Iceberglandia

During much of the decade of the 80’s, I wasn’t much of a metal fan. I was content with what the radio had to offer (everything from a-ha to tears for fears, from falco to duran duran, fuck, from dire straits to simple minds).
However, being just a schoolboy at the time, I lacked the resources to buy LPs (yes, back then I bought LPs. Now get off my lawn!) except for a couple a week. So, naturally, I had to settle, sometimes, for those “Greatest Hits” compilations the record companies came up with.
Sometimes they’d throw on a heavier song, just to attract the metalheads. Now, by “heavier” I don’t mean Venom or Slayer. It was more like Twisted Sister, Motley Crue or Ratt.
As a general rule, I always loved the heavier song. Yet, somehow, I never made my turn to the heavier side of music until 1988.
However, this here thing I wanted to talk about takes us back to even before I ever owned any music of my own.

The year was 1984. I remember, because I used to live in the middle of nowhere (if you happen to find Nacozari, in the mexican state of Sonora, on Google Earth, you’ll notice how isolated it is from civilization…. and I didn’t even live in the town, I lived further up the mountains).
I was hanging around with a friend, when he produced this cassette which was one of the aforementioned record company compilations. Now, nerdy little me, I got all excited to see that “Total Eclipse Of The Heart” and “99 Red Balloons” were on it. Boy, was I a dork.
Anyhoo, my friend puts the cassette on, and I hear this fucking cool song with this guy screaming “Cum On Feel The Noize”, and thought it was just awesome. It became our anthem, and in a way, my first exposure to heavier music.

Another dorky anecdote I can humilliate myself with is that, around that time, Kevin Bacon starred in Footloose, a dumb movie about a “cool” guy who moves into a hick town and turns it upside down with his antics. Basically, he was so “cool”, he loved to dance. But I digress.
One scene of the movie has Kevin Bacon arriving to school for the first time, in his yellow VW. And out of his stereo, unbeknownst to me at the time, was a song called Metal Health (Bang Your Head). And I loved the song. But for whatever reason, it wasn’t included in the soundtrack. Dumbasses.
A couple of years later, I was living in Puebla, and my cousin had just bought this cassette, and he thought it was just the coolest thing in the world that the cover showed a guy with a mask on. “Sure, it looks cool”, I said, but my cousin was all like “NO, IT’S NOT JUST COOL, IT’S MEGA-AWESOME!” (not the actual exchange of words, just a dramatization with added emphasis). For some reason, the song “Condition Critical” from that cassette always stuck to my ear, even moreso than the single “Mama Weer All Crazee Now”.
After that, my musical journey kept me away from Quiet Riot until a few years ago, when I got my hands on an album called “Appetite For Reconstruction – A Remix Tribute to Guns N’ Roses” which was basically all the songs from GN’R’s “Appetite” album, remixed by, um, guys that remix, and with vocals from lots of 80’s singers. After hearing Kevin DuBrow’s version of Welcome to the Jungle, I was hooked again. I reviewed my whole Quiet Riot collection. Most of it sucks, to be honest, but man, Kevin had an amazing voice.

And now he’s dead. I woke up monday morning to find out he had died. There’s no official explanation as to why, yet.

I guess I just wanted to share my memories about a great singer with an amazing voice, not to hypocritically announce I’m devastated by his passing. Thanks for listening.

And to Kevin: Thanks, and may you bang your head forever, dude!

The Iceberg.

From the American Airlines Arena in Miami, FL comes this PPV, which will now go down in history as my first WWE review.
Now, as of my writing this, I have already watched the PPV (which, even to simple minds would be quite obvious – it would seem stupid to review something I haven’t seen yet), but I’ll stick to the notes I made while watching it.
WWE’s Pay-Per-View events can go in two directions. They can, as they mostly do, suck, but eventually two or three a year stand out as really good ones. Oh, whichever will this one be?

