smaller frame. The term is sometimes used to imply the passive partner in a relationship. Can be hairy or hairless.
• Daddy bear - is an older guy sometimes looking for a daddy/son relationship with either a younger Bear, Cub, Otter, Wolf or Chaser.
• Goldilocks - A female, often heterosexual, who is often in the company of bears. A bear's fag hag. Also can be referred to as an Ursula.
• Muscle bear - a muscular version of a Bear. A muscle cub is a younger or smaller, yet muscular, version. Can be hairy or hairless and of any age.
• Panda bear - a bear of Asian ethnicity. A panda cub is younger version. Usually hairless.
• Polar bear - a silver- or white-haired Bear.
• Otter - a man who is hairy, but is not large or stocky - typically thinner, or with lean muscle. Slimmer version of a Bear with little pockets of fat like love handles or a tiny gut, but not as lean as a Wolf.
• Woof - A greeting often used when a Bear spots another Bear in public and wants to express physical attraction. He might make a growling noise ("Grrr!") or say "Woof!"
• Bear run - a gathering or circuit party for Bear/Cub types and their Admirers.

Kevin Smith has a nice bit about this whole phenomenon in the second An Evening With... DVD. A gay friend told him that if he were ever to switch teams, he could get a really really hot boyfriend, 'cuz the cute muscly hairless guys really go for the chubby hairy dudes.

So, to all the "chasers" -- uh, thanks. Thanks for diggin' my scene. You can look but don't touch.

PS: I now have a full beard. Oo, I'm such a tease.

Filmmaker flashback

I know a bunch of my grade-school/high-school classmates are gathered over on Facebook. I'm not on there. But I have something to share with them. If you were at Stuart Scott Public School in Newmarket Ontario in 1986 (87?), you may be somewhere in this clip.

I used to make stop-motion films for fun. Back in grade 6, I took my super-8 movie camera to school and shot a reel of film. Here's what we cranked out -- with some extra stuff at the end of the reel, 'cuz I had film left over.

I got the transfer done here in Halifax at Copy Cat Digital. I'm not terribly impressed with the transfer, actually. There's a guy in Ontario who uses a frame-accurate direct-to-digital transfer, so I think I'm going to send my films out there for another attempt at getting a cleaner copy. Then, perhaps, I'll add sound and repost this and more.

Storm's over. Back to bidniz.

I ended up sleeping through the storm, awakened this morning by a Blackberry email from my parents wondering if we'd been swept off the map because the Internet feed for the radio station was down.

Yes, we survived. No broken windows. No leaks. The barbeque is still on the balcony. I was afraid we'd lost Amanda's cat, but she was just hiding in the closet in the Dungeon/Studio.

We went out this morning to get material for more stories this afternoon.







This low-rise apartment building on Monastery Lane, behind the Canadian Tire on Quinpool, lost its brick facade around 4am. Two cars parked in a no-parking zone were crunched. A third was damaged. A woman who lives inside says the most-damaged car looked like it was a pretty sweet ride...beforehand.

A big tree tipped over at Quinpool and Rosebank, across from the Irving, next to the Ardmore Tea Room. It didn't snap the lines, but stretched 'em pretty good. I was lucky enough to find Nova Scotia Power's communications woman there, so I snagged a decent interview after she told some kids not to play on a fallen tree under power lines. (Parents? Anyone?)


We headed out to our favourite rocky shoreline area off Purcell's Cove Road -- and we weren't the only ones there this time. The waves were spectacular. You can't quite fathom the scale from the pictures here. (Click on 'em anyway -- they'll take you to Flickr.)

Storm's still coming

I went out in the storm for a reporting stint ... will probably head out again soon for an update.

Checked out the shoreline by the harbour ... lots of wind ... nearly lost my glasses coming back up Duke Street. I felt sort of like John Holliman on CNN standing in a hurricane -- and the storm is still 400km away. Chatted with some students at the Split Crow. They're hell-bent on drinking and partying no matter what the weather. The cover band was doing some Guns 'n Roses -- Sweet Child o' Mine, though November Rain would've been the obvious choice.

I came back thoroughly soaked, despite having worn Amanda's Land's End raincoat.

Forecast is for the peak winds to hit around 6am. We'll see about going out in the morning for more coverage. So much for getting an extra hour of sleep.

