I LIVE ON DEGRASS STREET- And I Rock Out to the Zit Remedy

Probably the biggest reason I haven't been around lately is due to our move. We relocated to a bigger place in a more pedestrian friendly neighbourhood due to the pending arrival of the royal cargo. So, it's goodbye to Jimmy's Place and hello to Jimmy's Place. We still live in Toronto, but we now live on what is basically a national landmark in Canada - DeGrassi St. Yes, the DeGrassi St! (If you don't know why this is awesome, than you obviously did not grow up in the U.S. or Canada in 80's or today. Degrassi Junior High/High is a monumental Canadian show.)

First of all, DeGrassi is not that big of a street. It is really only a couple of blocks long, connecting Queen St to Gerrard St. The series was named after our street because the creators lived around here and used the exteriors for shooting the first incarnation, called "Kids of Degrassi Street". (For some reason, they don't capitolize the "G" in their version.)

Everybody asks me what the school is like. Unfortunately, there is no school on DeGrassi St. Apparently, they filmed some of the school scenes in a school a block away, before relocating to other areas of town.

There are definitely a lot of kids on Degrassi St (soon to be one more). I'm always amazed by how many strollers roll down our little street. And lots of dogs too. Plus a cat named Lilly who is brave enough to come in our place with no reservations, despite the protests of Balki. Overall, it's a great street. In fact, miracle of miracles, there's not a Tim Hortons anywhere close. For that, I give it 5 Hortons.

HOLIDAY WEEK - Our Annual Canada Day Preview

Tomorrow (or today/yesterday/last week depending on when you read this) is Canada Day. As has been our tradition every Canada Day since this blog started last October, we are going to run down some of the most exciting events around the World. Honestly, it's hard for us to call it Canada Day, because it will always be Dominion Day to us: we always loved the Miss Dominion of Canada beauty pageant. Oh well. Here`s the rundown for this year`s activities:

• If you live in Newfoundland (all 500,000 of you), you can go see the Stanley Cup tomorrow. Local hero Danny Cleary is the first Newfie to play for a Cup-winning team. Don`t drop the cup!
  
• If you want a subdued celebration, head for Quebec where the interest in Canada Day is always lukewarm at best. But I bet some where there will be a poutine with a flag in it. Also apologies to mon souer for not writing about a Fête Saint-Jean-de-Baptiste (QC`s national holiday) last week.
• If you`re in London, England, you can celebrate Canada Day in Trafalgar Square where Cordon Bleu chef Daniel Verati will offer samples of Canadian food (poutine and back bacon, I suppose), there will be a taste of the Montreal comedy festival and high speed street hockey.
• The Canadian Embassy in Washington D.C. is having a Canada Day party, but you`ve got RSVP by today! If you go, I recommend bringing a Russian friend and debating which of the three countries has sovereignty over the Arctic. Sure to make for scintilating conversation. Beernada will be in D.C. working on his North American Free Beer Argreement, so he may be at the Embassy (though he`s much more likely to be here).
• Those (one) of you who live in Hong Kong, there`s a Canada Day celebration every year in Lan Kwai Fong.
• The weather`s looking good for celebrations in Iqaluit, Nunavut where it will be a balmy 7C (43F).
  
• Finally, if you want to catch me, please come down to the Harbourfront Centre in Toronto. Johnada will be celebrating the only way I know how - by attacking people with blow up donuts at the first Canadian Donut Olympics. Only in Canada.
  

Happy Canada Day from all of us at Johnada!

JOHNADA MEETS WALL - Wall, Johnada Agree to Disagree

As many of you already know from the previous post, I was hit by a car while biking earlier this week. Here’s the whole story:

I had just left Chez Johnada, and I was on my way to celebrate Beernada’s 30^th birthday. (Yes, thirty. Everyone says he looks fifty, but that’s what a lifetime of tasting beer does to you). It had been a lovely summer afternoon, but the skies were starting to darken with grey clouds. I started to get a bit concerned that I was going to get rained on. I am a delicate creature, so getting wet would have been out of the question. Especially in the seersucker suit I had purchased just for Beernada’s delight. To get downtown quicker, I decided to head down to Dundas, which has designated bike lanes. To get to there, I had to take a short one way side street. No problem, I’ve still got plenty of time.

Cue ominous music.

I was behind and to the right of a car that was going relatively slow. I thought nothing of it since it was a Sunday afternoon; I figured it was a couple of older people out enjoying the sights and sounds of Canada’s largest city. I wasn’t exactly speeding, but I was going fast enough to pass the car on its right. Suddenly, with no warning, the car jerked in front of me, apparently parallel parking on the right side of the street. There had been no turn signal nor any other indication that this was happening. I braked as fast as I could, but some sort of Johnada-Camry contact was inevitable. At the last second, I was able to jerk the bike to the right and only graze the front side of the car. For a second, I thought it wasn’t going to be that bad, and I had successfully maneuvered my way out of a harrowing situation. That was until I saw the stone wall rapidly approaching me. This time there was no avoiding it, so I braced myself for impact. I don’t really remember the exact moment I hit the wall, but I can say that I managed to avoid hitting my head, which I think is quite admirable. I think I braced myself with my right arm. There was quite a scrunch made by the bike. The next thing I realized, I was standing there in a daze and to no one in particular I screamed, “How about a f-ing turn signal?”