We start things off with a review of the events leading up to the matches we will be seeing here tonight. A pointless excercise, if you ask me, since the only people watching WWE on Pay-Per-View are the ones that already watch Raw, SmackDown!, and to a lesser extent, ECW. So, we know what’s going on. This time could be better invested in either another match, or a kind of “news feed” wherein they discuss the status of some of the roster who happen to be “injured”. Or, the embarrassment caused by Ashley being one of the first contestants to be kicked out of Survivor:China. You know, shit like that.

ECW Championship Match
Anyway, the first match is under way, and it is unsurprisingly the ECW title match. Since nobody cares for ECW, they always start things off with their matches. Just to get them out of the way.
In this occasion, it is a triple-threat match between the current champion, CM Punk, John Morrison, and the Miz.
To be completely objective, I must admit Morrison and the Miz have come a long way, wrestling-wise.
On a side note, the switch from “Johnny Nitro” (a ridiculous enterprise, if there ever was one) to John Morrison (a Lizard King, he is not) sucked.
Anyhoo, the match was pretty decent, all 3 competitors put on amazing moves, and in the end, unsurprisingly, CM Punk took the win.
BOTCH!! In the final moments of the match, CM Punk had Morrison standing on the apron outside the ring. The idea was that Miz would appear to strike CM Punk, but miss and hit Morrison, which eventually happened, but the timing was off and CM Punk looked back a couple of times before ducking.
One final note: Second only to John Cena, CM Punk has the most ridiculous name for a finishing move: The GTS (Go To Sleep). Moving On.

I ALREADY WATCHED SMACKDOWN! For fuck’s sake, I know what MVP did to Matt Hardy!
Anastasia now introduces her “host at this time”, MVP. Fuck, the arrogant wrestler shtick has been done to death, but MVP somehow manages to get away with it. He just cracks me up.

10 Diva Tag Team Match!
20 boobs 10 divas to watch! and I know you’re not going to believe me, but I’m more interested in the actual wrestling than in the boobage. For two reasons: number one, the women’s division has come a long way since being merely a T&A spectacle. And number two, well, it’s not like they’re going to get naked. I can get sexy chicks on the internet.
Anyway, the bad girls come out first.
Beth Phoenix, followed by Layla, Jillian Hall, Victoria, and finally Melina.
BOTCH!! When Melina does her entrance, she slips from the ring and falls. Not too embarrassed, she tries it again and gets it right.
Next up, the good girls. Torrie Wilson, Michelle McCool, Kelly Kelly, Maria and finally my bride-to-be, Mickie James.
Victoria starts things off against Michelle McCool. McCool tags Torrie, Victoria tags Layla, Layla tags Jillian, Torrie tags Kelly, more tags come along, suddenly a melee breaks out and we’re left with Mickie vs. Melina.
Mickie has recently adopted this custom in which she kisses her opponent before defeating her, so when she kissed Melina I almost creamed my pants. Sorry about that. Mickie James wins it for the good girls.

We are now in a stupid promo for a stupid match. In the office, Jonathan Coachman is laughing and William Regal is acting all worried, and Hornswoggle is scared to death. See, Hornswoggle (a midget) is going to face the Great Khali (a giant). Let me say this right now. There’s going to be a twist ending to this. There has to be.

WE ARE ALREADY WATCHING, DUMBASSES!!! I don’t know why the WWE feels the need to hype matches when we’re already watching the same event in which the matched will take place, but this time it’s a battle of words between Orton and HBK.

WWE World Tag Team Championship
For some unexplainable reason, there was a WWE.com exclusive 3 team battle between the teams of Cody Rhodes and Hardcore Holly, The Bushwhackers Highlanders, and London & Kendrick to come up with a challenging team to face Lance Cade & Trevor Murdoch. So those of us who don’t go into WWE.com anymore (because they discuss the results of SmackDown! before it even airs), can’t justify this match. I’m bored before it even starts.
Suddenly, in a typical WWE work-up, the team of Cade & Murdoch tag-team eachother while Hardcore Holly is unable to tag Cody Rhodes. Can Cody be the hero of the match?
Nope. Somehow, Murdoch does this WTF maneuver and pins Cody. Of course, what follows is more drama between Holly and Rhodes. And I’m yawning like it’s going out of style.

