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Lost Pets -- a Moral Decision

2007-06-27T13:04:00.000-06:00

So I'm walking home from the bus through the back alley the other day, and I see a hastily put together poster for a Lost Cat that answers to the name of "Cindy".

Now Cindy the Cat has been lost for approximately 5 days at this point and her owners are worried sick about her. If you have any information on Cindy the Cat's whereabouts, you are asked to call XXX-XXXX.

CASH REWARD OFFERED

That last bolded sentence is the most loaded moral question that I have come across in quite some time. This is either an indication that I have a boring life, or that I'm so bored right now (on a break from class) that I can think of nothing else...

More to the point, as a general good-do'r and a fine upstanding citizen of my community, shouldn't it simply be expected that I would NOT take the reward?

I mean, think about it. Chances are that if I "find" Cindy, it's because she has somehow wandered into my back yard after hunting down one of the bazillion jack rabbits or magpies in my community. In other words, she found me and not vice versa... I doubt very much there are people that make their living by actually attempting to FIND a lost pet when they see the advertisements and then collecting the bounty!

So, with Cindy in hand, you have two options. To take the cash reward or not.

1. If you take the reward (remember, at most you've probably just stumbled across the pet), but really haven't done any work, are you TRULY entitled to a reward?

I mean, I suppose there are some caveats here. Maybe you had to feed the pet for a while, as you try to get in contact with the owners. Or maybe the little S.O.B. has crapped in a flower bed or torn out some flowers, or something like that, so you do have out of pocket expenses (to replace the flowers or even your opportunity cost to fixing the place up again).

2. But, if you take the reward, are you risking a social stigma?

I mean, really, who DOES take the reward these days? And, by taking the reward, is it not a signal that you could be that "pyscho" that kidnaps pets and holds out for the ransom...errrr, the reward?

Quite frankly, I'm not prepared to take that risk.

(P.S. It's only Wednesday -- Day 3 of a 5 day course. Depending on how slow things go, you may see more posts like this during the rest of this week)!

Does Facebook mean the death of Blogger?

2007-06-27T12:55:00.000-06:00

Admittedly, I never update this blog anymore for four main reasons.

1. School / Work.

With more responsibility at work, plus with homework demands (when I'm in school), I'm finding that I have less and less time to actually sit down to pound out a blog entry. Or with the time I DO have, I prefer to work around the home rather than type up an entry.

2. Lack on interest / motivation.

You grow old and you do less crazy shit. For a blog that was DEDICATED to crazy shit performed by me and my friends, this may just create the death blow for this site. Notwithstanding my recent "homeless drunk" episode with the Blairs a few weeks ago, there are fewer and fewer "crazy stories" that come out of situations where we drink a case of Beer in Kelsey's living room.

Thus, with a lack of great content, it's only long periods of boredom (or hot button issues) that push me to write on here any more.

3. Does anyone read this?

I'm not tech savvy enough to include a feature that reports "you're blog was viewed X number of times this month". Without any feed back from people -- hell, even the fact that I have to DIRECT people to read this site -- I'm not too worried about not publishing anything because I know that no one is missing it.

4. Facebook.com

Facebook is in no ways a direct competitor to Blogger. But yet it IS a time-waster kind of site and that's why I no longer really blog. Trying to find your best friend from grade 2? Well...you can do that with Facebook whereas it's unlikely that same person will somehow stumble across your blog.

And when you consider that just today I gave a virtual dropkick to someone's head today in Facebook, that's a heck of a lot more fun than spending X minutes pounding out a blog entry.

Athens

2007-05-21T21:52:00.000-06:00

By the time we hit Athens, we were getting a bit tired of lugging the camera out all the time. Not to mention the fact that most of the monuments were under restoration work, meaning that getting a shot without a crane, piece of scaffold, etc. was impossible. Still, we managed to get some good photos.

This was a lot of fun in Athens -- open air rooftop theatres! As with all theatres we went to, you could drink during the movie (in this place, you could bring in your own booze). The views of the Acropolis (below) were AMAZING while watching the show.

Acropolis at night.

Theatre of Dionysious.

Theatre of Herod Atticus. This one has been fully restored and is actually used today for such things like Yanni concerts.

This is the Temple of Athena. When we were there, it was being COMPLETELY dismantled, stone by stone, and then put back in place to correct previous restoration errors.

The Erechtheion (both of the above pictures) was one of the very few monuments with no construction equipment set up to repair it.

The Parthenon (a.k.a. the grand daddy of all Greek Monuments). It was amazing seeing so many "wonders of the world" this trip. One fact that I did not know about the Parthenon was that during 1687, the Venetians bombarded Turkish troops stationed in Greece. An errant cannon ball hit a ton of gun powder stored in the Parthenon, causing significant damage!

There was a museum at the Acropolis. Half of it was shut down when we were there, but it holds some of the finer pieces of stone work from the site -- like this scene of a lion devouring a bull.

It's not tough to see what impacts the monuments and why they need to be constantly restored. The Acropolis is a high hill that is constantly exposed to wind. With the fine sand on top of the Acropolis, wind erosion has GOT to be a huge factor.

You were actually very close to the marble structures on the Acropolis. It was only AFTER Cori had touched these columns that we saw the "do not touch the marble" signage.

This is the Temple of Olympian Zeus. It's not as big of a draw as the acropolis (featured in the back ground).

We ran into our ten billionth "time share vendors" just outside the gates...although at the time we didn't know it. This chick had us do a survey and she asked what we DIDN'T like about Athens -- and we said "all those people at the bus stop that harrass you". That line shut her up and we got to leave scot-free. Sadly, others would be much more persistent -- and since there was absolutely NO hiding the fact that we were tourists, we had to grin and bear it any time we walked by Syntagma Square.

This is the old olympic stadium.

These four photos were taken at the Archeological Museum in Athens. It's one of the worlds best museums if you are into that kind of stuff. But to be honest with you, my mind glazed over looking at vase after statue after tombstone carving.

Sunset in Santorini

2007-05-21T21:48:00.000-06:00

Santorini

2007-05-21T21:29:00.001-06:00

I LOVED Greece. Our time on Santorini was much more relaxed and their weren't as many people. Plus, we went to a topless beach...so, you know... : )

Santorini is THE Greek Holiday destination with good reason. The weather is amazing, the people are friendly, and the views spectacular. The history of Santorini is amazing. Santorini was formed as the result of volcanic activity.

In 1500 B.C. the single largest recorded volcanic explosion in the history of mankind occurred which completely destroyed the Minoan culture living on the island. Part of Santorini fell into the ocean and the resulting tidal waves were 100 meters high! Our tour guide on the volcano tour stated that the explosion was heard 3 times around the world! The submerged portion of the island is called the caldera, and almost every single restaurant / hotel overlooks this stunning landscape.

These four pictures are a great way to demonstrate why we loved Santorini. It's just like every postcard of the Mediteranian you've ever seen.

Partial view of the Caldera below.

And here's how you can get up / down to the Old Port. The climb from Fira (the main town on the island) is 600+ steps. If walking and donkey's aren't your thing, you can take a cable car ride.

Here is me at the summit of the volcano. It is still slightly active -- there were gas vents that you could see the steam rising from. The Greeks on the island do not fear the volcano -- there is a tracking station on the volcano which would give them plenty of time to leave.

Instead, they are more afraid of earthquakes! In the 50's, an earthquake hit the island and nearly leveled every home and shop.

This is a shot from an underground wine museum we took. Greek wine is unique in that the grapes have VERY low yeilds due to lack of water. So, if you are wondering why Greek wine is more expensive, that's why.

There is a funny story about this day, we had to take a bus to the wine museum but it wasn't a dedicated stop. The bus driver flew by the museum (even though I asked him ahead of time to stop) and it took me some time to try to explain to this guy (who did not, apparently, speak a word of English; nor I any Greek) to stop the bus so me and Cori could get off the bus.

Corinna orders the large drink from Franco's bar!

This is Murphy's pub...a great bar to visit in Santorini. They play mainly hits from the 80's (yesss....) and you meet all sorts of people. The drinks are cheap (9 Euro each) but the good news is that they free pour! Happy hour prices were 2-for-1 (so we went to town) and our waitress kept giving us free shots on the house 'cause we were tipping her.

Rome in a day

2007-05-19T11:58:00.000-06:00

We only had one day in Rome and had to make the most of it. Here we go!

These aren't that significant; but it just shows you some of the stuff that you see all over Rome.

This is the base of the Spanish Steps. Famed for being (at the time of completion) the widest and longest staircase in all of Europe.

Here are the steps themselves. Personally, I didn't see what made them SO special, but I'm not a history buff so maybe their significance is lost on me. In any event, the point of the Steps was to allow people a convenient way to reach the church (pictured at the top).

Pagan Temple (pre-Christianity).

These two photos are of the STUNNING Trevi Fountain. It's very difficult (with the crowds and the space) to get in all of the magnificence of these fountains.

This is the Pantheon -- it is nearly 100% intact from the time it was built (125 AD -- reconstructed after a fire in 80 AD destroyed it). It is simply the best preserved Roman building in all of the city and means "Temple of all the Gods".

Here is one quick photo we snapped inside the Pantheon. There are many people buried there from many different time periods (such as Rapheal - the famous painter). It is now used as a church, with masses and WEDDINGS (if you can believe it) held there regularly.

Next to St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City, this Basilica -- St. Paul's -- is the next largest.

I'm not certain if this is meant to be a statue OF St. Paul, but you'll notice the ominous way he is carrying that sword.

These two photo's are NOT paintings. These are actually mosaics with individually laid stone / gem. I don't know how long it took to creat these master pieces, but they were amazing!

Michealangelo was commissioned to do 40 statues for St. Paul's cathedral. Unfortunately, he only completed this one -- a statue of Moses. A number of the other uncompleted works are found in the Effuzi Museum in Florence.

Finally, I found this to be a bit macabre -- I'm not certain what it depicts (our tour guide -- the only one we booked during our whole trip) did not elaborate on it, nor was he even allowed to speak inside the church!

Here is what I REALLY wanted to see in Rome -- the Colliseum! You'll no doubt recognize this ancient wonder of the world (if only from the movie Gladiator). The building was amazing to behold...but tough to take a picture, again because of the crowds. Cori and I would have loved to enter the building, but the line ups were hours long and we just didn't have time.

This is Emporer Titus' Arc of Triumph and is actually a historical document. The detail in the arch depicts a scene of slavery of Jewish individuals (in the time of the Old Testament). While that arc is spectacular, it pales in comparison to this one:

This is Emperor Constantine's Arc of Triumph. Much larger and more ornate than the first one, it was erected AFTER Constantine converted to Christianity (thanks to his mother). This led the way for the introduction of Catholicism in Rome and the real establishment of the Church. Finally, Christians were no longer persecuted for their beliefs!

All the small things

2007-05-19T11:42:00.000-06:00

Here are the last few photos to wrap up Florence.

Everyone knows that people drive scooters all over the place in Europe. But they aren't the only little vehicles that you'll see on the street!

I can't even begin to think why someone would actually want this...

Yes, someone actually does use this door!

Shops in Italy close for up to two hours (or longer) in the afternoon.

This was kinda cool about all the theatres we went to -- you could DRINK BOOZE in the theatre. This one happens to be an old opera hall. We're sitting on the first balcony watching "The Good Shepard" in Florence.

Here is a replica of my statue. (Statue of David). We saw the ACTUAL statue -- and it is magnificent -- but a lot of the museums wouldn't let you take photo's. So, this will have to do.

This is a statue entitled Hercules vs. the Centaur. I could have filled this blog with statue after statue after statue, but I'll refrain and only post this one which really seemed to grab me, for some reason.

There were NO parks in Florence, at all. Instead, you have these piazzas (plazas, or squares) where there are restaurants and where people congregate. This one, in particular, had a carousel.

Here is an example of a typical outdoor restaurant. Quaint...but let me tell you that you pay for the privilege of eating. Florence was SOOOOOOO expensive to eat. Most places expect you to get two courses per person. When each course runs you 12 Euros ($19 or so), it can very quickly add up. To counter the restaurant expense, Cori and I would often stop at a grab-and-go pizzaria.

Pisa

2007-05-19T11:22:00.000-06:00

The world famous Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Truly this is something that must be observed. You can never get an appreciation for the size of this thing, and how much it actually leans, until you're there. The tower is actually one of many sites on the Campo dei Miracoli (Field of Miracles)

The tower was built in multiple stages, but it didn't take long for the architects and engineers to notice that the lean was occuring. Indeed, they noticed this well before construction was complete. At that time, they attempted to compensate for the lean by trying to alter the column length. I can't describe what they did, exactly, but it helps to think that they tried to build it like a banana to counter the sinking effect.

It didn't work.

For a long time (early 90s, perhaps?) going up into the Tower was OFF LIMITS to tourists. Fortunately, modern technology has reversed the trend of the sinking and the tower is now leaning in accordance to its original tilt - about 5.5 degrees.

You'll notice that we did not take the corny "holding up the tower with our hands" photo's. And that's okay. The day we went to Pisa, it was raining SO HARD that it kept all the tourists away, meaning we had nearly unfettered access to the Tower! It made for some amazing, unobscured shots.

The tower actually sits very close to the Cathedral.

Again with the steps! Guess elevators weren't invented in the 1100's... Getting to the top of the tower was something like 300+ steps and you definately notice the lean. The other thing that we got to experience is just how SLIPPERY worn marble is when wet! Nearly slipped to my death a couple of times.

Here is Cori at the bell tower. Sadly, the umbrella had to stay in the photo because of how hard it was raining. And let me tell you about that umbrella -- cost us 10 Euro's ($16 Cdn) from some shady street vendor!!

The view from the top was spectacular.

Flash photography was strictly prohibited inside the Cathedral -- not that it would have helped, mind you. Here are two of the better photos (for detail) that I took inside the cathedral.