Then I looked down and saw that my bike was messed up. The front wheel was bent so that it was basically at a right angle compared to the rest of the bike. This made me quite frustrated. I looked up and saw a younger man (probably about 21) staring at me. Apparently he was the driver. He had a shocked look on his face, and I could tell that he felt pretty bad about the situation. He asked if I was okay. Then he asked if I needed a ride home. Looking back, this was very kind of him, I suppose. I was in a bit of shock, and not really interested in making nice. But I could tell he felt bad, so I didn’t say anything and just stared in silence for a moment. Without even thinking, I just grabbed my bike and started heading walking home. As I walked away, the guy who hit me kept saying he didn’t see me, repeating the phrase at a louder volume every 10 seconds. His father was in the passenger’s side of the car and said something to me in a different language as I walked by. I’m guessing it was, “my son’s an idiot, but look what you did to my 1999 Toyata Camry.” I looked around, and there were a couple of other people on the street. They were all staring at me, but none seemed all that sympathetic. It was kind of strange. Perhaps I looked mean?

Anyway, I began to get my bearings and realized that my hand and leg were bleeding quite profusely. Also, my shoulder seemed quite sore. But it didn’t seem too bad considering the kind of shape my bike was in. I realized that I was not going to be able to carry my bike all the way home since I was about a mile away, so I had to lock it up. I locked it on right in front of a small shop in Toronto’s India Bazaar. Two shop owners stood outside their doors and stared at me and my bike. I’m sure I made for an amusing site, but I wondered why nobody offered any sympathy or assistance? I had to take the street care home, and people really avoided sitting anywhere near me. I don’t blame them because I was bleeding a lot, though not so much that blood got on the seat or floor.

Looking back, the thing I remember most was the time between when I realized I couldn’t prevent myself from hitting the care until I hit the stone wall. It was probably 1.5 seconds, but it’s amazingly clear. I knew I wasn’t going to die or anything, but I also knew that I wasn’t going to able to avoid this either. It’s that weird moment where you’re jerked out of your every day life and your brain goes into survival mode. Kind of interesting, but I’m glad it doesn’t happen every day.

Lessons learned:
1) Side streets are dangerous because cars don’t expect bikes.
2) The wall in front of my house will be made out of rubber and down pillows.
3) Despite the fact that you got into a minor accident, all Beernada ever wants to talk about is his little three week trip to Vietnam or his thirtieth birthday. *
4) Dogs like to lick other people’s wounds.
5) Blood doesn’t come out of seersucker, but still looks quite lovely.
6) People who work in bike shops love to tell you about their entire biking history when you tell them you got hit. It’s a badge of honour, apparently.
7) Just because you rode into a wall, doesn’t mean you get a free samosa.

*This is a complete fabrication. He was very kind.

I WANT TO RIDE MY BICYCLE - Tales of Toronto

After leaving my bicycle outside this past winter, I was not the least bit surprised to find that it had fallen apart when I tried to ride it this spring. This led me into a long, unsuccessful search for a bike that was nice, not a target for bike thieves and in my price range. Johnada is a little picky, and a lot cheap. This is not a good combination for shopping for bikes. Eventually, my mom offered me her old road bike from the 1980s. After dismissing this several times, I finally gave in and brought it back with me after our last trip to the U.S. I have not been the least bit disappointed. I love this bike:
Notice the Canadian flag bell.

Anyway, I've been riding in Toronto for about a month now, and I must admit that I enjoy it quite a bit. I've had no major problems, except for with a few unruly drivers and with other bikers that don't know you're supposed to go around cars turning right. Anyway my biking honeymoon came to an end last Friday. It was a pretty normal ride into work until I crossed the "beautiful" Don Mills River, than everything went wonky.

I passed a guy in the bike lane on his left, and there was a truck about 500 feet behind us that was slowly accelerating out of the light. I had more than enough time. So then the truck catches up to me and starts honking at me. I give him a wave, but he keeps going at the same speed as me and honking. I'm thinking to myself that wasn't even close, why is he making such a big deal out of this. Then I look over at him, and he has a big smile and on his face and is holding my metal water bottle. I immediately smiled at him and said thanks. I told him he could just chuck it out of the window, but with bikers coming this didn't work, so he slows down and hands it to me. I think to myself, I'm glad I wasn't a total prick when he started honking. For the next three blocks I'm riding along, smiling to myself - thinking the world ain't all that bad. There really are nice people. I have no idea how the guy in that truck ended up with the water bottle. Where did I lose it? Did he get out and pick it up? Did another courteous biker hand it to him?

But this would only last so long. At the third or fourth light, I catch up to a guy all decked out in spandex with yellow vests - your stereotypical middle-aged Canadian biker.