It's nice to get away

Amanda and I spent the weekend in beautiful Annapolis Royal, Nova Scotia.

We went there in the summer for part of our vacation, and Amanda rightly suggested we return for our "official" arbitrary anniversary in the fall. So ... we did!

Ahhh ... two nights in the luxurious King George Inn, with a two-person jacuzzi tub, genuine artificial fireplace, antiques, a newly-installed king-sized bed, and the meticulous hospitality of Faith McStravick, the "pancake queen" innkeeper.

Only problem was ... the town was pretty much closed. It's the off season. No farmer's market. Few shops. The Port Royal habitation across the bay was closed for the season.

And to my extreme disappointment, the First Computermuseum of Nova Scotia does not even exist any more. That's right. Their web site doesn't say so, but the storefront housing the museum is completely empty and for sale. The museum wasn't open in the summer, either, but it was clearly still there. Grr.

We managed to get some good food at Cafe Compose, an Austrian-themed restaurant by the water. And a delicious lunch at Leo's, a cafe in Adams-Ritchie House, the oldest documented building in English Canada. Omigod, a 12-grain homemade club sandwich so thick I could barely stretch my mouth around it, with a side of mushroom barley soup. Good eats.

We drove out to Kejimkujik National Park for a stroll through the woods. Ah, nature! We even saw two deer. (Two deers? Two deer.)

The drive home took us along the "scenic route" on Highway 1, through lots of small towns and colourful leaves (leafs? leaves). One town stood out as the most bizarre; there were as many pumpkin-people -- that is, scarecrow-type constructions with pumpkins for heads -- along the side of the road as there must have been actual inhabitants. Decidedly odd, but a helluva good effort by the townsfolk.

The drive also provided my first opportunity to listen to the CBC. Seriously, I've never really listened to CBC radio before. We listened to the tail end of Stuart McLean's Vinyl Cafe, and it was dead-on interesting. A show called Wiretap featured an entertaining guy calling his friends on the phone. A show called Tapestry in which the host interviewed a former businesswoman who became a Zen Buddhist monk. An in-depth interview with former WWF champion Brett "Hit Man" Hart. Really good stuff. Completely unlike the radio I do, which is perfectly fine. We serve different purposes. CBC is for people who have time to sit back and take in some good, long storytelling. My station is for people who have just a few minutes to get up to date. That's fine. One or the other isn't bad or good. They're just different.

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Pictures are up on Flickr.

Scott Simpson is now married

Okay, calm down. I didn't want to give my friends and family a heart attack -- just a little WTF?

The headline refers to the August wedding of my friend and (recently departed from journalistm for a career in the music industry -- congrats!) coworker Laura Graham, and her man Scott Simpson, who I've blogged about in the past. Amanda and I were invited to their wedding in beautiful Judique, Cape Breton.

The wedding was set to take place on Kintyre Farm, but weather forced a change of plans. Instead it was held indoors, and it was still phenomenal. A few of us ducked out after dinner to head back to the Troy Lodge Cottages for a few drinks before returning to the reception, but the weather turned from bad to horrible, and we were stuck inside, missing the dancing and live music. I hear it was magical.

The night before the wedding is a story in itself. They planned a ceilidh (I hope I spelled that right) at the Celtic Music Interpretive Centre in Judique, and Laura said I should bring my gear and play a few songs. I did. It was a blast. Aside from karaoke, I've only performed in front of people twice before -- once at a small open mic in Toronto, and a few weeks later at my farewell bash at the Spotted Dick in Toronto. I'd never performed with a backup band in my ipod. I got on stage and realized that the playlist containing my backing tracks was not on the ipod. Horror! But I found the individual tracks in the "Recently Added" playlist, so I made it through. I sang my first song a whole octave higher than I should've. I forgot some of the words in my second song, even though they were printed out in front of me. And I started the third song a bar early. No matter -- people dug it all. Folks danced. It was a blast. I was very sweaty. I really want to do some more of these open mic dealies.

