Should I stay(cation), or should I go (to White Rock)?

This is Day One of my staycation! I've been to the art gallery and am now poncing about in a cafe with my MacBook, pretending to be a writer. Too bad I forgot to clean the laptop screen and outer casing before I came out, but hey, maybe the smudges add to the bohemian look.

I originally declared the weekend that's just finished to be the beginning of my staycation, but then Nina pointed out on Facebook that it doesn't count because I didn't stay at home. So let's call it a pre-staycation vacation.

It was another moment of genius from Mr E Man. Our friend and former tenant had invited us for dinner and a mini-party in White Rock, about a 40 minute drive away. Recent changes to the BC drinking and driving laws mean that two glasses of wine now put you over the limit, so a commitment to driving home would also be a commitment to being the only sober people at the party (and this friend is known for her parties). She said we could stay over - but she'd made the same offer to several other people, mostly our biggest male friends, and only has a small apartment. Images of drunken, snoring sardines swam into my mind... 

...until Saturday lunch time, when Mr E Man said "right, let's get a B&B and make a weekend of it".

I knew I married a genius.

Amazingly for a miserably wet weekend in November, the first few places we called were full, but we found somewhere eventually. According to Google Maps it was 600 metres from our friend's house - score! So we threw some stuff in a bag, gave the kitties some extra food and water, and jumped in the car.

Now, I'd never been to White Rock before, but it instantly looked very familiar. Like many places in and around Vancouver, I'm sure it's been featured in a gazillion movies and TV shows (checks IMDB: yep, items 2-7 on the list explain it). We checked into our B&B, ran a couple of errands (our friend had called while we were on the road with a unique request: "hey, can ya pick up a couple of laser pointers for me?"), and then - because my parents raised me to always politely support the local brewing and hospitality industries of every vacation destination - it was time to meet up with some other visiting friends for the Canucks-Leafs hockey game! And what a game it was - with two parties of Leafs fans present in the bar, for added fun and insults.

Game over, we headed to dinner (three different kinds of lasagna) and the after-party. It was great fun, even though I got into a rather heated argument of the cyclist vs. motorist variety (hey, Mr E Man warned the guy not to start with me on that topic...) I met some lovely new people, and had a very deep and meaningful conversation with one of our quieter friends, who later drunkenly declared "I'm so happy that you and [Mr E Man] met each other!"

Good times...

...until it was time to go home.

I'd noticed on our way in that White Rock streets are on some of the steepest hills in existence. I mean, seriously, it's like they paved some cliffs on a dare and called them roads. Some of the sidewalks have to have hand rails and little mini-risers to stop people's legs from running away with them when they walk downhill.

And the 600 metres back to the B&B?

Uphill.

That was fun. But we made it back safely, even though we'd neglected to bring ropes and crampons, and also survived the rather hungover breakfast-with-strangers-in-their-own-house aspect of the B&B experience.

And then... the obligatory walk on the beach in the mist and the rain!

 A white rock in White Rock

I actually really love beach resorts in the winter. There's such a melancholy air to them. White Rock did not disappoint - we walked along the beach, skipped some stones, and walked along the pier, serenaded by the fog-muffled quacks and honks of ducks and geese, and the whistle of a train making its way along the water front.

And, of course, we went to visit the white rock.

Mr E Man told me about this rock in the car out there, and I thought the whole thing was hysterical. The original rock had a white top, apparently due to guano. It was so distinctive that sailors used it as a navigational aid. But once the town was named after the rock, they apparently decided the white top wasn't enough...

...so they painted the whole damn thing white.

The white rock in White Rock. This pose was Mr E Man's idea; I think he enjoys testing the limits of how cheesy I'm prepared to be on my blog

The informational sign next to the rock skips this part of the story, but it's pretty damn obvious.

 I guess "Grey Rock Painted White, Badly" isn't as good of a name for a town

Well, I've just had a call from Mr E Man informing me that he's just back from getting some stitches at the hospital after injuring his finger by catching a falling router at work - while it was running. He's going to be off work for two weeks, but he's basically fine. He claims he did it all for me, so he can spend more time with me on my staycation, and please can I bring him some chocolate? So off I go, back out into the rain! It's a hard life, pretending to be a writer...

Mr E Man ponders how cheesy HE is prepared to be on my blog

The people have spoken!

Poll results

The next quiz will be posted at 7am PST on Friday, November 5th. Comments will be closed for the first 24 hours (well, probably more like 26 or 27, because I'm not getting up early on a Saturday just for this!) You will be able to submit answers for as many questions as you wish during that time, in either one comment or multiple comments. After the 26(ish) hours are up I'll open the comments, and you must can all trash-talk each other.

AND NO MOANING!!!

In other news, it's official: the most Canadian thing I've ever done is play drunken hockey outside on New Years Eve.

So now you know.

Blades of glory (with reader poll!)

I went ice skating on Saturday! With people I barely know, for added adventurousness!

