I Like Things That Are Great

The soccer game was a particularly joyous occasion today, since Toronto F.C. didn't just score their first goal, they also notched their first win in franchise history. While this is good news for the team, it's bad news for fans with creative chants. I laughed out loud at a chant early in Saturday's contest --- a surprisingly large group of fans started singing "All we are saying/Is give us a goal," to the tune of the John Lennon song. It was pretty clever. Next up, a citation of every man on the TFC roster to the tune of We Didn't Start The Fire.

If you're looking for a band name, you could do a lot worse than a two-word name with 'fight' as the second word. The possibilities are endless. Clown Fight. Duck Fight. Hamburger Fight. Ant Fight. Almost any noun can be used as the first word and it still sounds cool.

I'm getting wider. Normally my weight gain has been limited to my gut and ass, but now I think that my bone structure is somehow morphing from a circle into a gradually expanding rhombus. Perhaps the Plastic Man picture on this blog is more accurate than I had thought. On the bright side, I may now be able to pull off the nickname of the Wall. What's more wide and solid than a wall? Nothing, that's what. It even rhymes --- I can call the blog, "Wolivision."

I was in Markham last night eating and bowling with my friend Joanne and her boyfriend. The evening got off to a late start after Joanne and I missed our turn off of Highway Seven and ended up driving through pretty much all of Markham before realizing our mistake. Despite my first name, I'd never actually been to Markham before. What a perfect place to indulge in narcissism. "Where do you live, Mark? "Oh, I live in Markham. Near the Markville Mall. On Mark Street. In Mark Manor. With my roommate, Marky Mark Wahlberg." Ooh wait, forget that Wall nickname. If I got wider, people would just call me Mark Wall-berg instead. Dammit. That's a bad vibration.

By the way, is Markham made up of one big shopping plaza, or just a thousand mini-plazas? It was hard to tell. Do people actually live there, or just shop there? Or is it a society entirely based on commerce, like the Ferengi in Star Trek?

Fighting through Toronto's traffic only to drive onto the Don Valley Parkway is like being punched in the face continually for a half-hour, and then suddenly getting a ten-minute back massage. I love the DVP. I legitimately think it's the most scenic part of the city. The rolling hills, the artistically-arranged concrete overpasses, the glorious wide lanes. It makes me feel like I'm in Los Angeles.

I haven't forgotten about you, Lakeshore Boulevard! You're also awesome. I'm happy that my sublet is relatively near the intersection of Lakeshore and the DVP. It's like sharing a manger next to Jesus.

The announcers for the Professional Poker Tour sound exactly alike. It makes for an unsettling broadcast. It's like listening to Vin Scully call a Dodgers game by himself, but if Vin had schizophrenia. Vin should do this for a game, just for the hell of it. They're not going to fire him.