Afterward, many folks returned to the Troy Lodge Cottages for the after-party jam. It turns out several members of the wedding party -- or at least the bunch of guys jamming at the Interpretive Centre -- were members of the Johnny Favorite Swing Orchestra, and some of the other guys were just plain talented as heck. So, the joint was a-rockin', as Scott Simpson (the groom) and his buddies took up guitars, pianos and whatever else was around, in a beer-fueled kitchen party in a cabin in the woods by the Northumberland Strait. Good times. 'Til Amanda got sick, anyway. I'll leave that part out, 'cuz it was kinda gross. Anyway, uh ... yeah, kinda gross.

But we made it to the wedding the next day ... it was emotional ... beautiful ... inspiring ... and the ribs were to die for, dahling.

Here's some video shot at the ceilidh and at the wedding. I hope you like.

Vacation wrapup, way way late

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya. But life's been busy for the past month or so. Lots to blog about, so let's get at 'er, starting with this wrapup of the big Big Ass Summer Tour 2007.

Saturday, July 21, Amanda and I set out on a big drive, aiming to get to Riviere-du-Loup by sundown. First stop was Wendy's somewhere to try the new Baconator. Yes, two quarter-pound patties of fresh-never-frozen beef, six strips of bacon and two slices of cheese. The Baconator delivers. It's a little mushy, and the first half is best, 'cuz it's hot.

It was a cloudy, rainy day heading through New Brunswick. But more distracting than the rain was the accumulation of bugs on the windshield. I used the gas station squeegee to wipe off the slime each time we stopped for gas, but we could barely keep ahead of the insect carnage.

Arrived in Riviere du Loup and negotiated through the town courtesy of Mapquest's left-right-left-right-left-right-left directions, instead of going straight down one road. Ended up at Motel Boulevard Cartier. You'll note that the motel is attached to the local St. Hubert Chicken restaurant. In fact, the check-in desk is right next to the take-out counter. Check that... the check-in desk is the take-out counter. We checked in to the unremarkable but perfectly passable room. No non-smoking rooms available, unfortunately, so it felt like a real old-school experience, back to the days when all the rooms were smoking rooms. I promptly noticed a fly on the ashtray, turned around, and was delighted to find a flyswatter sitting on its own hook. Thwap! First amentiy used.

St. Hubert, in my mind, has always been the franglais equivalent of Swiss Chalet. And I luvs me some Swiss Chalet. So we ambled over to the restaurant to try out a quarter chicken and frites. This ain't no Swiss Chalet, kids. Tastes like cafeteria food. We added a bit of Nova Scotia flavour by purchasing some Keith's beer (Keith's Red, weirdly enough) to enjoy with dinner. Entered to win a Keith's guitar. Haven't won, so far that I've heard. Our friendly server Benoit told us about a fireworks show scheduled for 10pm down by the water. Cool beans! I luvs me some fireworks, too. If Swiss Chalet had fireworks, they'd be on to something, man. Fireworks show was better than the July 1 one in Halifax, I shit you not.

Next day was time for the killer drive of the trip, from Quebec to Bradford. Lunch was at McDonald's ("Mc Do'"), and the difficult problem of ordering a Bic Mac, no pickles, no sauce (my choix du jour on the rare times I go to the Arches) en francais. Amanda grew up in Northern Ontario (town of Swastika -- look it up) and actually worked her previous job in french, and we negotiated frickin' Paris together, so I figured ordering a Combo #1, no pickles, no sauce would be a breeze. But me, I learned Ontario core french, in which they teach you the names of things. French immersion, sure, you sound like you know the language, but you don't always end up knowing what stuff is called. Amanda was unsure what "sauce" was in french, even when I suggested that it may be "sauce". Pickles were a whole other matter. I asserted that "cochinons" was the word. She didn't know. So, between her and the counter man, I got a Big Mac sans sauce, but avec pickles. I could pick those off. Pickles, it turns out are "cornichons". Unsure so far what "cochinons" is, if anything.

Goddamn Ontario driving. The drive from the border to Toronto is ... is ... is ... no fun. Just no fun. The 401 isn't beautiful to drive on. Worse still when there's a collision and rubberneckers and idiots thinking they can get a tiny bit further ahead by cutting through the service station, then coming out four abroad into a one-lane merge, ending up driving on the shoulder, and ... anyway, Amanda convinced me not to shout anything out the window or hop out and slug someone in a Rav-4.

