Did You Read it?

A plethora of books have crossed over onto the big screen, Harry Potter, Twilight, The Hunger Games, Perks of Being a Wallflower…  I’ve seen the movies, but have I read the books? No.

It’s not that I don’t read. It’s just that I don’t read the kind of stuff that makes it to film — usually.

Eons ago, back when I handed in term papers that were pounded out on a typewriter, I laughed my way through a book titled Oh, God written by Avery Corman. I thought it was brilliant. When the book became a movie I took it as a personal compliment. I So Smart 🙂

One book after the other, I devoured Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles. There was no way I would have missed seeing Interview with the Vampire — with or without Tom Cruise.

During Pride Week a few years back, I found a book by André Aciman titled Call Me By Your Name. A powerfully personal story told with subtlety and skill, Call Me By Your Name is now a stunningly beautiful movie.

Did you read it? Yes. Yes, I did. 🙂

Aimer at Amazon


Lucky in Vegas

Eyes on his laptop, Brian searched Air Canada’s website for flights to Vegas. “The Belagio is supposed to be nice.”

“Yeah?” David wasn’t really listening to the man sitting on the other side of their kitchen table. He opened the Expedia website on his own laptop, typed Las Ve — “Wait, what?”

“The Belagio, Eric and Daniel stayed there last month. They said,” Brian looked up from his screen. “It was —”

“You are so full of shit.”

“What? They said the Belagio was excellent. Nice rooms, great pool, sumptuous spa.”

Brian was a bad actor. He couldn’t do innocent, not without a lobotomy. That tick at the side of his mouth, the one that said he was holding back a smile, gave him away every time.

“Yeah? Nice. Sounds good. We’re going to the Venetian.”

Brian shook his head, turned back to his screen. The small twitch at the side of his mouth became a full-on smile. “It’s not the only hotel on the Strip, you know.”

David didn’t bother answering that bit of heresy because they both knew that it was the only hotel on the strip — for them. “Find a flight.”


Brian turned from the window and his view of blue sky and white clouds over rust coloured mountains. “We’re descending.” He plugged his phone into the outlet between the seats, opened a game he’d become addicted to. “You know, we haven’t been to the Venetian in a while. They might have renovated, redecorated.”

“No, they haven’t.” David heard the smug in his voice. There was no way Brian missed it.

“You called and asked, didn’t you?”


“Unbelievable. You actually asked if they still had —”

“Give me some credit. I wasn’t specific. I just said we were very happy with our room last time we were there and asked if the rooms were still the same.” David sighed his satisfaction. “I was assured that they were.”

“Happy with the room,” Brian grinned. “Yeah, that was it.”


A five hour flight, a ten minute taxi ride, more time than David wanted to spend standing in line at check-in and they were finally in the elevator. Brian hit the button for their floor and his eyes locked with David’s.

The door hushed closed behind them. They dropped their bags and took in the room. Same railing dividing the room in two, same set of steps leading to the lower sitting area. Same king size bed and yeah, same —

“Still here.” Brian was already unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yep.” David kicked his shoes off.

The ensuite washroom boasted a flat screen you could see from the shower, the bath was big enough for two, and the towels were luxurious. The bed linen had a high thread count, the pillows were exactly right and the view of the strip was amazing at night, but none of those things mattered all that much to Brian and David. They were faithful to the Venetian because of the bench.

It wasn’t anything fancy, not by Vegas standards. A simple, solid piece of furniture, it sat at the foot of the bed. Upholstered to coordinate with the room, most people probably never saw it as more than a place to dump their suitcases.

Like everything else in Vegas, the bench’s magic rested in a happy coincidence of numbers. The height of the bench, the depth of its cushion, the relation of bench to bed.Angles and proportions, they all worked together to describe a sensual geometry.

Coincidence and luck, the very elements that built this city. If the bench was a little narrower, Brian wouldn’t be able to kneel behind him. If it was a little higher, the mattress wouldn’t be at the perfect height to pillow David’s chest as he leaned over the bed.

They didn’t need a casino to get lucky in Vegas.

Aimer at Amazon

Happy Holidays

In the cold winter dark,
Lights strung on roofs,
Candles lit in windows.

Snowflakes and snowmen,
Smiles shared,
Stories told.

Presents and parties,
Family and friends,
And food, and food, and food.

And laughter.

And love.

Hanukkah 2

Since, of course, I’m nowhere near ready for the chaos that is about to descend on me this will be my last post until 2018.

Happy Holidays!

Aimer at Amazon

Trash or Treasure

I throw stuff out. If we’re not using it, it’s gone … I wish. Unfortunately, I share my house and my life with someone who likes to keep things. What if we need — insert article of your choice, anything from a noisy fan to an god-awful soup tureen — this someday?

If we needed it, it wouldn’t be hidden under five years of dust.

We’ve been negotiating this divide for decades now and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Our place, yesterday:

“I’ve going to have these old family videos converted to digital files.”
Silence. Stare.
“You still have to keep the original tapes. For backup.”

