Provincial by-laws will prevail and Vancouver's hookah houses will be closed down. According to CKNW this morning, "The rules are intended to protect workers, but cigar store owners who have smoking rooms argued the rooms are for clients and staff don't enter." Anyone ever been to a hookah house? Anyone ever seen the people working there smoking the pipe? I go, not regularly since I own my own shisha, but when I do go it is precisely to smoke a hookah and talk to the other people in the shop. There's nothing else offered in these little cafes besides one kind of tea - no food, no alcohol, no drugs. These are not destinations for people who want to chill out in a smokeless environment or imbibe in a variety of teas or other beverages. Every time I've been to a hookah house, EVERYONE is smoking, including the staff.
Now you might argue the smoke thing smells gross and a lot of people are allergic or react violently to it. My mom is one such person and eating out on a patio is not an option since even outdoors the smoke causes her to have a migraine. However, I fired up my shisha in front of her the other day and smoked it. Nothing, no reaction to the smell or smoke. Her only issue with it is moral. And for the record, I never have to air out my clothes for two days afterwards, nor do they smell stale.
Now I haven't done any scientific research into this and the hazards of smoking a hookah and I know there are lots of people who argue for the evils of it. So I invite people to comment on my seeming ignorance. In case you haven't grasped what I'm getting at here, I think the bylaw is not based on anything substantial and is stupid for lack of a better word.
Thankfully they haven't banned smoking in my own living room, although at the rate they do things in the West to keep us 'safe' I'm sure that will happen in the future. Until then, if anyone wants to come over and smoke a lovely pipe of apple or cherry, drop me a line. I'll fire up the pipe, brew a lovely pot of tea and haul out the backgammon set. Smoke all you want, the charcoal's cooking.
January 18, 2008
January 14, 2008
Vancouver Winter
For all those people who come to Vancouver in the summer and say how much they love it and want to live here, try it in a winter like the one we're having now.
The difference between rain and snow in the winter is the brightness. At least with snow the sun is able to shine through the clouds somewhat and give the impression of light. With rain, it's dark all the time. Last week, dark. It's 8:35am right now and as I look out the window from my office I can barely see 10 blocks away. Not that it's black, more like a dreary grey that's trying to glow but can't.
And the cold feels colder than it actually is because it bites through your clothes and sinks right into your bones. I hate winter here. I want to see the sun for more than an hour every two days. I want to show up somewhere without arriving damp or drenched. I want to stand on the streetcorner waiting to cross without getting another shower from the car plowing through the puddles.
For those who think it's the most livable or beautiful city in the world, come on over and have a go. Blah.
The difference between rain and snow in the winter is the brightness. At least with snow the sun is able to shine through the clouds somewhat and give the impression of light. With rain, it's dark all the time. Last week, dark. It's 8:35am right now and as I look out the window from my office I can barely see 10 blocks away. Not that it's black, more like a dreary grey that's trying to glow but can't.
And the cold feels colder than it actually is because it bites through your clothes and sinks right into your bones. I hate winter here. I want to see the sun for more than an hour every two days. I want to show up somewhere without arriving damp or drenched. I want to stand on the streetcorner waiting to cross without getting another shower from the car plowing through the puddles.
For those who think it's the most livable or beautiful city in the world, come on over and have a go. Blah.
January 10, 2008
Public Pool: Part 2
Back at the pool last night and into the hottub for the usual relaxation session. Sweater lady wasn’t there but the guy who hogs the jets on the steps was, bobbing up and down to massage his back and block the entrance. Some other guy exits the steamroom and hops under the shower to cool down. How do we know the water was cold? “I love cold showers!! Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold! Yes, yes, yes, I love cold showers!! Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold! Yes! Cold showers!” Intersperse this with a little deep digging for phlegm and you’ve got one happy guy in the cold shower.
January 8, 2008
My Neighbourhood
I love my neighbourhood. I’ve been living there for just over 4 months and have enjoyed every minute of it.
My building is not too big, maybe 25 suites in all, so there aren’t so many tenants. It’s like every other big city though, none of us know each other, so what I do know about them comes from seeing them at their windows or hearing them through the walls.