Well, it was more of a shuffle than a skate, but not bad, considering I've only skated three times before:

• The first time was at primary school, when a company came in one weekend and laid down big slabs of weird Teflon-type stuff that fitted together like a jigsaw, and that you could skate on. Kinda. It was a huuuuge deal - I remember everyone talking about it for weeks before it happened, and having to sign up for a specific time and skate size well in advance. I also remember being part of a pack of kids careening around the tiny school gym, barely in control (none of us wearing gloves or helmets, of course) having a whale of a time during our half-hour slot.
• The second time was when I was about 14 and we went on an uncharacteristically awesome school trip to the Doncaster Dome, over an hour away (our closest ice rink). We spent the morning in the wave pool and on the water slides, and the afternoon skating around the dual level rink: around the top part, down the slope, around the bottom part, and up the other slope, a set-up my new Canadian friends described as "crazy" when I told them about it. I had to stop early because a smaller kid cut me off just as I was coming off the downwards slope and, not wanting to hit her but not knowing how to stop, I grabbed hold of the side with one hand to stop myself, swung around in an arc, and slammed right into the hoardings, knees first. Someone else (not from my school) fell over and had her hand run over by a skate - I didn't see it, but some of the kids from my school did, and they told us all about it. No-one was wearing gloves or a helmet, of course. 
• The third time was on New Years Eve a couple of years ago, when we were staying with Mr E Man's sister and her family up near Kamloops, BC. Someone had created a community rink by flooding the tennis courts using a hose pipe, so after dinner we borrowed skates and hockey sticks from a neighbour and went and shot pucks at the only kid in the village who had a full set of goalie gear. I was using hockey skates, rather than the figure skating kind I'd used before, which were also a size too small; add in the choppy ice and the fact that there was nothing to hold onto other than my brother-in-law, and I took the skates off and was running around playing hockey in my hiking boots within ten minutes (yes, the ice was choppy and rough enough that you could run around in hiking boots while pleasantly drunk and not fall over. Much). I wore gloves that time (it was soooooo cold), but no helmet, of course - just a toque.

I recounted this history to the people at Friday night's party who were proposing the outing, and they reassured me that none of them had skated for years. I found out the next day that for two of them this statement came with the caveats "not since high school, when I played lots of hockey", and "not on ice, although I'm a roller derby referee so I'm on roller skates all the time" (I've roller skated maybe twice as an adult), but it was really fun to do something so different, and everyone was very nice and encouraging! I wore my ski gloves and bike helmet this time, and spent the first circuit hanging onto the wall all the way around, before getting gradually more confident; by the end of our 40 minutes (a steal at $9 including skate rentals), I could make it almost all the way along one long edge of the arena without grabbing hold or falling over. I was still very wobbly and attracted various scornful / pitying looks from the hordes of small children flying backwards around the arena doing leaps and twirls, and my feet and ankles were in agony, but it was a blast!

We went out for beer and snacks afterwards and as we were sharing some poutine, someone said "well, you're properly Canadian now". However, I'm not sure that this was actually the most Canadian thing I've ever done - there are other candidates.

So here's a poll:

What's the most Canadian thing Cath has ever done?

Anyway, three cheers for trying new things and making new friends!

Hockey Pool!

Back for the 2010-2011 season by popular demand*!

The pool works in the same way as last year's: you pick two centres, four wingers, three defensemen and one goalie from the lists on the website. (The lists highlight injured and suspended players to help you avoid players who aren't playing that week!) Each player on the list has a value of 1 - 10 based on past and predicted performance. The challenge is to put together a team that will score the most fantasy points while not exceeding the value "cap" of 50. You get one point for every goal and assist scored by your forwards and defensemen, one point for every win by your goalie, and two points for a shut-out by your goalie.

You can change your picks every week if you want, or keep the same team if you can't be bothered or if you miss the pick submission deadline for that week (unless they change the point values assigned to the players based on mid-season performance and you end up over the cap - you have to re-pick if that happens).

Sign up here, enter your picks, and then please email me at vwxynot [at] gmail [dot] com to get the name and password of the group I've set up. All regular readers, commenters and lurkers alike, are very welcome to play, but I would like to make sure that I know who everyone is and no random people sneak in!

The first pick deadline is Thursday October 7th

The prize is a $20 Amazon gift certificate! (more if any other players want to chip in!)

I originally hesitated about running a pool this year, as the weekly update posts became a bit of a chore last time. But ScientistMother has kindly offered to share the load! Yay, ScientistMother! You rock! So we'll each do one update every four weeks, alternating so the updates come every two weeks. If we're going to have weekly updates, like last time, we'll need two or more other people to take part on a rotating basis... hint hint...

YAY, HOCKEY!

*ScientistMother and Chall. They're popular around here!

Silly moi!

I have a talent for making born-and-bred Canadians laugh at me, especially when it comes to my accent and pronunciation. I mean, it's obviously just ridiculous to assume that French-looking names would be pronounced according to French pronunciation norms in a country where French is an official language!

This all started on my first visit to Vancouver Island, when I pronounced Esquimault, home of the Canadian Navy's Pacific fleet, as Eskimo. WRONG! It's Esk-WHY-molt.

Obviously.

There have been other examples over the years, with the most recent being new Vancouver Canucks defenceman Dan Hamhuis.

Which is apparently pronounced HAM-hoys*, not am-HWEE.

Now, in the Geordie dialect of the northeast of England, where I'm originally from, hoy means throw**. So when I hear "Ham-hoys", I imagine a Geordie sport that entails throwing pork joints as far as you can - similar to the Scottish caber toss.

But with ham.

This is gonna make next season's match commentary much more interesting.

---------------

*So I'm guessing his family isn't of French origin after all, then. It was the -uis that threw me!

**Apparently it's the same in Chinese! My Dad used to play on a football team in Manchester (which is not in Geordieland) that once tried out a goalie who'd recently immigrated from China. The goalie's kicks forward to his teammates were rather erratic, so they asked him to throw the ball to them instead - but he didn't understand. Everyone got really frustrated until my Dad shouted "just hoy it, man!" None of the other English players understood what he meant, but the goalie said "hoy? Oh, hoy!" and threw the ball straight to my Dad's feet.

Little things that make me happy

The sun is finally shining in Vancouver!

