Would You like Fries With Your Olympic Hero?

So McDonald's is putting pictures of Canadian Olympic athletes on their placemats.

I walk back to my table, tray full of guilt, shame, and extreme satisfaction. On it: Cola, freedom fries, and a 1/4 of beef mushed between buns... oh, and an Olympian's smile.

My fries are fresh, so I spill them onto his face, because if I didn't want them to be way too hot. I'm more of a mayonnaise man, so I squirt 3 packets onto his neck. I have a bit of a short break, so I'm slopping a bit of ketchup out of my burger onto his forehead.

20 minutes later, I've cleared my tray. A grease-covered, salty mug with what appears to be a severe head wound beams at me.

So I'd like to apologize to Canadian athletes everywhere. The scene I described will repeat itself until you run/swim/fling yourself around in a circle/hurl yourself through the air using a stick... or all those other crazy things you do... just so you can get a chance to wear some metal around your neck.

Go Canada Go!

45, 45, 45...

...and I can't get enough of them.

For those of you who are into those super-fast spinning wonders called "Compact Discs", I would like to introduce you to their slower, bigger cousin: The 45.

Called this because they rotate at 45 revolutions per minute (or rotations, whatever), these black dinosaurs are making a comeback at hip record boutiques where so-called bohemians sport salon haircuts and wear impossibly expensive clothes (but that's another subject). My father just so happened to collect dozens of them back in the late 50's and throughout the 60's, and I've taken it upon myself to rip them into MP3s and/or transfer them to those silver thingies I mentioned earlier.

The whole experience is breathtaking (and not just because of the black mold growing on them due to the flooded basement they lived in); It's like a journey through time. It's a slice of Edmonton's history. I get to listen to Wes Dakus (orignally from Mannville, Alberta) and his "Club 93 Rebels"-- By the way, Club 93, a radio station, was what all the kids listened to back in the day-- and CJSR regulars Willie and the Walkers (coincidentally, produced by Wes Dakus).

Blah Blah Blah.

I also get to hear all the scratches and pops that prove how loved and listened to these records were, and I get to smell the vinyl and rubber drive belt that spins these audible time capsules. I know, I'm one fuck of a loser, but I love it.

I also get to remember playing these very records as a kid on my own portable system, the very same system my dad used to carry around and show off his latest finds.

Sniff.

Anyway. It's good stuff. And I'm going to save them all. A-sides and B-sides. Shit and Classics. Common and Rare.

I have a headache from all the fungi (impending case of stachybotryotoxicosis, here I come), but excuse me, I think I have a heartache for the tunes.

Catch Phrase? Catchy!

When I drive to work, I sometimes find myself listening to Edmonton's Modern Rock Station, Sonic 1029... They have a new Morning news guy, and you'll never guess what he's got.

A Catch Phrase.

Before he starts the news, he says "And here's what you need to know!". Or something like that. I kind of feel like I'm being transported back in time 40 or 50 years, when I'm sure every DJ / Announcer / Personality had their own tag line.

Which got me to thinking; I need one.

Yes. A catch phrase for Shawn. But not for theatre; for answering the phones at work. Some of you might not know this, but I'm on the phone all day for a major Pipe supplier now. I am answering the phone constantly every day. Wouldn't it be a treat for my loyal customers to get greeted with something like this:

"Shawn here; If you're looking for pipe, we've got your type."

"Dr. Shawn here; I have the cure for your pipe disease."

"Whazzup, Alleyall? Shawn'z in da hizzy wit' tha pizipe..."

Hmm. Or maybe just:

"Shawn here; You buy it! YOU BUY IT!!!"

My sales will go through the roof.