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Finally, something on TV worth watching!

That’s right — tonight, HGTV is broadcasting my Love By Design episode, Modern Classics in a Brick-Walled Loft:

Cabaret singers have ignited the hearts of many a lonely guy over the centuries, and we’re guessing that our guest Linda is no different. She’ll get to sing the blues, though, if she doesn’t pick her musical soul mate out of these three melodic fellows. The first is a witty squeezebox player with more than his fair share of designer furniture, the second is a guy whose space is filled with great finds from his antique hunter mom and the third is a serious composer and arranger who has a beautiful meditative space.

It’s been aired three or four times last year, but I’ve never actually seen my episode. Let’s all watch it for the first time tonight!

If you’ve never heard of the show, here’s its premise: it’s like The Dating Game, except instead of a bachelorette interviewing three bachelors, she looks at where they live. Based on that, she chooses one guy, she and the interior decorator host re-make the place, and then they meet! As with dating shows, where the best ones are where they go terribly, terribly wrong, Love by Design is probably banking on the fact that single men often live like pigs and hoping that hilarity will ensue.

I got on the show because I knew one of the people on the production crew (my friend Krista, whose alter-ego is Montreal’s uber-cute keyboard ska queen Lederhosen Lucil). She told them that I was a computer programmer by profession, which no doubt brought to mind visions of decor like this:

Photo: Actual geek house, taken October 2000.

Actual geek house, circa October 2000. No, they hadn’t just moved in — they’d been living there for a year. The geek in the picture didn’t live there, but his friends did. His identity (and the identities of the geeks who lived in the house) will not be revealed, for I am a kind and merciful accordion guy.

Oh, were they in for a surprise!

What does my place look like? Am I just as goofy on TV as I am on my blog? Did I get picked? You’ll have to tune in to find out. It’s on HGTV tonight at 10:30 p.m. EST and again at 1:30 a.m. EST.

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Thank you…

…to everyone who nominated me for the Weblog Awards. We’ll hear if I made the nominations on the 21st.

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For all you communist party animals

Crazy but true fact number one: There are a couple of Catholic prayers with a stanza that goes “…and protect us from the evils of communism”. I know, not from research, but because I’ve read them at memorial prayer services for my grandmothers.

It sounds sort of quaint in these post-Berlin Wall days: “Lord, protect us from a bunch of cruddy pasted-together countries who couldn’t get their act together enough to put together a half-decent garage punk band, never mind stuff like concrete, a menu that wasn’t three-quarters cabbage, decent infrastructure or an economy. The only good things that came out of communism were getting some people to think about societal inequities (which could’ve been done without communism), some amusing graphic art, the early James Bond flicks and the fact that Yakov Smirnoff (“Eeen Soviet Russia, TV watches you!”) amused both George’s parents and mine.

(The rest of it was pure, unadulterated crap: ridiculous five-year plans which led to industries fudging numbers just they could look as though they were performing, assaults on freedom of speech, assembly and religion, military buildup at the expense of the people and worst of all, snotty liberal arts students during my time at Queen’s, breathing my oxygen and having to analyse every damned thing through a Marxist lens messin’ with my Zen — half of whom I’m sure are now paid to dream up new Tide-delivery systems for Procter and Gamble.)

Crazy but true fact number two: A number of people whom I consider good friends — and at least one “um friend” — were raised by communists. Poor sods. Raised on the Red Book, the Internationale and probably enough cabbage to keep a medium-sized city’s bowel movements regular, all of them have switched to materialism, becoming early adopters of high-tech gadgets and other de riguer “little luxuries”. All of them — save Cory, who had a “Road to Damascus” kind of experience at Disneyworld and has his head screwed on better than most people — are complete misery-seeking missiles. These are people that you couldn’t imagine inviting to a party — at least not one where you wanted people to have a good time — never mind actually throwing one.

Crazy but true fact number three: The American Communist Party expected its members to do just that back in the 1930’s, according to a party-throwing guide recently unearthed by a history prof at Brandeis University who was riffling through the campus’s collection of radical pamphlets.

Some excerpts from the New York Times piece on the pamphlet:

Among the suggested high jinks: cutting editorials from The Daily Worker into little pieces and having guests compete to see who can put them back together fastest; passing around pictures of party leaders and having guests try to name them correctly; holding a mock convention on, say, nonintervention in Spain. “One guest is made chairman. Another is Chamberlain, another Leon Blum, a third Mussolini,” the pamphlet cheerfully explains, adding, “A clever gathering can do wonders in political satire. It’s grand fun.”

Or why not try a round of anti-Fascist darts? “Buy darts from your stationer’s, sporting goods or department store,” the pamphlet instructs. “Draw a picture of Hitler, Mussolini, Hague or another Girdleresque pest. Put it on a piece of soft board with thumbtacks. Six throws for a nickel, and a prize if you paste Hague in the pants, or Trotsky in the eye.” (Mind you, all this doctrinaire diversion is to be had on the cheap: the pamphlet recommends conserving beer by pouring into the middle of the glass, a method that “gives more foam and less liquid — stretches each barrel further.”)

In other words: Heavy-handed didactic, da! Actual fun, nyet!

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Kickass Karaoke — this Wednesday

The middle of the week of the middle of the month means Kickass Karaoke at Accordion City’s infamous Bovine Sex Club, with your host (and former Naked News science/tech anchor) Carson T. Foster. It’s not your father’s karaoke; it’s toxic rock and roll karaoke!

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A notable shortage of accordion stories

Luckily, there’s at least one recent one that I haven’t yet blogged. Coming soon.

(Jacqui P., if you’re reading this, this one’s about the night we went out drinking on your birthday.)

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Your second-to-last reminder

If you enjoy this weblog and you haven’t yet done so, please nominate me for the 2003 Weblog Awards. The most applicable categories would probably be Best Canadian Weblog, Most Humorous Weblog, or Best-Kept-Secret Weblog. To entice you, I’ve promised that if I make the nominations, I’ll tell the stories of my worst dates ever (and yes, these are sitcom-worthy stories, as you should come to expect from me).

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We had the exact same problem on New Year’s Eve

At Peter’s New Year’s Eve party, a couple of women were making out in the corner just after the clock struck midnight. The following conversation ensued.

Paul: Chicks making out. Coooool.

Me: Poetry in motion. But I think one of them is a guy in drag. Look at those calves.

[I can’t remember whom]: Actually, s/he’s got the operation done, so you’re both right.

Think you could’ve done better? See if you can tell the women from the men in the Female or Shemale? test.

[Thanks to Doc Searls for the link.]