gor[b] Paul Gorbould: Words and Pictures

This might pinch a little

One of the great things about working on Front Street in Toronto is being able to look into the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, and seeing all the weird-ass things people hold conventions about.

This afternoon, an ad-bearing truck parked outside our office to advertise this product (apologies for the cellphone pic):

The product advertised: The Facet Gun. Looks a bit like a pop riveter, or a caulking gun. But when you look it up online, you can see it's used for quick 'n easy ... spinal surgery.

The Facet Gun is made by US Spine, a major manufacturer of spinal surgery equipment. Apparently it's "an entirely new type of posterior fixation" (oh man, the pun factor... can't... resist... "posterior fixation"... tee hee.) It quickly bolts on spinal implants. You know, in case you are up for a little DIY.

As my cellmate Kev says, the most disturbing part of this ad: "Shouldn't that guy be wearing gloves or something?"

As it turns out, the North American Spine Society  is holding their annual general meeting in Toronto. There's even some sort of workshop being held behind closed doors here in the CBC building. It's awfully tempting to crash the Cervical Spine Stabilization workshop or sneak into the Interbody Fusion Technologies class, although perhaps I'd be better suited for "An Introduction to Spine Care for Nonphysician Providers".

But it does amaze me - how many people walking past this mobile billboard are going to be in a position to make spinal surgery purchasing decisions? Obviously enough to keep US Spine in the green. And if you look at their Thoracolumbar products page, you'll see something even quicker and easier: a "Percutaneous Locking Facet Fixation" product called "LocTite". Yes, that LocTite - the guys who invented superglue.

Maybe you can do this spinal fusion stuff at home after all.

The perils of parking too close to a construction site

Spotted at King & Jarvis last week.

Actually it's a used car dealership, but still... I'll bet the sticker price is reduced on this model. If you could see the sticker.

Nice billboard placement too. Family getaways are certainly NOT right next door. That's an oozing wall of cement next door. And your family won't be going anywhere.

Urban signs of spring

At this time of year you can't help but stumble upon those "signs of spring" stories - you know, the crocuses peeping out, tulips in bloom, lovers going for strolls in the sunshine.

Let me tell you, there are precious few crocuses in downtown Toronto, and the lovers don't stroll until it gets dark on Jarvis. So I did an informal poll of my colleagues, and here's our tentative Urban Signs of Spring list. See if you agree, or if you can add any to the list:

1. A winter's worth of dog turds and cigarette butts resurfaces from beneath the snow.
2. The good mangos reappear in the stalls in Chinatown.
3. Don Juan's chip truck parks across the road for the first time. Don's back (from Greece to grease.)
4. Jays home opener. Reporters say, once again, that this year they have a chance.
5. All the women on Queen St. suddenly wearing giant sunglasses.
6. Beer drinkers on sidewalk patios, wearing parkas.
7. Male pigeons start acting... twitterpated.
8. Rickshaws rides available. New runners, same ads for hot oil body massages.
9. The guy that delivers the water is already wearing shorts.
10. Building management discusses removing bike carcasses from around the perimeter.
11. News outlets run their annual pothole stories.
12. Building management turns on air conditioning.

What did I miss? Let me know!

Register

I have a few vacation days to use up, so last week I took a couple of "Paulidays" - a day off for me to do... whatever it is I do when I'm not doing it for work.

This time around, it was nothing fun, per se, unless you define "fun" as replacing your faucets. And getting your carpets cleaned, your locks changed, etc. I'm still wrapping my head around this grown-up thing... blowing a thousand bucks on your vacation used to be way more fun than this.

Anyhow, a couple more items on Paul's List of Chores were taking some new pants in to get altered, and some shirts to get dry cleaned. Believe it or not that was actually a tiny bit of fun, if only because normally the only attention I pay to clothes is to wash them and frown at the wrinkles. What really made the trip, though, was that I got to wander down my stretch of Queen Street East and visit some genuine old school mom & pop stores.

Leslieville is a neighbourhood with a history. Hell, when they shot key scenes from Cinderella Man here, they didn't have to do anything to half the stores - and some of the others kept the movie fascades afterward - they were considered a marked improvement. (See my previous entry on that, plus my fleeting encounter with Russell Crowe.)

Anyhow, visits to both the tailor and the dry cleaners were like stepping into a time machine. Hand-painted signs, hand-tailored clothes. Linoleum floors. And yes, for what it's worth, the cleaners were Chinese and the tailor was Italian.

But the thing I had to take a picture of - and in a more modern store, would be discouraged from doing so - was the cash register in each place. Both were huge metal machines, painted in a faux woodgrain. Big, clanking buttons, and no hint of electricity (or much cash, actually.) Both had been in use in those locations for an estimated 40 years, and both had stories to go with them.

Above is the one from the cleaner - and notice that the fee for one dress shirt and one wool sweater was a rather reasonable $4.90. The family that runs the business bought it second-hand in the mid-1960s, but estimate that it's probably twice that old.

Here's the one from the tailor - with buttons for $1, $10, $20 and so on, and rectangular cards that pop up to display your purchase. The tailor did upgrade to a small electronic register - small enough to be stolen a few years later. So they went back to this model, which a thief would have a hell of a time tucking under his arm.

The tailoring was a little more expensive than the cleaning, but perhaps the two stores are in cahoots - the pants smell faintly of the Italian cigarettes the tailor no doubt smoked while he worked his magic. Yet another throwback. Still, smoke 'em while you got 'em - after generations in Leslieville, the tailor is closing down for good in a few months.

I wonder what will fill the gap in Queen St. E., and what they'll do with his register.