Boboli Gardens

2007-05-19T11:09:00.000-06:00

This is a scene from the Ponte Vecchio. You'll notice the crush of people...but with good reason. This is actually a bridge, if you can imagine it, and was built in 1345! Store keepers -- jewellers, mainly -- line this strip.

Here is a scene of the bridge from the "outside".

The Boboli Gardens reside behind the Pitti Palace in Florence. The gardens were immense and while Cori and I didn't explore every square inch of the place, we did manage to snap a few good shots. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves -- the grounds were crawling with photo ops. Here are some of the better ones that I took.

Chianti Wine Tour

2007-05-19T10:49:00.000-06:00

What a better way to enjoy the Chianti wine region than a trip to an actual castle, followed by a mountain biking adventure in the countryside!?

This is the Castello di Poppiano and is actually inhabited by the Count and Countess.

Here is one picture (of many that don't appear in this blog) of some of the wine storage devices. Cori and I have seen many wineries now and they all pretty much look the same.

This particular Count was known not only for his wines, but in particular his extra virgin olive oil. He would press the olives at a lower temperature -- getting a lot less oil from them -- but the quality and taste is exceptional. A very popular table snack with meals was bread wine balsamic vinegar / olive oil which you drizzle over the bread. It fast became a favorite snack of ours.

Here is a view of the Tuscan country side from the top of the castle. You can see some smoke in the background - I believe that the grounds crew were burning old wine vines.

Here is the happy couple squinting into the sun for this picture.

Okay, say what you want about the bike helmet, but here I am getting geared up for our bike trek. Although there was a stop in the middle for lunch, the whole trip was 23 km and featured a BRUTAL hill climb at the end of it.

One scene from the roadside: a scotch broom plant. Although they are actually a weed, they do have some uses -- they can be used to make actual brooms! I don't know if this was a b.s. story or not, but when you get up close you at least imagine the plant being in the tail-end of a witches broom.

Firenze (Florence)

2007-05-19T10:32:00.000-06:00

The Balisica di Santa Maria del Fiore (the Duomo).

One of the first thing that I noticed about Florence was (a) how narrow the streets are and (b) how CROWDED they are. You seem to take your life into your own hands while walking down the street! Here is a scene from the main "flea market" area of the city. Unlike most other flea markets; however, most of the owners had signs on their stands to indicate that the prices were non-negotiable.

This is (one small part) of the Cathedral. But you can tell immediately how ornate the building is! Along the top row you can see statues carved out of marble and those statues are larger than life. Try to keep that in mind to get a sense of the size of this place.

From our observation, religion was HUGE in Italy. And especially in Rome (you know, Vatican Church and all). Most (if not all) the paintings we viewed had some religious conotation. And the Duomo was no exception -- after all, it IS a church.

Here is the roof of the dome of the Basilica itself. You may have heard of the painter...Michaelangelo! Honestly, the dude was everywhere! He was comissioned to do many paintings, sculptures, etc. by the Catholic Church in that time period. I can only imagine how long it would take to do ONE PIECE let alone all the amazing things he did in his lifetime.

For the price of (something like) 7 Euro's each, you were able to climb to the top of the Duomo. Here is the view from the top.

I don't know if this comes through well, or not, but this is the stairway to the top. You can see the curvature in the staircase as you climb higher and it was little wider than me. Europe was a LOT of walking and a lot of steps. To get to the top was something like 250+

Reading Week...YIPPEE. Well, sorta

2007-02-20T20:16:00.000-07:00

Reading week just doesn't hold the same appeal when you are working full time. Yes, the week off from school is nice -- don't get me wrong.

For a lot of guys and gals, Reading Week is a chance to take a much needed break from studies and hopefully go skiing or someplace sunny. A lot of my full time MBA friends are either going to Hawaii, Mexico, or else are spending the week hitting the slopes. This means that there is a good chance they see something like the following:

But I'm still working.

So all Reading Week means to me (now a days) is that the semester is pushed back an EXTRA week, thereby delaying my spring. You know, when it's actually NICE out (weather wise) here in Edmonton.

Sigh...

Super Bowl Party

2007-02-05T15:44:00.000-07:00

So Garth had a rather subdued Superbowl Party -- only me, Corinna, Houle and Mish were there (besides the host, of course). The first half was really exciting and made for a great game. The second half was uneventful, for the most part...but I was drunk and thus didn't care.

There isn't much to report, but the cupcake cake that Jon brought deserves immortalization. This thing was $32 dollars and every bit delicious. I mean, what's NOT to love about inch-thick icing?

Sigh...time share sales pitch

2007-01-21T20:31:00.000-07:00

Do you ever wonder about "those people"? You know, the ones that willingly subject themselves to a time share presentation just to get the "fabulous free gifts"?

Well, chalk me up as one of those people.

You see, the last home renovation show we went to, Corinna went hog-wild filling out the "enter for a free draw" contests. Of course, what those draw boxes are REALLY for is to get contact information of poor suckers that are used by telemarketers, timeshare salesmen, and other assorted bottom-of-the-barrel salesmen.

Well, sure enough we got called. We "won" (and I use that term loosely) a digital camera, $100 spa package, and 3-day (2 night) stay at a luxurious resort. All we had to do is spend 90 minutes of our time listening to a presentation on the benefits of time share ownership with this company.

I was steadfast fucking against going. My parents got suckered into it ONCE...and that was one time too many. I rebelled against going and it nearly started World War Three. Cori was of a different opinion, thinking that it would be "easy" to tell them that we weren't interested. As she saw it, it was ONLY 90 minutes and that's it.

I told her she was prolly sitting in a running car in a parking garage if she ACTUALLY believed that shit...but she would have none of it.

So we went to the presentation. The "client service representative" we had as our hostess was brand spanking new to the job and didn't know the first thing about sales. She was ALSO in her second year of University so I don't blame her. She asks us some "data collection" statistics and Cori and I are top-notch clients. Example: We have spent money on vacations to Australia, to Mexico, Stateside, and plan on going to Greece and Italy in the near future. We are in their top income bracket AND we have no kids. We are young, too, which means we have many years of vacationing in front of us.

In other words, we couldn NOT have had bigger targets on our back if we tried.

We go through the presentation and we get to the "sales room". As I said, our hostess blew at sales and didn't do a good job convincing us. We asked for our free gifts (because, lo and behold, we had gone PAST the 90-minute timeline) and she told us she couldn't gift us until we had talked to a "senior sales relationship manager".

So we finally meet said manager. And it's ANOTHER kid of 21 years of age who, again, has no sales experience. He tries a few tactics to make a sale, but it's clear we're not going to bite -- I mean, c'mon, we're two University educated people...you're NOT going to be able to pull a fast one on us.

In the end, here's what we "won".

-- A 100K pixel digital camera. That's right...about the biggest piece of shit that you can imagine. (By way of comparison, our own digital camera is 5 MEG pixel camera).

-- A stay in the said condinium that they were trying to sell us on, and a spa package at said condo. The only catch? We have to listen to ANOTHER sales pitch!

I am REALLY tempted to go. After all, the place looks gorgeous and it's in Canmore (read: skiing). I'm going to get Cori to book a ski trip, and we'll invite 2 other couples to come with us. The catch is that one of THEM will have to go to the presentation!

Houle's Stag

2007-01-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

So I've been finding hidden obscure emails on my computer lately both at home and at work that relate to AMAZING times we've had as a group of friends. One of those was Houle's stag... This was sent as an email, but deserves to be immortalized in a blog entry.

FRIDAY NIGHT

Me, Kenton, and Garth roll into Sylvan Lake around 8:00 on Friday night. Immediately we are struck with a sense of awe, because the main campsite is pretty sweet. Bissel managed to snag a 60’ by 40’ tarp – or maybe it was bigger? – and that bastard is strung over where we’d be spending most our time during the weekend. In the mean time, the three of us crack open a few beers and THEN put up our tents.

Me and Garth then drive back to the front of the campsite – already half cut at this time – and try to self register. Lord tunderin’ Jesus that was difficult. But eventually we pay our 50 boners (holy piss is it expensive to sleep on fucking rocks in a tent) and head back to the camp. I have my neon on and all these little kids are amazed by the neon. BAAAAMMMMM!!! (This had nothing to do with the stag, but makes me look cool and it’s my fucking pictorial essay).

Here are some pictures of Friday night. I’m doing this at work and don’t have any photo software…some of the pictures are SO dark; I’ll try to describe what’s going on.

Here you see me, Walls, Kenton, Houle, and Patty sitting around. Walls is reaching for a big bottle of Champagne from Kenton.

These are all Armitage’s pictures. And here he is being a cunt. It is pitch black and he’s snapping pics just ‘cause the flash is bright. Pictured are Jon’s uncle Andrew, Pratch, J.R., and Garth who is nonplussed as usual.

The first night was so fucking cold. I don’t know that it rained or not, but I do remember that none of the ice in the coolers was melting and the fire, from where I was sitting, was little more than a light source and did sweet fuck all to warm us up.

Littering And….Littering And…Littering And…

…smoking the reefer. While none of you would be surprised to hear that Army was smoking a big fattie on Friday, how many of you knew Garth did the same? He didn’t just pull from one joint…but from two! Later on in the evening Garth would have to puke. Booze or pot…the culprit is still unknown.

The rest of the evening was just a great time among friends. No real crazy shenanigans. But someone made a joke about how Jon would soon never be able to fuck anyone else ever again. Everyone laughed…except me and Andrew, ‘cause we were both married and this was a burn against us as much as it was against Houle.

It is important to note two things. One…yes, that is a BOX OF WINE. Armitage would later try to force feed it down our throats. J.R. would yak it up on his hoodie.

Two…this may have been when we called Jay Doss. Time: 3:00 in Philly. Woke up his Dad. Bissel LIED and said that he was calling from Taiwan and that he wasn’t aware what time it was back in North America. In a word, it was BRILLIANT. (Jay would later tell us that their "call display" totally busted us...)

Further to my marijuana comments above, thank god for Hot Rods

Did Houle take this picture? “Cause what the fuck is up with the weird angle…someone must have been drunk as fuck here. The shot of the table shows the glasses we used for Jager Bombs. We polished off two, 26oz bottles in about an hour.

It’s, like, 3 am here. Scabs throws on a whole bag of wood onto the fire.

The destruction of property!

So many of you have seen how Patty and Scabs will wrestle when they get drunk. Friday night was no different. The only problem is that they wrestled right into Joe’s new car. The dent in the drivers’ side front quarter panel was HUGE. If Joe was pissed, you couldn’t tell. But he’d have his revenge….by making sure Patty had a shitty night. Observe:

This is Patty’s tent. Patty is in there sleeping. Yes…the tent IS fucked-up beyond all belief.

And here’s Patty’s tent as it would end up by the next morning!

SATURDAY DAY

What a shitty sleep the first night was. Drunk as hell, cold, and my fucking air mattress had a leak in it. Oh well…I get up, take a piss, and mosey into the campsite. Unbelievably, Kris and Bissel are already up and they cleaned up from the destruction of the night before. Trouble was that they threw everything plastic in the fire and light a match. The smoke was so black and so think that It looked like they threw a tire into the fire! Christ…I’m suing when the biopsy comes back and confirms that I got cancer.

This picture is taken no more than 3 feet away from Joe and Pratch…and yet you can barely see them. Why? Because the fucking black smoke is obscuring everyone’s vision!

Kris was our cook for the weekend. Breakfast consisted of the following. 1. Place one pound of bacon in a cast iron pan. Cook til completed. 2. Crack open a dozen eggs. Drop on top of the bacon and the one-inch thick bacon grease. 3. Cook until done; salt and pepper to taste. 4. Serve.

This tasted much better than it looks. But my heart stopped with all the cholesterol and grease from the bacon fat.
Sadly, this is the hand of the guy cooking the food...

Paint ball

The order of the day was a round of paintball. There were twelve of us in total and we would have been 13, but Scabs pussed out on us. I’ll give you the recap, as there aren’t really that many pictures. 12 people. 3 hours. 10,000 paintballs purchased and used. And Moose, yes, it WAS satisfying to shoot at Wigmore.

There is something very Starsky and Hutch about this picture.

Houle getting into his bright yellow coveralls. I volunteered to be on his team for two reasons. The first being the fact that everyone would be out to get him and I’d be relatively safe. The second being the opportunity to shoot him in the back – friendly fire style.

Oh yeah. That’s the shit.

Okay…who jizzed on Colin’s head?

No doubt about it. THIS is the best photo of the weekend!

Some of us were kind of choked that Scabs didn’t come paint balling with us, ‘cause we wanted to shoot him!! But we thought we’d get him back…so we purchased 2 PAINT BALL GRENADES. We planned to do a drive by grenading. Sadly, Scabs wasn’t there when we got back. But there are more stories of Scabs jumping on a live grenade – more to come!

Realizing that we all stunk like shit, we went off the shower house. That’s when Patty and I had a BRILLIANT idea. We’d wait for Houle to go shower and then when he got back, we’d get HIM with the paint grenade – thereby fucking up his whole shower.

Sadly, the grenades didn’t pan out…Moose would get a bigger bang out of fucking a fat chick than we did with those grenades. Garth’s shirt got sprayed a tiny bit but that’s about it. $16 down the god damned drain for nothing!

SATURDAY NIGHT

Of course, this is what we were waiting for. We got Jon all prettied up for this big night on the town:
We called Robin and asked her if she would strip would quarters. I told her she could use them for laundry…but she declined. No matter, ‘cause the hockey game was on that night, so we ran into town to watch the game. We went to “Big Chief’s Pub and Eatery”. They had this amazing back room that was COMPLETELY empty – I don’t think we had booked it, but I could be wrong – with a television just for us. The waitress (Holly) was stunned…there were a LOT of guys and she was the only one working. But it was okay, ‘cause we made life easy for her. ALL we ordered were pitchers of PILSNER and Caesar’s. Booze flowed like water and a game of two bear started. IN the bar! And then, during the first intermission, the owner of the pub (note: he ACTUALLY was an Indian) ran into the back room and gave us a bottle of tequila ON THE HOUSE!

