This. That. No Other.

I hope you’ll welcome the return of an orphaned series here at This.That.No Other., prompted by a post earlier this week on Joe.My.God. showcasing the cheeky Air New Zealand video “The Bare Essentials of Safety”.

More interesting — to me, at least — was the 45-second TV spot for the airline, featuring the talents of Air New Zealand’s own staf–hey, wait a minute! Who’s that silverfoxy baggage-handler with the yellow “shirt”? Check it out:

Video: Air New Zealand: Nothing to Hide

That silverfoxy baggage-handler is an employee, too. CEO Rob Fyfe, to be precise. The 45-year-old Fyfe, a former New Zealand Air Force officer, recently won stuff.co.nz’s “Hottest Businessman” poll. Well, duh. If you felt Fyfe’s presence in the ad, above, was a tad too brief, here’s some meatier stuff, in the behind-the-scenes video. Accent-related swooning is allowed (if not encouraged):

Video: Nothing to Hide: Behind the Scenes

Important Reminder: The “Green on Thursday” series always reveals very much more about your host at This.That.No Other. than it does about any of the featured personalities.

Champ and Racers (Yaletown, Vancouver, 1 July 2009)

So Champ and I decided to take a break from our endless unpacking and walk a gruelling 1.25 blocks from home to take in the Yaletown Grand Prix bike race this sunny and warm Canada Day in Vancouver. One great thing about our neighbourhood is that for every dozen yuppie scum — oblivious to everything except their precious snowflakes in the double-wide strollers they seem incapable of manouevering through crowds — there’s one or two ridiculously hot, silverfoxy dads.

Ahem. Oh, yeah, the race…

Yaletown Grand Prix Racers (1 July 2009)

What was I saying about silverfoxy eye candy?

Yaletown Grand Prix Racer (1 July 2009)

An hour of that and our unpacking softly beckoned us to return, but not before a quick stroll down to the marina. Conclusions should not be drawn by any joke photography contained herein.

Captioning for the Scatalogically-Impaired (1 July 2009)

Across False Creek is the future Winter Olympics Athlete’s Village, currently enjoying some controversy over alleged shoddy building practices predicted to reduce the post-Games longevity of the structures considerably:

Olympic Village, False Creek (1 July 2009)

This high we’re feeling about our new home in our new neighbourhood may be transient but, for now, it’s undeniably intoxicating.

Round (Two) (1 July 2009)

Yaletown, Vancouver (28 June 2009)

Right about now, people in eastern North America are starting to wend their way toward Lesbian and Gay Pride Day parade routes. Champ and I last night watched the Toronto festivities — on the CITY-TV feed we’ve been curiously able to receive out here on Canada’s west coast — with a mixture of wistful displacement and complete happiness that we’ve made the right move at the right time for us.

Vancouver’s Pride celebrations won’t take place for over a month and while we’re both eager to check out this city’s joyful expression of community, I’m particularly interested in meeting “Role Model” Grand Marshall Cleve Jones and in being by Champ’s side when the tribute to “Honourary Pride Hero” Cindy “Big Cins” Kampmeinert takes place. I never had the opportunity to meet Cins — a huge influence and lifelong friend of Champ’s — before she was killed last December in a tragic accident while adventuring in India. More poor, me.

Best wishes to all who celebrate today. This special day began — 40 years ago! — by a gaggle of queens not taking shit and fighting back against those who feel we’re less than human. Make this good feeling of solidarity and power last longer than 24 hours, y’all.

Wiener & Me, Toronto Pride 1989

…and two 13-year-olds.

How is this sad? Sure, I liked Thriller, too. BUT. HE. GOT. CHILDREN. DRUNK. AND. FUCKED. THEM.

(Mourn the talented kid who died 20 years ago, instead).

I don’t know if it’s because I’m such a huge fan of y-fronts — always have been, always will be — but I spent a good 30 seconds WTFing over this ad for Prostate Cancer Foundation before it all came together. It’s a very, very good ad, though it still creeps me out every time I look at it. Mission accomplished.

Y-Front Double-Take

(Courtesy ScaryIdeas)

Well, the floor’s been replaced, as you can see below, and we’re still waiting for all our stuff, also as you can see below. Friday, fingers crossed. At work I’m in the busiest testing cycle I can recall and once that’s done, I can script in C# to my heart’s content while the boss is on vay-cay next week.

Life is good here. This move is the best, the healthiest and smartest thing I could have done, and leaving Toronto at the start of what will no doubt become an endless garbage strike, with no ferry service to the island for some beachy respite — not to mention a liquor store strike on the horizon — leaves me thinking “phew, nick of time.”

If we can find the barbecue we want before the week’s out, our life here will be complete. Simpler, healthier, happier. Seriously, the best take-out sushi I’ve had and a grilled steak? Dude.

Floored (24 June 2009)

Webcomic artist Patrick Farley nails the American same-sex marriage debate in graphical form:

Patrick Farley on America’s Same-Sex Marriage Debate

More evolved societies — the ones which considered the pink arguments somewhere between “wrong” and “ludicrous” before granting full marriage equality to gays and lesbians — must look at the U.S. flavour of this debate as a cringing reminder of our own foot-dragging on an issue steeped in ignorance and outright lies.

(Via BoingBoing)

Y’all will giggle — I sure did — but as someone who spends 10 or 12 hours a day sitting at a desk, and is currently planning his new office space, I’m wanting to at least try the Salli Saddle Chair:

Video: Salli Saddle Chair

Want.

(Via Gizmodo)

It seems entirely appropriate, given the fact that I actually live in Vancouver now, to cut it out with the YVR posts, so this is the last. And a grab-bag it is.

