Dear Diary

13 weird things that I enjoy:

1. Primus. I first heard Tommy the Cat on the soundtrack to Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey, and I was instantly hooked.
2. Crushed-up soup crackers in chocolate pudding lends that needed extra crunch.
3. How I miss Freakazoid.
4. Top of the Food Chain—one of the funniest spoofs of Golden Age SF movies ever. Set in Exceptional Vista, which ain't been right ever since the nut factory closed down.
5. Terror of Tiny Town—not the movie, which I've yet to see, but the now-defunct punkish band from Vancouver, so obscure I can't even find 'em on Google. They had a delightful polka (with accordion!) called "Kim Philby":
   

   Now Philby and his friends, Lloyd, Burgess, and McLean
   They were the upper-class pride and joy
   Britannia never suspected until they defected
   She'd get screwed by a public-school boy

6. I've always enjoyed walking backwards. I don't know why. As a youth I practiced doing it till I didn't have to constantly look over my shoulder. It's kind of handy in judo, so I guess it all worked out.
7. Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town is easily the weirdest novel I've ever read. I enjoyed it, too. As opposed to Doug, who seems to have disliked it for some of the reasons I liked it. Oh well. Diff'rent strokes etc.
8. The Nature of Nicholas was one of the creepiest movies I've ever enjoyed. Not horror, not completely, but surreal in a crawly way.
9. I'm a fan of etymology, and so when my sister and her family bought me The Oxford Dictionary of Word Histories, I was beside myself. My wife just kind of rolled her eyes.
10. I don't really care much for the myths of Rome and Greece, but I'm hugely interested in the myths of the north. I suppose that's not so weird…
11. Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter, a weird and offbeat little film from Ottawa. Best line: "If I'm not out in five minutes, call the Pope." (Although my wife's partial to the Virgin Mary's line: "Lesbians, God love them. They get so much done in a day.")
12. Leaf lettuce, straight from the garden, rinsed and then sprinkled oh-so-lightly with sugar, is delicious.
13. And the last one, inherited from my father: French toast with butter, salt and pepper, and strawberry jam. I always assumed this little gourmandic oddity came from the Welsh side of his family tree, but no; apparently he started eating it that way up in the north so no one else would try to steal it off his plate. Who knew?