bear

“Versatile”? Don’t you mean “random”?

My Fellow Inebriates,

I’ve been avoiding something.

It’s not like there aren’t plenty of things I avoid. Responsibility, work, paying for things, sobriety—avoidance is pretty much my M.O. But when you start avoiding good things, you have to ask yourself why.

Case in point: The Versatile Blogger Award.

Astonishingly, I’ve been tapped twice for this honor—first by Emily (The Waiting) and next by Red (Momma’s Money Matters). My embarrassed thanks to them both. I hope they’ll forgive me if I accuse them of confusing versatility with randomness 😉

Understanding this award and how it works didn’t come easily to me despite clear instructions and encouragement from these terrific writers. I’ve simply been too drunk, but I think I finally get what I need to do:

  • Accept the award (humbly, gratefully)
  • Bore you with seven facts about my furry self
  • Share the love with 15 of my favorite bloggers
  • Tell them about it

First. I’ve proudly posted the award on my front page. Yay! It feels good to look at it. Maybe I’ll get inspired to turn my life around, crawl out of the bottle, find some normalcy. LOL.

Second. Just the facts, bear.

  1. My retail price was $5. It was a charity deal: buy two bears for $10—one goes to charity, one goes home with the customer. I went home with the customer. I shudder to think where my drunken twin went. Probably gutting it out with teetotalers somewhere.
  2. I live with two little girls, age 4 and 6. They love me, but thankfully they love puppies and ponies more. This is what has spared me from the Maytag and the sewing needle (so far).
  3. Whenever the family vacations, I go too, along with one other bear. Sometimes we cause trouble because the people we visit are bothered by our constant presence at the breakfast table, in front of the TV, etc. One of us caused a fight once by giving a relative the finger.
  4. I’m addicted to an online game called Wrestler Unstoppable. My avatar is called “LB the Alcoholic Bear.” He does okay, depending on his fur-alcohol level.
  5. Despite considerable effort, I can’t find my junk. I know it must be somewhere under my fur, because I doubt I’d find Dolly quite so intriguing otherwise, but nothing’s turned up, and Dolly says she’s not helping any more.
  6. My dad runs an audio-visual business and my mum’s an editor. They are totally boring.
  7. I get upset when I hear about drinking and driving.

Third. Now that the factoids are out of the way, here’s to my much more accomplished peers.

The Waiting: The Joys and Toils of Growing a Baby. Not just your average mommy blog, this site bubbles with ear-to-the-ground culture. Worth seeing for Nyan Cat, but then there’s so much more…

Momma’s Money Matters: Money and Parenting Advice from a Momma of Ten. Daunting on two accounts, this blog tackles things that would otherwise be incomprehensible to me—money and parenting. If only Red could see our bookkeeping…

Yoyo-Dyne Propulsion Systems: Reno Division—Fear and Loathing in Reno. Versatile with a capital V, this humorous site is an intelligent oasis, and never afraid to be dark.

The Bloggess. Can I include this one? If I can’t, well, blame the booze. Post a tagline like “For the love of God. Let my vagina sleep” and I’ll read it. For sure. But she looks like she could kill me.

Taylor's Dan Lacey painting?

It’s Taylor Made: No Refunds Accepted. I suspect Taylor outbid me on a Dan Lacey painting I desperately wanted. Big points for art appreciation.

Good Spirits News: The world of spirits & cocktails in the news. Comprehensive and professional, this is my go-to for thorough, insightful booze reviews.

On My Square: Trying to figure life out…and keep confusion down. Real life, real humanity, real humor. Impossible to read this and not care deeply.

Snide Reply: Where I Talk Back to Life. Satisfying, well-crafted writing about parenting.

Eldon: We Specialize in Awkward. Poignant yet hilarious and strikingly honest.

Okay, so I’m halfway there. My typist is disappearing to take the kids to a playdate, which means it’s time to tackle the corkscrew again. Maybe this time I can manage it…

()wned! by CALIFORNIA CULT CLASSICS 2010 CHARDONNAY

My Fellow Inebriates,

California Cult Classics new label

I got my paws on something very special this week—something that probably should have been saved for a special occasion. But a new booze arrival is impossible to resist after the sort of liquor drought we’ve been suffering at LBHQ. I couldn’t help it—the bottle was urging me, speaking to me, singing to me—and once the voices in my head chimed in I couldn’t help it. I pestered my parents to get out that big bottle-opening thingie and save us from sobriety.