He turns to me and says,
"You know why that truck honked at you? Because you almost died. You didn't signal when you passed me and you came within inches of your life."

So I say, "Come on man, it wasn't close. I did not jump out in front of the truck. He was way back there."

But the dude is unrelenting, "So then why did he honk and pull you over to the side of the road?"

"Because I dropped my water bottle back there, and he was kind enough to get it for me."

"Don't lie. You really don't understand the rules of bike riding. I've been biking for 40 years
blah, blah"

"I'm not lying. That's why he stoppped."

"Well he was a very good person for not hitting you."

"Wow, that's not a very nice thing to say."

He kept badgering me like this all the way down Bloor Street. Apparently, what seemed to bother him the most was that I didn't ring my bell when I passed other bikers. I'm sorry, I'm not going to signal when I go around other bikers in the bike lane. Those bells can be annoying, and I think people ignore them if you use them too much. I stop at every light, and I am very courteous to other bikers and cars. But he just kept pestering me, and I kept trying to ignore him/saying words that I shouldn't have.

After this went on all the way through the busiest part of Toronto traffic, He finally had to turn left at Bloor and University, so he was over in the left turn lane. After pestering me for five blocks about all the rules of biking, HE JUMPS THE LIGHT AND TURNS LEFT BEFORE ONCOMING TRAFFIC EVEN THOUGH THERE IS NO TURN SIGNAL!! You can only imagine my reaction. I yelled as loud as I could at him for being a hypocrite, but I was so shocked I don't think it came out too well. I think my voice cracked like I was going through puberty, though I'm sure he got the gist of what I was saying.

Awesome.

Update: After writing this post yesterday, I got hit by a car. I'd say it was some sort of karma for writing about biking, but it was not my fault. The person driving suddenly decided to park on the right side of the street without signalling.

CUBS WEEKEND 2008 - Is There a Spoon Shortage in Canada?

Warning - Long and winding post

Last weekend was circled on my schedule from the first moment last December that I discovered that the Chicago Cubs would be coming to Toronto to play the Blue Jays. To make things even better, big Cub fans Shancho and Maynard were coming up for their second visit to Johnada.

Friday night was relatively calm, after a lovely dinner at Allen's Pub, Maynard and I visited my favourite bar in Toronto - the Only Cafe, then made a quick stop by Jimmy's.

Saturday I woke up early, like a kid on Christmas morning, gleefully awaiting everyone else to get out of bed. We ate breakfast at the First Lady's favourite brunch place Bonjour Brioche. I was nervous the whole time, despite the game not starting for two hours. But we made it in plenty of time. Our seats were pretty far up there, as you can tell:
It was a great game with Cubs scoring a lot of runs off of the "ace" of the Blue Jays, Roy Holiday. The First Lady and Shancho really enjoyed the music that came on before Vernon Wells bats - a little dancy sort of techno number. It was my first game in Toronto; I have to say the stadium is a little boring, and the fans don't get very excited compared to Wrigley Field.

After a bbq at Chez Johnada with an appearance by the Scientorian, we headed out to do some 5 pin bowling. Amazingly, the First Lady (4.5 months pregnant) won the first game. I redeemed myself in the second game and won the series. Maynard, generally the best bowler in the bunch, is not too good at tiny pin bowling, but he looks good tossing the ball:We followed bowling with a trip to Jimmy's for karaoke. It was great, as usual. I sang Alanis Morissette's "Ironic" to much acclaim. I got as close to a standing ovation as you can at Jimmy's. It was a great moment for me. Then Maynard sang "Putting on the Ritz" by Taco. The performance was unbelievable, but slightly disappointing because there was no tap dancing at the end. Over the course of the night, there were many more songs, including a duet by Shancho and the First Lady. The crowd at Jimmy's was nice and creepy, as usual. One particular fellow kept hitting on the First Lady who clearly came with me and, in case you forgot, is OBVIOUSLY 4.5 months pregnant. But Jackie, who owns Jimmy's, was kind as always.

On Sunday, Maymard and I got to the Cubs-Blue Jays game a little earlier as the women stayed behind to shower. It was a beautiful sunny day, so Maynard needed to get some sunglasses. After searching for a while we finally found some. We had much better seats and sat in the shade for about three innings. At the exact moment that the sun was going to hit us and Maynard was jut about to use his sun glasses, the craziest thing happened - the roof of the stadium started to close. It was pretty amazing to watch. We were surprised because it was so nice out, but after twenty minutes of the roof closing you could tell it was about to rain. After the third inning, Shancho and the First Lady finally made it. They even made a sign because the game was going to be on WGN TV in Chicago:It actually says "Go Cubs, Eh?" on the bottom, but the guy who took a picture did not do a very good job of framing it. Anyway, the Cubs won this game after a great pitching performance by former Blue Jay Ted Lilly, so it was a great weekend for Cubs baseball.