I'm not a sun worshipper by any stretch of the imagination; I burn really quickly, and find temperatures over 30C quite unpleasant (in the city, at least). But June-uary was too much even for me - I think we got more sunshine during the Olympics - and really, I shouldn't have to wear jeans, boots, and a sweater on Canada Day. But this week has been all capris, sandals, and t-shirts, and people are in a noticeably better mood!

So here are some other little things that make me happy!

• Eating outside
• Coming home on hot days to a pot of ice-cold, uber-strong peppermint tea that's been brewing in the fridge all day
• Watching world cup games live, knowing that my friends and family all over the world are watching the exact same thing at the exact same time
• Calling my Dad during world cup games so we can slag off the players together
• Stripey socks
• Red sandals (not with socks)
  
• Chocolate brown trousers / capris with a white top (presence of socks depends on length of trousers)
• "Let's do X!!!1!1!!" followed by "Let's not, but say we did"
• Finding Saba lying on her back in a doorway with her back legs splayed and front paws tucked neatly under her chin, patiently waiting for the next passing hoomin to give her a belly rub
• Seeing Google's paw poking through the gap under the bedroom door in the morning, patiently waiting for us to pass her just-out-of-reach toys back
• Geeky teens with waaaaay more confidence than I ever had when I was a geeky teen
• Being Auntie Cath (and then coming home to a peaceful house afterwards)
• Finding out that the monkey hand puppet I bought Lilah on the day she was born is her absolute favourite toy
• My nephews chanting "under the bus! under the bus!" when tattled on by a sibling or cousin
• Plucking my eyebrows (hence the "freakishness" tag - I don't think this is normal)
• Re-runs of Friends
• Finding out that my husband is even geekier than I am*

What about you?


------------


*He's planning to buy me an iPhone 4G when it goes on sale in Canada, as a (very) belated birthday present, and then take my 3G for himself. I heard a squeal of excitement the other day as he was browsing the app store, and found out that he's been coveting a particular, very expensive (many hundreds of dollars) kind of calculator for years, and that there's an iPhone app for "only" $15 that has almost all of the special functions he needs from the calculator.

"I don't want to talk about it"

"now leave me alone"

Football sucks. When does the hockey season start?

(I joke, I joke. I'm still watching. I'm supporting Ghana, Holland, and Germany, in that order).

Beeb Boob

Oh dear, BBC. Oh dear.

(Thought I'd better get this up before someone notices and corrects the images!)

More fun with logos

In searching for a better version of the London 2012 logo to use in my last post, I came across some real gems in Google Images.

I think we all looked at the original logo and thought "hell, I could do better than that". These people set out to prove it:

Very, very nice - I like the top one best, but the bottom one is also excellent. The middle one's a bit meh, but it's still better than the official logo.

This person went in another direction:

Says it all, really.

2012 LOLympics

I have had an incredibly hard time not laughing out loud at my desk today.

If you thought the London 2010 Olympic logo was bad (and it really, really is),

you should see the mascots!

ROFLMFAO!!!!!!! What the fuck were they smoking thinking??!! As if the actual design isn't bad enough, the execution is awful too - the one on the left is all lumpy, FFS!

More hilarious photos here

I know a lot of people didn't like the Vancouver 2010 mascots, especially when they first saw them, but I thought they were pretty good. Except for Quatchi, of course - Quatchi is AWESOME. I bet he could kickWenlock or Mandeville's ass any day of the week.

Although Quatchi loves all winter sports, he’s especially fond of hockey. He dreams of becoming a world-famous goalie. Because of his large size, he can be a little clumsy. But no one can question his passion. He knows that if he works hard and always does his best, he might one day achieve his dream. Quatchi is always encouraging his friends to join him on journeys across Canada. He is also often recruiting others to play hockey – or at least to take shots at him!

The sasquatch is a popular figure in local native legends of the Pacific West Coast. The sasquatch reminds us of the mystery and wonder that exist in the natural world, igniting our imagination about the possibility of undiscovered creatures in the great Canadian wilderness.

A hockey-playing sasquatch? Now THAT is a mascot.

Suck it, London!

(But thanks for the giggles)

Science Idol

The BBC's "Science and Environment" RSS feed included a real gem today*: news of a competition in which members of the public were asked to submit ideas for research projects. The four winners will be mentored by experts in their chosen field as they design and conduct the appropriate experiments, and then (hopefully) write them up for publication.

This is an absolutely brilliant idea, and I hope the BBC will continue to support (and report on) this initiative.

The article also reminded me of recurring conversations I've had with various scientist friends about our own fantasy research projects. The ones we would undertake if we had the time, resources, and specialist knowledge. The first is (more or less) within my field of expertise, the other is way, way outside it, but here goes - please feel free to submit reviewers' comments on each proposal!

Project I: a comparison of human and equine malignant melanomas.

My flatmate and all-round best friend during my PhD days was a physiologist who specialized in equine gastrology. She's been around horses her whole life, in roles from stable girl to veterinary assistant to physiologist to punter at the races, and loves to talk about her work whenever possible.

She mentioned just in passing one day that she'd just assisted at the necropsy of a white horse, and said "much less melanoma than usual".

"Um, what?", asked the person who worked at the cancer research centre just up the road from the vet school.

It turns out that a majority of white horses have extensive metastatic melanoma throughout their entire body, a condition that may be genetically related to their pigmentation.

My friend described the art of necropsy of white horses as "pulling out big black nodules like bunches of grapes to try and get to the organs to find the cause of death".

"The melanoma's not the cause of death?"

"No! They can live like that for years!"

Apparently this is something that every vet just knows. Y'know, like every cancer researcher just knows that malignant melanoma in humans is an extremely aggressive disease that's often fatal in just a few months.

But apparently, vets don't often talk to cancer researchers. Unless a university graduate student office happens to assign one person of each type to a shared university flat in their first year, and they end up becoming lifelong friends who enjoy talking about science in pubs.