Backstage, that dumbass Todd Grisham is interviewing team HHH.
See, the “tradition” in Survivor Series is that there is a match between two teams of 5 wherein one team wins when all the other members of the opposing team have been eliminated.
HHH’s team was originally stated to be HHH himself (of course), Kane, Rey Mysterio, and Jeff and Matt Hardy. But since on SmackDown! MVP “injured” Matt, the team was reduced to four.
Which led to some erroneous speculation on my part, to be honest. Who would jump in at the last second and take Matt Hardy’s place? You just knew Edge was coming back, because of the promos por this PPV, but he’s a heel. Lashley? Could be… Jericho? Nah, he’s scheduled to show up until tomorrow. So who, dammit, WHO!?
Turns out, nobody. It was 4 vs. 5.

“Traditional” Survivor Series Match
As is “traditional”, the bad guys come out first.
BOTCH! Mr. Kennedy comes out and does his microphone routine, only the fucking thing doesn’t work.
After Kennedy, out comes the fighting Irishman, Finlay. Then, Big Daddy V and his disgusting physique (I’ll concur with a sign I saw a couple of weeks ago that said “PUT A SHIRT ON”), MVP and finally, Cap’n Umaga.
Then, the babyfaces (good guys) come out. First Kane, then Mysterio, then Jeff Hardy, and then… The son-in-law of the owner of the WWE, who gets a million minutes in the spotlight! I swear, I thought the Undertaker’s entrance was slow! At least they had the good sense to show a hottie in the crowd.
Anyway, the match gets underway, and to start things off are Mysterio and Kennedy. With their technical abilities, their moves and counter-moves, the first few minutes of the match reminded me of that program I watched on National Geographic about how scorpions fucked. Then Mysterio tagged Hardy, Kennedy tagged MVP, MVP tagged that disgusting thing Big Daddy V, then Hardy tagged Kane, and BDV disposed of Kane. Bye, Kane!
So, now it’s BDV vs HHH. BDV tags Umaga. HHH tags Mysterio, who attempts hhis stupid-as-all-hell finishing move, the 619, to no avail. Goodbye, Mysterio!
Everyone seems so excited that they’re now 5-2. I’m not, however. I’ll just wait to see it all play out.
Kennedy vs Hardy now, and Kennedy tags MVP.
Being the sceptical SOB I am, I swear, if fucking HHH eliminates all 5 opponents, I’ll just end my misery. I’ll commit suicide.
Anyway, all of a sudden MVP is eliminated, and we now have Kennedy vs Hardy. Hardy tags HHH, and goodbye Kennedy. Even with BDV’s interference. Of course, we now bid farewell to BDV, and I start contemplating life on the other side.
Now, it’s HHH vs Finlay. HHH tags in Hardy (and if stupid JR calls him the rainbow-haired warrior one more time, I’m shooting someone). Finlay tags in Umaga, a small melee breaks out, and now the legal men are Hardy and Finlay. Of course, HArdy tags in HHH and HHH puts out Finlay. A bientot!
Suddenly, HHH does the Pedigree on Umaga, and in a surprising turn of events, lets Jeff Hardy do a Swanton and pin Umaga for the win.
After the match, I swear I could have pictured HHH betray Jeff Hardy and settle for an Intercontinental Title match soon. But then I remembered HHH is, after all, Vince McMahon’s son-in-law, so no settling for minor belts.

WE ARE ALREADY WATCHING!!!! Seriously, what purpose does promoting a match we’ll be seeing in a little while serve? I am aware Batista and the Undertaker are going in Hell in a Cell. I need no further reminders.

Now we get to a promo for the SmackDown! vs RAW 2008 video game, on which I’d like to comment a couple of things. First, it is not available for the console I currently own, so fuck off. Second, the cover of the game is just… It pictures John Cena, The Undertaker, and Bobby Lashley, all 3 champions quite a long while ago. Dated, much?

We now go back to the office where Coach, Regal and Hornswoggle are still sitting, for no apparent reason. Suddenly. Mr. McMahon comes in and has a talk with his illegitimate son, in which he convinces him the McMahon blood is indestructible. So, Hornswoggle comes out, well, defiant, to face the Great Khali.

