Pre-Xmas roundup

It occurred to me today that the absurdity and madness of the looming holiday season is already well upon us.

For starters, I have a younger brother (Dave) who is, chronologically, 48.

However his relatively recent behaviour in this 5th decade of his life would make innocent bystanders think he's maybe ... 13.

And, a girl.

He has gotten progressively more bent out of shape, super-excited and giddy about Xmas earlier and earlier each year, since ... well, his wedding. Which was a fair number of years ago.

(Quick aside: This could well explain everything ... as I recall getting a phone call from him in the weeks leading up to his wedding, and I suddenly realised that my heretofore cool, hip, fun, never-had-time-for-silly-bullshit brother had been talking to me for longer than 5 minutes about ... problems dealing with ... obtaining a wedding cake.

A ... cake.

For ... a wedding. HIS wedding. He never even LIKED cake all that much. Now he was sweating like a heroin addict over some damn thing or another that was causing the cake to be ... hell, I don't know. Nor did I care.

I DID however recoil in horror, and tried to change the subject during that call ... and it wasn't working. Who was this strange creature, and what had he done with my brother?

I quickly determined it was him ... yet, he was seemingly beyond rescuing ... at least, not without a bucket-load of alcohol and some fun, manly activities. Like drinking bucket-loads of alcohol – and nowhere near anything remotely wedding-like or, yule-ish going on.

Much incredulous. So mystery. Super huh?

I knew something was up. He'd clearly been neutered by some evil force – whether it was his girlfriend, his gig, or society in general. But how?

This was the "Pull my finger!" fun dude I'd known and loved for many, many years. What had HAPPENED to derail him so dramatically ... so ... BADLY!?

This was not my brother. This was ... something else entirely. A pod ... a clone. The mere shell of my brother with his brains sucked out.


This was ... a Japanese schoolgirl going shopping for "Hello Kitty!" clothing, and matching handbags.

Just ... no. The horror ... the horror ... 

So. Fast-forward back to present time (or more precisely, the beginning of November). And now, instead of a phone call, we're on FacePlant, trading jibes and japes and whatnot ... and he's yammering on about how crazy-giggly he was about Xmas.

I thought: "OK, it's either time to send out a search party for his testicles ... or, they're LONG gone, and it's time to look into some frilly blouses and knee-socks for him for stocking stuffers ..." (Not that there's anything WRONG with that. But if that was the case, enough with the fence-sitting ... he needed to exit the closet pronto, and OWN that bad bidness!)

New Zealand is no different than anywhere else in this day of modern, 1st-world country setups around the world. Sheer Xmas greed and commercialisation has taken over, and the moment Hallowe'en (here it's Guy Fawkes Day) is over, out come the Xmas displays in stores. And the TV ads ... and the infernal, insipid, maddeningly cloying Xmas music on store sound systems, elevators, and yes – even some busses.

In the good old days, my brother and I, and my good pals, ignored and/or mocked this sort of thing. We were far too cool to ever buy into it ...

Now, my kin ... my once-cool brother ... was posting shit on Facebook about willingly stopping into an Xmas store on a road-trip from Hicksville, Ontario to Fishing Camp, Nova Scotia ... to willingly (I know I've said that twice, but seriously ... he WILLINGLY did this) shop for Xmas decorations.

No clue if there were Hello Kitty options in this store ... and if there were, I don't want to see any photos of same.

So in an attempt to get him to snap out of it and get a grip ... I posted a few public service announcements on FacePlant ... to try and get him to see the error of his girly ways ... to perhaps de-program him, as he'd clearly been captured and brainwashed by some eerie, un-manly, froo-froo Xmas Cult of some sort (otherwise known as "wives").

Or at the very least ... to maybe re-ignite that male masculine gene that had clearly been either stomped and squashed and mutilated, or (horror of horrors!) completely removed.

At this writing, it's still late November, and according to Official Man-Card Rules, there shall be no mentioning, considering, thinking about, or even LOOKING AT Xmas-themed things* until the first week of December.

(* These 3 exhibits  being the only acceptable exceptions).

* Exhibits A, B, and C: The only Xmas-themed items
a man is allowed to look at before December.