There are a few clinical reports of "pigmented epithelioid melanocytoma", aka "equine" or "animal-type" melanoma, in humans. But not one basic cancer researcher I've ever talked to had heard of this phenomenon before I mentioned it.

As soon as I heard about melanoma in white horses, I wanted to perform a genetic comparison to human melanomas to try and uncover the reason for the differences in pathology. This was in the late nineties / early noughties, so I was thinking in terms of microarray studies and comparative hybridizations, but none of those approaches were really suitable. Of course now that we have next current generation sequencing technology, the problem is eminently soluble. "All" you need is the human and horse genome sequences (a high-quality draft of the latter is now available), and then normal DNA plus tumour DNA and RNA from each of:

• a malignant melanoma from a white horse;
• a pigmented epithelioid melanocytoma from a human;
• a regular human melanoma;

and Robert's your father's brother.

I would love to see this study done, and sincerely hope that someone decides to tackle it in the next few years.

Project II: a comparison of visual response and decision making processes in (ice) hockey goalies and mere mortals.

Have you ever watched a game of (ice) hockey? It's fast. Scary fast. So fast that it took me months to learn how to follow the puck properly (it's all about inferring its position, speed and direction from the players' body language as well as from the brief glimpses of speeding frozen black rubber that you occasionally manage to catch). And the goalies are simply amazing. Here's a particularly impressive example of the art of the glove save, from the Vancouver Canucks' Roberto Luongo in last night's** playoff game that eliminated the LA Kings from Stanley Cup contention. Man, I loves me some regicide.



As soon as I started to get into hockey, I wanted to know how these guys get so good. How on earth do they manage to see the puck in time to stop it? (And why don't they run away gibbering and crying like normal people instead of trying to make the save?) Again, this discussion came up on a regular basis while watching games in the pub with my geeky friends. Are the parts of the brain that process visual information and turn it into quick decisions simply more developed in these players? If so, is this something that develops over time as they train, or is it innate?

There's only one even slightly relevant paper in the literature, a 1979 study titled "Visual cues in ice hockey goaltending" (no-one should be surprised that it was published in the Canadian Journal of Applied Sport Science). The study assessed the visual cues that young goalies can pick up from an attacker's approach on goal, but there was no control group and no real insight into my specific question.

As stated earlier, this study would be far outside my area of expertise. I know that some people find fMRI results, ahem, fishy, but maybe there's some kind of brain scan that could be done on junior and elite hockey goalies, compared to hockey players who specialise in other positions, elite players of other sports, and average Joes, to see if there are any structural or functional differences there.

Anyway, those are my picks. Does anyone else have a fantasy research project they'd like to see done?

------------------
*Not actually today. I originally posted this on t'other blog, where it didn't get many comments. So I thought you guys might actually like to see some science blogging over here for a change :)

**Again, not actually last night, as much as I'd like to turn the clock back and have another chance at Round Two against those Chicago bastards

What will happen if you take your parents to a gig

In chronological order:

• Your parents will finally announce the start and end dates of their much-discussed five week trip to Vancouver
• You will dutifully add the dates to your calendar
• A few weeks later, you will find out that Delhi 2 Dublin are playing the Commodore on May 7th, and you finally have a chance to see them after missing out twice in the last couple of years
• You will check your calendar and realise that the gig will take place while your parents are in town
• You will swear
• You will ask your parents via Skype if they would like to go to see a Celtic-bhangra fusion band
• They will say "we're up for anything!"
• You will buy four tickets to said concert
• Your sister will say "erm... seriously? HAHAHAHA!"
• When your parents arrive, you will remind them that you have tickets for a gig on May 7th
• They will have forgotten, and will look slightly dubious about the concept of Celtic-bhangra fusion music
• The Canucks will end up playing Game 4 of their second round playoff series on the same night
• Your husband will threaten not to come to the concert
• You will call the Commodore, and they will tell you that they do not show hockey games on night when there's a band on
• You will swear
• You will decide to watch the game at home and then jump in a cab and head downtown as soon as it ends
• You will hope there is no overtime
• The Canucks will suck
• You will drink faster than normal during the game because of the tension and frustration of it all 
• You will realise that overtime is a laughably over-optimistic objective for this game
• Everyone will swear
• And again
• And then some more
• Your husband will call a cab just as the game ends
• No-one will be ready to leave as he makes the call, but your husband will confidently say "plenty of time, it's going to take bloody ages to get a cab tonight"
• The cab will arrive immediately
• Everyone will swear and run around the house in a mad panic
• You will pop to the loo before leaving
• When you come out, everyone will be outside chasing your cat, who escaped through the front door during the chaos
• You will swear
• Everyone will swear
• The taxi driver will laugh at you all
• You will be mad at everybody for letting the cat out
• The cat will evade all attempts at recapture and disappear down the back alley
• You will swear some more
• You will get into the cab and go to the gig anyway, although you will be really worried about the cat, who has never been outside at night before and there are raccoons and coyotes and she doesn't even have her sister with her for backup
• Everyone will be grumpy in the cab, because of the stoopid cat and the even stoopider Canucks
• You will tip the driver well for not driving away in disgust during the chaos 
• You will cheer up a bit when you get IDed at the venue
• Your Dad will be astonished (and delighted) that beer is available for purchase
• He will say "do they sell beer at gigs in England?"
• You will ask him when he last went to a gig*
• He will admit that he doesn't remember, but it was probably in the 60s and might have been the Hollies
• You will drink faster than normal because you're worried about your cat and mad that no-one was paying attention while she escaped, but don't want to get into an argument about it at this precise moment
• There will be several techno DJs as support acts
• They will mostly suck
• Your parents will look a bit lost and confused and uncomfortable
• They will enjoy the break dancers though
• Your husband will ease the tension by asking your Mum what her favourite song was so far
• You will gradually lighten up and start to enjoy yourself 
• You will get into a debate with your Dad about which is worse: to have never seen your team (Newcastle United) win anything in your whole lifetime (me), or to have seen them win something when you were seven and then suffer through a much longer lifetime of disappointment and failure after that (him)
• You will approach a guy in a Newcastle shirt to ask him to settle the dispute
• When you get close, you will realise that it's actually a Juventus shirt
• You will realise that you are drunk
• Delhi 2 Dublin will finally come on at about 11:30pm
• They will rock
• Everyone will get up and dance
• Your Dad will astonish you by shouting "I know this song!"
• You will drag him onto the dance floor
• You will realise that you are really drunk, but that's OK because so is your Dad
• And your husband
• Everyone will have an awesome time and buy CDs as souvenirs
• You will get home to find one freaked-out cat with a big bloody scratch on her nose cowering by the back door
• She will be completely fine after a big cuddle
• You will declare the evening a huge success
• You will be very hungover the next day

