Daily Archives: December 18, 2006

A Very Shebeeny Christmas

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The Father Christmas letters 

For all those writers, publishers, editors, bloggers, and journalists out there. Forget the office party and come drink with The Shebeen Club tomorrow night at the Irish Heather!

We’ll be upstairs in the Reading Room this time, at the Irish Heather in Gastown, 217 Carrall Street in Gastown, from 7-9pm. No cover, order off the menu and enjoy the best damn gastropub in the West!

 

Twas the day before Tuesday, when all through downtown
The email went out inviting Shebeeners down
To the Heather on Tuesday the 19th: tomoz!
For a drink and a nosh and tales of Santa Claus.

 

We’ll have a fun evening, no lectures to hear,
From seven ’til nine, just a-drinking our beer!
With Lorraine with Grinch earrings and a Santa hat,
You can come as you are, or all dressed up in spats.

 

And down in the kitchen arises a bashing
The chef is meat grilling and potato mashing.
Order straight off the menu and pay what you nosh
Tear into the butter, and the whiskies quite posh.

 

“Now Writers! Now Students!
Now, Publishers many!
Come, Poets! Come, Bloggers!
Come, Booksellers, merry!
To the Reading Room of the Heather
At the top of the stairs!
Now party on! Party on!
Don’t put on airs!

 

We’ll read Chrismas stories, and tell our tall tales
So drop in for a bevvy; I’ll tell about the old jail.
The Heather was lockup in decades gone by
So come down, serve your time drinking Guinness and rye.

Porky Pig’s Blue Christmas

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The greatest and most moving Christmas classic of all time.

That’s all, folks!

five things you don’t know about me

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Well, you probably already know I grumble about being tagged (and I even got tagged by a total stranger; no offence, dude, but not biting) but since this is engtech and it’s short and I’m also starved for blog fodder, being offline as I am, I shall do my best with it.

Five things you don’t know about me:

  1. I used to be a professional groom in a hunting stable. Foxes, not moose. Although it must be admitted that when I was exercising the horses I saw several moose and only one fox.
  2. I was the all-time toboggan champeen when I was a kid. I could go farther, I could go faster, I could jump it, do tricks, you name it. Still can.
  3. I’m a pretty good pitcher, but I am awesome at bat, and although I serve underhanded at volleyball I am still pretty much unreturnable. But I pretty much quit playing team sports when puberty hit and they said the boys could play baseball and hockey but the girls could only play softball and ringette.
  4. I have always wanted to root around and find Brother Twelve’s lost gold. Some day I’ll get myself a couple of clear weeks in the summer and hit the archives and the salvage supply store and go all Indiana Jones.
  5. I was a worldbeater as a Girl Guide. I had 53 badges, 7 emblems and 2 cords. But I barely made it through Brownies for whatever reason. Maybe I just knew at a young age that I looked better in blue.
  6. bonus item: as of Friday, I’m a redhead.

a child’s podcast in Wales

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Lydia sent me Dylan Thomas’ A Child’s Christmas in Wales as mp3’s, so I thought I’d share them. Hopefully this will work, as I haven’t got time to tweak Odeo and bend it to my will like I normally do.

UPDATE: Nope, it don’t. Will try to fix it later, wish me luck. This should work.

Part One: [odeo=http://odeo.com/audio/4008963/view]

Part Two: [odeo=http://odeo.com/audio/4009513/view]

Operation Global Media Dominaton: the imperfect storm

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I think we all know what a 45-degree angle looks like. And we know what a slope, dropping down at 45 degrees looks like. Like fun skiing, like nasty winter driving, like…

the stats for my blog ever since the Internet went out at my house.

Oh, they’ll recover, I suppose. It’s just a wee titch annoying that once I’d (or rather, you’d) finally cranked the hits up to almost 2k a day, Mother Nature (just as much of a bitch as my biological mother, and quite possibly as big a bitch as my stepmother, although it must be admitted, somewhat less likely to sell off my family heirlooms to purchase dreadful antiques and very definitely less likely to stencil cows with gingham aprons all around the ceiling of any rooms; Mother Nature prefers her cows with all four hooves firmly on the ground, except when she likes to send them flying in windstorms, which brings us back to why I still have no internet and why Mother Nature is a bitch).

God hates blogs.