There are a few GOOD aspects to all this early Xmas foolishness
As for early sightings of GOOD things having to do with the yuletide season ... it appears the judge at the helm of the ongoing Rob Ford and his Merry Henchmen – The Legal Proceedings in Toronto has decreed: all information, photos, video and evidence (considering the sort of messy, swinish things Ford has been up to ... ewww!) pertaining to the case(s) and charge(s) against Ford and Lisi and whoever else might be embroiled in all the clownish and illegal shenanigans there shall be released to the media, forthwith!

December 6 is reckoning day – that's when it's all meant to be revealed. Scribes, pundits and columnists for the Toronto Star are nearly beside themselves, waiting to see what juicy stuff is about to be unleashed. As, of course, are WE!

Wake up, Mr. Ford. It's time for your crack top-up!

This could well be a day of fun and frivolity (and ceaseless mockery) that surpasses all the prior Rob Ford stuff that's been in the news (and on late-night comedy shows). I can't wait!

And even MORE good things!
There's been a flurry of fun, beer-soaked (oops, I mean, themed) events of late that have made all this other mawkish and maudlin November Xmas shite tolerable.

Hashigo Zake had a good "new release Tuesday" beer event this past week, with tea-infused (yes, tea) beers from Yeastie Boys. And my pal Andy over at Behemoth Brewing announced not one, but TWO new beer releases are coming early in December! So it's out to the craft bars we go again ... this time it'll be Goldings Free Dive.

One of the two fine new brews being unvieled by
Andy Childs of Behemoth Brewing next week!

As well, Hashigo Zake's annual "Santa Session" is next week (they get a pass for invoking that name, because ... well, beer!) – wherein, those of us who were wily enough to swarm the bar when it was announced, and get signed up to the limited guest list (hey, it's a small bar) will be treated to a session of serious swilling ... we get to pound down all the interesting and unique bottled beer (imports and locals) they haven't managed to sell. This is a popular event, and usually results in plastering (see what I did there?) a merry grin on the faces of all involved.

News out of Tuatara Brewing HQ was also brilliant this month: they have become the official importers of Oregon brew-meister Rogue Brewing's fantastic line of interesting, unique, and sometimes downright absurd beers. (Look down a couple of paragraphs – wherein I talk about filming a movie of my quest to go find these new Rogue beers at a local supermarket!)**

Yep – a beer made with
the live yeast festering
in the brewmaster's
manly beard!

Summer's here!
The weather here has jumped up a few notches into full-on summer climes over the last few weeks, too. That's always a nice feeling ... it's warm here at the best of times, and for me, an expat Canadian, "winter" here is just a slightly cooler few months (yet still warm, for a man with maple syrup in his blood), where the most pesky thing is: attractive women "dress for the calendar". Or more precisely – they wear less-revealing clothing if the temperature is lower than 25ºC. So of course, we really, REALLY like it when it jumps up to 25º, and higher.

And even more beer fun ... 
I've been deploying the movie-recording aspect of my new iPhone 5S (the latest version of this marvellous magical tech toy) to film a few ale-related things.

These bad boys are the TOTAL bomb for IPA-style beer ...
and likely any other kind of beer. The staff at Hashigo Zake
lovingly refer to them as the "Butt plug glasses". 

There was this new, scientifically designed IPA glass released by a California company (nay, I must call them what they really are: Dedicated professional beer researchers!)

These glasses look like they were designed upside down – with the small bit at the bottom, making them look pretty tippy. But that's OK ... that small bottom bit is gnarled, so that the hoppy ambrosia that is New Zealand IPA gets refreshed, by swirling around those gnarly bits ... every time you tip the glass up for a sip. It's fun to watch, and even MORE fun to drink! The last sip is as fresh and alive as the first!

I made a movie about my own highly scientific research session here. My research assistant Squeak the Wonder Cat is also featured!

** (I'm in the process of assembling a longer and more detailed movie, wherein I go shopping at the Thorndon New World for the new Rogue beers that are here now ... and, to highlight the absolute, total beer-shopping mecca that is this grocery store, to show to my poor downtrodden beer-drinking pals in Ontario, Canada – where they still have to shop for beer at government-controlled bunkers).