Next up: what will happen if you take your parents to a Canucks game! Yay Canucks for winning Game 5 after Mr E Man had secured tickets for Game 6! WOOOOOOOOOO!

---------------------------

*as opposed to a sit-down concert. They go to lots of those

Superstition

I laugh in the face of superstition.

I'll walk under a ladder, step on cracks in the pavement, and I can spill any amount of salt without feeling the need to throw some of it over my shoulder.

But it all goes to pot when it comes to sport.

It's all because of my upbringing; being a life-long Newcastle United fan has completely messed with my psyche. Historically, the team is pathologically incapable of defending a lead. 2-0 up with eight minutes left? We'll lose 3-2. 12 points clear at the top of the Premiership? You can put money on us finishing second.

As a result, I'm horribly superstitious when it comes to sport. I don't have to wear a particular shirt on game day or anything like that, but no-one is allowed to leave the room during play, and there are some things you just don't say until the final whistle blows. In particular I can never, ever relax during a game, and will never, ever take for granted a lead of any magnitude. To do so would be to jinx it.

"Don't jinx it!", I'll say, if anyone in the room ventures a favourable opinion on the team's chances of winning.

"Don't jinx it!", I'll say, as my team is five goals ahead with twenty seconds left on the clock.

I know it makes no sense, but I firmly believe that the USA's goal with 24 seconds left in the final period of the gold medal Olympic hockey game was due to my friend prematurely shouting "let's go downtown!!!" about 15 seconds earlier.

So the Canucks' overtime defeat on Saturday was definitely because another friend said, with the Canucks 2-0 up, "winning in regulation time is boring. I wanna see some OT!"

And here's what went down on Twitter last night:

Sigh. Three different friends. I clearly need to start watching games alone (or at least just with Mr E Man, who knows better by now), with no internet access.

Of course, there's no possibility at all that it was the team's fault. No sirree. The refs, yes, because the officiating has been terrible all series (apparently this was not a legitimate high sticking call) and there's clearly a conspiracy, but the team? No. Couldn't be. The dreadful penalty kill was totally the fault of the exchange of bits and pixels hundreds of miles away. Yeah.

Hockey p 0rn

During the Olympics, one friend described the amazing Canada-Russia hockey game as "hockey p 0rn".

Another friend turned around with his eyes and mouth wide open, and proclaimed that "hockey p 0rn would be the best thing EVAH!"

We started to come up with a list of words and phrases that could be used in this exciting new genre, a meme we resurrected on Saturday night during the Canucks' final regular season game. Once your mind is sufficiently deeply embedded in the gutter, it's amazing what smut you can pick out of perfectly innocent TV studio and living room commentary...

Here, just in time for the playoffs, is what we've come up with so far:

• "Here comes the slap shot!"
• "I love four-on-four, it's nothing but end-to-end action"
• "He's slotted it five-hole"
• "What a powerful wrist shot he has"
• Two-man advantage
• "What skillful stick handling!"
• "I think it's time to pull the goalie" 

The star would obviously have to be Legwand (who, of course, played at the Gaylord Entertainment Center before it was so sadly and boringly renamed).

Any more?!

And here's the money shot: Daniel Sedin's third goal against Calgary on Saturday. What a fucking beautiful goal! Make sure you watch all the slo-mo replays:



Not really on topic, but still hilarious, is the term accidentally introduced by a British friend who merged the start-of-game terms "kick off" and "puck drop" into "what time's puck off?"

7 pm on Thursday, that's when it is! Puck off, LA!

GO CANUCKS GO!

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ETA: I just remembered this NHL commercial from a few years ago that seemed appropriate:

Olympic Pool Results, and the best street party Vancouver has ever seen

Yeah, I know: finally!

Sorry for the delay... but here it is!

The aim of the pool was to choose the country that would get the most medal points per capita. I assigned 3 medal points per gold medal, 2 medal points per silver medal, and 1 medal point per bronze medal. The final medal table is here, I took the population stats from the CIA's World Factbook, and reader picks from these two posts. Please let me know if you spot any errors or omissions!

Here's the table:

Congratulations, Chall! 

Nice work! The Bragging Rights are yours and yours alone, with no need for the tie-breaker (predictions of the numbers of each kind of medal).

And to celebrate, here's a very celebratory video of the downtown Vancouver celebrations that followed Canada's victory in the gold medal hockey game (with a special shoutout to Nina, as requested!).



