The weather was stupidly hot all weekend. I wasn’t ready for it and I don’t think anyone else was either, judging by the general crankiness I observed outside. Saturday was really bad for crabby couples. Every time I ran an errand I saw some snit flare up or a full-on slanging match underway.
On a side trip to the Brentwood Zellers toy department I came across some Todd McFarlane Metallica figures in the clearance racks. I considered buying the Jasonic Newkid doll so I could paint a Voivod logo on its shirt, but I decided I could find better ways to amuse myself for 8 bucks.
I went to Smash’s place Saturday night for a good party around the stereo with other hi-fi enthusiasts. As always it left me with lots to think about, including the idea that The Inner Mounting Flame might be the greatest album of all time. No other record can be better; only different. I also finally got to see the Trailer Park Boys episode where they kidnap Alex Lifeson after being denied tickets for the Rush concert. Too rich.
With fancylady representing Anvil Press in Calgary, I skipped Corrie on Sunday morning (taped it for later). I farted around for a bit, then went downtown to Word on the Street. There was a big crowd around the Anvil table, and it looked like they were doing good business. I went to the “Everyone’s a Critic” forum moderated by John Burns of the Straight, along with Katherine Monk (who is funnier in person than in print), Colin Thomas, Lorna Jackson and Mary Frances Hill from the West Ender. I visited the Bookmobile in the CBC plaza to gather info for the belter, then dropped by the Print Futures table to talk to some fellow victims.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in Burnaby, where too many eras are ending in my old neighbourhood. I still get to mow the greenest lawn on the block, though.