We had planned on making it an early night on Sunday after the game, but we headed over to enjoy some drinks at the Drake which has a great rooftop deck. The deck is so nice it was enjoyable even though it rained. At dinner, we had a few too many carafe's of wine and this led us to the Rivoli for more karoake. The Riv had a more serious crowd, and my version of "Ironic" did not go over quite so well. Apparently they don't understand an ironic version of a song called "Ironic" that has no irony in it. I mean why is it ironic to have a bunch of forks when all you need is a spoon? That's just bad planning. After, my lukewarm performance, the Scientorian absolutely ripped through an amazing version of "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince. The crowd seemed confused by the frequent shout outs to Minneapolis, however.

Despite the fact that we clearly didn't want the weekend to end, we had to face reality and headed home in a taxi. The taxi driver was a Croatian immigrant living in Canada who loves Cuba. That's a lot of C's.

Overall, one of the best weekends I've had in a couple of years. And if you read this blog, you know I have good weekends.

Allens - 4 Hortons
The Only Cafe - 4.62 Hortons
Jimmy's - 4 Hortons
brunch at Bonjour Brioche - 4.5 Hortons
The Cubs - 5 Hortons
Rogers Centre - 2 Hortons
5 Pin Bowling - 3.98 Hortons
Rivoli - 3.2 Hortons

CANADIAN HEROES - Strombo's Black Shirts

When I first moved to Canada last September, I was amazed by the ubiquitousness of this guy named George Stroumboulopoulos (real spelling) and his show called the Hour during which he interviews celebrities and politicians with a removed, laconic style. He's always being "real" with the people he interviews, he always acts like he's hardcore, and, most importantly, he always wears black. Always!

In so many ways, Strombo is the ultimate tool. He will act as cool as his current guest. He plays like he's all metal, but he often kisses the ass of bands that suck. And his comedy bits are weak, to say the least. But Canadians prefer his toolishnes to the swarminess of Jay Leno, and I guess I'm okay with that.

It's ultimately George's wardrobe that makes the show. Night after night there is a new black shirt that says "I just don't give a shit (even though I really do, since this shirt cost $400)." It's that dichotomy that is the brilliance of Mr. George Stroumboulopoulos and for that reason, Strombo's black shirts are our newest Canadian Heroes.

I was going to add some content about what a jerk George is, but apparently he's not. If you Google Strombo on the net, almost every personal encounter with him is glowing. Plus Bono's a fan, and he likes the Pope, so who is Johnada to argue. (Though I prefer Rick Mercer any day.)

This would have been so much better if Alex still had his moustache:

THAT AIN'T LAKE MINNETONKA - It's Lake Ontario and We Can't Get There Because the TTC's on Strike

Though he lived in Minnesota for most of his life, Beernada had some how avoided seeing Purple Rain - a most egregious error that was corrected on Friday night. Thankfully, Beernada is now familiar with the Apollonia Six's "Sex Shooter", the Kid's love/hate relationship with Wendy and the purifying powers of Lake Minnetonka.

After B and S left, the First Lady and I brushed our teeth and got ready for a gentle night's sleep with dreams of Darling Nikki dancing in our heads. Suddenly, the phone rang. We don't often get calls after midnight on a Friday, so my immediate thought was that either something bad had happened or Beernada had seen people drinking Labatts. Luckily, neither of these proved true. Instead it was the Scientorian explaining that the Toronto public transit workers (TTC) had suddenly gone on strike, and we hopped out of bed and got into the car to pick up our stranded friends.I'm all for labour having rights and being organized, but going on strike on a Friday night at midnight with no warning is absolutely idiotic. The TTC had previously promised 48 hours notice for the public before they would begin a strike. Since B and S live all the way across town, we got to drive by TTC stop after TTC stop with drunk people lined up outside subway stations - they did not look pleased. Then Saturday morning, there were reports of all kinds of people who could not get to work. Guess what type of person has to ride public transit to work on a Saturday? If you said lawyer, you're not very in touch with reality. So the strike ends up hurting poor people - good job TTC.

I'm a big fan of the Toronto public transit system normally. The subway gets me to work in 20 minutes, and though the streetcars are slow, they are very dependable. My biggest complaint is about the price compared to other cities, but in reality I'm saving a bundle with the high cost of gas these days.

Purple Rain - 4.3 Hortons
TTC Strike - 0 Hortons
TTC under normal conditions - 3.98 Hortons

P.S. - If you're ever in Las Vegas, I highly recommend Purple Reign.

7 THINGS ABOUT STUFF (Part 3)

Today we explore 7 things about Johnada the person. I'll try to be honest here, which is not easy for me.

1) I once worked at a fancy resort on Colorado on their golf course. I was working with a Jamaican, and we were driving around the course in a Gator. We drove by a man with a beard that looked a lot like Michael Douglas. When I told the Jamaican that the guy teeing off looked like Michaeal Douglas, he turned around and drove very close to get a good look. It turns out it was Michael Douglas. And it turns out he doesn't like it when people approach him in a loud vehicles while he's teeing off. Michael Douglas knows a lot of words that can make Johnada cringe. However, I was lucky enough no to be this guy.

