The Penalty Box

I spent Thursday, Friday, Saturday and a good chunk of Sunday feeling quite crappy.  Running a fever of 102 F off and on for most of those days, I suppose the only upside in that was I didn’t throw up at all.  I’d forgotten what it was like to be that sick.  The last time I was down and out for that long was a couple years ago when I had my wisdom teeth out, but that was more due to the drugs than illness.  Before that? I honestly don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure it was before I started university.  So the at least 6 year streak of the most serious illness being a cold is now over.
I blame my dad for bringing the flu into the house, he started it all last week when he came home sick on Monday.  Though he probably picked it up at a house where he was fixing an appliance, which means it probably came from a snivelly kid.  Damn kids.  Though I have to say, through all of this my mom proved that women, specifically mothers, are way tougher than men when sick.  Can’t be any worse than child birth, right? She couldn’t avoid getting sick, but she did manage to take care of my dad and me.  I guess that’s what moms do, eh?
Oh yeah, Tylenol Cold medicine? GOOD STUFF.  Expensive, but GOOD STUFF.

It is the year of the boar, so ham it up this year fellow 2007 - 12n where n is an integer birth years.  That statement would be nerdier if I wasn’t so lazy to figure out how to put in Greek characters.  And yes that pun was intended.

Last night’s new year’s eve dinner was long, as expected, but under the usual two and a half hours.  Total time spent was about four hours though.  40 minutes each way to and from the restaurant and a 45 minute wait for a table even with a reservation.  The place was crazy busy, as would be expected on the new year’s eve.  People were still showing up after 9:30, which was around when we left.  Folding chairs were being used along with extra tables in order to pack the place to the gills.  Service was pretty fast though, which was impressive given the sheer number of people eating, ordering and, in some cases, being giant asspirates.  I really couldn’t be in food service, especially in a Chinese restaurant.  I’d tell off too many people.  My aunts and uncles changed tactics this year to pile more food on my plate though.  Instead of “you’re a growing boy” like almost every family gathering, this time it was “you have to eat your sister’s share.”  Hooray.
Good health and prosperity to all.  Congratulations to those who didn’t eaten by a lion.

Yesterday evening I went to a Chinese New Year performance at the Red Robinson Theatre.  It was pretty cool, a lot of acrobatics and very interesting costumes.  Since it’s not just the Chinese that follow the lunar calendar (so do a variety of Oriental cultures, like Thailand and Vietnam), the show wasn’t just strictly Chinese theatre.  There was your traditional Chinese soldier kung fu dancing, but there was also the Thai metal fingertip dancing too.

There was a dance number where it was all males in leotards with flashy bird masks.  That looked…what’s the word…awkward? It just looked weird and it wasn’t even ballet-like.  Other than that, the rest of the acts were pretty entertaining.  There was one with a line of guys dressed in green performing a symbolic dragon dance.  The best part of the night was two little kids who couldn’t have been more than 6 years old doing flips and a short kung fu dance.  At the end of that one, they were pretty cheeky and kissed a couple of the older girls also in the scene.

One thing about Chinese productions is that their costumes are often quite remarkable.  A disappointment in the night was that there were none of the big drums they usually use for the dancing.  It was probably due to logistical issues in that the Red Robinson Theatre is too small to house the drums AND put the dancers on stage.  Instead they used an electronic drum set to simulate different percussion instruments, which was entertaining in itself because the drummer made all sorts of hilarious faces while drumming.  Alas, recording devices were not allowed so I could not take any pictures or video of the performance.

Tonight is New Year’s Eve, which means the traditional family dinner.  It’ll probably last a few hours, not including the travel time to and from the restaurant.  A time to eat, and eat a lot, to welcome in the year of the boar.

In reference to Greg’s post about bus rules, I came across two particularly brain-dead train riders yesterday who violated many of said rules.  The normal West Coast Express passenger is different from the typical bus or Skytrain passenger.  There aren’t any people with B.O. problems, there’s no one who’s too drunk to keep in his stomach contents, no homeless people and no creepy people who ask you to join them on a grout and tile adventure (story from another friend of mine).  Today I had the misfortune of overhearing a conversation rooted in self-centeredness and outright stupidity.  Two girls sat across from each other, and I was standing in preparation to get off at Waterfront station.  Here’s a sampling of some of the “discussion” (and I use that term very loosely, because it was more like a frat boy pump up talk).

Girl 1: “So I got on, and the bus driver was like ‘You need a fast track sticker to get that fare.’ And I was like ‘well, I didn’t know.  Can I just get on?’ And he was like ‘No, you’ll have to pay the full fare.’  I mean, what is that? It’s so gay.”
Girl 2: “I know what you mean.  I was about to get on a bus and my ticket expired like five minutes before.  There were a ton of people and the driver waved me on.  So when I sat down and everyone else sat down, the driver told me to get off the bus.  I swear he was just waiting to embarrass me in front of everyone.  What a power trip.”
Girl 1: “Yeah so like this other time the bus was starting to pull out and I was so NOT waiting another 15 minutes for the next one.  So I like banged on the back of the bus and ran up beside it.  The driver opened up and yelled at me, ‘You could’ve gotten seriously injured doing that.  Is catching the bus worth your life?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah.’  Like, what was he all about?”

It was at this point where I turned up the volume on my iPod and let the Barenaked Ladies tell me about the joys of Alcohol.