Sunday, March 25, 2012

Cheneka's Birthday. An Evening To Remember That Noone Does

    In the spirit that (hopefully) perpetuates this blog, I attended one of the events from the past weekend.  I give Cheneka's Birthday experience a rating of 11 out of 11 dodged date rapes.

    Historically, St Patrick's day has passed resentfully under-celebrated while making sandwiches or hawking retail. This year, in the intense anticipation of Cheneka's birthday, the sense of jubilation was so strong that I woke up 12 hours before I would see the fille d'anniversaire and headed downtown to join other Ottawaians in this the day of misplaced nationalism.
   
The first stop was The Mud Oven where my mug was finally unveiled (see
update) and then to Wag Pet Shop/Cafe with a friend and her socially retarded Great Dane, Olive.
    Olive is a well-intentioned gentle giant. One might describe her as the Lennie in any relationship. One of the saddest sights is watching a scruffy dachshund with a Napoleon-complex angrily defend his family against this tall, misunderstood dog/horse. To be fair, Olive's physical appearance epitomizes the symbol of despair, sorrow, and impending death in the English Language, which may stir some feelings of panic when she's galloping at you.


    As the noon-hour loomed, we made our way to James Street Pub to get St Patrick's Day underway (with a stop at the liquor store for good measure) and met up with my favourite (and notorious good sport) St. Patrick's traveler.

    St. Patty's garb is stupid. Anyone with any dignity wears a green shirt or some pants (if you're really kooky) and leaves the green beer-shaped goggles, tall hats, and dumb beads at home. However, a very persuasive and charismatic waiter came around with green and free foam hats. I wore mine until my hairline was warm and sweaty. 
 
Not Pictured: my sopping forehead.
 
    As the beers drained and our little group dispersed, I found myself back in Nepean to prepare for Cheneka's birthday. There were adorable Irish folk everywhere. I had a nice conversation with a slightly inebriated gentleman who looked exactly like your pot-of-gold leprechaun:



But actually probably looked more like:



    I finally made my way to Cheneka's house where the festivities began for her and continued for me. The plans were to go to the bar for some dancing and fun, but our friend was having a get together at his place. It was decidedly the polite gesture to go there first and exchange some pleasantries with old/new friends.

    As with any celebration in the spring, the matter of choosing a flattering outfit that you won't freeze in is an emotionally daunting task. I, by some sort of medical anomaly, was no longer affected by the cool air but Cheneka was still faced with the problem of dressing. Luckily, she sorted it out for herself as the evening wore on.

   Though we never did make it to the bar, we had a grand time at the house party where such exciting events as this



this



and this



happened.

   A mere six hours after we had returned to our respective sleep-holes, the call to action came in.




Wednesday, March 14, 2012

March 17-18 Weekend


Saturday
Classic Albums Live: U2 The Joshua Tree

   Everybody's favourite album from the best band out of Dirty Dublin (har har har) is being performed by Classic Albums Live; a versatile rock re-creation group with none of the hokey impersonations (and, unfortunately, none of the leotards).
Number 26 on the Rolling Stone's Top 500 Greatest Albums Of All Time (though perhaps we shouldn't take them too seriously. London Calling making it ahead of The Beatles (The White Album)? Please.) U2's The Joshua Tree will be performed “note for note, cut for cut” and the audience will “swear they're listening to the actual band” live. It's all the band's awesome with none of the band's price tag (and hopefully none of the Bono preachy nonsense).
Centrepointe Theatre, 101 Centrepointe Dr. $45.00. 8pm. 613-580-2700.

Penny Plain

   The description from the website is pretty eloquent so I'm not going to mess around with it. See below:
   “Penny Plain is blind, but she hears plenty about the state of things and the fate of mankind. When her companion dog Geoffrey leaves to live as a man, Penny sits waiting for the world to end. But her vigil is interrupted by survivalists, a serial killer, a cross-dressing banker, talking dogs, and mysterious strangers seeking sanctuary. Part gothic thriller, part apocalyptic drawing room comedy,
Penny Plain shows the horribly funny consequences of mother earth reclaiming her ground.”
Late comers will not be admitted but hopefully publicly humiliated.
(Playing until April 1) The National Arts Centre, 53 Elgin Street. $22.00. 7:30 pm. 888-991-2787.






The Leafs vs The Sens

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod. Ontario's NHL teams facing off in the Capital? Somebody's going to get groped on the OC Transpo (keep your fingers crossed for me).
Scotiabank Place, $75.00-$275.00. 4:30pm. 613-599-5267.

The Only Event Worth Knowing About This Weekend
Cheneka's Birthday

Twenty-three years ago this Saturday, slimey and screaming, Cheneka came into this world for the sole purpose of rocking the shit out of every St. Patty's day.

This girl gets ready for St Patrick's day like she's a quarterback in the Superbowl


If you're downtown Saturday, send Cheneka a birthday message. We'll be the puddles in the Market.

Happy Birthday, Cheneka!



Tuesday, March 13, 2012

March 10 - The Mud Oven: moms, paint, and a curious lack of mud *UPDATED*

     
    In the spirit that (hopefully) perpetuates this blog, I visited one of the events from the past weekend.  I give The Mud Oven experience a rating of nine out of nine unbroken mugs.

    The Mud Oven was the second event in a row where adults were vastly outnumbered by sticky children. I suppose this is a normal weekend for The Mud Oven as they only kept a handful of adult aprons (I got to wear a purple polka-dot apron that came to just below my belly button; I looked really, really cool).