The bottle in question contained a 2010 chardonnay bottled at California Cult Classics, an elite North Vancouver outfit where oenophiles, celebrities, and Vancouver Canucks convene to produce and enjoy wine made from extremely select Napa Valley grapes and painstakingly crafted to a world-class standard. Ahhhh!

You cannot find CCC wine in your neighborhood liquor store; it is strictly for personal consumption and not for resale. CCC members plunk down $10,000 to embark on a two-year wine-making journey, at the end of which they walk away with 288 bottles of vino so exquisite as to make them weep with joy. At approximately $35 per bottle, CCC wine compares favorably with wine that retails for $150 in stores. It is not something alcoholics, or alcoholic bears for that matter, usually invest in.

So how on earth did I acquire it?

Well, my dad knows a lovely person named Pixie, who read my lament about our near-bare liquor cabinet, and asked him to take me some wine and vodka.

So how would you interpret that, my peeps? I think she meant these gifts were just for me, don’t you? Predictably, my parents thought they were included, and since they have thumbs that enabled them to extract the special Sardinian Ganau cork from the wine bottle, they did open it and freeload off me.

Not my granny but she could be yours

I felt a particular urgency to drink this chardonnay because that varietal was the favorite of my granny who died last month. I was afraid that if we left it in the house she would come back from the dead as a zombie and look for it.

And so we poured it.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! A heady tropical aroma wafted to my nose with knee-weakening significance—this is not a wine to be messed with. At full refrigeration it was almost too cold to appreciate fully, and I had to battle some mean-ass DTs while I waited for it to hit optimal temperature.

People talk about chardonnays being buttery, and sometimes I think those people are full of crap, but I kid you not, friends, this chardonnay is buttery. Buttery and creamy, rich with vanilla, sensuous and transporting. This is not a wine to swill absentmindedly while you play Farmville. This wine will make you weak at the knees. Full-bodied and subtly oaked, it beckons from the glass, tantalizing, urging, promising, fulfilling. This wine OWNED me, people.

I can’t imagine I’d be very welcome at California Cult Classics in North Vancouver. It’s a very pristine winery, and bears have been known to host at least 30 types of parasites, including “coccidian protozoans, flukes, tapeworms, intestinal roundworms, lungworms, filarial worms, lice, fleas, ticks, and mites.” I don’t think the CCC people would let me add the yeast to the fermentation tank.

A better bet might be getting to know Pixie. Between you and me, I can’t stop thinking about her. Maybe she would let me ride to California Cult Classics in her purse. That’s how my friend Scarybear went to see Avatar.

I’m going to stalk Pixie from afar for a while and see what happens.

SINGHA Lager

My Fellow Inebriates,

After spending the afternoon wondering if a can of light beer was going to drop out of the sky and clock me in the head, I decided to stop wishing and buy some beer myself.

My pal Stevie O had recently enthused:

SINGHA from Thailand. Epic refreshing quality; the head is thick and sticks to the glass. Really mature; crisp taste with a herb-like dance on the tongue to finish. Hats off to SINGHA. GOOD STUFF.

So SINGHA was top of my procurement list today. But I had some distractions. Red Bear, one of the other bear denizens in the house, had a sudden realization, upon being dressed in a ravishing green frock by the little people here, that perhaps she had been a girl bear all along. What a mind-bending discovery after three years of hanging around the house commando like us boy bears.

You just can’t tell with bears.


I’ve been hunting for my junk for a long time, people, and I’d be lying if I said I knew for sure it was under my southern fur. I figure it’s there, otherwise I wouldn’t get so excited watching Megan Fox. That and the fact that I like hockey, even when the Canucks are getting reamed.


Today’s toast is to Red Bear’s sexual self-actualization and fashion metamorphosis, as well as my own offensive oversimplification of gender stereotypes. You’re welcome. Red Bear rocked that dress and made me start thinking about arranging a hook-up with Blackie Bear, if I can get him off the couch. And for our toast, here’s SINGHA from Thailand.

At 5% alcohol it’s a little stronger than some lagers, and very refreshing. Pale and ephemerally fizzy, SINGHA is best drunk icy cold and in large quantity.

Photo gallery: Thailand crowns its newest transgender beauty queen