Watching my sloppy, drunken footage again made me very happy, but also very sad that everything is over now :( Ah well, it was one of the most fun times of my whole life, and I will always remember it fondly. Inspired by Vancouver 2010, I will probably go to London in 2012. I might even go to Sochi in 2014...

Up next: World Cup! Ing-er-land, Ing-erland! There will be a pool, there will be trash talk. My goodness will there be trash talk...

The hills are alive...

...with the sound of cow bells

Or at least, they were. The cow bells are silent now. Yup, the Paralympics are over, and the last few days have felt very flat and empty. It is so, so sad to cycle past City Hall and see the empty poles from which the Olympic and Paralympic flags have flown so proudly for the last four years.

But on Saturday, I managed to get to one last event before the end! And thanks largely to Mermaid's fabulous guest post about the ski jump and luge events she attended during the Olympics, I was adamant that my last event should be in Whistler. My friend and I originally had tickets for the super G slalom - men's and women's standing class, but they had to rejig the schedule based on the latest weather forecasts. Our tickets changed from the original event to slalom - men's and women's standing class, and finally to the super combined (super G + slalom) - men's and women's standing, sitting, and visually impaired classes. We were extremely happy with the change; as you'll see from the video below, our day was defined by variety!

As if Alpine skiing wasn't dangerous enough...

We had an absolutely fantastic day in the warm Whistler sunshine, and think our husbands were fools to go skiing instead, despite their enthusing about the "EPIC!!!" conditions*. And we saw Canada win a bronze, a silver, and a GOLD!!!** The latter was the fifth gold medal of the games won by my new hero, Lauren Woolstencroft. I have nothing bur respect for every Paralympian, but Lauren Woolstencroft stands out even in this exalted company. She was born with no legs below the knee, and no left arm below the elbow, and competes in the standing class, along with every other sighted Paralympian who skis in the standing position. And she doesn't just win, she totally obliterates the field. She ended up winning the event we saw by 12 seconds. 12!!! That just isn't supposed to happen!

I sang the Canadian anthem at her ceremony with more pride than ever before.

I may have cried.

Anyway, here's the video. Sorry for the fuzzy bits; the bright sunshine and glare from the snow were not very kind to my poor little Flip Video.



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*we planned to join them on the Sunday, but it was raining on the bottom half of the mountain, and all the lifts above freezing level were closed due to high winds. They did open later, but the price of a half-day pass is almost the same as a full day, and it just didn't seem worth it. This is the first time I've ever been to Whistler during the winter or spring and not skied, but it was totally worth it for the once-in-a-lifetime experience of going to the Paralympics.

**you'll notice that all three of our medals were won by women. This was a recurring theme of the Olympics and Paralympics, with women accounting for a majority of our medals in both tournaments, but especially in the Paralympics. Canadian women KICK ASS!

Sledge hockey rules!

The Paralympics are here!

Everything went a bit flat after the Olympics, and many of us actually experienced withdrawal symptoms. We missed the crowds and the atmosphere and the flags and the cheering. But never fear, the Paralympics are here! Welcome back, world, we missed you!

After a couple of weeks of vague "hey, we should go to the Paralympics" talk, my friends and I realised on Friday that we needed to get our arses in gear. Top of our wish list was the sledge hockey (or "hockey sur luge", as the French text on my ticket says. Now that would be a sport: stick-handling a puck while you fly down a luge track, with a goalie waiting for your shot at the end. Best. Shootout. EVAH. But I digress). All of Team Canada's games were sold out, but we did manage to get decent seats for Norway vs. Sweden last Saturday - a snip at $20 each!

It was great to be back on the bus with chatty sports fans wearing their team's shirts and singing away. We passed the curling venue, and saw more huge crowds with flags and painted faces. The party is back in town! But none of this helped me with my dilemma; as we neared the stadium, I was still trying to work out who to support. This was the first time I'd ever been to a live sporting event where I didn't already support one of the teams; I've watched lots of sport on TV as a neutral, but never in person. I was truly stumped. I like both Sweden and Norway; I have Swedish and Norwegian friends; I like ABBA and Aha; I'd already seen a team from each country lose to Canada in the Olympic hockey. One idea was to cheer for whichever team had the fewest supporters in the stadium, but it seemed like a fairly even split (most people were cheering in English, though. A big group of local kids behind us had turned their own team's red jerseys inside out (you could see the logo through the fabric) and added blue arm bands and letters spelling out "NORWAY", all made of electrical tape, to match the Norwegian team's jerseys). I would usually support the underdog, but honestly had no idea which team that would be; in Olympic hockey it would be Norway, but apparently they're better at sledge hockey than at regular hockey.

So, I fell back on Plan B: support Norway during the first period, Sweden during the second, and for the rest of the game either the team that was behind at the beginning of the third, or in the event of a tie, whichever team I thought deserved it the most.

As it turns out, this cunning plan resulted in me supporting the team shooting towards our end in every period, which was a bonus. And it didn't take me long to get into the game and cheer loudly for whichever team I was supporting at that time.

Team Sweden get ready for the start of the game

It was a great first period, with lots of action in our end. It was quickly apparent that Norway were the better attacking team, with lots of flair and skill, whereas Sweden were more defensive and had the better goalie. But it was Sweden who went into the first intermission with a one goal lead, with a breakaway goal after some sustained pressure from Norway.

The skill levels were truly phenomenal. Beth Snow has some background information on the sport on her blog; the sticks she shows have hockey stick blades on one end, and spikes for propulsion on the other. These guys can stick handle with both hands while using the same sticks to move around; I'd like to see your average NHL player try that! One popular strategy was to come at the goalie on an angle, with the puck hidden behind your body, then to suddenly sit back, lift the front end of your sled up, and shoot under your body so that the goalie couldn't see the puck coming until the very last second. We also saw one of the Norwegian players lean back and pass the puck under his sled with his left hand, then collect the rebound off the boards behind him with his right hand, transfer the puck back to his left hand, and finally pass it right onto the stick of a team mate - all while using the same sticks to move forward. Simply amazing.