    Though one might assume that a small shop full of mini-humans, shelves of ceramic, and an unending supply of paint means chaos for any who shall enter. However, the lock-down on organisation the Mud Oveners have makes me want to set my day planner on fire. They have a tall shelf set up with all they have available to paint, a library of reference material (that seriously lacked a National Geographic magazine; my unguided interpretation of the Vhavenda tribe's breasts was terrible), and tablets that show the various stages of a paint colour's opacity as you layer. 

    It can take hours to paint one mug (it took us three).My take-away advice is to bring someone you are comfortable sitting in silence with. I was very lucky to go with someone who is at-ease in quiet moments and incredibly honest when acknowledging them. Still, we arrived and got settled in a cloud of our own chattiness. 


    As we got more and more into our respective artwork, our chatter died down, eventually ceasing, and whole half-hours would sneak by with hardly a peep between us. After some time, my private bubble of concentration would let a little of the environment leak in and I 'd remember that I had company, seemingly at the same time as my mug-buddy. We'd start chatting again, though remained eager to get back to work and abandoned conversation-continuity as soon as our brushes started moving again. 


  
We left our work in their shop for them to glaze it and fire in their kiln, ready for pick up by Friday. Don't let the kid-phobic review deter you; those skinny-armed little tykes are downright civilised compared to their parents:


   
UDPATE
Mug's home!




Wednesday, March 7, 2012

March 10-11 (bonus Friday)



Friday
I Am A Feminist, But...”
Although bra-burning is terribly outdated, (not to mention uneconomical) this evening-celebration of International Women's Week is a modern hoopla of sisterly solidarity.
There'll be a talk-show-panel style discussion on the feminist year in review, a short film called 'Sh*t Feminists Say' (probably inspired by this,
this, and this), a (vaguely described) contest, and the Fourth Annual Femmy Awards.
There will also be a cash bar (my second favourite kind of bar) so you'll still be able to get a little drunk and say something sexy to a feminist.
Library and Archives, 395 Wellington St. $9.00. 6pm
click for website





Saturday
30th Annual St Patrick's Day Parade
The Ottawa Irish Festival starts March 8th but is kicking off this Saturday by snaking a line of Irish-enthusiasts down Bank Street.
There will be (or at least discussion about) Irish-themed music, poetry, history, song, dance, theatre, language, and sport.
The Ottawa Food Bank will be collecting so bring your non perishables.
If it's anything like I expect it to be  it ought to be a rousin' good time.
Laurier Ave West + Elgin to Landsdowne Park. 11am - 1pm. 613-591-9194.

Sunday
Live Entertainment and Pancake Breakfast

In keeping with the theme of Impending St Patty's Day, St Brigid's (of St Brigid's cross) Centre for the Arts is hosting a delicious breakfast and live entertainment. Volunteer musicians from the Irish community will be a-serenading while you wolf down pancakes, fruit, ham, homefries,and coffee.
You can also pick up a loaf of Soda Bread and stop by Irish Eyes gift shop to get all your gear for St Patty's day.
St. Brigid's Centre for the Arts, 310 St. Patrick St, $5.00. 10am - 12pm

All Weekend
The 18th Annual Travel and Vacation Show
A consumer travel show with the added benefits of a Trade Show. If this is anything like the Sexapalooza trade show, there'll be $40 purex glass phalli.
Ottawa Convention Centre, 55 Colonel By Drive. $10.00. 10am – 5pm

The Mud Oven

They're a paint-your-own ceramics studio! You pick a vessel (mugs, bowls, vases, tea pots, frames, goblets, candleholders, and more), design and paint it, and leave it with the staff to glaze and fire for you to pick up in a few days.
My friend, struggling to come up with a gift idea, called to ask for a ceramic-painting-companion. I have since been paralysed by all the possibilities a blank canvas holds.
My ideas so far:

Reservations are recommended and party packages available.
The Mud Oven. 1065 Bank St. Saturday and Sunday 10am – 6pm. 613-730-0814


Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Barnyard Break: Agricultural Museum

   
    In the spirit that (hopefully) perpetuates this blog I visited one of the events from the past weekend.  I give the Agricultural Museum experience a rating of six out of 10 ringworms.

   The first thing you'll notice as an adult at the Agricultural Museum is all of the children. The events and exhibits are aimed pretty much exclusively toward them. All of the sinks are groin-height and the doors are surprisingly lightweight.
I actually stopped counting how many kids I facepalmed to get first-petsies on a goat or a lamb.

   There was, as with any place that people keep animals, a depressing stop on the tour. In an effort to accurately exemplify commercial standards, giant pigs are kept in tiny pens with sawdust covering one half and a concrete drainage stage on the other to hose away their poo. Knowing pig's affinity for frolicking, it upset me. However, a woman with a Burt Reynold's mustache  helpfully reminded me that pigs are not pets so should not be treated as such (although it is widely understood that pigs are smarter than pets and toddlers).
Here's to hoping they'll hang up some literature and open up the windows instead of keeping the porkers indoors all year long.
 




  I didn't get to touch any chickens as they were out of reach. This is just conjecture but all chickens are assholes. I expect to love them again someday but will not forget the burn from their iciness. 





  









 I was most surprised to find love at the Agricultural Museum. As with every great love story there was an obstacle to overcome. In this case the obstacle was animals being disgusting: 



   Finding the adorable in this cud-chewer opened my heart and flooded my soul with the warm willingness to love. I never could have predicted the calculated attack on my sense of dignity through the doors labelled “Calves: Petting Allowed”



              The risk of contracting ringworm be damned.

              He has big eyes, a potential name of Vincenzo, and a slaughter-auction date about a week away.