The people across the hall have sing-along sessions every week and from what I can hear, they actually know how to play the guitar. Sounds kind of folky and sounds kind of nice. The guy to the right of my apartment, I have no idea what he does for a job, but whatever it is he needs to unload on Friday nights which means he opens all his windows and cranks Diamond Dave Van Halen til about midnight. During the day on Saturdays he’s usually playing other 80’s rock classics so I’ve become reacquainted with Europe and some AC/DC I’d completely forgotten about. The girl above my apartment, let’s just say she yelps like a dog when she’s ‘excited’ and she gets excited A LOT. Usually at 3 in the morning, but also at 7, 8, and 10:30 in the evenings. Sometimes it’s 6:30 on Saturday mornings or 2 o’clock Sunday afternoons. I’ve never seen her, I assume she sleeps a lot as she must be tired from all the activity.
My building is on the corner of a busy intersection and my apartment is the corner suite so I get to hear everything going on outside. Every night around 12:30 some guy walks by under my bedroom window playing a harmonica. I hear lots of animated conversations but can’t understand most of them as they are usually in Japanese, Korean, Portuguese and Spanish. It makes for pleasant white noise when I’m kicking around, but I’m always surprised when I finally do understand something being spoken in English. The street also seems to be the strip for drunken party-goers and a lot of them like to talk loudly and laugh about their exploits. One early morning three girls were laughing and yelling about how funny they were. Next thing they were all puking just under my window and chanting, “We’re funny but we’re not pretty, ha ha ha ha.” I hope they got home alright.
The best burger joint in the world is two blocks away, serving bison, muskox, and ostrich burgers. When you order their fries, you will be constantly reminded that they are hand-cut. “Here are your hand-cut fries.” “How are you hand-cut fries?” “Would you like some more hand-cut fries?” I finally asked if slave labour was cutting the fries by hand in the kitchen. Whoosh, over her head. “No, the fries are put through a hand-operated machine by one of our employees.”
Rumour is that the Hell’s Angels operate the super expensive Super-Valu three blocks away. I prefer to do my shopping at the little hole-in-the-wall grocery store where everything is way cheaper. From the outside it looks like a fruit and vegetable stand, but when you get inside it stretches way to the back and is packed with tons of shelves lining tiny aisles that you almost have to walk through sideways. At Christmas all the employees wore Santa hats and threw a store 30th anniversary party, clearing out the bread aisle to make room for a dance floor.
The angriest people in the world work at the video store around the corner and I’d say they go out of their way to be miserable except that it appears to be in their nature to be permanently unhappy. They should be happy, they all have excellent hair.
I’ve got a crush on the guy who used to work the nightshift at the corner convenience store. It made getting my morning coffees worth getting up for as my current job doesn’t inspire me to do so. He hasn’t been there in the mornings for weeks now, I wonder where he’s gone.
My building is not too big, maybe 25 suites in all, so there aren’t so many tenants. It’s like every other big city though, none of us know each other, so what I do know about them comes from seeing them at their windows or hearing them through the walls.
The people across the hall have sing-along sessions every week and from what I can hear, they actually know how to play the guitar. Sounds kind of folky and sounds kind of nice. The guy to the right of my apartment, I have no idea what he does for a job, but whatever it is he needs to unload on Friday nights which means he opens all his windows and cranks Diamond Dave Van Halen til about midnight. During the day on Saturdays he’s usually playing other 80’s rock classics so I’ve become reacquainted with Europe and some AC/DC I’d completely forgotten about. The girl above my apartment, let’s just say she yelps like a dog when she’s ‘excited’ and she gets excited A LOT. Usually at 3 in the morning, but also at 7, 8, and 10:30 in the evenings. Sometimes it’s 6:30 on Saturday mornings or 2 o’clock Sunday afternoons. I’ve never seen her, I assume she sleeps a lot as she must be tired from all the activity.
My building is on the corner of a busy intersection and my apartment is the corner suite so I get to hear everything going on outside. Every night around 12:30 some guy walks by under my bedroom window playing a harmonica. I hear lots of animated conversations but can’t understand most of them as they are usually in Japanese, Korean, Portuguese and Spanish. It makes for pleasant white noise when I’m kicking around, but I’m always surprised when I finally do understand something being spoken in English. The street also seems to be the strip for drunken party-goers and a lot of them like to talk loudly and laugh about their exploits. One early morning three girls were laughing and yelling about how funny they were. Next thing they were all puking just under my window and chanting, “We’re funny but we’re not pretty, ha ha ha ha.” I hope they got home alright.