Honestly…what an amazing photo. In the background is Holly bringing out her umpteenth tray of Caesars. You can see the two twonies we used for Two Bear and Joe is half corked with the bottle of tequila.

P.S. Houle was a fucking pussy. Couldn’t even finish his shot. Okay…so big deal that it was half the glass...it was the dude’s stag for Christ’s sake!

Partying like it’s 1999. After the Oilers win, it was a shit show!

Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole… OILERS WIN!

TWO BEAR! HOO, HOO, HOO, HOO!!!!

The Quest for the Triple Double

At this point, I need to make a digression. You see, after the win, Kenton and I went to track down the local Mickey D’s to get Houle a triple double. We leave the bar and start giving high fives to everyone we come across on the street. I run into a bar – trip up a pair of steps (to the gasp of the crowd) – and yell GO OILERS! Then I high five everyone in that bar and we leave.
We walk for what seems like fucking MILES. But I don’t care ‘cause me and Kenton are chanting, “Tittles for Smytty”, and “Take it Off for Samsonov” and “Shirts off for Horcoff”.

Well, we happen to be walking through a trailer court at the time and this bitch YELLS at me from her window. “Did you just call me a whore” she asks? I look around. In the yard are 5 bicycle and tricycles. Clearly, the answer to her question is YES…but I think better of coming back with THAT reply. Instead, I yell again, “Shirts off for Horcoff”. Regrettably, I see no tits.
Kenton and I keep walking, but we’re clearly lost. And drunk. And scary looking. So what do we do? Why, ask for directions from two 13 year old girls. Wow…instead of running away screaming and calling the cops, they actually stopped and talked to us. In other news, I regret that our society doesn’t teach the children to not talk to scary strangers.

Finally we get to the Mick Dicks. Trouble is that (a) we’re on foot in the drive through and (b) they are closed. But we convince the girl to let us buy triple doubles anyways. Unlike the fat pig at the Mickey Dee’s the last time we got these burgers, this lady makes no rude comments. She was an absolute delight.

But the question becomes: how the fuck are we going to get back to the bar? It was if God himself heard our pleas because up roars this truck through the drive through – backwards – containing two 16 year old kids. Naturally, we grab a ride. The ride back to the bar is silent…until I point out that Kenton is leaving Canada to go to England to be a Phys Ed head master at an all girls high school. The one kid tells us that he was thinking of dropping out of school, but because of Kenton’s tale, he is instead going to go to his principal on Monday and ask what courses he needs now so that HE can do the same thing in the future.

When we get back to the bar, the show is ridiculous. Kris is gone and is hitting on women outside:

Uh, not bad…but there would be WAY better women shortly

It takes him fucking an hour, I swear, but eventually Jon polishes off the triple double and then sets his sights on hitting on the hot cougars in the bar. I saddle up to some of the yummy mummy’s myself – back rubs, and the like – and get them to kiss Jon on the lips, you know, for his stag. They ask us what we do. I mention that I’m getting my MBA, that Patty is a CA, that we have a couple of lawyer friends, some are in med school, etc. This gets them VERY excited – I’m certain they would have left their husbands if we asked them. Instead, they tried to set us up with their 26 year old daughters! (I am NOT shitting you on this). They actually called their daughters to come to the bar! Most of us said that we were taken, but what about “that guy” (that guy, of course, meaning Kris). The moms politely, but firmly, state no way in hell.
We pay our bill at Chiefs. It is honestly something like $700 and then we leave. The moms are sad to see us go. So is Holly got she got a HUGE tip…and I’m not talking about the mushroom kind either.

CHEF’s

You cannot even begin to imagine how drunk I am at this time. Of course, this is when the best stories happen...so I hope I can remember them. Chefs is the “it” bar in Sylvan at the moment and it is packed. There is a live band, so Patty, me, and a few others go dance – by ourselves – for a little while. But we need to fuel up with more booze. I buy these two chicks each a porn star. They just tuned 18 and had just turned a guy down (age ~22) ‘cause he was too old for them. So here I am (age 27) buying them drinks and they are absolutely loving it! They tell me that I am such a nice guy…shows that they know NOTHING.

I walk around the bar with drinks in hand. Kris is talking to this smoking hot blonde. I see right away that she is married (I don’t know that Kris knew). So I go up to her, introduce myself, and ask her, “Isn’t it amazing how easy it is to pick up now that you’re married”? She agrees.

Ooops…BUSTED.

I continue my walk about. Kenton is chatting up two yummy mummy’s in the back corner of the bar. I sit down and start talking to them. Carmen (Kenton’s got her eye) and Sonya (I’ve gotten hers)! Seriously…what the fuck is with chicks named Sonya…they are ALL cougars (Moose knows what I mean). To say that these two girls are into us is an understatement of the century.

Observe the following conversation I had with Sonya:

Sonya: So, Dave, what do you do for a living?
Me: Well, I work for the Department of Finance for the Province.
Sonya: Ooooh. It sounds like you’re good at controlling things. Would you like to control me?
Me: Uh…lady, I have to go! Casual flirting is fine but that is crossing the line. Which is too bad, ‘cause she had GREAT tits for a mom with a 17 year old daughter. Now…had she offered to throw HER in the mix too, then maybe I would have had temporary amnesia on the vows. I mean, I KEED, I KEED! Kenton would later tell me that Sonya was sorry that she had scared me off…

Now, as it turned out, there was a stagette in the bar at the same time we were there. JACKPOT. We immediately hook up with them. The chick – a SMOKING HOT blonde – is wearing a suck for a buck candy necklace and drinking from a penis cup. Here are some pictures…they speak for themselves. Wow was she hot.

Our lovely lass now seems less than impressed with the constant attention.

Uh, I do believe Patty is reaching for a bra strap back there. Man was he LIT that night.

Patty kissing another girl. He was on fire that night. Patty would stay with her most of the night and could have so scored…but she had a HUGE ass. Patty DID come home that night – thankfully, he realized that sleeping with her would be a bad idea.

So, you may be wondering why I don’t appear in any of these photos. Was it ‘cause I tried but got shot down…or that I am too smart to do this shit and have it get caught on camera? The answer is neither…

You see, I would start with the MONEY line of “Excuse, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think I know you”. (Seriously, use this. Not only does it make you seem disarming and not a creep, but it opens up another way to have a conversation with the lady). But while it IS a good line, in this particular case, it turned out that I DID KNOW THEM – or, at least, know of them.

Turns out that MOST of the women from the stag did currently live, or lived at one time, in Drayton Valley – my home town! There was no way I was going to pull shit when there was a chance my old man could find out…’cause I’d STILL be in intensive care if my dad thought I was doing anything unbecoming towards my wife.

There was a shooter girl that would stop by our area quite often. Not only were we spending money like water, but we were getting HER drunk too. Naturally, she loved us. She came by and asked me and Patty if we wanted a shot. We said we’d do one…so when she asked what shot we wanted, we replied, “the whole tray”. Holy fuck was that expensive…and we did it twice, if I recall…but it was worth it.

We used the shots as currency for sexual favors in the bar. Okay, just joking, but the prospect of free booze did excite all the ladies around us. I honestly had fistfuls of shots in my hand at any one time. I gave this one shot to this gal who took a real shine to me…stroked my arm, told me how much she appreciated the shot, etc. But otherwise, she was really quite.

Why was this important? I mean, are we still in high school here? Well, no…of course not. But I tell you this because at the end of the night, the band was on its encore, we all went out to dance. This same lady made a bee line for me…grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the dance floor. (Uh, not that I minded). Once there she proceeded to grind with me. What’s my favorite state? OH-HIO-OH!!!!

I wish I had a picture of the look on Patty’s face…it was priceless. Honestly, I hadn’t even said more than two sentences to this girl the WHOLE NIGHT and here she was rubbing her gash on my leg and shoving her tits into my chest. I love Cori more than life itself…but I’m not going to lie...it was kinda hot.

And I’m not the only one who enjoyed the dancing. Scabs was also dancing with a fine lass. Okay, that’s a lie…there was NOTHING fine about her. OMFG was she huge beast. Remember how I said earlier that Scabs would later jump on a live grenade? Well, this was it! But the thing was that there was NO NEED to do so…he was playing wing man but no one needed it! Oh Jeremy….you crazy, crazy fool.

Eventually we left the bar. Got a cab ride to the gates of the campsite, but had to walk back in, in the pitch dark. When we got back, people were NOT in good shape…a lot of them puked. I think this is J.R.??
I don’t know how…but I never puked and I drank enough to tranquilize a horse that night. We all did…and the money we spent; well, lets just say that there is a lien against my house as we speak.

Back at the campsite, we decided to cook some food. Walls was in the nicotine fit of his life – would not shut up about it, actually -- and wanted one of Jeremy’s tasty hot dogs.

The problem is that Jeremy would fuck up and the wieners ended up in the fire! So instead a cook Walls a whole fucking steak – he wouldn’t remember eating it when I asked him about it the next day!
Eventually Houle, the little pussy, would go to bed. Thus, we threw rocks at his tent for the next hour to try to wake him up…it didn’t work.

At some point, and I don’t remember when, I too went to bed. We woke up in the morning hung over like you can’t believe, and cleaned up and left. It was honestly one of the best weekends of my life – even with no strippers and lap dances – and if you missed it without having a good excuse, then you’re a dumb fuck. (Looking at you here, Jody…)

BAAAAAAM

2007-01-05T20:51:00.000-07:00

Here is the first of the THREE pop tart commercials resulting in the references to my car! If anyone can find the other two, I'd appreciate it. For any random passers-by to this blog, please post the link in the comments section.

Ain't no party like a New Year's Party

2007-01-04T21:09:00.000-07:00

I don't have all the pictures; check back once I get the best of Garth's, Sanchu's and my Digital Camcorder pics / movies uploaded.

New Year's Eve featured a once in a life time handicap match worthy of the greatest of all PPV boxing matches, UFC events, or Wrestlemania's.

6 men (Me, Chad, Garth, Turkey, Sanchu, Moose)

vs.

1 Texas Mickey of Bacardi Rum.

And, with special guest referee -- Beer Pong (with Rum instead of beer).

So, in case you didn't know, Chad and Robin have this bazillion dollar house on the farthest western point of Calgary and we headed down for a New Year's eve party of epic proportions. Sanchu, from Poland, and Moose, from Australia, were both back in Canada and at this party. As such, it promised to be an amazing time.

We get to Calgary in near record time, despite the fact that this 18 year old dipshit tried to explain to us how to drink Big Bear (Moose and I bought two for the party). As we proceeded to tell him, we had been drinking the stuff since he was in diapers and that we seriously didn't "need any pointers".

Upon arrival in Calgary, however, we had to find Chad and Robin's place which was easier said than done. FOLLOWING ROBIN'S EXACT INSTRUCTIONS, we wound up at the Calgary zoo were I had to ask the Zebra for directions, and had to plow through downtown core road construction before finally arriving at their place.

And what a house it is! To say that Chad and Robin have a small house is to say that the L.A.P.D. only beat Rodney King a little bit! Okay...so the place isn't a mansion, but it is pretty swank. The best part is how they have next to no furniture BUT Chad DOES have this INSANE plasma T.V.

As parties with this group of people go, this one featured very few evil shenanigans. But oh what shenanigans they were! Things really ramped up and got out of control long after midnight when most people had gone home!

1. Beer pong, no...not the "cup-in-diamond-formation", but rather the kind you saw on Beer Fest was a staple. Only instead of cups of beer we had cups of Rum and Hawaiian punch. Ugh

Despite what the movies may have you believe, it is IMPOSSIBLE to "sink and drink" the ping pong ball. Instead, we had a rule that if you knocked over a cup of booze you had to down the entire OTHER cup of booze in one shot. I made the fatal mistake of doing it once. So did Sanchu and Turkey. Chad -- that poor bastard -- had to do it TWICE. (I have video of Chad knocking over the cup -- if I can ever figure out the software to my new digi camcorder I'll post it to this blog).

Even Kei and Wei got in the action. Now, the Quasars are provincial ping-pong champs (and, yes, for those that don't know they ARE Asian which explains why they are sooooo good at it). But when they were pissed, they were no better than we were.

A great moment from the evening occurred when Absy showed up. Either Moose or Sanchu (really, I can't remember who but probably it was Moose) asked something to the effect of "Hey Absy...I hear your girl friend has sweet fake tits". Kevin just about DIED.

2. Naturally I was drunker than a Lord. Here are some celebratory shots of me with the nearly empty Texas Mickey.

3. We all know that on New Year's you get a kiss from your special someone. Here is Moose and Sanchu making out. I didn't even know that sexy was gone until these two brought it back!

4. And the coupe du force was this 3:00 streak session by Chad and Moose. As they peeled out in the darkness (me following with camera and sanchu following with video), I heard Robin call out "Am I REALLY married to this guy?".

In the end, who won the bout between man and insane bottle of booze? Well, consider that before I went to bed I phoned Jody and left a message on his answering machine where I sang to him "I Saw Red" by Warrant. As Jody would recant the next day, I even hit the high notes.

Thus, I think clearly you can tell that it was us.

Tribute to Mr. Doe

2007-01-02T19:16:00.000-07:00

Edit: at the request of Mr. Doe, I have changed names and locations to protect the identity of this modern day superhero. That goes for the comments, where I had to delete one.

One of the reasons that Moose and I started up this Blog is so that we'd have a way to recounting all the fabulous stories that we had as part of being "with the boys". One such event that I managed to stumble across was an article that I wrote for the Lister Lighthouse newspaper after I had finished my final year of school.

The article was written to help perpetuate the story of the greatest man I have ever known, one Mr. Doe. Even after we had left Lister Hall, the Light House continued to have "N+1's" about him even though he was long departed from Canada.

Indeed my sister ran into a 2nd year student over the Christmas holidays that has heard the the phrase "Mr. Doe Got Head"...this a full 5 years after the last of us left Lister Hall! I hope you enjoy re-reading this article as I did.