2) In high school and part of college, I was the lead singer in a band with many names, some of which included Crambone, Utica, Intermission, Jimmy Two Times, Pinchers of Power, Crotch 22, Scromp Attack and various other names. My good friend's mother once told me I had good stage presence. At the time I thought it was a compliment, but I now realize that she was really saying . . .

3) I work for an organization that tries to keep private insurance for medically necessary services out of Canada. Due to my temporary open work permit, the morons at Immigration Canada and my laziness, I still don't have access to health coverage to the Ontario Health Insurance Program. I sure hope my mom doesn't read this.

4)And for a good reason I should have the insurance - I recently spent two and half years in near constant misery due to undiagnosable dizziness. It was not fun. It may have been my inner ear, but I never got a good diagnosis. I would spend weeks doing nothing more than going to work and coming home and laying down. Despite no cure, I eventually started feeling better. However, when I don't sleep well or I get overly anxious my misery returns.

5) I'm a horrible liar. In high school, I called in to work to tell them I was sick, though I was really planning to play soccer with some friends. The woman who answered the phone said it was obvious I was lying and I'd better be there on time. I also spent weeks planning a surprise party for my wife and then I told her about it two days before the party. I could list about twenty more things like this.

6) There's a lot I don't know about blogging. Like what is the point of Technorati? And what about Twitter? And why won't Blogger let me hyperlink to a new window, instead of sending people away? I also don't know how to post how many people use feedburner to visit my site. I just don't have time to keep up with the kids these days. There so much stuff about blogging that I don't understand.

7) I spend a large amount of my time (some who are married too me might say too much) obsessing about the Chicago Cubs. Even though, I want almost nothing more than for them to win the World Series, I'm secretly rooting against them this year. For the reason why, stay tuned . . .

ODE TO THE 506

Another morning dawns in Toronto. I open the blinds and there you are, mocking me. You shoot right past my window, dressed in red and white though sometimes you dress in pink.

You wind past Jimmy's, past that Irish bar we always want to go to, but never seem to get to. You make that weird turn at Coxwell, where you're on Gerrard then you're not on Gerrard, then you're on Gerrard. After that, you're in the India Bazaar. Oh how I love the the Lahore Tikka House. Then it's full steam ahead past about eight Pizza Pizzas until you arrive at the East China Town.

You pass a library, prison and then it's over the picturesque Don River (with purple oil slicks), second only to the Calumet Sag as North America's most disgusting waterway. Then the so-called Toronto Housing Projects, which look more like a retirement community to my hardened American eyes. They're certainly not Cabrini Green. You zoom past Cabbage Town, the Gay Village. Past the old Maple Leaf Gardens, which is supposed to turn into a grocery store. Poor Maple Leaf Gardens.

Suddenly you're on College Street and you rumble through the heart of the city. Right past Yonge Street - where they filmed part of the new Hulk movie. You pass the Legislative Assembly of Ontario where the Ontario Parliament does whatever it is they do in the Ontario Parliament. Then you lurch and crawl past the University of Toronto, where thousands of future Canadian leaders wear black stretch pants, boots and talk way too much on their cell phones.

As you cross Spadina, you meet up with Old Chinatown. Two Chinatowns in one trip - not bad for a streetcar in a town not called San Francisco. Next it's the northern end of Kensington Market, where I like to grab a taco, the Wife likes to grab vintage clothing, and the hippies like to grab something else.

You zoom through Little Italy and all the Italian and Portugese shops. Pass the Mod Club, which is a great place to see a show, and apparently a good place to dance. But Johnada's too old, so now he only dances in his living room.

To be honest, I know you continue on, but I don't know much about what happens after that. I know you eventually get to Roncessvalles, which is a nice neighbourhood that I have trouble pronouncing. But it's got good peirogies. Then you turn around at High Park and do it all over again.

You rumble by all night long, while I slumber away just meters away from your tracks - bringing the drunks home and making Balki stir.

ENRAGE THE NEIGHBOURS 2008 - We're the Neighbours

Each Spring in Minnesota, the First Lady and I would have an official Johnadian Presidential Ball that was playfully titled Enrage the Neighbors (US spelling because it took place in the US). In four years of parties, I think we only enraged one neighbor, and she was never very nice to us prior to that party. (We later got back in her good graces when the Minister of Defence chased a bat out of her apartment in the middle of the night.) Sadly, due to the smallness of the current Presidential Palace, I don't think there will be a 2008 Canadian version of the Enrage Your Neighbours Ball. We live on the main floor of a small house, with an apartment upstairs and a tiny apartment in the basement, so there's not enough of a dance floor for my mad DJ skills. Plus on Wednesday night our downstairs neighbours - a couple that one might refer to as the whitest of trash - took care of all the enraging our area can probably use this year.

It all started at about 11:30 p.m. when the back door slammed and loud voices started to come up through our bedroom register. Our bedroom is located over the main room in the basement apartment, and the set up makes it so we hear everything as if we were in the same room. For the next 8 hours, we we're privy to the conversations of at least eight people who apparently have fun by jovially yelling at each other at the top of their lungs - mostly by describing how awesome they all are. Since I could hear every word, I discovered that this was a party in honour of a fellow who had just posted bail earlier in the day. Good for him.