The Great Khali vs. Hornswoggle
For no apparent reason, Shane-O-Mac comes out and starts talking about how the McMahons stay together. He is joined by Vince, and they sit down next to the ring.
Meanwhile, the SmackDown! commentators, JBL and Michael Cole, begin citing the Bible, mainly the David vs. Goliath story. Now, there’s a surprise!
I swear, Hornswoggle’s expressions are priceless. Can I keep him?
Hey, look, Shaq’s in the audience! Who cares?
With the match under way, Hornswoggle suddenly starts spitting green shit all over Khali’s manager, Singh.
He proceeds to crawl under the ring and come out the opposite side with a shillelagh. Khali knocks the shillelagh right out of Hornswoggle’s hands, and mimics the beginning of the Vise Grip, when for fuck’s sake, Finlay comes along and rescues his “Leprechaun”.
When I talked about a twist ending, I somehow envisioned the McMahons interfering, not Finlay, who had been separated from Hornswoggle quite a few months behind. Oh well…

Now, they’re plugging an Undertaker DVD. Can it get worse?

By all means, it can! Look who’s in the audience! Alfonso Soriano and Johnny Damon!

Hey! HEY! HEEEY!!! Seriously? Randy Orton and Shawn Michaels are fighting tonight? Now, I didn’t know! See, I just came back from a planet where WWE doesn’t exist! Thanks for the heads up, though!
Fuck, if only I watched Raw and SmackDown! more often, I’d know who’s fighting for the WWE Championship!

WWE Championship Match!!
First, we are reminded of the idiotic stipulations of the match. See, HBK is not allowed to use his moronic superkick, and Orton is not allowed to be intentionally disqualified.
Now, with the match under way, suddenly Michaels applies the Sharpshooter to Orton, and the crowd starts cheering. Fucking crowd. Don’t they know that before the match is over, we have to witness Orton’s and Michaels’ quirks? We’ve yet to see the flying elbow, the Orton Stomp, the Orton pushups, and HBK rolling into the ropes a la Ric Flair!
All of a sudden, WWE Raw commentator Jim Ross reminds us this is a one fall match (as opposed to all the others, which are also one fall matches…).
Now, we know HBK isn’t allowed to use the superkick, but he is sure allowed to taunt it.
But since HBK somehow considered this to be a submission-hold-museum-night, not only did he try to use the sharpshooter, he also went for… get this!
The first reference to Chris Benoit! He sudenly applied the Crippler Crossface to Orton!
After that, an Ankle Lock…
Fuck, by now I was wondering if he’d try the Million Dollar Dream, the HeadCrush, the ChickenWing, or fuck, why not the STFU.
Of course, nothing worked, and suddenly HBK got an RKO and lost.
Now, match over and all, if you can’t guess what happens next, you should be burned to death. HBK delivers a superkick. And even though he lost the match fair and square, they still play his music.

Anyway, we now go to a WWE Armageddon promo. December 16th.
And soon after that, that god-awful Jericho promo. Someone needs to tell Chris Jericho that kind of viral promoting is no longer useful in the internet era. As soon as October I had seen Jericho signs at WWE events.
In all honesty, at least it stopped being viral, at least now they say “tomorrow” (last monday) he’s appearing.

“Hell In a Cell” World Heavyweight Match
Finally, it’s time for ‘Hell In a Cell’. And oh, do I ever hate Batista. Even though his only outstanding feature is being big, he always fails miserably at looking menacing. Even as, like right now, he tries to look all mean and all, he still looks like a dork who’s trying too hard.
Of course, even though there’s only 20 something minutes left in the PPV, we still get all the ‘nostalgia’ of the history between Batista and the Undertaker. With this, and the Undertaker’s entrance, are we only getting a 5 minute match? And Edge hasn’t shown up, yet? Hmm, this plot seems paper-thin to me.
Things finally get started, and we are treated to quite the match, indeed. So good, actually, that my sarcastic comments are quickly put to rest. There is so much heavyweight action, so much blood, so many possible ways the match can go… until the Undertaker drops a Tombstone piledriver on top of the steel steps. And you know it’s over. But wait…WAIT!
One of the cameramen is attacking the Undertaker! OH SWEET MARY, MOTHER OF GOD! IT’S EDGE!! EDGE!!
He proceeds to get Batista on top of the Undertaker for the win, and then continues bashing the Undertaker.
So, Batista is still the champion, and that sucks, but hey, EDGE IS BACK!