We crawled into Bradford quite late and found a Pizza Pizza open late. I don't miss Pizza Pizza pizza. Panzerotto Pizza and Wings, yes, I miss that. Toppers Pizza is good, too. But Pizza Pizza isn't the kind of pizza I miss, you know what I mean? Settled in for a nice night at Amanda's folks.

Off to my old stomping grounds on Monday. Bradford is just north of Newmarket, where I was raised. We hit Upper Canada Mall, where I worked at Compucentre as a teenager. Ate in the food court (Made In Japan/A Teriyaki Experience), shopped around, bought my nephew some cool sunglasses at some baby-stuff store. Saw my old house. Jee-zus, Newmarket has grown. Huge. Very different.

That night we had steak and caesar salad. I luvs me some steak, y'all. Then Barb and Wendall took us out to the movies. We saw Hairspray starring John Travolta. Amanda turned to me in horror during the opening sequence -- "Oh my god. I forgot to tell you, this is a musical." No bother. I knew it was a musical. I spent part of the movie trying to figure out where they shot it -- Toronto, obviously, but it was neat to figure out all the locations. Good flick, despite Travolta, drag or not. The popcorn was fan-tas-tic. Fantastic.

'Manda's mom took us to Ikea on Tuesday. See, the first Ikea in North America was across the harbour in Dartmouth, but they closed it down years ago. Shame! So it was a treat to go to Ikea for the first time in more than two years. We didn't buy anything huge, but it was fun to dream. Ikea actually serves good food in its cafeteria. Meatballs and soup and little potatoes! By this point in the trip, I was getting very tired. Nearly fell asleep in the car to and from Ikea. Dinner was burgers and corn and more caesar salad. Good times.

On Wednesday, we had a surprise lined up for my parents. We'd been swerving my mom and for weeks about our vacation plans, based on my sister's suggestion of arriving unannounced. It worked. We pulled in to Stratford and visited with my sister and baby Ewan for a while, then rolled over to the 'rents abode and walked right in. My dad looked puzzled. Mom was in the basement doing laundry, so I just walked right down and surprised her. Clearly she wasn't expecting it. Oh, I forgot to mention -- a Baconator for lunch. We indulged in Dairy Queen after a dinner of BBQ chicken at Chris and Shannon's.

Amanda drove off to London the next day to visit her sister Amy, while I walked around town with Shannon and my dad. Stratford's a beautiful place. It was nice to spend some time with family seeing their town again. We took my folks out for dinner at the nice hotel -- prime rib for all! And DQ to follow! A fireworks show down by the water was supposed to cap things off, but it started inexplicably early. Who starts a fireworks show at 9:15pm in early August? Just ridiculous. So we missed the whole show. Back to Shannon's to hang out with them and the baby some more. That baby is such a hoot. Hilarious. Babbling and screaming and freaking out and making faces. Tons of fun.

The tour resumed Friday as we dined on nachos at Shannon's, hung out at mom & dad's a while longer, then hit the road for Toronto! We found Sandra and Byron's new house -- eventually -- I had the wrong address. Had the wrong address for a few weeks, apparently, as I sent her birthday card to the wrong place. Their new place is delightful! A renovated place north of the Danforth with lots of room and high ceilings on the main floor. Just fabulous. We went down to the Danforth for a filling and tasty Greek dinner. Byron even ate octopus, or squid, or some tentacled beasty that was in the middle of the plate of dips. It was great to see my friends again; it was like we hadn't been apart for long.

Amanda went out early the next day to visit with a relative, and I went to breakfast with S&B. Good food, good company.

Off to Quebec City! We managed to find a Lick's Homeburgers restaurant on the way out -- one of the things we really miss about Ontario. Big, juicy, garlicky burger. Yum yum yum.

The drive to Quebec was a long, long one. We took an impulsive detour through Trois-Rivieres in an effort to take the "scenic route." We should've learned from the Banff trip that the "scenic route" is just a narrower road with more trees. As we arrived in Quebec City, it began to pour rain. Like, seriously, lots of rain. Somehow, somehow, we got to our hotel, parked, and checked in at the Hotel Auberge du Quartier.