The Legend of Mr. Doe

Written by Dave Mulyk (1997 – 2001)

There is no floor on Lister quite like 6 Henday. Even though the current floor can’t party even 1/3 as hard as the old boys used to – as evidenced by the so-called Alumni party – they still kick the ass out of every floor is this god-forsaken hellhole called Lister Hall. Of course, one of the greatest of the great 6H Chief is Jay Doss. But who is Mr. Doe? Is he real? Unless you’re comatose, or live on 11 Mac, you’ve heard of the phrase “Mr. Doe got head”. I am often asked: “How much head did Mr. Doe get during his time in Lister hall”? Well, lets just say that Jay got as much head as the girls of 8 Mac dish out in any given school year. (And as we all know…that’s a TON of knob gobblin’!!)

But I bet none of you would believe that he is a real person. Indeed he is currently a med student at an undisclosed location. Mr. Doe is a remarkable man. Although it would be impossible to list all of his accomplishments in just one article, here are the highlights, and a couple of low lights of his amazing life.

Stole a bus stop sign so that a good friend could catch a bus from the lounge.
Found porno tapes in a toilet in the med-sci library. Took them home, dried them out. Played them in the lounge non-stop thereafter. When moms and dads came to pick up their 1st year daughters at the end of the school year, said porn was playing in the lounge.
Turned down more sex and more blowjobs then most men likely receive in a lifetime. Although a lot of guys make this claim, as Jesus as my witness I swear this was the truth. Her is the only man I know that was able to ACTUALLY get twin sisters wanted to sleep with him.
Invented the concept of http://nakedskate.netfirms.com/, (a 6H legendary story in its own right).
Mr. Doe took genetics in his undergrad. For two genetics classes, he turned in MOVIES about genetic respiratory diseases – the Adventures of Jeb – RATHER THAN writing the term papers. Got a 9 in both classes. (Or, for the young’uns…an A+).
Diffused the fight between the 6H boys and the dirty Mexicans in the Ship – you know, when the Ship was ACTUALLY a bar.
Could beat you at NHL 93 for the Sega Genesis with his eyes closed and his arms tied behind his back.
Invented the Lister Wheel Chair Olympics.
Could karaoke Bette Midler’s “The Rose” in such a stirring manner that it would bring a tear to the eye of an Arab in the middle of the Sahara desert.
Helped in the plans to steal the original Skulk Trophy.
Picked a Sports Select ticket that featured 5 ties. Came one goal away from winning $250 off of a $2 bet. If only the Montreal Canadiens didn’t shit the bed…
Went to an STD clinic. Received a FALSE POSITIVE for HIV. There would simply be NO WAY he’d be able to contact all of his former sex partners!
Painted the mural at the bottom of the Henday.
Got so drunk that he fell out of bed and received 3rd degree rug burns over most of his face. Still received enough head to make your head spin.
Found a half eaten pizza in an alleyway. Took it home and ate it.
Had sex with your mom. Made your dad watch.

Why did the girls want to give him head back then? Why do they STILL flock to suck the cock? Because the man is a legend. He has no equal. Just as Ron Jeremy is able to sleep with unbelievably hot women, so too is he able to get everyone (from the fat girl that hides in her room, to the uber hot girlfriend of the guy living on 2K) to deep throat.

Make no mistake about it: Mr. Doe is a real guy. He currently lives in Eternia and is enrolled in med school at Castle Greyskull University. In a greater time, you would have met him. But alas, those days are fading like a distant memory like the name of the girl you picked up at Windsor’s when you were hammered. For every time you hear that some guy got head…just remember that he got it first.

Wine Country

2006-12-20T21:20:00.000-07:00

We took two wine tours through the Barossa and Yarra Valleys. Cori was really able to impress the wine people when she explained that she was from the Okanagan Valley. They were also interested by the fact that we have REAL ice wine grown on the vine rather than something manufactured in a stainless steel vat.

Pay close attention to these pictures as the angles of the bottles are different. (Damn it...I wish I could remember WHY...oh well).

This particular winery actually still fermented a small amount of wine using a manual crusher and in the traditional old style oak barrels.

Could you imagine living here making wine for a living?

Oh yeah...here's something more my style. I give you the NEBAKANEZER, the largest of all wine bottles. Yes...that IS a "regular" wine bottle on the left. The middle wine bottle has a special name too...but it obviously pales in comparison to the bad boy on the right.

See the sign at the top? Here...let me blow it up for you,

Oh Jeebus... Too bad this was at the END of our trip, or else I would have been in there like a dirty shirt!

* * *

Well, I hope you enjoyed the pictures of my trip -- it certainly was a BLAST and I would love to go back, preferably in their summer time.

The Great Ocean Road

2006-12-20T20:49:00.000-07:00

The Great Ocean Road is an extremely scenic highway that runs alongside the ocean (duh). We saw some WILD koalas and finished up at the 12 apostles at sunset -- made for some great pictures.

Seriously...how was this thing holding on! It's fast asleep and apparently not concerned for its safety.

This is one of the most dangerous coast lines in all of Australia. Don't let the clear skies fool you...this is an EXTREME rarity for this part of Australia. Normally these cliffs are socked-in solid with fog.

There is a famous story of a shipwreck where only two people (out of hundreds) survived a horrible storm. Their ship drifted too close to the shore but couldn't tell where they were due to thick fog. Too late they realized their mistake and crashed where only two young people survived and were found washed up on this beach. HE was 20 and SHE was 18. Both were single.

The local media tried to make a "Romeo and Juliet" story out of the couple, but after getting patched up they went their seperate ways and didn't see each other again for the rest of their lives.

The twelve apostles...so named for the number of land formations thrusting into the air seemingly from the middle of the ocean. These used to be connected to the main land; however, erosion has left only these columns.

This "bridge" will eventually become an apostle. Always a tourist spot, the LAST apostle to form actually had people on it when the "bridge portion" fell to the ocean! Luckily no one was hurt but the stranded people had to wait a number of hours for a helicopter to come rescue them.

And here is the actual apostle that the people were rescued off of!

Here is a pretty good picture to give you a sense of scale for the 12 apostles

This might be one of the best and my most favorite out of all the pictures I took the whole vacation.

Melbourne

2006-12-20T20:13:00.000-07:00

Melbourne is Australia's "Montreal" in that they have a very ... open and progressive culture. Oh, and the architecture is to die for.

They make extensive use of their back alleys in Melbourne. Here is a back alley just CRAMMED with shops and little restaurants

This is a pretty weird juxtaposition -- a porn theatre and a church. But such sights were common in this city. Oh...and Sanchu...the casino here was pretty good.

Footy Match

2006-12-20T20:00:00.000-07:00

I fell in love with the AFL -- Australian Football League. Sorta a cross between soccer and rugby, the AFL is to Australia what the NHL is to Canada. It is played on a cricket pitch -- the fields are HUGE and is really easy to get into / pick up.

These seats were the equivalent of sitting at the very front of the second section in Rexall Place to watch the Oilers. This gives you a great perspective of how large the field is.

Kick it through the middle uprights is a "goal" and counts as 6 points. Miss the middle, but still get it through the shorter uprights is 1 point. You literally punt the ball through the uprights -- and some of the players can kick it easily 45 - 50 yards for a goal.

The home team enters onto the field.

The home team scores a goal and the (small) crowd goes crazy.

Here is a pretty good YouTube Video that shows hightlights of an AFL game. It's worth a look for sure. Some of the "marks" are amazing. A Mark is where the ball is kicked and you catch it in the air. Doing so means that the opposition has to give you space (i.e. can't tackle you) up to the point where you caught the ball.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s25elPRdK1M

Surfer's Paradise

2006-12-20T19:42:00.000-07:00

This is the TRENDIEST spot in all of the East Coast of Australia. The shopping is to DIE for -- Sophie, you'd have had a field day -- and the surfing is not bad for the tourist types. I don't think a lot of LOCAL people come here...this is a total tourist trap. There are million dollar condo's everywhere and every brand name imaginable.

You actually have likely seen (or heard) about the Gold Cost (and surfer's paradise) because of their world famous golden bikini meter maids.

Sadly, on the day we went, the temperature was around 15 degrees, and off-peak tourist season, so there were no meter maids.

ALL of these shops were in ONE MALL!

This was actually taken in Coolangatta. It's basically just like Surfer's Paradise but much less developed. Here were the best surf waves we saw the entire trip. Overall, the swell was small -- even at Bell's Beach were some of the worlds LARGEST waves are found, we were disappointed by the wave size.

Here is what you'd normally see at Bell's Beach (which is down the Great Ocean Road). Sadly, what we saw was pathetic compared to this.

XXXX Brewhouse Tour

2006-12-20T19:30:00.000-07:00

A LOT of Australian beer is HIGHLY regionalized...each state has their own favorites. For the LONGEST time, the "main beer" (and sometimes the only beer) sold in the places were frequented was XXXX. I know, I know...I ALSO thought that it was some sort of EXTRA dirty pornography or something.

In actuality, XXXX is "Four - Ex"...but we didn't learn this until we took the tour. Up until that point, we were (read: I) was too embarrassed to ask for a beer and pronounce it wrong so I didn't have a single beer! At the end of the tour you get 4 free pints, which explains why I look a TEENSY bit tipsy in the photo below.

While I adverted disaster with XXXX, that's not to say that I didn't have an embarrassing story asking for beer. Another main beer is Carlton Beer. We went to this one local neighborhood bar that was off of the beaten tourist path. I strolled up to the bar and asked for a imperial pint (yes, there are two pint sizes) or CaRlton Draft (emphasis on the R). The response of the bar tender, who had her head down at the bar, was, "Oh my freakin' god...where are YOU from".

Then she looked up and saw my HUGE Canadian Athletic sweatshirt -- she got it immediately upon seeing me.

Apparently the "R's" in most words are silent. As in, I should have asked for CALTON beer.

I quickly learned that XXXX is NOT the best beer Australia offers. Carlton Draught is great as is Coopers Pale / Sparkling Ale. And you can get Coopers at the Globe in Down Town Edmonton.

This photo was taking explicitly for a co-worker of mine. Mark...welcome to the famous XXXX brewery where they make Duff, Duff Light, and Duff Dry. Any fan of the Simpson's will get this reference and the episode it came from.

Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary

2006-12-20T19:11:00.000-07:00

This place was cool...again, think open air zoo. At this one you were allowed to get pictures holding a koala! One point I'd like to make -- Koala's are NOT that cuddly. Furthermore, they stink really bad -- they have scent glands that they use to mark territory, attract a mate, etc...not pleasant in the slightest.

You have to pay $10 to get a photo -- the money is used to build new Koala sanctuaries. However, after that you can snap all of your OWN pictures that you want. Here is Cori holding Mark the Koala.

Here are a pair of male, teenage koalas doing what these animals do best -- sleeping and eating! They sleep upwards of 18 hours a day, mainly because eucalyptus leaves have a natural sedative in them. Koalas sleep in the most precarious of positions -- often we wondered how it was possible that they didn't fall out.

Despite what this picture might indicate, this wallaby was NOT buying what I was selling. Damn bugger wasn't hungry!

I'm certain there is some sort of "Larry the Lounge Lizard" joke here...but I can't quite put my finger on it. In all honesty, however, these Red Kangaroos were HUGE. Over 6 feet tall. These were the only kangaroos that you couldn't go up and pet / touch, mainly 'cause if you made 'em mad, their kick could put you in the hospital.

Australia has some fantastic birds of prey. Here are two examples.

Wombats. Cute...but sleepy!

Cori's SKY DIVE Adventures

2006-12-20T19:00:00.000-07:00

Cairns is a great vacation spot if you go in the Canadian Summer. Cairns (pronouced Cannes -- kinda like the film festival) is always around 30 degrees celcius. They don't have winter or summer, per se, only wet and dry season. Dry season happens to be Australia's winter so it was PERFECT when we were there.

Corinna got to live out a long time dream of hers to jump out of a perfectly good plane. This nearly got her kicked outta dad's will!

Okay...so this has nothing to do with skydiving. But dammit, it's a great picture of us and I wanted to include it. This was taken outside of the Cairns YHA.

Daintree River Cruise and Wild Life Sanctuary

2006-12-19T22:28:00.000-07:00

The sanctuary was an open - air zoo...the animals were all about you. Then we ventured deep into the rainforest where I went for a swim and finally, we went on a river cruise and got to see REAL life salt water crocs in a lush tropical rainforest.

This is a Cassowary. It can kill you!

Is it any wonder that 80 - 90% of all sunlight doesn't reach the ground in this rainforest?

While I was in the river, Cori got this picture of a boa constrictor.

These are two different male crocs, and they had just gotten into a fight. You can sorta see the damage on the bottom crocodile.

Despite what the Simpson's has taught me, you really don't want to lick tree frog...this ain't a poisonous variety, but our tour guide had him on the boat to pull out to surprise us.

Great Barrier Reef Snorkeling

2006-12-19T22:09:00.000-07:00

Snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef was EASILY one of the biggest thrills of the whole vacation! Our crappy underwater camera sucked...you can't begin to imagine the sights we saw, including a sea turtle, the largest fish I'll ever see in my life, sting rays, and a shark feeding frenzy after lunch.

Fortunately we were able to buy a CD of photos from the onboard photographer, but it doesn't have any tarpin, sea turtles, or these little rainbow colored fish that had NO fear of humans whatsoever and would come right up to you and swim amongst your body.

These clams are HUGE -- at least my size or bigger.

Abseiling

2006-12-19T21:58:00.000-07:00

You would know this better as rappelling. We did this on a Sunday morning -- it was me, Cori, and our guide and that's IT. Travelling in the off-season has it's perks...

The largest cliff we rappelled was 120 METERS tall -- it was an absolute RUSH. We abseiled near an amusement park...without fail, when I went over the edge, the Indiana Jones THEME SONG was playing.

I wish I could give you a sense of the scale of the height. These trees are without a doubt the largest ones I've seen in my life -- and they don't even reach up to half the height of the cliff.