At about 4:30 in the morning they started playing music, which they justified because they live in the basement -- no one would be able to hear Eminimem. The irony was that we could only barely hear the music because of the yelling. Honestly, music that drowned them out would have been a welcome distraction.

Then at 7 in the morning, as the First Lady was getting ready for work (after sleeping about fifteen minutes all night), things took a bad turn. Someone broke Mr. Bail's precious bottle of vodka, and apparently he wasn't drunk enough after at least 8 hours of boozing (among other activities). As far as I could tell from the screaming, the bottle was about a quarter full at the time of its demise. Because of this, Mr. B started screaming like a child and ranted on about how he was going to kick someone's ass. He literally screamed about his lost booze for about 45 minutes. Then to top it all off, he started yelling racial slurs about someone who had left the party, accusing him of being the one who had broken the bottle. Our party-throwing neighbours seemed quite afraid of Mr. Bail and tried very hard to calm him down. (He must be out on bail for something good.) The loud yelling continued on and off until at least 10 a.m., when I left for work.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the first instance of poor behaviour from our downstairs neighbours. In Johnada's six months of residency, there have been several examples of their lack of respect for us and everyone else in the neighbourhood. These include, but are not not limited to, screaming (and I mean screaming) at each other at four in the morning on at least 20 different occasions (usually on week nights); never taking out their garbage (even after raccoons have gotten into it); smoking inside the building right by our bathroom (despite the fact it is forbidden in their lease); having really bad taste in music; wearing a really bad blonde wig; leaving thongs in the washing machine; and, worst of all, thinking of me as old.

They also leave the back gate open all the time - even while Balki is IN the back yard! This has led to so many near death experiences for our dog -- we live on a major road that has big street cars -- that I finally had to give in and get him a chain. One of the main reasons we settled on our apartment was that the dog would have free run of the back yard.

Through all of this, we never called the police, although we were often encouraged to. (Apparently the people that lived in our apartment before us called the police on them several times.) We never even said anything to our landlord until prompted by him after several other neighbours in surrounding houses complained. But yesterday we could take no more. So we gave in and complained (as did our upstairs neighbour and probably anyone else in a four block radius). Apparently, this was the final strike -- they are being evicted in early April. So it's going to be an awkward couple of weeks at the Johnadian Palace. I just hope Mr. Bail doesn't read blogs . . .

SPRING (MARCH BREAK) - Gone Thongin'

Like he does every year at this time, Johnada is taking a week off to enjoy the sun and party with some co-eds. He'll be enjoying frozen daiquiris by day and tequila body shots by night.

Actually, I'll be in Toronto at work, but I need a week off from the blog. I'm not used to pumping out 4 to 5 of chunks meandering drivel each week, and I need extra some time to further ponder the intricacies of Canadian society. But we'll be back next Monday, March 24 with (hopefully) a new design, new themes for posts and the return of Beernada. No need to worry about too many changes - I'll still be posting way too many pictures of my dog and discussing the world's greatest/worst donut chain.

So have a good week. Hopefully some of you will come back next week. Also, a big Johnada happy birthday to Shancho. Please have some Cristal in a stretch Navigator on me. (Bounce Bounce Bounce Bounce Bounce Bounce Bounce Bounce Bounce Bounce)

A little something to hold everybody over:

APPARENTLY IT SNOWS IN TORONTO

So it snows in Toronto. Who knew? We're facing another blast today and closing in on the all time seasonal snowfall record of 207 centimetres (81.5 inches). This is not a lot of snow for most of Canada, but for Toronto it's insane. The average year is 133 cm. We're supposed to get more on Tuesday. And apparently the city always gets at least one snowfall in April, so I think the record is out the window. Hooray for that. Warmer temperatures and more snow - on this count Toronto has been way better than Minneapolis. The last couple of years we lived in Minnesota it was very cold and very dry.

Since we don't drive very often, the snow has been great. The subway runs well during the snow, (at least the portion we frequent), and the streetcars do alright too. I think snow's fun to play in, as does Balki. As you can tell to the right, he prefers coloured snow. My neighbour Ron doesn't think I shovel enough. But I've shovelled quite a bit. He just never seems to be around when I do.

The snow would really be great if the Wife and I had some cross country skis, but we don't. Instead I just getting a running start and slide in my sneakers. The Wife predicts this will cause my first run in with Canadian healthcare, but all clear so far.

O CANADIAN TIRE

I don't really know how to explain Canadian Tire to Americans. It's kind of like K-Mart I guess, except with a much bigger emphasis on automotive stuff. Or maybe a more upscale version of Farm and Fleet or Fleet Farm. The stores I've been in have the same disorganized, slightly dirty feel as Wal-Mart, but the scope is a lot different. Anyway, Canadian Tire is the Canadian Tire of Canada.

I've purchased three items at Canadian Tire (that I remember), to varying degrees of satisfaction:

1) Crazy Sling Shot Football Thing - This was bought by Maymard three or four years ago, while in Thunder Bay and staying at Kakabeka Falls. The sling thing was great fun. It would go super far and, with the addition of beer, made a trip to Thunder Bay very memorable.