We learned that the beautiful breakfast room was no longer the breakfast room, and no longer beautiful. The man at the desk told us that a guest had recently returned to his room thoroughly drunk and puked all over his sheets. He pulled off the sheets and put them in the shower for a rinse. He left the water running and passed out on the bed. The shower flooded the place, and thus, the breakfast room was ruined. Shame. On the up side, we'd get breakfast around the corner, gratis. We hunted down a local pub in the rain and ate a well-earned meal -- some kind of fancy panini sandwich for me, chicken caesar for Amanda.

Br....

... (Oct 3 2007) okay, this post has been "in progress" for a month and a half now. Let's just say that the Quebec vacation was wonderful. We walked a lot. A lot. Walking and walking. Saw lots of beautiful stuff, and ate some great food. Took a horse-drawn carriage ride. I'm gonna rush through the rest of this.

I wanted to mention that on the first day, I noticed that Scientology was front-page news in the paper. Apparently the "Church" is trying to improve its image in the city by expanding its storefront operation. The paper had a two-page spread. Nothing about Xenu.

We also spent a delightful weekend in Annapolis Royal, staying at the King George Inn. The place is effing gorgeous, and Faith the innkeeper is a whirling dynamo of a host. Highly recommended. I think we'll stay there again. Having never heard of Annapolis Royal before, we were blown away by the rich history and quaint feel of the small town. It was the capital of Nova Scotia before anyone dreamt of Halifax. The oldest English-marked grave in the country is there.

We also went out on the Digby Neck, along the Bay of Fundy. We went on a disappointing whale-watching trip -- only saw a few whales, it was cold, and Amanda was sea-sick. Ate scallops of several varieties. They was good.

On the last day, we went to visit the famous Balancing Rock. A whole lot of stairs -- seriously, a lot of stairs -- and a nice view. Pretty cool.

Okay, this post sat unfinished for a long, long time. And it's, IMHO, still unfinished. But now you have a small idea of what we did on our summer vacation. For pictures worth several tens of thousands of words, check the appropriate gallery on my flickr page.

Yes, the inclusion of virtually everything I ate was intentional. Two weeks of eating and travelling, two weeks of morning-show shifts with dinner right before bed, and a recent habit of eating cinnamon buns at work have pushed my weight up to "before un-weighted" levels. Crap.

More Schmaps!

For the third time, the folks at Schmap! have included some of my photography in one of their internet-based tourist guides. This time, they've tackled Calgary, where I ventured last year to help launch a new all-news radio station. We had lunch at a nice place in the Eau Claire Market, and I snapped a picture of our meal, plus Amanda's hand, featuring a ring she'd just acquired at one of the shops. You can see it in context on the Schmap! site. And, as always, here's a box so you can grab your own free Schmap!

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Yes, yes, I know. I promised to update the blog, and I haven't. Stuff to be covered when I get around to it include:

• the summer vacation to Ontario, Quebec and Annapolis Royal (pictures already on flickr)
• the big Cape Breton wedding of Scott Simpson and Laura Graham, including video of Big Ass Superstar performing at the Celtic Music Interpretive Centre
• updates on the new album (?)
• you may have missed my birthday. It was August 12. I'm 34 now.
• and other whatnot, including why gay men love my flickr page, tales of softball heroics, and how cinammon buns can sabotage six months' worth of weight loss

More Schmaps for yous

The folks at the Schmap! travel guide site have done it again! They've used four of my Flickr photos in their latest product. It's a guide to Banff, where Amanda and I enjoyed a lovely visit in the spring. They've again offered me the opportunity to offer you the opportunity to take the opportunity to download one of these beasties for free. As with the Halifax guide, I have no idea how much they're supposed to cost, but free's free.

Free Schmaps for Big Ass readers

I was recently approached by a company that makes downloadable travel guides. They call themselves "Schmap" ... They wanted to use some of my Halifax photos for an upcoming interactive guide to this city.

Well, the thing is done. And, as a contributing photographer, they're letting me offer y'all a free download of the Schmap Halifax travel guide. Yeah, free! I don't know how much it's supposed to cost, but free's free. Watch for my shots in the section about Point Pleasant Park. The "picker" ought to appear below.

Coming soon: A Schmap guide to Banff, also including some Big Ass photography.

Christmas wrap

A week and a half overdue, but here 'tis. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, joyous Festivus to all.