Here is a picture half way down, between my legs. It was an interesting perspective, and was tough to not get dizzy!

Look up. Look WAAAAAAAY up.

Jenolin Caves

2006-12-19T21:48:00.000-07:00

About 1.5 hours out of Sydney by train is Katoomba, the Blue Mountains, and the Jenolin caves. These caves are MASSIVE and photographers from all over the world come to take pictures of them. You can even get married in some of the larger cathedrals!

Obviously this isn't natural...the light is shining up from underneath.

This isn't from an earthquake or anything -- the caves are slowly shifting in different directions! That represents something ridiculous like THOUSANDS of years of movement.

Sydney Aquarium

2006-12-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

SYDNEY AQUARIUM

Just enjoy -- no explanations needed!

I thought this was a pretty cool picture!

Glow in the Dark coral!

I tried like hell to get this puffer fish to "blow up" to no avail.

There are no Great Whites in captivity - they die. Still, the sharks they had were pretty cool.

This is called a Lion Fish.

Excuse me...my name is Marlin and this is Dorey. My son Nemo is missing, and we're looking to get to Sydney. Can you help us? These are the fish that help the pair get to the E.A.C. in Finding Nemo!

Duck Billed Platypus

Australia - Sights of Sydney

2006-12-19T20:57:00.000-07:00

THE SIGHTS OF SYNDEY

Every where you go in Sydney is like one giant postcard waiting to happen. Seriously, most of Australia is like this because the scenery and the architecture is out of this world.

This is part of Darline Harbour, a trendy restaurant and water front shopping area.

Gum trees which are native to Australia, are absolutely USELESS for home construction. To address their building supply needs, Australia has fields and fields of Canadian Pine and Spruce trees -- it's bizarre to see a pine tree where you wouldn't expect it. Granted, the Australian blend of Canadian pine DOES look different than it does back home.

The famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. Believe it or not, but you can climb to the top -- but it costs you money.

The SPECTACULAR Sydney Opera House. We saw the opera "Turin Dot" on it's second night showing.

Some parts of Sydney are incredibly old. Check out this pic we snapped down a back alley -- more importantly, check out where the door knob is!

Hyde Park is a famous park in London England. Because the original settlers of Australia were of British decent, they built their own Hyde Park.

One of the sites is the Sydney fish market. Uh...you REALLY have to like fish for me to recommend you getting out there. Here is our lunch from that day. I've developed a taste for sushi -- damn you Felix Choo! -- so naturally this was pretty tasty!

This is me standing on a look-out overlooking the world famous bondi beach. Granted this doesn't look like much -- but it WAS winter when we went. Here is the same beach in the summer -- DEFINATELY a place to see hot people and to been seen. Water temperature when we went swimming was around 18 degrees celcius...WAY to cold for the average Australian. Everyone knew we were from Canada on this day!

Camrose Crawl 2006

2006-12-17T17:23:00.000-07:00

Ah yes, tis one of the last weekends in December. And this can only mean that it is time for that annual rite of passage of drinking -- the Camrose Crawl.

Now, to be honest, I dread this time of year. You cannot understand the mental and physical training and preperation it takes to will yourself to drink for nearly 9 hours straight in a foreign city. The unfamiliarity of the surroundings, coupled with the requirement to spend copious amounts of money, and then dealing with the inevitable puking, cold shakes, fever, night sweats, butter butt, beer farts, and side-splitting headache the next day means that one doesn't necessarily approach the Camrose Crawl lightly.

But similar to how Sir Lancelot and the entire Knights of the Round table would react when the guantlet is thrown down issuing the challenge of the Camrose Crawl, I bend over, pick up that metal glove off of the cold and unforgiving floor, and say, "Excuse me Sir...I think you have dropped this".

The first bar of the evening is located in the luxurious confines of the Alice Hotel. The bar is called the Pump House and is every bit as shitty as you can possibly imagine. As Greg's DAD drops us off out front -- seriously, what are we, in HIGHSCHOOL here? -- we rub our hands in gleeful anticipation of the commencement of the evenings shenanigans. However, what happens next I am NOT prepared for.

As we enter the bar, this solid wall of cigarette smoke attacks us like wild hyenas on a baby gazelle in the plains of Africa. Cocksucking son of a bitch -- Camrose STILL hasn't implemented a no-smoking ban and it preys on our ears, eyes, and throat like Chad's mom preys on young virile men -- with reckless abandon. I seriously contemplate having to leave it stings that bad. But we suck it up and order our first jugs of the evening, pour ourselves a glass of that golden liquid nectar which is beer and head over to the pool table. All eyes are on us as we definately look out of place at the bar. For one, we smell nice. Secondly, we are young, and thirdly we have all our teeth and there are no scars on our faces. But we pay no attention to the leering men and women and proceed about our business.

The nice thing (if you can call it that) about the Alice Hotel is that it has a "shot wheel", where you get to spin the wheel and whatever shot the wheel stops on, that's what you get. I hit the mother load and get "Your Choice"...so I order a tasty sounding shot called Mud Pie. The waitress starts to pour the shot. Let's see...okay, vodka. And then what's this? Coffee Liquer? Dammit...this is just a black russian in a shot glass! Oh well, down the hatch it goes. Between boozing, pool, and Big Buck Hunter (which Jody and I SWEAR was broken 'cause we are elite video game hunters and still didn't bring down one buck), the hour goes by really quickly and all to soon we have to go to our next destination.

As we pile out of the bar, there happens to be a cop car parked out front. Naturally, we stop to pose for pictures...so I do the classic spread eagle, bent over the cop car hands above my head pose.

After a short walk (as in, literally seconds), we are at the Windsor Hotel and their attached bar called the Windsor Hotel Bar (woah...don't strain yourself on coming up with a cool sounding name guys). The Windsor continues to be my favorite stop on the Camrose Crawl, mainly because the beer is SO cheap ($7 a pitcher) and because they have shuffle board! On the down side, the place has NEVER (and I mean never) been updated in the entire time the bar has been in existence. Upon entering the bar, Craig-o and I immediately beeline for the shuffle board table and we pair up into teams to play shuffle board.

If you've never played shuffleboard, you are missing out. Think curling, but not on ice and you can play it one-handed and hammered. Basically you have 4 pucks and you push them from one end to the other, closest to the end without the puck falling off wins a certain number of points. But an additional twist is that you have to bounce the pucks off of a rubber bumper that is halfway down the table. Basically it's just a lot of fun.

The other thing about the Windsor hotel is the fact that they have nearly ever single possible stuffed animal head you can think of on the wall. In particular, over the shuffboard table, is a stuffed quail, deer, and moose head. While we are playing the game, I scoop up some salt into my hand and try to feed it to the stuffed deer head -- but I guess the deer wasn't hungry cause he didn't eat it.

After I lose the game (what did you expect, I was trying to convince a stuffed deer head to eat shuffleboard salt -- my head wasn't exactly in the game?) I sit down with Jody and we talk about the stuffed animal heads. Jody remarks "Wouldn't it be weird if these animals were all alive, and this was the Flintstones, and they are just standing outside the building sticking their heads through holes in the wall 'cause hey, it's an easy way to make a living"? Uh....okay, Jody...have another one. But not to be outdone, I tell Craig to rip the quail off the wall and throw it into the air and tell it to fly to freedom my little feathered friend!

Wow...it's only the second bar and we're THIS hammered already?

The only other remarkable aspect of the Windsor is the fact that they have a t.v. that was made likely in the 70's, and it's recessed into the wall, almost to be flush with the wood paneling. As the waitress comes by to grab us -- AND grab us another round (hi oh!) -- I ask her where they got that ultra, ultra flat screen T.V. She isn't impressed with the joke.

In between the 9th or 10th pitcher of beer, we get to talking about the cop car and my spread eagle pose. Someone says that it would have been sweet to see that -- well, fortunately, Tyler took a picture of it! So as we're looking at Tylers digital camera, Garth decides that he needs a picture for himself...so he takes a picture of a picture. Not to be outdone, Lindsey also takes a picture of this -- that's right, a picture of a picture of a picture.

Honestly, why they don't make us in charge of anything just baffles me when you consider the amazing ideas we have! Below is a picture of Dale's Liquor store, an inpromptu side stop!

We leave the Windsor all too soon and make the 4 block walk to the next bar -- Scalliwags. Naturally we are practicing our best pirate "Arrrrghs" in anticipation of the pirate-themed bar we're sure to encounter. However, it IS four blocks away -- it may as well be a marathon -- so we stop in at a liquor store to get Boones wine, and a tray of shots, for the walk.

We get into scalliwags and it turns out to be an English Pub / Darts bar (rather than being pirate themed). Damn. But it does have dart boards, and free popcorn, so it's not all the bad. We start to drink (what a surprise) and I have to take my first leak of the night. SO I go into the bathroom and on the cork board where the urinals are it reads "For a good time, call the Camrose BANG BUS at ### - ####" SWEET...I didn't know Camrose had such luxuries. I go to write down the number but don't have a pen, and by the time I get back to my table I forget that I saw the number at all!

The only remarkable events of Scalliwags are as follows.

1. A drink called and ecstasy, or something like that. It looks like a blended smurf and tastes too sweet to have more than one. I, of course, have at least three.

2. We play a darts game called "how far can you sink the dart into the dartboard". I win...but what is most remarkable is that I missed the dart board complete but bury my shaft deep (heh heh heh) into the PLYWOOD backing!

3. We leave the bar and there is ivy growing on the side of the wall. Naturally, I climb it.

Oh yeah, and here's a pretty sweet poster-grope that I snapped. Forgot about this one!

The fourth bar is ABC Dining. That's right, a restaurant. So why were we there? Because its a chinese restaurant and they have karoke! Sadly the karoke machine is broken and Jody and I only get to sing into some reverberating microphones, while Lindsey breaks a table. Granted, there is Jody humping a blow up bottle of booze, but that isn't enough to keep us entertained. We leave shortly.

The bar after the disaster karoke event is Old Cinema. It's actually an old theatre that's been converted to a bar. It's closed when we get there (9:00 pm) but we pound on the doors til they open up. Seriously, that's the first time I've ever OPENED a bar!

The Old Cinema has been in danger of closing for a long time, as know one goes there, and I don't know why! It's the only bar that I know of that has a disco floor!

Not only that, but the bar has $1 highballs -- which is like opening a toy store and letting a kid have WHATEVER the fuck they want! Rye and Rum and Vodka oh my! We start drinking in earnest now, really ramping it up.

(P.S. You should know that as I type this, Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" is playing on my mp3's and it's bringing me back to the Old Cinema)!

We start with gladiators one after another. We ask the bartender, the one with the huge and perky....uh....eyes....if we can buy her a drink. To say that we got shot down is an understatement. I think that she can barely stand to be there, let alone have to serve us booze. It it was me, I would have HEARTILY accepted, if for no other reason than to have a way to dull the pain of working in that bar. The smell of pot is nearly overpowering, but an intense game of fooseball makes us forget the smell permeates the air.

This is the first bar to have a dancefloor and a DJ, and we take advantage. After we do the call on me dance -- you know the one I'm talking about, no need to repeat it here -- we leave.

Like all soldiers on the front line, we need to fuel up at a mess hall. In this case, that mess hall is 7 - 11! All rural 7 - 11's have chicken and us urban dwellers are SO missing out. But the chicken isn't cheap. There is a total of 12 of us, and I was planning on getting everyone two chicken skewers each. At $5.00 a skewer, that total would have been about $125 -- YIKES! Instead, we get a bucket of sweet delicious chicken for considerably cheaper than that and walk to the next bar -- BPs. And, having JUST finished the last piece of chicken as we walk into BPs, I promptly order a stromboli sandwich...sigh, I even fucking disgust myself sometimes!

But really, everything up to this point has been leading us to Cadillacs, the only actually popular bar on the whole stop! The bar is PACKED like an Indian train. I don't know how many different fire codes are on the book, but this place violated all of them!

Now, after a night of shitty bars, shitty people, and shitty to non-existant music, why do we go here after we reek of booze, sweat and cigarette smoke? It's all about the people (where people = 18 year old high school girls). Sadly, I wish I could say that this is not the reason...but for the most part it is. I mean, yes, the dancing is awesome...but frankly, I get a little tired of the sausage dance circle we have going on and instead prefer to wait on the sidelines just staring at the chicks. I remark to myself that none of them are hotter than Corinna, but really, mere mortal women cannot be compared to her...

We are dancing on the speakers -- yes, you read that right -- when these "I'm still in highschool" girls get up on the speakers as well. They giggle as they try to push us off the speakers with a few well placed hip checks (oh Patty, we needed your skills for retaliation!) and I put up with it for only so long before I turn to one of them and yell, "Look...I know that you think you are being fucking AWESOME, but quit it"). I think she just about started crying!

The night progresses as you think it would. The night winds up with this girl (Ashley) slow dancing with me at the end of the night. She is drunk as fuck, and despite my numerous references to my wife, she has her arms wrapped around me, holding my hand, buying me drinks. (Okay, so only two of the three I hand an issue with -- but can you guess which two?). Fortunately Craig Blair SAVES MY LIFE by dancing with us for the rest of the night.

After the lights come on, we walk back to Greg's parents house to pass out. Along the way, we adapt the classic Bryan Adam's song - Summer of 69 - to suit our purposes. "I got my first real 18, got her at the Camrose Crawl. Played with her til she was wet, was the Camrose Crawl 2006"... I know that there are women reading this blog, and I apologize for the vulgarity...but me not typing these words doesn't make them any less true, and you deserve to know everything that happened!

Upon getting back to Gregs, I spread out my sleeping bag to sleep on the floor. I PRAY that I will make it to the bathroom when the eventual call of nature -- puking -- forces me to my knees to pray to the porcelain gods. I awake some time in the night and run to the bathroom and unleash Montezuma's revenge. Honestly...as wide as my mouth could open was how the puke came out and it did NOT stop. But, after I finally expunge all the poison from my body and pass out, I settle down for a relatively calm sleep (well, if you can describe cans of red bull coursing through your body, making your heart pump a mile a minute as "calm").