The best burger joint in the world is two blocks away, serving bison, muskox, and ostrich burgers. When you order their fries, you will be constantly reminded that they are hand-cut. “Here are your hand-cut fries.” “How are you hand-cut fries?” “Would you like some more hand-cut fries?” I finally asked if slave labour was cutting the fries by hand in the kitchen. Whoosh, over her head. “No, the fries are put through a hand-operated machine by one of our employees.”
Rumour is that the Hell’s Angels operate the super expensive Super-Valu three blocks away. I prefer to do my shopping at the little hole-in-the-wall grocery store where everything is way cheaper. From the outside it looks like a fruit and vegetable stand, but when you get inside it stretches way to the back and is packed with tons of shelves lining tiny aisles that you almost have to walk through sideways. At Christmas all the employees wore Santa hats and threw a store 30th anniversary party, clearing out the bread aisle to make room for a dance floor.
The angriest people in the world work at the video store around the corner and I’d say they go out of their way to be miserable except that it appears to be in their nature to be permanently unhappy. They should be happy, they all have excellent hair.
I’ve got a crush on the guy who used to work the nightshift at the corner convenience store. It made getting my morning coffees worth getting up for as my current job doesn’t inspire me to do so. He hasn’t been there in the mornings for weeks now, I wonder where he’s gone.
January 7, 2008
Public Pool: Part 1
I'm back at the pool in attempts to get back in shape for some races in the spring/summer. I haven't done any swimming in more than two years and I feel the weakness in every muscle on my upper body. But at least I'm back at it and one of the benefits is hanging out in the hottub after a swim and stretching out where it's nice and warm.
The other day my goggles jammed out halfway through my swim so I had to toss them, the result being bloodshot eyes and almost zero vision since I wasn't wearing my contacts.
As I jumped into the hottub, I stumbled over a lady sitting on her own. Despite being almost blind I noticed two things about her:
1. she was wearing bright red shiny lipgloss
2. she was wearing a wetsuit
I think to myself, "weird". Why would you wear a wetsuit into the hottub? As I found my seat I glanced her way again and realized this time that she was not wearing a wetsuit. She was, in fact, wearing a red, pink, and black striped turtleneck sweater. Now I know a lot of women have image issues so it's not unusual to see females wearing all sorts of baggy things in a pool, but I've never seen a sweater before. And this is a very hot hottub. I find myself wondering if she's wearing shorts or track pants or perhaps a swimming suit down below. A few minutes later she stepped out of the hottub wearing... a black skirt and NYLONS. She then proceeded to take a shower in the rinse-off area, fully dressed, for about 5 minutes, carrying on a conversation with someone else. Then she left at which point I bolted from the room to follow her into the changeroom to see what came next... and she wasn't there! Where did she go???
The other day my goggles jammed out halfway through my swim so I had to toss them, the result being bloodshot eyes and almost zero vision since I wasn't wearing my contacts.
As I jumped into the hottub, I stumbled over a lady sitting on her own. Despite being almost blind I noticed two things about her:
1. she was wearing bright red shiny lipgloss
2. she was wearing a wetsuit
I think to myself, "weird". Why would you wear a wetsuit into the hottub? As I found my seat I glanced her way again and realized this time that she was not wearing a wetsuit. She was, in fact, wearing a red, pink, and black striped turtleneck sweater. Now I know a lot of women have image issues so it's not unusual to see females wearing all sorts of baggy things in a pool, but I've never seen a sweater before. And this is a very hot hottub. I find myself wondering if she's wearing shorts or track pants or perhaps a swimming suit down below. A few minutes later she stepped out of the hottub wearing... a black skirt and NYLONS. She then proceeded to take a shower in the rinse-off area, fully dressed, for about 5 minutes, carrying on a conversation with someone else. Then she left at which point I bolted from the room to follow her into the changeroom to see what came next... and she wasn't there! Where did she go???
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