All in all, I guess it was one of the most solid PPV’s the WWE has offered all year. I mean, even after that horrid Hornswoggle-Khali concept, even though we had to withstand watching Big Daddy V’s repulsive, um, man-boobs, and even though no titles changed hands, it was still a worthwhile 3 hours. After all, Edge is back, and the memory of Mickie James kissing Melina is now forever sketched into my mind. I will never be bitter again.

The Iceberg.

Despite living in Canada, and having “celebrated” Thanksgiving over a month ago (said celebrations consisted of going to work – although I must say, the company provided us with pizza), I was unable to create my list of things I’m thankful for, courtesy of having my computer screen die.
Lucky me, I now get a second chance to do so, courtesy of my good neighbors to the south. Unfortunately, I do not feel inspired to compile a list. On one hand, because unbelievably, I do have many things to be thankful for (of course, it would be stupid little things like whisky and WWE programming) thus resulting in a long, pointless list; and on the other, I guess prose is better.

Despite my boring posts about walking to work, my iPod, the weather and my ongoing battle with the idiots at the phone company (which I’ll admit create the wrong impression of me), there are many things I am thankful for.
There’s my health, for example, which hasn’t given out completely. Quite the opposite, it seems I’m blessed with regenerative powers. And if I may say so, I’m quite proud of my liver’s performance. And my lungs’.
There’s the few, the unproud, the small circle of people who still consider me their friend and/or family, to some extent. Over the years, many people have edited themselves out of my life (who can blame’em? – Ha!), but others have decided to stick around. And I’m thankful for that.
I guess I’m also thankful for all the shit that has been thrown my way. Not because I’m a masochist, but everything that has happened has led me to where I am now, which I guess is not a bad place. Heaven on earth it is not, but hey, I could be doing worse.
I don’t mean to get all pompous here, but I guess I have to be thankful to myself for who I am, and how I’ve dealt with my life. At the very least, I’m thankful for the satisfaction of doing my best at everything I do. Again, there are decisions I regret making, there are things in my past which, if dealt with differently, coud have put me in a much better place, but that’s the past, what’s done is done and all that. But still, I have the discipline, the determination and the will power to better myself every day (well, not EVERY day, but you get the idea).
On the stupider side of things, I’m also thankful for the things that fill up my free time. The stupid programming on TV, the occasional movie, the internet, of course music, books, magazines and other inanities.
I’m thankful for many things, and I curse many others. Just like everybody else. If only there was also a day to curse everything… Oh yeah! that’s every other day! Now get me my goddamned turkey, STAT!

The Iceberg.

Fuck, the weather has sucked lately. Rain, freezing rain, hail, snow flurries, fog, cold, wind, humidity. As if I needed more gloom in my life.
However, it was weird the other day. On my walk to work, even though I did not set it that way, my iPod decided to play lots of Alice In Chains and Nirvana songs (I’ve yet to create playlists from more grunge bands).
I was just a flannel shirt and a Starbucks coffee short of being in Seattle.

On a side note, I was watching a Frasier re-run on TV the other day (because my life is just oh-so-exciting) and his ex-wife Lilith (from the Cheers days) showed up. Frasier asked her “so, what brings you to Seattle? The constant rain?”
I lol’d.

The Iceberg.

I was walking home from work last night (jeez, how many posts of mine start this way!), listening to the offerings of the “shuffle” feature, when suddenly Guns N’ Roses’ “The Garden” came on, and I was struck with serendipity.
Of course, the fact that previously yesterday I had read something on the internet about good albums that would have been great EPs perhaps had something to do with it as well, but anyway, here goes.