We wake up, give our thanks Greg's parents for once again allowing us to stay at their home, and recall all the fabulous tales from the night before.

I can't wait til next year's crawl already...

MAH - REAL!!!

2006-11-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

First things first.

I PROMISE that when I get a chance to freakin' breath...as in, have no school...I will do the updates for Australia. I have SO many amazing photo's...sit tight, they are coming.

This is the first update from me in MONTHS. Sadly, I have been too busy with work and school to do anything on the blog. But since work just sent me to Montreal and I just spent an entire day travelling, I thought what a better opportunity to tell you all about my trip!

We got to Montreal on Tuesday, and we had tickets to go see the Oilers play the Canadiens in the Bell Centre. The Bell Centre is a new, modern hockey arena that sits 21,000+ (Rexall, by comparison, holds only 16,839). The game was sold out and was ROCKING. The game was really exciting, with three fights and even a shoot-out. Sadly, my team lost...but it was such a good experience that I didn't mind. One thing that was amazing was that we were near the "Molson Ex Girls". Placed at either end of the rink, there is a DJ that pumps out tunes, while these girls wearing skin tight booty shorts and tight referee shirts dance with each other provocatively. Obviously, it was fucking awesome. We had a Montreal smoked meat sandwhich, a beer (nearly $10 by the way...ouch), hot women, and a hockey game. So THIS is what heaven will be like...

Of course, we were there for work which was boring. But when we didn't have to work, we went down St. Catherine's street. Similar in many respects to Melbourne, there is a strip club / sex shop / peep show / adult store every two blocks. One store advertised "best contact dance in all of Montreal". In another example, this one guy tried to solicit business to the club by urging people on the street to come inside. He came up to us and said "Mes amis...come inside...20 tits for you!!!".

Sadly, unlike Borat, I did not make cultural visit for Glorious Benefit of Edmonton and go inside.

Another pretty good time was when we went to this bar that was three levels tall in the OLD Montreal Forum (ie. the habs old arena). While the bar was dead (actually, most of Montreal was pretty slow -- the locals blamed it on the weather which was really rainy) but that didn't stop me from drinking my face off. My co-worker and I went on a mini pub crawl that night. At this one microbrewery, we asked our bartender (her name was Jordan) where to go for cougars.

Her reply was immediate: "Thursdays". Thus, armed with this knowledge, we went to said bar...and, well, lets just say that the age group made the GAS PUMP look YOUNG! There were these old men, seriously old...I think one guy was at least 65 or older...trying to pick up younger women. (Where younger = 40's). Naturally, it was spectacular to see...

Now, neither me nor my co-worker speak French but he did have some smattering of French. As he got drunker, he was convinced more and more that he could converse in French. At one point, he asked a woman something in French, to which she'd replied. Then, he leant over to me and laugh that he had no CLUE what she had said... I imagine that she was PROBABLY telling him how she wanted to take us back to her place to watch her and her girlfriends have a naked panty tickle fight, or something like that.

One thing that I will say is that it's really cool how everyone (it seemed) was Bilingual. Me, being only English speaking, felt like a tool most of the time for not being able to respond in French...maybe when I get done my MBA I'll have to learn French.

All in all, a great trip and would love to go back again. Afterall, I need to try "real French Poutine"...

Hockey=Cool

2006-09-12T23:18:00.000-06:00

I like procrastinating, and I like masturbating almost as much. Thus, another entry in the blog, my first one in nearly a year. And what a year it has been-yup, the first one that I can recall in a good four years where I didn't fuck a morbidly obese chick. Supernatural and apocalyptic. We live in scary times, my friends.

And what a year it's been for hockey! Thank God it came back! Now, I can catch parts of the game during the "clean-up" in between stripper's performances. Think about it-the raging boner I get from a stellar performance from Brodeur against the Habs gives the peeler something to grind on during a Scunt-financed lap dance. Livin' the motherfucking dream!

Hockey provides so much humor, so much unintentional comedy (to steal a phrase from ESPN's "The Sports Guy"), too. I mean, today, I just learned that Charles Wang of the Islanders signed Rick DiPietro to a 15 year contract. A 15 year contract! I will be a middle aged sex offender by the time it runs out!

Now, this is funny for several reasons:

1. The owner of the Islanders is named Charles Wang. Wang. WANG!!!! You could even call him Chuckie Wang, giving him instant stret cred with his porn-star like name. And this would bring the game's terminology-the slot, the five whole, a three-on-one, clutching and grabbing, wrist shot, etc...-into the upper echelon of cool, maybe helping the NHL surpass such amazing sports as NASCAR and Arena Football in terms of popularity in the U.S.. And I haven't even mentioned the dreams of attracting the deviants of society through a correct and innovative marketing campaing revolving around Darren "The Pooper" Puppa. Think about it...

2. Rick DiPietro is 25, and will be 40 when his contract runs out, thereby approaching Ed Belfour territory. And this is the beauty of the length this contract-if DiPietro approaches anything even close to Belfour in terms of stain-like behavior, then we all will be winners! I mean, I would love to get emails of DiPietro boozing in some dude's basement, clearly annihilated beyond all recognition, or to hear about DiPietro attempting to bribe law authorities with "ONE BILLION DOLLARS" to get out of a DUI. DiPietro is a cunt, just like Belfour, and he plays for a shitty team, just like Belfour, so I for one am looking forward to all the stories coming from Long Island over the next decade and a half.

This blog entry is long enough without me going into how shitty a player DiPietro has turned out to be (Milbury could have chosen Heatley, Gaborik, or Luongo over this guy in the draft), or how the guy who forged the contract was back-up-goalie-turned-GM in Garth Snow. No, those targets are too easy. Let's just be happy that this whole thing happened, as at least it'll give you pricks something to talk about as I'm beating everyone at NHL 2007 this December.

Later,

Moose

As Constant as the Northern Star

2006-08-11T22:33:00.000-06:00

Dave and John co-wrote this piece...see if you can see where the hand-offs occur!

If you want to know what it's like visiting Moose here in Adelaide, picture drinking with Moose back home and then shift the whole mutha-fucking thing half a world away. That is about an accurate representation of what it was like here that I can give in 50 words or less.

It's 10:30 in the morning. We finished drinking a scant 7 hours ago and we're ready to go again. We have a case of beer in the house. Beer is, like, $35 a god damned case...ouch. But then I found out that you actually get 30 beers in a case! Flawless victory number one. Flawless victory number two is how Moose lives with two other girls. (Yes...hygiene to Moose here is as important as it was back home). Anyways, one of his roommates is Canadian... I get into this rant about fucking Americans acting like the own the god damned world, blah blah blah...and Moose points out that the other roommate (who is sitting on the couch behind me) is actually American. Thus, I have pissed off the roommates such that we have not yet seen them since the very first day!

No matter. As I said, we are drinking very early so we decide to call Jody. It's 8.5 hours later in Edmonton than it is here, but you have to subtract a day. We explain how we had an amazing night at Shennanigans the night before. No...HONESTLY...there is a bar called Shennanigans. AND there is a restaurant too...I have pictures. Moose and I danced -- by ourselves -- all night long. And we made some new dance moves as well. Basically, you do the "Championship Belt" move....if you know wrestling, you know what I'm taking about...but as you are doing that, you ALSO have to thrust your hips outward and upward (ala Call On Me style). There were also a lot of fights IN the bar. Basically 'cause we were styling all the Australian women and the guys had nothing else to do!

After grabbing some fucking food at the fucking hospital, and getting caught skipping by one of my professors, Muley, Corinna and I head downtown. We fucking immediately pull the fucking rip cord and begin boozing. Keep in mind it's about 11 AM at this time. Booze is exensive here, but seriously, so is food, and sacrifices have to be fucking made. Following this logic to its natural conclusion, we forgo eating the rest of the day for the barley sandwiches. Also, I'm drunk as I write this.

Booze IS expensive. $20 for two god damned pints of Stella Artois. But it DOES do the trick...we get right hammered quickly and decide to make our own pub crawl. We get to a place called the Elephant Pub. Just like the Elephant and Castle...but no Castle. Booze here is really cheap ($5 pints) and we go to town until this 2 man Irish band starts playing. I shit you not...I now know that the Banishees of Irish Folklore are NOT REAL...it's just two Irish musicians. The caterwailing is horrendous and we HAVE to leave. But Cori needs to pake a tiss, so we do what we normally do when she is gone and start shouting out random girl names. Joanne...Amanda...Sarah...Jill. All came up empty. But I try one more. BRITTANY.

Bing bing bing. Target located. We faked her with a roundhouse and hit her with a swift jab to the solar plexus. This is only the second time in my life where this trick has worked. As of now, we officially have a streak and winning percentage! Moose tries to talk to her -- try being the operative word -- but instead just asks what the time was and we leave.

I'll skip the main details of some bars and just highlight the low points.

-- We went to this British pub with a buck hunter game. These two guys were playing...and we totally impressed them by explaining that we've seen every animal in the wild that they were shooting. Including the cougar...

-- We went to this bar in a hotel. It was dirty. Corinna would later state that she was worried she'd get gang raped if she went to the bathroom. By woman...

-- I learn that Aussie money is actually made of plastic (not paper) and proceed to spend 5 minutes trying to rip a $20 bill. Had I succeeded, of course, I would have hung myself.

FINALLY we get to the Wool Shed. It's a country bar...in a contintent that doesn't REALLY know country. We ask for a "good shot" and get Chartreusse. What kind of sick fucks are they here, I wonder to myself... They have a mechanical bull, but sadly the beast doesn't accept rides til 9:00 pm and it's now only 5. Thus, there is only one thing to do...drink our faces off til 9. We start pounding beer and Jager bombs with reckless abandon. One thing about Aussies...they can't drink like us. Actually, NO ONE can drink like us. But the Jager Bombs are something new altogether for them. We get a lot of wide eyed stares as we pound 5 in a row and state that we are only warming up. We also ask for a "good shot" and they make us do a shot of Chartruese! Good lord...

They have a juke box here, so naturally we play all awesome songs like "Don't Tell Me" by Avril Lavigne and other songs...but frankly at this point I was too drunk to listen / remember them. As the songs were playing, we were playing pool and watching the Aussie Football League. The pool balls down here are much smaller than in Canada...thereby proving that, indeed, our balls are bigger. Also, the people in the bar are impressed that I know so much about the AFL (thanks Wikipedia) and ask me if I like hockey. Uh...is the Pope Catholic??? We meet these two blokes...err guys...and they tell us a lot of shit about Australia and before you know it, it's 9:30 pm. As in...time to ride a mutha fucking mechanical bull.

OH how I miss you, Cook County. THAT is a real mechanical bull...this, well...this was a piece of shit. You did NOT "strap yourself in", instead you hold onto a little plastic piece of rope that is like a limp piece of spaghetti. It is very difficult to describe in writing as I am also drunk right now. AND, once the thing started fucking going...well, it's NOT a real bull motion. This thing just goes around like a merry-go-round. No bucking, just twirling.

And yet Moose and I can barely last more than 4 seconds each. And the bull ride was short too...ZING!!!

Now, it is at this point where the night gets ultra fucking hazy for me. My moral centre gets turned off, and I morph into a cunt quicker than you can say Craig Blair. It was at this time that we decided to go to the fucking strippers (naturally). We were able to find the worst fucking strip bar in the entire civilized world. Seriously, the women were rank, but not to the point where I would turn down lap dances.

At this point, I (Dave) must interject. The women were fat...except one girl who was so skinny (with no tits) that she made an Ethiopian woman look like she needed to go on a diet. I bought Moose this $30 lap dance AND he "entered into a draw" for another lap dance. The first lap dance he got was a public lap dance ON the stage. Indeed, this was not a strip club in the sense that they would dance, remove clothes, and then get off the stage. In fact, there wasn't any dancing at all UNLESS you got a lap dance. That was it ... just public lap dances on the mother fucking stage and then nothing. The second lap dance he got was a private dance. I'd later ask Moose what was better...and he admited that he would actually remember NEITHER dance.

While Moose was having his dances, that's not to say Cori and I had nothing to do. You see, this skin head "just got out of prison" dude and his friend sat down at our table and asked me what "me lady" was doing at a strip club. Sensing imminent danger ahead of me depending on my response, I explained that I was from Canada and that in our strip clubs, more than half the people are normally women! That FLOORED them...as did the fact that we throwing money at the strippers for prizes and that they ALWAYS get naked (even underwear). See...they can't get completely naked down here legally...so when they take off their bottoms, it's only for about 1 minute or so...

This guy keeps trying to talk to me, and I want to leave. This place is the biggest fucking hole of my life...so I distract him with a money line. I tell him to go up to a stripper, and tell her "I'm not a gynocologist, but I'm willing to take a look".

After the strip club, we ask random people on the street where the CASH -SEENO is. The Aussies, of course, say things like "Excuse me, Mate...don't you mean the CASINO"??? Ha, ha, ha...people down here laughed there asses off when I told them how we meant CASH...'cause we were shutting the place after we bought it, etc. BUT when I GOT to casino, and I saw how much money I've already spent that night, I realize that I'm not willing to throw away money unless it has beer in it.

Finally, we get a cab and John RAGES because the cabbies here do NOT know where ANYTHING is. Not that I blame them...the addresses here are all named, and all streets, and the cities are huge. If you don't know where you're going, you're fucked unless you have a map because there are waaaaaay to many named streets -- all in random order -- to know where everything is!

The next night we go to a house party with a bunch of wannabee doctors...which, really, is the truth. Corinna was depressed (and therefore drank her face off) because earlier this day our "Swim with Dolphins" day trip got cancelled. I meet a lot of John's friends from med school and Moose and I drink 52 ounces without blinking...but, there isn't anything specific that I can really talk about (other than his one friend Lauren thinks that we're nice right after Moose accused me of being blatantly racist to American's because I was explaining that they are our largest trading partner and that I should just stop talking -- thereafter we left and miraculously got a cab in Adelaide's version of the O.C. Actually, the party was at the equivalent of Seth Cohen's house and iMarissa Cooper was there...Jody, that last part was for you).

