Sugar and Butter = Wired Jay

Sienna's off doing a night-shift on the baby-ward at KGH, so I'm minding the fort (i.e. mashing up butter and brown sugar in a bowl and eating it while watching nba.com highlights -- wish that was a joke). So, yeah, I'm kind of ramped up from the sugar. . . It's a bit of an issue. When I was 6 or 7, I used to take off on my bike, go to the convenience store, buy $5 or $6 worth of candy (I was always a good saver, and besides, dad's dresser had enough loose change make up any shortages) and chocolate (which, for you young folk, back in '86-'87 was a hell of a lot of candy), bike to the bleachers behind the catholic public school and gorge myself until I could barely breathe. Good times. It could be much worse, I tell Sienna, I could like booze, or drugs, you know? Candy seems pretty harmless. That said, I could probably race a hummingbird's heart right now. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. . .

The comic hasn't been up for a while, and I'm starting to think it might not make it back. I started posting it again to get enough together to get rejected by some big faceless whatever. So maybe I'll get on that. . . I don't know. I think most of the humor in the comic depends on knowing us, and relating that to the fictionalized versions.

Alright, so you might be thinking -- "sugar and butter? what the hell is wrong with you?"; well, you know when you're a kid, and your mom or dad is making a cake or something -- the first two ingredients are almost always sugar and butter (or shortening -- works just as well), and once they get mixed up, you throw a finger in there and you've got a pretty good thing going.

I went to the gym on Saturday night, looking for an empty net or a pick-up basketball game -- I didn't really find either, but I did end up playing some pretty intense dodge ball for a little over and hour. Now I consider myself to be in reasonable shape, since I play a lot of ball, and I throw a three year old around for most of the day, but the Sunday morning I woke up in the body of a 50 year-old man. Good lord. I guess it's a different set of muscles, but dodge ball kicked my ass. I was happy with my fitness during the game (alright, so the part where you start lying down, have to get up, and out-run your opponent to the ball, that wasn't going to happen against 19 year-olds; my joints aren't that spry), but the next day Sienna said I looked like I was riding a horse as I walked around. Bow-legged McGee and the broken tendons.

I'm supposed to be booking a new gig for the band, so I'll try and get on that. I've been doing a bit of recording work, thanks to Robert Graham (of the Wolfe Island Grahams), in my studio, which has been fun; and I also took my show into the Dorian Music Studios to record a single with my boss Tim -- so that stuff kind of counts as doing work for the band, right?

The KSSC rec basketball league starts up next week, hopefully most of the high-fives end up on the same team again, and we can recreate our majestic march to 5th place. . . I'm growing my hair out so I can tie it back -- allegedly, if you can see your teammates, you'll be a better passer. Time will tell. All the shooting practice at Queen's seems like it's starting to pay off, so hopefully I won't continue my general 0 for 5 first half shooting streaks. Hell, what I should really do is just concentrate on being a good point-guard (you know, 'cause when you're a little guy that can't drive the hoop, you should probably be able to pass).

Hope this post finds you all healthy and happy. Lay off the sugar and butter, unless you want to write long rambling blog posts, in which case, go ahead.

Jay.