I’m not saying I didn’t like it, because that would make me a big fat liar, but the truth is that since 1991, the Use Your Illusion double feature felt, um, bloated. Of course, for the first three or so years, each one of the 30 songs was seen as fucking awesome (so much so, that I hardly know anyone who bothered to pay attention to The Spaghetti Incident?, which was, by the way, an amazing album), but let’s face it, a few years down the road, it just seems too much. Seriously, two Don’t Crys?

Then there is the controversy, the question I ask everyone when the conversation turns to Guns N’ Roses (and you wonder…).  Which was better, I or II? Everyone I’ve asked, EVERYONE, seems to claim to like I better. Why, because it has November Rain on it? I, personally prefer II, Not only because it contains what I consider the better songs of the package, but because it sounds, well, with the exception of Don’t Cry (Alt Lyrics) and My World, more cohesive. Despite having a song I hate (Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door), I still consider it the better album.

So, even if Use Your Illusion 1 is the clear winner (and I end up swimming against popular opinion – go figure!), it is now time to think outside the box.

Let’s create our own Use Your Illusion album. One CD, fifteen songs (in our little pretend world, song length presents no constraints).
In a way of creating a poll, I want everyone who’s not too busy to do otherwise to choose their favorite 15 songs from Use Your Illusion. Maybe I’ll get only 3 replies, maybe none (as is common ’round these parts), but maybe I’ll get a lot and we can consider this “research”. Yeah, right.
Without further ado, here are the songlists for both albums, from where we’ll choose half.

1. Right Next Door To Hell
2. Dust N’ Bones
3. Live & Let Die
4. Don’t Cry (Original)
5. Perfect Crime
6. You Ain’t The First
7. Bad Obsession
8. Back Off Bitch
9. Double Talkin’ Jive
10. November Rain
11. The Garden
12. Garden Of Eden
13. Don’t Damn Me
14. Bad Apples
15. Dead Horse
16. Coma

1. Civil War
2. 14 Years
3. Yesterdays
4. Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door
5. Get In The Ring
6. Shotgun Blues
7. Breakdown
8. Pretty Tied Up
9. Locomotive
10. So Fine
11. Estranged
12. You Could Be Mine
13. Don’t Cry (Alt Lyrics)
14. My World

Here’s what I came up with (and hey, I even combined the covers!):

1. You Could Be Mine
2. Don’t Damn Me
3. Locomotive
4. You Ain’t The First
5. Don’t Cry (Original)
6. Pretty Tied Up
7. Estranged
8. Perfect Crime
9. Dead Horse
10. Shotgun Blues
11. So Fine
12. Breakdown
13. Bad Obsession
14. Double Talkin’ Jive
15. Coma

So, what do you think? I’ll keep the poll open for a couple of days, and I’ll tabulate and post the results.

The Iceberg.

It’s funny how seeing something unexpected can shatter your thoughts for a couple of seconds. We rely on everything being normal to a point where even the slightest oddity in our day makes our brain go “huh?”. Am I wrong?
Say, for instance, that you’re watching TV. You’re watching, oh, I dunno, your fucking American Idol, or South Park, or whatever it is you enjoy watching, and a commercial break comes on. So far, so good. You passively notice there is a Toyota commercial, then a tampon commercial (hee hee tampons), then a Toyota commercial, and BAM! Your brain is jerked from thinking about what to eat, or what to wipe with now that you ran out of toilet paper, with the sudden realization that it’s the same Toyota commercial. Nothing drastic, just unexpected.

Well, I had that feeling yesterday. Here I was, walking to work, listening to Megadeth’s United Abominations (which is, surprisingly, quite good), thinking about what to wipe with now that I ran out of TP, minding my own business (always alert to traffic), when of all things, I saw what appeared to be a human jawbone. Upon closer inspection, it was just a piece of plastic, but for a brief moment, my brain derailed.
Now, no longer was I concerned about the post-defecatory hygiene of my asshole, but about my own mind. In a Rorschach kind of way, you know? I mean, of all the things a piece of plastic can resemble, why did I picture a jawbone?

Bwahahahaha!