I had some much-needed time off over Christmas, and spent most of it in Ontario visiting friends and family and generally doing the Christmas thing.

Flew in to Toronto on the same flight (same aisle) as coworker Jennifer Macdonald. In fact, she had all three seats to herself and stretched out for a nap. Lucky her. I zonked out for a bit but didn't get any significant sleep. Canjet was good, cheap, and cheap.

Spent some good time with mom, dad, Shannon and Chris, and the Simpson cats in Stratford, and enjoyed some delicious wraps for lunch/dinner. Mmm, bacon.

Headed up to Bradford for Amanda's side of the family, and met their new puppy. Good times there, and a big ol' traditional xmas meal. I was reminded of a Simpsons moment after some time with the little dog, Molly:

Burns: "Dogs are idiots! Think about it Smithers! If I came into your house and started sniffing at your crotch and slobbering all over your face, what would you say?"

Smithers: "Uh, if you did it, sir?"

We visited with Amanda's grandmother and aunt for an hour, and 'manda headed home on the plane to return to work. Back to Stratford for another night with the 'rents, then back to continue the tour in Toronto.

Visited the 680News gang for a while and caught up on the office gossip. Hit House of Lords for a new haircut. Dropped by the Church of Scientology Class V Org afterward for a stress test and baffled a French-Canadian Sea Org member with my utter lack of stress and astonishing knowledge of the inside workings of her organization. Chatted up the local franchisee about the South Park episode that exposed Incident II. Bill says, "Oh, yes, I think my son told me about South Park. Isaac Hayes plays Cook." Bill claimed no knowledge of Incident II, and I wasn't about to have him sent off to Ethics by telling him more than he knew. Though I think he was lying.

Got to chill at the Magic 8 Ball launch party with John and Rick (see below), then grooved the next night with Michael "hainsworth.com" Hainsworth. Hey, Jimmy. Thanks for the tour! Howdy to Mrs. H who was sleepin'.

Sandra & Byron returned home from their westward adventure in time to kick back on Friday night before shuttling me to the airport after our traditional post-xmas lunch at Swiss Chalet. Big thanks to S&B for putting me up in the Monkey House during my time in the T-Dot. Greatly appreciated. Nice to be able to give my buggy a hug.

Thanks all around to everyone who was able to share some time. Halifax is great, but I miss y'all.

New Year's Eve was pretty cool. We stood on the balcony with champagne and watched "The Most Intense Fireworks Display in Atlantic Canada." Then watched the replay on Eddie and noted that our view was much better. Flicked over to Dick Clark an hour later (it was 2006 here before NYC) and felt bad for poor ol' Dick.

Back now to the regular weekly grind and its regular weekly stresses and tribulations. Ratings have begun at the new radio station, so the intensity is being turned up for the next coupla months.

Photos from the Christmas meal-and-present-fests are up in the flickr section, but some of the folks in the photos still aren't signed up as "family" to get access to them. Don't you want to see the BigAssSuperstar Holiday Butt Crack Spectacular?

Remembrance Day, Year of the Veteran

I grew up not having much interest in war or Remembrance Day. This was in the Reagan 80s, the days of 99 Red Balloons and Culture Club's The War Song -- when "war" meant only World War III, global nuclear annihilation. I sort of understood the "never again" message, but since that was the extent of my understanding of war, the whole November 11 thing got misunderstood as some sort of celebration of war. I didn't really feel compelled to investigate further. It kinda turned me off. I wasn't interested in learning more than I knew, which wasn't much.

Then I got assigned a story for Remembrance Day in 2004. I was asked to do three reports summing up Canada's military contribution. Well, that ended up being a crash course in history. I forget who I interviewed, but I learned a lot in a short time. I started learning more as I learned about my girlfriend Amanda's family tradition of marking November 11. Her dad was dying, so she was heavily emotionally involved in the event on that particular occasion.

Some months later, I got another assignment. A Second World War vet's Victoria Cross was going to be auctioned off. The school he attended in Toronto decided to help raise funds to prevent that from happening. Jan DeVries, President of the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion Association, addressed the kids at the school and helped them -- and me -- understand why this was a big deal. Eventually they got the money.