Old Home Week
Oh and on a related note – the first suburb I lived in here in Wellington was Thorndon. It's here where one branch of the fantastic New World grocery store lives – it's fantastic, due to it having the biggest and best selection of craft beers around ... and Thorndon is also home to two fun pubs I used to regularly visit when I lived/worked there ... the Backbencher and the Thistle.

The Thistle Inn: oldest pub in New Zealand. Revamped and
upgraded from its former and smelly "dingy dive" days.

I've just been alerted by the smart, funny, and all-round swell guy and Wellington beer writer, Neil Miller, that both these pubs now feature proper craft beer on tap! Which means, of course, I'll have to venture back over to Thorndon – a whole 5-minute bus ride from my office – to check this out.

The Thistle's main allure is, it's the oldest pub in New Zealand. When I first moved here in 2001, it was a dive. Not just a quaint old place ... a TOTAL dive. I distinctly recall my first time walking past the place ... the side door was open, and I looked in to see a magnificent mess of a dump of a bar. It was ramshackle and hideously trashed, and you could SMELL it from the sidewalk. Two rumpled old men – complete curmudgeons – were perched on wobbly stools at the dingy bar, looking like they fell out of the 'hungover street-bum tree', and hit EVERY branch on the way down.

Rustic looking yet clean, The Thistle's reno includes
a glass floor with a view down to the old beer cellar!

These days the Thistle has been revamped and remade into a fine looking establishment. They tuned it up but left it looking "old school", just like it was from the time it was first built. It's rustic, yet clean. There's a big glass section of the floor, looking down into the old original beer cellar. Best of all, there are some black & white photos on the walls showing what the Thistle looked like back before the huge earthquake in the late 1800s, where a LARGE chunk of land rose up out of the sea, completely re-shaping Wellington's waterfront and harbour ... prior to this quake, the shoreline was right at the Thistle's door. One photo on the wall shows some folks who had paddled up to the Thistle's door in canoes to go drinking.

Our current PM next to his satirised puppet.
The actual PM is the one on the bottom.

Around the corner from the Thistle and across from Parliament (but nowhere near Funkadelic) is the Backbencher. As the name suggests, this bar is often infested (erm, inhabited)  by politicians. But also, by normal, likeable people.

Like the Thistle, Neil pointed out that the Backbencher now features some top-end craft NZ beer. And despite two debilitating fires over the last couple of years, the place is up and running, and is still festooned with its trademark draw: the well-made yet mockingly satirical puppets (BIG puppets) that satirize well-known NZ politicians and sports stars.

What does any of this have to do with Xmas? Not much ... except I recall working a contract gig (two actually) in Thorndon in the mid-naughties, and both bars were deployed as cheeky locations for liquid lunches around Xmas, in mid-December.

The Thistle was especially marked as a destination for Friday afternoon, après-work drinks – aside from the many offices in the area, there is a University across the street, and every branch of the NZ military has offices in that zone too. So it was a cool mix of business types, students, military folks, and contract workers like me and my shady mates.

So how to end this meandering, lurching, unfocussed bit o' blogging? Well, like it started, I guess. My brother has three days of completely wrong, silly, girly-man time left in November to continue his insane ranting about ... well, you know.  If he posts again, he shall be mocked ... then I suppose it'll be OK, as December will be upon us.

Then all manner of Xmas hell will ensue.

And there's the December rumpus. Things will undoubtedly get far too Xmassy for my tastes, as usual ... except for the one positive thing that goes down in my office gig here. There is an unwritten law that stipulates every woman here who can bake, MUST bake, and bring said baked goods into the office for all to sample and judge. It is a contest ... a competition between all the bakers, to see who can garner the biggest raves for their efforts.

And the winner? No contest ... it's ME of course! Nom-nom-nom.

Now I must get back to something resembling work ... and/or watching a hockey game on my computer.

Oh and hey, looking for some more grins? Mosey on over to Brew-Ha-Ha and see what Don's up to today (besides drinking and taking incoherent notes on the beers he's chugging). ... seems he's haggling with Hemingway, über-drinking some Unibroue 17, and getting KO'd on some King Heffy.

Until next time, I'm still