The Iceberg.

This is, more or less, my morning ritual. As I mentioned in my previous post, usually my day begins with me trying to get more sleep (today was an exception, usually it revolves around me fighting for an hour with the ’snooze’ buttons on my 2 alarm clocks). After that, I get up, and depending on which has more priority (this is determined on a dalily basis), I either visit the loo, or step outside for a cigarette. After that, I turn the computer on, and I proceed to the kitchen to brew up a cup of coffee. Then I stay in front of the computer for a while, shower, get dressed and go to work.

But you know how things happen in 3’s? Either celebrity deaths, or appliance deaths? First it was my computer… followed shortly by my camera… and while I cowered in fear that the next thing to die on me would be my iPod, my TV or my refrigerator, Lady Luck decided to give me a break, and it was only my electric kettle that died.
After a couple of days of heating water in the microwave, something I hate to do because it never heats enough (and the coffee gets cold too quick), I saw a vision. I had an epiphany. I arose today with the thought of Serendipity!
Of course! Why rely on electricity to heat water, when I have an *ahem* electric stove! So, I filled up my kettle, and off I went to do something else, expecting my water to be ready in a matter of minutes.
When the smell of burning plastic made me dash into the kitchen, I understood two things: One, I was shit out of luck and back to the microwave. And two, only a fool would place something on a heated stove without checking what the bottom is made of. Oh, and a third.
Remember not too long ago I mentioned my smoke detector was hellbent on not letting me cook? Funny that with all the smoke, this time it didn’t go off. Now even my smoke detector hates me. Fuck, if I cook a can of tuna, a pot of rice or make scrambled eggs, I’m threatened by the sudden arrival of the fire department, but when I’m at risk of burning my basement (as well as the whole house, one would assume), the little bugger stays quiet and watches me die.

Oh well, the coffee sucked, but hey, when was the last time you saw me write two posts in one day!

The Iceberg.

This morning, after waking up unexpectedly at 8:30something, and after uselessly trying for 90 minutes to get back to sleep, I got up. I decided it was time, given the circumstances, to get productive (well, instead of just lying in bed pretending to myself I’m asleep). But, first things first, I went outside for a smoke. This is what I saw.

I know, to those of you in more tropical climates, the allure of seeing snow may seem exciting. But to this here Iceberg, it only means one thing. It’s all downhill from here. At least until may 2008.
Yeah, I’m the one that gets to walk in that shit for the next few months. Oh well, as long as there’s something loud on my iPod, I don’t mind the hour-long walk.

The Iceberg.

Well, yes… It was that time of the year, when worlds collide: A minor personal celebration, a German tradition, and a month of the year from which the first syllable rhymes with “Rock”…

Rocktoberfest!

See, I recently celebrated a milestone in my life. If I had just turned a measly 34, or an over-the-edge 36, I wouldn’t have made a big deal out of it. If I hadn’t suffered from a heart attack 4 and a half years ago, and set this particular date as an impossible one to reach after that, I woud have spent the day just like any other.
But oh no, a milestone it was, and as such I had to treat it. Which meant, showering myself with gifts, taking the day off from work, and yes, indulging in quite the alcohol binge. Hey, it was a celebration of myself!

Now, when I say I showered myself with gifts, don’t get the idea that I went all out on a spree buying everything I ever dreamed of having. For instance, I pretty much had to give myself a new computer screen, which set me back 3 hundreds of loonies.
I tripped over the same stone for the second time, after having being cheated by Rogers, and ended up with a brand-spanking-new Nokia thingamajig. It’s not like I needed the fucker, it’s not like I have a list of people trying their damndest to establish contact with me…

Of course, I also made a couple of purchases I ever so desperately needed. I went all out and shed a good 50 dollars on this DVD player I saw at Walmart that plays DivX, so now I don’t need to sit in front of my computer screen to watch WWE Raw. Now I can watch it sitting down on my couch, watching it on my TV. Same thing, basically, but hey, the couch is sure comfier than my stupid desk chair.