Actually, If I can say one thing about doctors, is that they hook up with each other...a lot. But I'll say no more on that subject (cough, cough, **Moose and Erin, who is supposed to have his children** cough, cough).

ANOTHER Wedding

2006-07-18T13:27:00.000-06:00

This past weekend was my cousin's wedding. It was held in my parent's back yeard. They spent, easily, over $2,000 on landscaping and other home improvements -- but the kicker is that they did ALL the yard work / labor by themselves!!!

As the pictures below demonstrate, it was well worth the effort. For those of you that have not been out to my place back home, hopefully this will entice you into coming out this September for another party (like last year). Now I just gotta float that idea past my mom and dad!!!.

I'll just let the pictures do all the talking!

Here is the view of the house when you first pull into the yard.
Can you believe it's nearly 15 years old???

This is the front flower garden just north of the garage

Here is a close up of the left side of that flower bed. Gotta love that pig!

AND the right side of the flower bed

The picture and the next one come from the flower bed in front of the house.
I don't know where this was found...but it's pretty cool.

My parents have a knack at finding these kinds of statues.

Here is the west side flower bed

And more of the west side. Check out the lizard and the humming bird ball

We're getting too "girly"...I'll fix this by showing hot cars!
These were the cars that transported the wedding party.

Southwest corner now...wait, what's that lurking?

Why...it's an alligator!

This swing is about the most comfortable thing you'll ever sit on. On the left side of the picture, you can see a REAL old fashioned butter churn...filled with flowers, of course.

Southeast flower garden / retaining wall.
There is actually 3 different levels to this flower bed.

South view of the house. The walk out basement makes it look HUGE

This is the outside of our outdoor bar...has to be seen to be believed.

This is pretty cool...it's called a "living easel".

Here is a close up. As you can see, the bird house is shaped like a church.

This was built, from scratch, and served as the "alter"

Around the alter were these heart shaped hanging baskets.

One thing Cori did for the wedding was make this aisle runner.

Here is a close up of the finished product.
She monogrammed it and everything.

Now I'm just bragging...
Here is some baby photo's of my cousin's youngest son.

And here is ANOTHER baby photo of my other cousin's daughter.

This cake WAS a delicious as it looks

AND FINALLY

This has nothing to do with the wedding...but it's my parents wood fired barbeque. That puppy can cook more than 120 steaks at a time!!!

She was busy...WINNING GOLD MEDALS!

2006-07-09T21:43:00.000-06:00

Today I got to celebrate an ass kicking that my wife laid on the field of sprint competitors.

Corinna is modest; but I do not have to be. Winning feels good...and, quite frankly, without me there to cheer her on, I'm not sure it would have happened! Okay, I should clarify that at this point, I think that I should mention that I feel like a groupie. Or a roadie. You know...hang out with the band, maybe get to go backstage once in a while...and, although I do nothing to contribute to the success, I get to trick myself into thinking that I'm the reason for the gold medal...

Saturday day was Corinna's one and only day to practice open water swimming. You see, that was the only unanswered question about this whole triathlon... Lane swimming in a covered pool is one thing; but swimming in a lake is quite another. Swim practice was treacherous. Not only did Cori not know where to go, but she had to contend with all the leaches in the water! (Ewwww...).

As for the bike and swim; well, she had that covered. She has been working out a LOT lately. An insane amount of running, and biking, and all the while her personal trainer has been getting her into a weight lifting program to get her ready. He was nervous too...while he has trained many people, he's never actually trained a triathlete before until Cori!

I'll skip the words and just jump into the pictures:

This is what a Triathlon Staging set up looks like!

Morning of the event...this is the start area.

Another "morning of" shot. Check out the lake!

It is very important to stretch ahead of time.

Introducing your athletes!

Everyone lines up for the swim...

The start is just mass chaos!

This is Cori coming out of the swim. I would be dying; she looks really strong. She is passing some dude here.

How is THIS for inspiration? Yes...this lady really is handicapped.

I am ashamed to say that I missed the first transition...Cori got changed QUICK. Here she is going onto her first lap of the bike -- 20 KM long!

In triathlon, the transistions are EVERYTHING. This guy was a prostar...had his shoes in his pedals and everything. Unfortunately, he couldn't get them on. The guy crashed his bike and then bent down to put on his shoes. I grabbed this shot after the crash.

This is the bike-to-run transition. Notice how Cori is the first one in her row to make it in?

This is the end of lap one of the run. Cori has vaulted from third to second overall at this point. She is only about 40 seconds behind the lead runner!

Cori crosses the finish line in 1 hour, 20 minutes, and 42 seconds. She is SECOND OVERALL IN THE WOMEN'S SPRINT and FIRST IN HER AGE CATEGORY. She only missed first place by a mere 13 seconds.

Here is what a gold medal looks like.

Yup...it's real gold! And what a snazzy hat...jeez dad, think Newalta wants to sponsor a WINNER??? Next Stop -- Hawaii and the IRON MAN. (Uh, just kidding!)

Naturally, I am extremely proud of Corinna. She trained so hard for this that she TOTALLY deserved it. And as her manager, I'm entitled to 25% of the winnings...

Just like you were there!

2006-06-29T19:09:00.000-06:00

FRIDAY

What a glorious day! Although our tux fittings were at 2:00 in the afternoon, I had decided to take the whole day off. After all, this was Houle’s big weekend…I wanted to be there for my buddy. Okay, who am I kidding…I just wanted to sleep in, maybe go for a run, watch a little porn – you know, the usual – before going to the tux fitting.

Patty gives me a call. He is a few minutes from town and wants to have a beer or two before the fitting and asks if I’m up for it. Is the Pope Catholic, I ask myself? Of course I’m in for a beer. Besides, it’s a nice sunny day and sitting on the patio of O’Bournes sounds just about the perfect thing to do.

Patty agrees to pick me and my shit up. As I answer the door, Patty introduces me to … uh … Jenn(?) She came back with him from Saskatoon. I wonder if this is Patty’s new woman or what the deal is…but it would turn out that she knew Bissel from Taiwan and had gotten a ride out to Edmonton to come see him for the weekend. And, as you will see later, it’s a good thing her and Patty WEREN’T together – Patty would be a cougar hunter later this weekend.

Jenn seems polite enough and asks to go to the washroom. While there, Patty discreetly informs me that I have some shaving cream in my ear – don’t ask how it got there ‘cause I don’t really know either. I explain to him that this is my “There’s Something About Mary” moment and that it’s not really shaving cream.

We laugh at the joke…but really, I felt pretty stupid because this is the first time I had met this girl and already I looked like a fucktard. Oh well, it wouldn’t be the last time this weekend that I’d feel this way.

We head to O’Bournes. The time is ~1:00 pm and we drink down a couple of beers in an hour before heading to get our tuxes. We get to Derks and Houle, Mr. Houle, Bissel, and Kris are already there. And so is a surprise guest – Mike “Special Constable” O’Connel!

That’s right…he made the trip from Surrey to come to the wedding. I gather it was a surprise too!

The final tux fitting is boring, except for the fact that we had this cute little South African helping us out. (Um...how to put this delicately...she was an APARTHEIDER and not an APARTHEIDEE in case you were wondering). One leg of Patty’s pants were longer than the other so Patty, naturally, had to make a joke regarding the size of his cock.

And even though we think she understood the joke…she kept on keeping on with her job. WOW!

After the tux fitting we head to Julio’s Barrio for – you guessed it – BULLDOGS! Jenn weighs all of 120 pounds and had never had a bulldog in her life. So, by the time she’s finished her second bulldog, she is talking up a storm – about Joe Bissel.

Here are some things that I learned about Joe while he was in Taiwan.

His room mate in Taiwan was flamingly gay. And yet Joe slept with him in a bed on one occasion.
Joe spent an entire day at a SPA
Joe spent his birthday wearing nothing but a red tutu. We thought that was bad enough until Jenn mentioned that she made a mistake – Joe had ACTUALLY won a RED TEDDY.

Can you imagine Joe wearing something like this? ** shudder **

Even better, his Asian students took PICTURES of Joe all prettied up and posted them on the net quicker than you can say Ace and Gary, the Ambiguously Gay Duo. All you had to do was type “Big Joe’s Birthday” in Google and the pictures would come up! Sadly, these pictures are no longer on the ‘net (yes, I checked) because it would have been priceless.

After the bulldogs, we figure we should get close to the Church for the rehearsal. So, this means that we switch bars from Julio’s to the Globe. We barely have time for a couple of double rye-and-cokes before we have to get to the church for the rehearsal.

The rehearsal…well, what can I say about the rehearsal? They are all the same, pretty much. Jon and Mish are up at the front ‘cause the priest wants to speak with them the most. The groomsmen and bridesmaids are at the back of the church. Bissel motions to Megan – a “come over here” kind of gesture with his pointer finger. So Megan gets out of her pew and walks towards us.

“What do you want, Joe”, Megan asks?

“Nothing,” says Joe, “See boys, I told you I could make her cum with just one finger”. HI-OH!

For the rest of the rehearsal, the priest and the nun direct us about the church.

Funny story about the nun. She was BLIND. When Jon and Mish first went to see the Priest to inquire about getting married there, the nun inadvertently grabbed Mishaela’s boobs! Talk about a sticky situation…here is Mish, trying to be nice and not saying anything but at the same time wondering what the fuck the nun is doing feeling her up. This is before she found out she is blind! Mish, in her infinite wisdom said nothing…can you imagine how would she feel if she bitched out the nun and THEN found out she was blind? Needless to say, had that happened, Jon and Mish would have had to find another church!

After the rehearsal, we head to Joe’s house. While there, Joe – ever the kind host – offered us some refreshments. A couple of beer were passed out and Patty asked if Joe had anything to eat ‘cause we were hungry enough to eat the asshole out of a skunk by that point.

“Just some coated peanuts” was Joe’s reply.

Well, fuck…load them up! So Joe grabbed the jar out of his cupboard. However, something didn’t seem right. For one, the “best before” date was March 2004. Secondly, they were covered in this green shit. I would figure out too late what they were – wasabi covered peanuts!!

Without thinking, Patty and I had popped a couple of them bad boys and chowed down. Have you ever had wasabi? Even the tiniest amount is hot and makes your eyes water…well, with these suckers, I was practically CRYING it stung so much. Still, I was fucking hungry…so I must have consumed at least 2 dozen of those bastards, wincing each and every time.

By now it’s getting late. So late, in fact, that Houle is phoning us wondering where in the hell we are because the rehearsal dinner has started without us! We get to their house and the place is pretty full with family, friends, and significant others. I knew that they ordered a full bbq pig for the supper and as I walked downstairs, I was tempted to shout out, “Man, I can’t wait to eat some ass”. Luckily, I keep my mouth shut.

Supper was hosted by J.P. and Elizabeth (Houle’s parents). At this point I would love to point out how smoking hot Houle’s mom really is. Good lord, Moose, you sir were RIGHT! It’s an open bar, dude…but I was mindful of the parents. As I sit down to eat my first of 4 (!) helpings of pig, Mish’s mom was thanking me for being the responsible one in convincing Jon NOT to go golfing the morning of the wedding since we really wouldn’t have time.

Of course, it was actually Bissel and Army who convinced Jon that we shouldn’t go golfing, but I wasn’t about to let that little fact stop me from reaping all the glory!

During supper, I think I found out a little bit of what makes Jon what he is. You see, his dad grabbed the pigs head and walked around the basement, asking people if they wanted head! Nice... Plus, if you've ever wondered where Houle gets that "finger pointing / shaking move", well...it's from J.P.!

After supper, we went to Kris’ apartment…and proceeded to get lit up like a Christmas tree! We drank like mo-fo’s. This was all well and good, but I accidentally logged into my MSN…which was fine. But then an ex-girlfriend of mine also logged on and decided to chat with me.

But I wasn’t at the computer.

I recall someone asking me who Christa was and I mentioned that she was just an ex. Oops… Shouldn’t have done that. The boys proceeded to spend the next 45 minutes trying to get her to change her MSN picture to one that showed her topless…among other things. At one point she typed, “Dave…what’s wrong…this doesn’t seem like you”. Finally, I got on the computer long enough to tell her that it wasn’t really me! (That’s when O’Connell fessed up and told her that it was him…and asked if she wanted to hook up). I shit you not, the next day Christa sent me an email, asking me “what I thought of this Mike guy”!!! O’Connell, you still got it!

Me and Patty finally tapped out at 2 in the morning. It had been a long day – 13 hours of drinking! But the rest of those fuckers kept going. Apparently Houle didn’t get to bed until 4:30 am…and it was KRIS ARMITAGE that had to convince Houle to go to bed.

Mish…I realize that if you are reading this, well, you’re not too happy to be seeing this. But what’s done is done, you can’t unmake the vows, and I’m certain you’ve consummated the marriage so an annulment is off the table!

SATURDAY

We get up at 9:30. Surprisingly, I would say that none of us are hung over! Bissel has to take a massive deuce… So why am I including this in the blog? I mean, a guy taking a shit is his own business. Well, the reason is that Joe flipped on the A/C after he was done. The smell from the bathroom was drafted DIRECTLY into Kris’s bedroom. Talk about a stinky alarm clock! Kris woke up shortly after that!

In a round about fashion, we get ready. First, we watch the wedding scene from Old School. You know, the one where Vince Vaughn tries to convince Will Ferrel to make a last second run from the church and not get married? Then, we watch wedding crashers for some inspiration…more on that to come. Finally, we get dressed. However, as we are putting on our tuxes, Houle looks at his pants. “Uh…guys…something looks wrong. These pants look too short”!

Joe tells Jon to just try the pants. So he does. Sure enough, he is wearing flood pants. Jon starts to panic.