Huh? The whole point is to get rid of these things!

I’m guessing that my brilliant idea to scan pictures from our pile of photo albums — which we almost never drag out of the basement — and toss the albums won’t be appreciated.

I spend a lot of time muttering about hoarders, but …

This morning, in a drawer that in my opinion needs to be organized, I found two green plastic bangles. Bracelets that a nineteen year old me had purposely left after a first date. Forty-two years ago and my husband still has them.

bangle 2

Maybe some things are worth keeping 🙂

Aimer at Amazon

We Were Wrong

This past Tuesday, a crowded gallery in the House of Commons stood witness, as the Prime Minister apologized to the LGBTQ2 community for four decades of state-sponsored, systematic oppression and victimization.

It was all very emotional. Hugs, handshakes, and cheering in the House, but … does it matter? Will this admission of wrongdoing on behalf on the Canadian government change anything?

Does it matter?

Yes. It is a clear statement of where we stand as a nation today and a blueprint for tomorrow.

Will it change anything?

Will Trudeau’s speech stop the neighbours from staring when a same-sex couple kiss each other hello at their own front door? Will it save a transgender woman from being beaten as she steps off the bus on her way home from work? Will it stop all the crude jokes and cruel taunts on the school ground?

I don’t know.

Will it?

Aimer at Amazon





Land of Weird

You know about the cold, and the snow, and the igloos we all have in our backyards — didn’t fall for that last one, huh? Okay, busted.

I have a fir tree, one stubborn rose bush, and a miniature putting green in my backyard because no one in my house can be bothered to mow a lawn.

I’m not saying the travel brochures are wrong. We do have mountains and lakes and ski hills, or so I’ve been told. I spend most of my time in traffic so how would I know?

What the tourist blurbs don’t say is that we’re all just a little weird up here. We do things a little differently — even kidnapping.

In Alberta, a woman and her baby were forced into a car, her father shoved into the trunk. The weird part? The kidnappers were neighbours, went to the same church, and for some reason were — naked. No guns, no ransom notes, just … skin. Apparently, someone had been at the hallucinogenic tea.

Could Alberta just be ahead of the curve? Will the rest of us be flinging off our clothes and dragging our neighbours out of their houses and into our cars next summer when recreational marijuana becomes legal?

Nah, we’ll all be too busy sitting on our couches, surfing YouTube, and scarfing down space brownies 🙂

Aimer at Amazon






Cyber Cuddles

This is Charlie. He’s friendly and playful and he never has to go to the vet.

He wriggles and purrs, roars and wags his tail — affection for the price of four batteries.

Okay yes, he’s a toy. Does that matter if he makes you smile?

Charlie 2 (2)

Does it matter?

Now that our gadgets can talk to us, now that we have robots with artificial intelligence, now that sex dolls have a family mode and can interact with your kids …

Will the day come when we think that a relationship with an actual human being is too much trouble?

I’m pretty damn sure a robot would remember to buy milk. Just saying.

Aimer at Amazon



Advice For Young Men – 8 Tips for Not Behaving Like a Sexual Predator

If you are anywhere on the planet, you’ve heard the stream of sexual harrasment allegations blowing the lid off the movie industry.
Norm has a message for men everywhere and since he expresses that message far better than I ever could….
Here’s Norm :

Norm 2.0

For my newer followers my Advice for Young Men series usually pokes fun at the differences between men and women. You can read some previous installments here and here.

I’m overdue for a good rant though, so today’s post isn’t very funny. Then again, neither is the subject: sexual harassment and inappropriate sexual behavior by men.

Warning: If foul language offends you then I suggest you skip this post.

For everyone else, settle in for this listicle – 8 Tips for Not Behaving Like a Sexual Predator – sarcastically written specifically for guys who still don’t get it.

1. Learn how to hold your liquor.

Alcohol is often referred to as a great social lubricant. Yes it’s good for getting conversations flowing, but as someone who in his younger days once woke up with his winter boots and a parka on in a someone’s bathtub, I can confirm…

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Don’t talk to me

I don’t like to screw up. None of us do, but some people are smart about it. They shrug and learn and move on. Me? I get angry, mostly at myself. I whine and complain and want to drown myself. First child syndrome, it’s not pretty.

Because I live in fear of looking like an idiot, I don’t jump on new things quickly. It took me a while to wrap my head around it, but I talk to my phone now. Not on it, to it.

My car and I are real close, I’ve been talking to her for years. She’s really good with directions and she’s knows all my contact numbers.

As soon as the holidays roll around, the perfect time to load up on stuff you don’t need, I’ll be starting conversations with, “Ok, Google.” Apparently, smart speakers are well informed on current events and our taste in music.

It occurred to me yesterday as I chatted with my phone that I talk to a lot of gadgets, but people?

Hell no. That’s what texting is for  🙂

Aimer at Amazon