Oh, and even though I weighed the decision for months, balancing the pros and cons, and even though I came to the conclusion that walking (or riding my bike) with 40,000 songs with me at all time didn’t exactly qualify as a, um, necessity, per se, on a last minute impulse I went all out and got me a 160 GB iPod.

Yes, I know… but fuck! I walked into the Future Shop with the mentality of “I’m just browsing”, and had even settled for what I had heard of the iPod Shuffle… but considering the options, I walked out 430 quid lighter, with the possibility of never in my life, again, having to say to myself “you know what? If only I had with me that Faith No More song I’d love to listen to right now”.

Of course, my birthday was not only about the gifts I gave myself, but also about spending the day with people I wanted to spend it with. And being that, apparently Canadian Law prohibits everyone from talking to me, I had only my family to fall on. I took the day off from work, and basically partook of a couple of cocktails, and met up with my sister and bro-in-law for lunch/dinner. Along with my cousin, we headed to this place called “The Shakespeare Arms”, or whatnot, and had a great time.
Being from completely different worlds, my other sister had assumed I’d be working that day (it was, after all, a thursday), but by sunday she decided to take me out to celebrate. And celebrate, we did!

See, here I am, joking about walking in and saying “The Iceberg, party of 7″ (yes, my cousin, myself, my sister and husband, my other sister and her husband, and my 5 month old nephew), when all of a sudden I’m sampling beers I had never tried before, a fucking 20 ounce New York steak (although, I’d guess at least 7 ounces of that were fat), and even a half order of fish n’ chips (yes, the british in me, and all)… when my whole life changed.
I cannot, for the moment, reveal the details of what transpired there, for now (I am, after all, cautious with revealing information beforehand – life has taught me to be a wee bit superstitious), but suffice to say it all started with the sudden realization that my digital camera was no more. It was a stiff. I had ceased to be. It had passed on and gone to meet its maker. Damn fucking thing.
Nevertheless, I had a majestic time.

So, damn, I’m 35 now. It’s all downhill from here. But at least I can look forward to three things. The first one, like I said, I cannot reveal for now. The second, I can officially justify my quirks with the phrase ‘midlife crisis’. And, for the time being, I won’t have to wish I had that Behemoth song with me when I want to listen to it. Because, at 35, listening to polish death metal bands on command is no longer a whim, it’s a midlife crisis! That, and, seemingly, everything from Poland rules!

Thanks to all who remembered my b-day, it really meant a lot.

The Iceberg.

Jesus fucking Christ, when it rains, as they say, it pours. And when you’re The Iceberg, it not only pours from the sky down, but also from the ground up. Holy blaspheming Iceberg, although I shouldn’t really be surprised.
One Saturday I’m bored as all fuck at work, and I start getting inspired to write all kinds of stuff. “Yeah, man, I’m totally writing that down when I get home tonight”, I heard myself saying more than three times that day. And, of course, as soon as I got home, my computer was dead. Well, not my actual computer, just, you know, THE FUCKING RECTANGLE  I NEED TO SEE THINGS.

Yup, my screen went the way of the dodo that fateful October 13th. And for a good two and a half weeks, This here Iceberg was deeply in despair. Because, you know nothing ever goes wrong ’round here, wink wink.
Oh, and it gets better.

I took the fucking thing to the shop on monday, and they said, basically, that 75 dollars later, I could pick it up the next day. “Wonderful!”, I exclaimed. But, if you’ve read enough of my shit, you know what happens when I make an exclamation of the sort.
Next day, dumbass calls and says it’s not the thingie that needs to be changed, it’s the whole fucking screen. And since they have to order it from the fucking States, it’s going to take a while. Oh, and I better sit down. It’s costing 325 of my hard-earned dollars to do that.

Of course, a good 24 hours after I greenlighted their little venture, I came across a brand new laptop at Walmart for 400 bucks, and I said to myself, “Shit!”. But that’s neither here nor there, plus it helps my mind to relax if I just forget that particular episode.

Anyhoo, I’m back in business, although a bit light on the wallet, so maybe, unless the fucking gods find another way of keeping me from doing so, I can narrate my birthday adventures to all y’alls!

The Iceberg.