2) Blow Up Twin Mattress - This was bought when we had two very special guests in town, and they needed to sleep in our teeny tiny apartment. I got the Twin because it was a lot cheaper than the Queen, and I thought they would be be able to fit. Except it turns out that twin mattress means space for one. To me twin should mean for two, because when a woman has twins she has two of them. I guess this purchase was not Canada Tire's fault, but I blame them because their intimidating stores prevented me from returning the mattress for a bigger one. Now, we have to be creative when we have guests.

3) Windshield Wipers - I just bought these the other day. They have some expensive wipers at Canadian Tire! I would be really complaining right now, except for the lady at the register only charged me for one . . . and the cheaper one too. Hooray for the cashier and her co-worker's distracting conversation about "all this snow, eh."

Canadian Tire is most famous for its Canadian Tire Money, which you get every time you buy stuff. I think it's pretty fun, and you can redeem it anytime you want. Plus, it teaches children the joys of capitalism. People even collect it and sell it on eBay. Crazy!

Canadian Tire gets 3.3333333333333333 Hortons. The prices are way too high for some of the cheap crap they sell there, but you gotta love the CT Money.

BEERNADA - A Visit to Steam Whistle Brewery

You may remember about a month ago, when Beernada's first attempt at a beer review led to an invitation from Steam Whistle to tour their facilities with the brewmaster or one of the owners. Due to scheduling conflicts, we were unable to get a personal tour. (Apparently people are quite busy during the holidays, who knew?) So on Saturday we decided to go on our own, thinking this might make for a more impartial review anyway. We had planned on taking the standard tour at the brewery, but our research department failed to let us know that it costs $8 each. (By the way, this is strike one. Even Budweiser lets you tour for free.) Since Johnada's yearly budget is currently $3.50, we couldn't pull the trigger on the eight Loonies, even though the tour comes with a small Steam Whistle glass.

Despite not taking the tour, we feel like we were able to get a good idea of the place. Everyone at the brewery was in a good mood because it was right before their holiday party. And while we thought about hiding in the bathrooms for three hours and sneaking into the party, we have probably given Steam Whistle enough unpleasant surprises in 2007.

Here's Beernada's take on the day's adventure and his follow up review:

The semi-circular building that houses the Steam Whistle brewery lies just south of the CN Tower in the barren expanse of the semi-aptly named Roundhouse Park. Sandwiched between the Rogers Centre (formerly the Skydome) and the Air Canada Centre, Steam Whistle seems to occupy prime real estate that is useful in luring in tourists from Manitoba and hockey fanatics. Without question, the architecture and location of the Steam Whistle brewery is unique in the world of breweries, but would the product inside be unique as well?

The people who work at Steam Whistle were all exceedingly nice. Unfortunately for them, they didn't get to see the true Beernada. I had to protect my identity in order to preserve the high ethical standards of journalistic tradition. This might explain why we didn’t receive any free t-shirts (Ed. - there may be other reasons). Yet, we were given a generous complimentary sample at the long bar located near the building’s entrance. Maybe I was a little parched from the dehydrating snow storm outside, but I was a little surprised to find a beer that tasted refreshing and not just palatable, but likeable! Yet, the higher-than-would-be-tolerated-by-the-Governor’s General dimethyl sulfide (DMS) level still dominates the first detectable flavours (which can range from that of corn to cabbage to burnt rubber) of this Bavarian-style pilsner brewed by a Bohemian. Thankfully, this corny aroma (which is somewhat nauseating to me) quickly gives way to a robust malty middle that is reinforced by a clean and balanced bitterness like the rebar in the concrete foundation of the CN Tower. This is all nice, but what about the burp-up? You can’t keep the bubbles down too long and, unfortunately, the most volatile chemical in Steam Whistle seems to be the DMS, which is reincarnated in spades at each belch, small or large.

In preparing for this follow-up, I did a little research so that I could at least pretend to have done something premeditated. In researching the water used to brew their beer, I wrote to Canadian Springs and asked them to supply me with a profile of their H2O. Their spring water is pooled from multiple sources to produce a consistent product that meets standards for various mineral levels. Unfortunately, I still haven’t received my profile in the mail even though I requested it more than a month ago. This might be because they never sent it, or maybe because Canada Post is still using beavers to transport mail (Ed. - we're pretty sure this is not true, but we would love it if our mailman was a rodent). However, I was able to clear up one thing: DMS is entirely a byproduct of the modified amino acid S-methylmethionine (SMM), which is produced during the malting of barley and breaks down to DMS during the boil (Bamforth 2000). Some DMS may also be produced by yeast conversion of dimethyl sulfoxide, also derived from SMM, to DMS. Moreover, according to the brewing scientist Charles Bamforth at UC Davis who is famous in part for his elucidation of the biochemistry of DMS production in beer (ed. - Anyone else feeling sleepy?), DMS is “the best example of how a detailed investigation of the pathways by which a molecule arises in beer has led to production strategies that allow good control over the levels of a flavour-determinant in beer” (Bamsforth 2000, p110). This means that Steam Whistle is either uninterested in controlling their DMS levels, or, more likely, they are intentionally producing beer with higher-than-would-be-tolerated-by-the-Governor’s General DMS production. Why would they do that? I have a theory…