The rules and penalties are pretty much the same as in regular hockey, but with the addition of a penalty called teeing, which basically means ramming another player with your sled. Did I mention that this is one hell of a physical sport? There were full body checks into the boards and everything else you might expect from Olympic hockey.

Failed attempt to get a good photo of a full body check into the boards

The game is obviously not as fast as the hockey I'm used to watching,



but there was no shortage of action and excitement. Power plays, breakaways, shots, saves, goal line clearances - this game had it all!

Norway were still 1-0 behind at the beginning of the third, but I'd already decided to cheer for them in the final period even if they'd tied it up. Both teams were great, but very different, and I'll always go for a good attacking team over a good defensive one. The volume in the stadium ramped up to eleven as Norway finally beat the Swedish goalie midway through the final period, after outshooting the Swedes something like 25 to 8. Overtime was fast and furious, and then we went to a shootout - this game was certainly great value for money! The players start at their own net, build up a crazy amount of speed, pick up the puck at centre ice, and barrel down on the poor goalie. After several saves from both teams, Norway finally broke the deadlock for a well deserved victory (although I was glad to see Sweden pick up a point for their excellent defensive efforts), and we stood up and cheered ourselves hoarse before going for a well deserved pint.

Conclusion: sledge hockey RULES! And Team Canada are kicking ass so far.

On Saturday I'm going to the Apline Skiing in Whistler and I can't wait!

GO CANADA GO!

Hockey pool, week 22

Arriving at a friendly North Vancouver brew pub during the second period of the Canucks-Senators game on Saturday, Mr E Man and I were invited to draw a name of a Canucks player out of a hat. We were informed that if the player on the slip scored the next goal, we would get a free drink. We drew again at the start of the third period.

Now, I've done well at a similar game before, at a different pub, where you pay a toonie to enter but get to choose the name of the player. I once chose all four scorers in a single game (no-one else chose the same players, meaning that I got the full pot each time), and paid for our entire dinner and drinks bill, including tip, with my winnings. Thank you Ruutu (twice), Cooke, and Salo!

However, my luck at random draws really sucks. While Mr E Man pulled the names of two of our hottest players and got two free drinks,

I chose this very junior, low scoring guy...

...twice...

...and he wasn't even playing that night.

You'll notice that I crumpled the second slip up as soon as I saw it.

Anyway, I checked my performance in the hockey pool on Saturday before the game, and at that time my luck in the pool was mirroring my luck in random player name draws. But when I checked again this morning, I realised that the Canucks' back-to-back victories had propelled me to the top of the pile!

Not that it really helps that much in the grand scheme of things, as That Damn Alyssa is still kicking ass:

Ah well, the Canucks' epic road trip (the longest in NHL history) is now over, and hopefully a string of home wins will help me repeat the success of that one glorious night when I picked every single goal scorer and became a (very) temporary (very) local celebrity.

The joy of hockey

I've always been a huge fan of sport. Not playing it, really, except for the occasional game of beach football or cricket - watching it.

My parents are the same way, and together we watched every single summer and winter Olympics, Wimbledon, Grand National, and every England football and rugby game ever played. (I never could get into watching golf or cricket, but my Dad can watch those games for days at a time). I have very fond memories of my Mum shouting "stop him, tackle him, KILL HIM!!!" at the English rugby team, of going to my first few Newcastle United games with my Dad, and of being allowed to stay up way past my bedtime on a school night to watch France play Brazil in the world cup, against my Mum's better judgement.

My love of sport continued when I left home. I remember the only girl on my corridor in halls of residence who had a TV cramming 12 people into her tiny room to watch England play Scotland in the six nations rugby. I remember Michael Owen scoring against Argentina, and hearing the cheer from every house on the street. I remember going to a pub in Glasgow with a Greek friend to see England beat Greece, and my friend not buying a single pint all night after all the Scots realised he was from the country playing England. I remember barely sleeping during the early stages of the 2002 FIFA world cup, choosing to watch the 11:30 pm, 1:30 am and 4:30 am games and then go to the beach to drink a coffee before work instead. (I slept between 6 pm and 11 pm. I do not recommend this).

I remember the sense of unity and common purpose from a living room or a bar or a stadium full of people supporting their team, collectively holding their breath before rising to their feet with a mighty cheer.

I moved to Vancouver on Superbowl Sunday, 2002. I flew through the States, and the American Airlines pilot provided frequent score updates over the intercom (with warnings to cover our ears if we didn't want to know). I didn't know the names of the teams and the players; I didn't understand the pilot's terminology; I was clueless as to the progress of the crucial Newcastle vs. Manchester United match that was also on that day.

I felt a long, long way from home.

BUT!

The Salt Lake City winter Olympics started in the first week of my new job. I watched the events on TV on my lunch breaks, and found it to be a great way to break the ice and meet my new colleagues. I quickly realised that hockey is THE sport in this town, and that if I wanted to feel the familiar unifying power of sport in my new home, this was the one to follow.

Now, I really do not like being lost and confused in a sea of unfamiliar rules. I need to know what's happening, and why. I didn't have my own computer and therefore had no opportunity to read up on the rules of the game, but I picked up little bits and pieces between flat hunting and getting into my new project. I still couldn't follow the puck (too damn fast), but felt that I was ready to watch the gold medal game (Canada vs. USA) with my brand new flat mates.

Well, I was wrong.