Contrary to the beliefs of some unscrupulous commenters, I’m loving Vancouver. L-O-V-I-N-G. I mean, when I’ve been able to get out of the apartment, that is. I’m working remotely (same company, same job as in YYZ) but not on my own PC — still in transit between there and here and not due to arrive for another week — on a borrowed laptop with limited memory and processor power. So a normal, 8 hour workday takes about 12 hours to achieve (as opposed to the regular 10).

I only today got out to do a bit of exploring and gym-inquiring and arrived home with a big smile on my face. Loving. The weather’s been great — cloudy, off and on, but some sun every day since I arrived. Those of you who love sushi will not want me to gush unnecessarily about the awesomeness of the fish here, so I won’t. But I will say that Champ has begged me not to drag him for another tapas dinner at +α until at least next week. Try the Toro Garlic Pepper there. No, really. The staff are warm and awesome, as is the music, all accompanied by a big pitcher of Sapporo.

I found a barber and got a good cut. Trading an old Korean guy in  Toronto for an old Greek guy in Vancouver? Painless.

I’m loving the complete absence of dry skin here, though I forgot until last Monday how crappy every shave I’ve ever given myself in Vancouver has been. I have no explanation for this phenomenon. Maybe the water?

Oh, speaking of water… Until our stuff arrives next week (fingers crossed), Champ and I have been living a superspartan existence, very John and Yoko (minus the giant Dakota suite (and, hey, me being the elder makes me the Yoko, right?)), sleeping on an inflatable bed on the floor. Anyway, on Monday night I got up to get a glass of water and ran the cold in the kitchen sink. Only it was warm. Then hot. Then hotter. “Oh,” I thought (sleepily), “maybe I just don’t get these Euro taps and I’ve pulled when I should have pushed.” Nope, hot in both directions. Dang.

Next morning, the plumber arrives. Looks like they attached the cold water line to the dishwasher and the dishwasher-hot line to the cold tap. Grrreaaat. This makes one who tests for a living exceedingly cross, as it could have been averted by… testing after installing. A half-hour later, he’s installed a new fitting and we have cold water.

Next next morning, we’re standing — no table — having our coffee and I notice water on the floor. Did we drip while transferring the Brita jug to the fridge? Um, no. Stepping on the kitchen floorboards caused water to bubble up between the joints. Uh-oh. Plumber comes and this time the fitting he installed the day before was not crimped properly. Did he test that? But now the floorboard joints are warped and buckling. The contractors arrive and decide the waterlogged boards need to be taken up, the concrete dried and the boards replaced. And this is what that looked like:

Water, water, everywhere

Then they haul in an industrial dehumidifier and two industrial fans to run all night. Like trying to sleep on an airport ramp, it was.

Morning comes and the concrete is dry. But the contractor decides the new floorboards probably won’t match the old ones closely enough. So? The entire floor is pulled up. Bang, bang, bang, saw, saw, bang, saw, bang. I am, by the way, working in my office while all of this is going on, or trying to.

Day three sees some truly amazing and professional floor installation, and they get it almost all done. They finished today. The trim will be done on Monday. Fingers crossed. I can only imagine the nightmare had our stuff arrived this week. Fingers crossed.

So today I was able to get shitloads of testing done for work, giving me license to do some touring and the checking-out of a swank gym named after a basketball star which looks like it’ll be the one for me. And some errands and diversions:

Substation (Burrard Street, Vancouver, 19 June 2009)

Now, I’m no fan of streetmeat — and don’t tell Champ I did this, since I kinda felt like I was cheating on him while doing so — but when I passed the lineup-free Japa Dog stand in front of the Sutton Place Hotel, after passing it in the car every couple of days and seeing huge lines, well, I had to, y’know? Japa Dog is famous, in a tourista kinda way, for their Japanese take on hotdogs. It was good. Really good. Not quite orgasmic, although Ice Cube came ten times! No, really:

Ice Cube Came Ten Times!

I’d have another. I mean, when your servers offer a restaging of Godzilla v. Mecha-Godzilla, who can resist? Big smile on my face.

Japa Dog Girls Do Godzilla v. Mecha-Godzilla

So Below (Vancouver, 4PM, 16 June 2009)

Vancouver’s Granville Street makes Toronto’s Yonge Street look like Park Avenue. Really.

On Granville (15 June 2009)

There are gems to be found, though, and here’s an example of life imitating (tee shirt) art:

On Granville (Detail)

I’m willing to bet that shirt gets worn at least six days of the week, and not because he has no other.

Thank Management
(Yonge & Bloor Subway Entrance, 9AM, 12 June 2009)

I’m in the last 23 hours of the 23 years I’ve spent in Toronto.

If I had a soul, I’d say the past few days have been good for it, and there are a couple of people about whom I’m specifically talking here. They know who they are and I can’t possibly describe in words how my happily wistful departure is very much because of them.

I’ll miss Bay Street Video, the best DVD shop in Toronto. I’ll miss Soundscapes on College, its CD equivalent. I’ll miss all the great ethnic cuisine. I’ll miss sizzling summer weekends on the beach at Hanlan’s Point. I’ll miss the eyecandy, I’ll miss good acquaintances, I’ll miss tricks. I’ll miss cow-orkers and ex-cow-orkers. And I’ll really miss former boyfriends and former lovers, almost all of whom now reside in the same (and most crucial) category of those I’ll miss most of all: friends.

You guys, be good. Be great.

From the new Phoenix album, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, which is getting a surprising amount of airplay on the iPod. Visuals by 35east:

Video: Phoenix, “Love Like a Sunset” (35east)

Packing completed at 8AM this morning, stuff-removal in progress. Only 1270 of the 3763 things which could go wrong have gone wrong so, hey, WIN.

A Move (10 June 2009)