The most widely consumed beers in the world often have revolting aromas dominated by DMS. Corona comes to mind as a very good example of corniness (no offence, Mexico, but good beer like Negra Modelo and Casta puts your emblematic brew to shame). Steam Whistle is trying to capture the biggest market they can by doing “one thing really, really well.” It seems strange to me that Steam Whistle would go to such lengths as decoction mashing (a labour-intensive technique often used in German and Czech lager brewing to develop a deep and delicious malt flavour) when, in the end, the DMS levels are so high as to turn most beer snobs like myself away. That is, until you realize the ingenious revolution that Steam Whistle is orchestrating through subterfuge: hook the Corona-gulping masses and ever-so-slowly eliminate the Corona-like flavours until everyone is acclimated to a Bavarian pilsner of unsurpassed quality. Beernada predicts that Steam Whistle will slowly and undetectably reduce their DMS production to a moderate level, just to where the sweet malty flavours are enhanced without tasting like chicken feed. You read it here first.

Addendum: Beernada also recognizes that some people actually like the flavour of excess DMS in their beer. Not me (Ed. - thanks for clearing this up), but I encourage you all to try it for yourself:We think Beernada's finally off his rocker with this theory. My two Canadian cents: Steam Whistle seems to know what it's doing. Johnada encourages everyone to know what they are and be fine with it. Beernada certainly knows what he is: a total snob when it comes to just about everything, including wigs. And Johnada certainly knows what he is: the world's greatest blogger, ever. Steam Whistle knows what it is: a beer for the average Joe who wants to drink a "craft" brew with a taste that is familiar. We don't see this changing, nor do we think it's a bad marketing strategy. (Look what it's done for Stella Artois.) Judging by the number of people willing to spend $8 on a tour, Steam Whistle obviously does fine. My final analysis - the brewery gets 3.5 Hortons. It's a nice place to look at with happy people, great marketing and an environment friendly building. However, the beer, while drinkable, is only slightly better than the mass marketed options. Maybe if it was sold at Cubs games, I might change my mind.

References: Bamforth, C. 2000. Beer: An Ancient Yet Modern Biotechnology. The Chemical Educator 5(3):102-112.

TORONTO THE MEAN - Parking Tickets

In my preCanadian life, I had never gotten a parking ticket. Fourteen years of parking cars in several major metropolitan areas in North America and Europe = 0 tickets. Now that I live in Toronto and hardly ever drive, I have received six tickets in the span of three months. Two of them were just me forgetting to move the car, but the other four have had to do with Toronto's HORRIBLE parking signage. It's almost as if they want people to get parking tickets. I wonder why a city mired in millions of dollars of debt would want that?

In the past, I cursed and paid, but today I fight back. I parked on Eaton Ave after turning right off of the Danforth. Here are the signs that were posted within my vision and 200 metres of where I parked:I parked to the right of the sign on top, so I was not in the CLEARLY marked no parking zone. It was 9:40 AM. Note there are no signs saying anything about no parking between 6 PM and 10 AM. Because of Toronto's love of giving me tickets, I even drove around and rechecked. The only other sign I could see was about trucks not parking. I left the car confident that I was in a place I could park safely until 11 AM. Then I got back to the car at 10:20 and some guy was saying something about his Christmas gift from Toronto. Turns out, they gave me one too. I got a $30 ticket for parking without a valid permit.

And here's a sign on a DIFFERENT street with the no parking except permits for comparison:In this case, the time when not to park is clearly noted. I would never have parked here at 9:40 AM, because it is clear this is a permit only zone before 10 AM.

Hey Toronto, if you need money this bad, do it honestly by bilking all of your taxpayers. This kind of thing is why, when people ask me how I like Toronto, I pause and say it's just okay. Other reasons: too few bike lanes, expensive monthly public transit costs, poor lakefront urban planning, no good Mexican restaurants and the fact you can't get hamburgers cooked less than medium well. Look for these subjects and more in future Toronto the Mean posts.

AND JOHNADA STILL CAN'T AFFORD IT

The photo on the left is the "smallest" house in Toronto, and apparently it's for sale. Asking price - $173 000. I'm sure it's probably been covered elsewhere, but I couldn't resist putting this picture up. I love that it is close to public transit and still has space for two cars. I hope the owner has a Land Rover and a Hummer.

Unfortunately, as our recent visitors can probably attest, Johnada's pad isn't too much bigger. However, we're on the first floor of a multi-story house. So we have certain amenities that home ownership doesn't offer. Like downstairs neighbours who just moved out of their parents' houses and like to work out their issues by yelling at the top of their lungs at three in the morning. Ah to be young and in love.

Big thanks to the Wrath of Kan in Minneapolis for pointing this out. You thinking of moving to the T-to?