So I was clearing out the library today, packing up the various chemistry textbooks, V.C. Andrews novels, and back issues of Us (none mine, let’s make that clear) for a quick trip to the garage, when I happened across a box of photos. A lot of photos. Some dating back as recently as ten or eleven years ago when I first moved to Vancouver to work on an upstart little production called Stargate: SG-1, others going back as far as I can remember – and, occasionally, even further. Anyway, in an effort to quash internet rumors that I was built in a lab as a fully developed android and then released to spread chaos and terror on an unwary public, I give you photographic evidence that, in fact, I had a normal childhood. Or was built in a lab as an infant android and then released to spread chaos and terror on an unwary public while nanites developed my bio-synthetic form giving me the appearance of physical development.
One of the very first pictures of me. I loved that black and white teddy lying beside me. He went by the name of “Sacciotto Vecchio” which, I believe, “Old Bear” (not to be confused with “Sacciotto Grasso”, “Fat Bear” who came soon after). Eventually, he lived up to his namesake, growing so decrepit and ratty that my mother threw him out – leading me to rescue him out of the garbage. A year later, she tried again and succeeded.
Even back then, I had the look of a dubious diner. I’ll have to ask my mother about my eating habits but, from what I can recall, I was pretty adventurous. One of my favorite dishes was zabaglione – essentially an egg yolk and sugar, beaten and served. The spoon-feeding was a nice touch you don’t get in restaurants nowadays.
Ah, from an early age, my interest in the culinary arena was encouraged.
Also encouraged was my interest in music – that I apparently outgrew at the tender age of four. Had I pursued my youthful ambition, things could have turned out very different for me. Who knows? I could have been a guitarist for Platinum Blonde.
Angry and unusually sensitive. Not much has changed.
Presumably I am praying that the serial killer dressed up as creepy Santa spares me.
Sis and I and our glorious Christmas tree. For years, whenever the holidays approached, we would assemble the silver monstrosity, happily slotting the tinsel-festooned metal rods into place and then adorning the whole with blue balls – until my sister eventually complained and we ended up getting a real tree, much to my disappointment.
Another one of Sis and me hanging out in someone’s backyard. It’s interesting to note I perfected the comb-over at such an early age.
And yet another one of Sis and me, this time enjoying the great outdoors. Damn, Montreal gets cold in the winter. I frostbit my ears so badly once that now, whenever the temperature drops to around zero, my ears turn a festive rosy red.
And look at the fine, upstanding young man I eventually became. The hair is a little shorter but, other than that, I haven’t changed all that much.
Tomorrow, Ivon and Rob come over for football – and a slow port and veal demi-glace-braised medley of short ribs, ox-tail, and veal cheek served over parsnip mash. My Snow Monkeys are looking to make it 4-1. Wish us luck!
GO SNOW MONKEYS!!!
Today’s entry is dedicated to blog regular Lisa R.