About halfway through the second period, my new roomie couldn't take my questions ("How does the offside rule work? Which of these guys play for Vancouver? Why was that a penalty? What does icing mean?") anymore.

He threw me out to walk the streets.

Well, technically, he explained that this was too important a game to be spending so much time explaining the rules to a n00b, and suggested that I explore my new neighbourhood, with the beach as the ideal destination. "It's really nice down there, eh? Just think how you'd feel if this was the world cup of soccer with England playing and a Canadian asking you too many questions".

He had a point, and so I wandered through the eerily deserted streets to the beach. The sad-looking people clustered around a radio in Starbucks were astonished to see a customer, but understood when they heard my accent and laughed (but then sympathised) when they heard my story. I had the whole of Kits beach to myself, too, and really did have a very pleasant time in the sunshine.

Until suddenly, there was a roar...

Hundreds and thousands of people burst onto the streets! They were wearing Team Canada shirts, waving hockey sticks, and hollering at the top of their lungs! Six strangers hugged me within ten minutes! A guy dressed as a beaver in a hockey jersey was standing on his head in the middle of the road, kicking his feet in the air! I was handed a beer! Ten more people hugged me! We started jumping up and down and singing! The police arrived, and people high-fived them! We shut down traffic at a major intersection for over an hour!

Even though I didn't see the whole game, I will never forget my first ever Olympic hockey final in Canada. It was the first time I realised I was going to feel right at home in Vancouver.

Over the years I've learned the rules, the players, the terminology, and yes, I can now follow the puck. I've been to one or two Canucks games a year, a couple of Giants games, and (last week!) two Olympic hockey games. I've even operated the scoreboard and timer at a friend's amateur game. We watch games in living rooms and in bars, but almost always with friends. On a dark and miserable November Tuesday, there's nothing like getting together to watch a Canucks game on the TV. And when the playoffs or the Olympics are on, the whole city shuts down to watch.

I love this game.

On Friday, we watched Team Canada hang on by the skin of their teeth in the last few minutes against Slovakia. We groaned and sweated and gasped and swore and watched from behind our hands as the puck ricocheted around in our zone with five seconds left... four... three.. two... one... and then the whole room exploded in a cacophony of air horns, whistles, shouts, and cheers.

Today, we play the USA for the gold medal.

The 2010 winter Olympics have united this city like never before. The atmosphere on the streets is simply amazing; there's a positive energy in the air that even those of my friends who are hardened cynics, and were against the games until the day they started, have noticed and enjoyed. The city may well have changed - for the better - for good.

But really, it's all about the hockey. We have more gold medals than any other nation... but it's all about the hockey. Everything has been building towards, everyone has been waiting for, today's game, and if Canada wins, this place is going off.

The USA have already beaten us once, fair and square. BUT we didn't have Luongo in net for that one, and this time it's for all the marbles. The extra game against Germany seemed to help us gel as a team, and the comprehensive destruction of Russia in the quarter final was a beautiful thing to see. With all due respect to my American readers, you have a great team and an outstanding goalie, but this story has Hollywood Ending written all over it and I think the home team has the edge.

Unfortunately, almost my entire core group of friends was struck down by what was probably a norovirus this week. I'm taking forever to recover fully, and Mr E Man only just got sick yesterday, so the party will be more sober than expected. BUT we are all still hugely excited to get together at a friend's house and cheer for Canada at the top of our lungs. We might even hear the roar from the stadium through the window!

If we win, and if we're all feeling well enough, we'll do our best to join the party that is sure to break out on every street!

GO CANADA GO!

For Chall: Canada vs. Sweden

Our second Olympic event was Canada vs. Sweden in the preliminary rounds of the women's hockey, at the UBC Thunderbird Arena. As soon as I announced that I was going to this game, I was CHALLenged to a $20 bet. And so I made a video for one of my favourite commenters...



(not caught on film: Mr E Man almost peeing himself laughing when I walked into that guy, me explaining to that guy that I was making a video for a Swedish friend who'd bet $20 on the outcome of this game, and then that guy laughing and saying "good luck to your friend!")

Chall, I really did feel bad by the end... we all expected a much closer game. By the third period we were rooting for Sweden to get a goal (when they did, they got a good cheer from the whole crowd - the Swedish fans hadn't stopped cheering all game), and the one guy behind us who was attempting to trash talk and mock the Swedes shut up PDQ when no-one else joined in.

As the Swedish head coach said after the game, 

"Canada is the powerhouse of women's hockey. They have a coaching staff that is unbelievably good. They have worked with their players since the first of August to achieve another level of women's hockey and it happens every fourth year. Our team is much better than it was in Torino, but unfortunately Canada hasn't stopped developing".

This situation, with Canada and the US so dominant over the rest of the field, really isn't good for the game. I hope the other teams get a chance to catch up over the next four years and make the preliminary rounds a bit more interesting in Sochi.

On the other hand, it is fantastic to see how much support the women's game gets in Canada. I'd been to a couple of women's team games in England (football and field hockey), and expected the crowd in Vancouver to be a similar mix of women, children, and school groups - but really, the makeup of the crowd was very similar to the one at the men's game the day before. There were lots of groups of men (including two guys in full body fluffy bunny outfits, with a sign saying "Canadian puck bunnies"), and the level of support (including chanting, flag waving, sign making, face & body painting, clapping, stomping, and celebrating) was just the same. And there was such a demand for tickets that the semis and medal games will be in the much larger GM / Canada Hockey Place.

Chall, I will hold you to your bet... but would you mind directing the $20 to my fundraising efforts rather than to me? The fundraising campaign is not going quite as well as the Canadian women's quest for gold!

Thanks for playing, and I hope you are taking comfort in the strong showing so far by Sweden's male hockey players!