Talk got around to a long-dreamed-of trip to Europe timed to coincide with two other couples' trips, to meet up and have a great time. Amanda said it'd be neat to visit the D-Day beaches in Normandy if we could. I figured, sure, that'd be interesting. After all, there was a really touching cell phone commercial a while back in which a guy called his grandfather from Dieppe and thanked him for everything. That always made me a little teary, so I figured we might as well, if it could be done.

So the Europe trip approached, and I started watching documentaries. There were plenty on, since this year has been the Year of the Veteran. I watched Saving Private Ryan. Those frightening hours playing the video game Medal of Honor were put into context. I came to appreciate even more that this war wasn't just war for war's sake, or war to make a point, or war for oil or money or destiny or ego or whose president had the biggest dick. This was serious business.

It became even clearer when we went to the Musee de L'armee in Paris, and learned more about how close the Nazis came to winning. This wasn't a matter of Good easily stomping out Evil. Evil had a pretty good chance at taking over. Evil had its shit together. The good guys were idiots at points. Good needs to smarten the hell up sometimes. The same week, we went to the big parade down the Champs-Elysees to mark the 60th anniversary of VE day. It made everything seem a lot more serious.

My folks graciously fronted some money to rent a car, so we drove to Normandy to see the D-Day beaches. The Juno Beach Centre laid it all out in Canadian historical terms -- what the country was up to while Hitler and his gang were stomping around, why it took so long to get involved, and what Canada put up to do its part. It became more than just words on a page, or facts from long before my time, or the sad stories of old people. It all gelled, and became deadly serious.

We stepped out of the Juno Beach Centre and onto ... Juno Beach. There we were. There's where it happened. There's where all the documentaries and movies and books and lectures came to be real, real, really real. German machine gun bunkers, still there. Rocks and stones and shoreline and water as far as I could see. The same water that was full of ships and shrapnel sixty years earlier. The same sky that was full of planes and airships. Calm and beautiful now, but the scene of some nasty stuff, and a place that changed history.

We moved on after gathering stones for some friends. We quickly got lost on the narrow roads of Normandy, and pulled a right turn in search of restroom facilities and a place to reorient the map. But there were Canadian flags off in the distance, so we moved ahead, and found the Beny-Sur-Mer Canadian War Cemetery. We spent a good long time there quietly looking at the graves. So many dead people. And we'd stumbled upon it by accident. Another serious moment.

From there, it was off to search for Arromanches to see the Mulberry Harbours. More massive and spectacular reminders of what went down. We stayed a few minutes and headed off to Omaha Beach, known as "Bloody Omaha" -- where the nasty stuff in Saving Private Ryan happened. Well, that wasn't quite as impressive, as it's sort of touristy now. And the American war cemetery was closed. And it was getting dark. We had to head back to Paris. That's a whole other story, but I'm sure having absorbed so much history and gravity didn't make that leg of the journey any more fun.

So, to the present. I've been here in Halifax since late September. We're not even unpacked and settled completely. I haven't quite found my groove yet, and I don't know enough about the city and its history. I do know that this is a military town and always has been. There are men and women in uniform everywhere. There are ships in the harbour. There are bases around the city. There's a cannon that fires every day at noon from the old fort at the top of the hill outside our apartment window. It's Remembrance Day in the Year of the Veteran, and Amanda lives here with me. Her dad died early this year. She wanted to go to the ceremonies, and I wanted to go with her. Luckily, we both had the day off.

It was my first time at one of these ceremonies, as far as I can recall. It was a cool breezy morning with some cloud but much sun. Lots of people showed up. But there weren't a lot of wrinkly old veterans there. Sure, hundreds of them left on a special Via train for Ottawa two days ago, but there just aren't as many of them around any more. They aren't here to tell their stories. They aren't around to tell people that their battles weren't necessarily like the battles we hear about in the news today. Their fight wasn't to prop up the profits of Halliburton, or to show the world who's boss, or to keep the homeland in fear in an effort to keep them from realizing there's nothing in government to inspire them. Their fight was to keep badasses with evil intentions from taking over the world -- something those badasses actually had a good chance at doing.

It was good to see so many people show up to pay their respects. I'm glad I was there. And I'm glad I could be there not just to be there, but with more appreciation than ever before of why I was there.

For a photographic retrospective, check my Flickr pages, over on the right-hand side.

Peace!