No sex please, we’re British

I am now the world’s number one authority on Beng@li p*rn sites. And Eth!opic p*rn sites.

Ian Hickson (aka Hixie)

So far the only thing I’m an authority on is me (which I guess is good). I’m amazed to see the lengths some people will go in searching for their terms, though; my logs show that I’m on page 30 for Chris Leavins, page 32 for Lark Voorhies, and page 49 for Christopher Mather (a combination that happens to appear on one of my brother’s family tree pages).

And the only reason I chose the title, other than Hixie’s quote, is that I saw a clever pun last night in a store window in Toronto, advising patrons of their policies: No sacs please, we’re British.

Photo of the sign

I modified Ian’s quote slightly this evening in the hopes that this page will soon disappear from searches for these terms.

Do you have to dial 416 for a pretend phone call?

It’s 4 a.m. as I start to type this, but I’m hardly tired. I just returned from C’est What in Toronto, the only stop on Lenni Jabour and The Third Floor’s Come Back Tour. (I took lots of photos, which I haven’t edited yet… I’m obviously not particularly adept at using my digital camera.)

Some quick notes which I’ll fill in later:

  • There are few things better than walking into a club and hearing Vilma Vitols singing Weill/Brecht during her sound check. (Missed the name of her pianist.)
  • Chanced to meet three of the York students—Andrew, Sarah, and Alison, plus their friend Darcy—now all grads, that I’d met at Rancho Relaxo in February. Completely failed (again) to hit it off with Alison.
  • Finally saw Paula Skimin, tapdanceuse extraordinaire, and drummer David Peters. She reminds me of a healthy-looking Aimee Mann. Missed the name of her drummer; she also danced to Drew’s solo double bass.
  • As of Sunday, September 15, the phrase damn cute is officially declared to begin with the letter C.
  • There’s a fourth floor. Happy birthday, Mr. Bannercramp!
  • Natasha has the worst luck. (Play the flipping music, Lenni!) Alex has the best shoes, and a very nice voice.
  • If Gabe wasn’t written about me (and I’m certain it wasn’t) then I wish it had been. (cf. C. Simon, You’re So Vain) I’ve got a new favourite song.
  • Too many encores to keep track of. The club was packed to the gills with fans—sitting on the floor in front of the stage, in several cases—which made it difficult for Rosalita to hula hoop (twice!).
  • Fanboy moments: a hug before the show, and a smooch (!) after.
  • The show ended at about 12:30; by 1:57 I had hits on my site (referred from Lenni’s).

And the answer to the question posed above, based on keen observation, is yes.