Joe tries to calm him down by mentioning that he’s wearing black socks, it will blend in, and besides…no one will notice him anyways as the crowd will be staring at the bride anyways. Joe tries to get Jon to try on the rest of the tux.

But Jon would have none of it. “Son of a bitch, these guys fucked up. Where’s that god damned toll free number, these guys have ONE HOUR to fix their screw up”.

We tell Jon not to worry and that we’ll take care of it. In the meantime, we get him to continue to put on his tux. He reaches in the tux bag and asks, “Why are there two vests in here”?

Then it dawns on him. We’ve pulled a prank. Jon’s words are barely audible, “You fucking cocksuckers”.

You see, through friends of friends, we managed to convince the owner to include TWO different tuxes in one bag. The first one – the real one – we hid in the Army’s apartment. But the other tux is many different sizes, all of which would not fit Houle! Flawless Victory, Joe!

Finally we get dressed. We take a few pictures in the apartment, one with a Hustler magazine that Patty and I had purchased the night before, and then head to the church.

Outside the church, we had a quick beer. Then, we walked up to the church looking a lot like the Reservoir Dogs:

We get to the “groomsmen waiting room” where we are going over the ceremony in our minds based on last night’s rehearsal. Joe is walking us through some of the religious parts, proclaiming that he was “this close” to being an alter boy as a child and that he is “closer to god” than any of us because of it. Shortly thereafter, he lets out a massive F-bomb…and the blind nun is in the room when he does it.

We all head our heads in shame and say nothing…not that it mattered, ‘cause she couldn’t see us anyways!

The ceremony itself is great. Mish looked smoking hot and never cried, although she was close as she was walking up the aisle. Here are some pics:

Funny story about the wedding. The Priest was all business throughout the whole thing...until it comes time for Jon to sign the wedding certificate. The Priest announced, "And this is the part where Jaw-nah-tan -- remember, this is a french priest and that's how you pronounce his name -- signs his life away". ZING!

Finally the ceremony is over. It was a “short” Catholic ceremony, in French and English. Of course, short by Catholic standards is still long by any other standards. Still, at 45 minutes long, I figure we get off lucky.

As the recessional music plays, Patty and I BOTH escort Megan down the aisle. You see, Patty’s “date” had gotten preggers 7 months earlier and had withdrawn from her bridesmaid’s duties. Since there wasn’t a replacement, Patty and I had the honor of being Megan’s date.

Can you say TAG TEAM!?!?!

We get to the rows of pews were the boys are sitting. I call out, “Uh-oh, Patty, I think she’s done it again…”. I think I feel Megan stiffen up…but we don’t embarrass her here in the church.

I’ll skip forward at this point to the pictures. They were taken at the Legislature…along with 50 other brides. Good lord, the place was like a ZOO. But the best part (or was it the worst) was that it was National Aboriginal Day at the legislature! Native Americans all over the place…you can use your imagination what it was like.

At one point, a children’s entertainer gets on stage. He does a variety of impressions (such as what Beavis and Butt head would sound like if they were Native, what Mickey Mouse and Popeye and others would sound like if they sang a pow-wow song. You know…the usual. He also had a series of puppets. When he took out the Missy Piggy and Kermit the Frog puppet, I thought I would die. Observe:

Kermit: Hey Miss Piggy. Why is it that you and I are a lot like a Native couple?

Miss Piggy: Why Kermy, I have no idea.

Kermit: Because the woman is usually larger than the man!!

I am NOT making this up…this honestly happened. I nearly died from laughter.

Speaking of dying, there was this one wedding party in the same vicinity of ours. To say that one of the bridesmaids in that party was a little hefty is to say that the Great Wall of China is a tiny picket fence! Jesus Christ…how much fabric was needed to make her dress? I was wondering if I could take it off her hands when she was done with it to make Patty a new tent (see the Bachelor email to get the reference). Even Mishaela had to point out what a beast this lady was. I couldn’t help but wonder which groomsman was paired up with her, and if he faked having ebola before the first dance. I was thinking this about the same time that Kelly Million was talking about her fiancée (Edmund) and his big black monster cock. Yup…I think Kelly was a teensy bit drunk at the pictures …not that we really COULD drink because these security type of Nazi’s were out in full force during the pictures.

Okay…let’s flash forward to the reception. Supper is amazing, and Ryan Martin and Chrissy Lavalee do a good job on being MC – with little to no preparation time! Ryan would introduce the groomsmen and labeled me the “responsible one”. People that know me, of course, laughed…but those that didn’t thought it was the truth. Oh, how wrong they would be later on that night.

Jon did up a slide show – which was REALLY well done (good job, Jon) – and at one point there is a picture of Mishaela standing next to a slot machine. Naturally, I feel obliged to yell out, “Sanchu?” as loud as I can. There was also a stunning photo of ME in the slide show which came from the stag…sigh.

At some point, someone comes up to the head table and asks for a “crazy groomsmen photo”. So Patty, Bissel, and I all take a long pull from a wine bottle for the picture. That, right there, would characterize the rest of the evening. Meaning, of course, pure shit-facededness!

In the meantime, I think it would be prudent to highlight the “Cock Block of the Night” brought to you by Noel’s Numbing Cream
O’Connell is a single man and he’s a ladies man, which makes for a dangerous combination. Mishaela is a nurse with hot nurse friends which is also a dangerous combination. Get the two together and is a veritable explosion waiting to happen (cue Dishwalla’s When We Collide as background music). Mike is chatting up this rather attractive looking single blonde nurse (roughly 30 years old?) when J.P. Houle walks over to him with a phone in hand.

J.P.: Hey Mike, it’s your wife on the phone. She says to tell you that the kids are a bit sick, but they are all right and that you shouldn’t worry about them and just have a fun time tonight.

Mike: What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have a wife and kids. Now, where was I, baby?

But it was too late! The chick was gone quicker than you can say “Kris Armitage” and “Time to Pay the Bill”.

And THAT, ladies and gents, was one of the greatest cock blocks I have ever heard of in my life.

In other news, you’d be happy to know that tables 14(a) and (b) were out in full force, as was Jon and Mish’s ball team. Those three tables drank more booze than the rest of the guests combined, I swear. A lot of the night is fuzzy. One part that you need to keep in mind is that the supper was held at the Polish Hall. Sanchu, having just come back from Poland two days earlier, was so giddy because he could “talk to these people in their native tongue”. Never mind how incredibly racist that sounded – Kunal actually told him to stop referring to the service staff as “those people” – but I can recall Sanchu trying to teach us Polish phrases such as “thank you”, and “would you like to sleep with me”.

The night degraded from there into the single defining moment of my life. I was in the bathroom when the first few bars were played. Eric Prydz was beckoning me to the stage…but it may as well have been DESTINY calling. Collect. Not that it mattered, ‘cause I would have accepted the long distance charges anyways.

I look at Jody. He looks at me. We both knew what we had to do.

You’ve all seen the (partial) video from Garth’s camera. What you don’t see is the song when it first starts up, with at least a DOZEN people on stage doing the dance. Indeed, I think Chad is trying to dry hump Megan from behind…but I digress.

It’s only once they leave that Jody and I really ramp it up. To recap the high (low) lights:

Me twirling two chairs. (Think Britney Spears in her “Stronger” video). Then, I jump on these chairs – legs spread apart – vigorously humping the air
Me and Jody writhing and pumping the air on the chairs
Turning to face the crowd, shaking my ass round and round
Getting tossed bridesmaids flowers. Thrusting the air with the flowers in my groin region
Doing the back and forth “slap from behind” moves with said flowers.

Quite honestly, I’m surprised that I didn’t try to strip down to nothing! (Ladies…yes, we ARE available for your next stagette)!

At this point, my memory is failing. But I can tell you a few other things that happened at the party.

Edmund – completely sober – owning the dance floor like he INVENTED dancing. Honestly…it was amazing. There was ONLY one move that would have beat what he was doing; namely, the Worm. But that son of a bitch did that one too!

Joe left the party (say, around 1:30?) Couldn’t get a cab – honestly, it was ridiculous – so he walked down the street to a main drag in an attempt to get a cab. Decided it was too far to walk, so he rested on a bus bench…and promptly fell asleep. Wakes up when his friend Luke rolls up in a cab and asks him if he wants a ride home. Joe has no fucking clue where he is, what time it is…nothing! Thank god for Luke, or Bissel would have slept in the drunk tank that night for sure.

Patty is ready to leave as well and it waiting outside for a cab. Sits on the step when who should walk up but the hot blonde that O’Connell had been trying to score with. Patty hadn’t said more than two words all night to her…but still managed to get back to her place. Score! I guess what won her over was the fact that Patty was taking his Master’s in Accounting – so she reasoned that he couldn’t possibly be THAT young…. I think where Patty went wrong was actually confirming his young age to her. Had he not done that, he would have definitely bedded that cougar. Instead, however, she made him sleep on the floor with no blankets, no pillow, nothing!

O’Connell and Clint Galloway leave the reception…and go for a walk and find ANOTHER wedding nearby. They stroll right in, grab a beer, sign the registry…etc. It is exactly like wedding crashers! Problem was they walked into a SMALL wedding. I believe at one point someone asked them who the hell they were. I can’t remember what Mike said, but they realized they needed to beat a hasty retreat!

Of course, we sang "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" to Megan. And the way we did it was amazing. Patty got a mike from the DJ and started with those famous lines of "I think she's done it again, boys". And for the first time in her life, Megan didn't fight the song...she didn't shrink in embarrassment. Instead, she RELISHED in the song, dancing to it, etc. Of course, the fact that she was finishing off half empty bottles of wine probably helped...but I'm proud of the progress she made!

SUNDAY

Just a quick recap of the gift opening.

1. Patty was still in his tux. It was freakin’ hilarious because EVERYONE in the room knew that he did not sleep at home. Some even knew WHERE he spent the night.

But that’s not even the best part. The girl he stayed the night with was SO embarrassed of what she did, that when she dropped Patty off at Jon and Mish’s house, she did NOT want to drive up to the front door. Instead, she got to the corner of the block and made him get out to walk the rest of the way.

However, just as Patty got out of the car, who should pull up but all the bridesmaids! They saw him get out of her car…she was sooooo busted. Patty said she tried to slink down in her car, out of sight, hiding below her door windows!

2. You can only imagine how much I wanted to NOT go to the gift opening considering my performance the night before. Indeed, when we got there, Houle’s mom had to ask Cori how long we had been dating before we got married, and if she knew that “I was like that” before she said yes. But, once all the strange glares were over with, I’m glad that I did go because Jon’s uncle Andrew showed me the ENTIRE dance from beginning to end. I don’t think I’ve laughed harder in my life. Cori had tears she was crying / laughing so hard, and this was the second time she’d seen it!

3. Finally, I made up for some of the embarrassment by getting Jon and Mish a kick ass gift. (This is my blog, ergo I toot my own horn). I got them a leather bound bottle of 10-year port. The logo of the bottle, along with their names and date of wedding, was stamped into the leather. The port has to age for another ten years, so the idea being that on their 10th wedding anniversary they can actually use my gift. I thought it was kind of thoughtful and not your every-day-run-of-the-mill gift. Besides, with my performance the night before, I SO needed to score a home run with a kick ass gift to get me in the good graces of Jon and Mish – and, more importantly – their families!

Well that, in a nutshell, was the wedding. Hope you enjoyed it…and watch for the DVD of my and Jody’s dance hitting a store near you!

Game 3

2006-06-25T22:08:00.000-06:00

Yes...this is so late, you're thinking "why bother"? Because it was an amazing night that deserves it's place in internet heaven. And I will get into Jon and Mish's wedding -- and all the horrible, shameful details, later this week.

* * *

Game Three of the Stanley Cup Finals yeilded my greatest one liner of my life last night. And only Houle was there to witness it, and it's something that I don't think I'll ever get a chance to use it again.

We were at Thirsty Turtle watching the game. It was the second intermission. One girl (Tia) said to another girl (Reanna), "Hey, Reanna, I haven't seen you since last period".

To which I replied, "You mean you haven't seen her in 28 days...???"

Houle keeled over in laughter...and, after the shock, even Reanna had to laugh.

What else happened that night? Oy vey...where to begin? Well, for starters, the bar ran out of beer. But what do you except when you have Houle tell the waitress to bring us 4 pitchers of beer, and then 4 more. The waitresses name was Bailey, and after Jon and I sang to her, it was clear that she loved us. She thought that we were animals for the amount of beer we were drinking -- it is obscene the amount that we can drink and still function (like Jon's wedding, but I digress). In the end, however, Bailey got a huge tip and would use me as a messenger service...more on that to come.

There was a contingent from MFC at the bar. MFC stands for Maximum Fighting Championship. Their new light heavyweight champ was in the bar, along with CTV, for a photo op. Both the champ, and the photographer were from Quebec, so of course Houle had to do his "french thing" and talk to them. Then we got a picture with the guy that is supposed to go on the website...but I'm not holding my breath.

Edit: As of June 25, the photo's are NOT on the site. I'm NOT surprised.

Oh, and I so could have taken the guy...Here is his picture, for those that are interested:

After the Oilers won, we were inspired to scream "Here I am, Rock you like a HURRICANE" over and over. We looked onto Whyte Ave and the place was going crazy. Women in miniskirts and tube tops were everywhere. Jon and I did the patented "gasp move". (Honestly Moose, Chewie, and Jay, it's our "new move"). The girls heard us, naturally, and looked up to see us checking them out. Even though they didn't seem impressed, I think that deep down they actually loved us.

No sooner had we finished feeling embarassed for ogling, then the skies opened up and it POURED on us. Honestly...Whyte Ave was flooded within minutes. The cops that were in charge of crowd control had it pretty easy...the rain drove everyone away from the Avenue.

Even though it was raining buckets, what did Houle and I do? We ran to Cook County, then tried to push a cab back onto the road after he plowed over a construction barricade and got stuck in the lane of traffic where they had removed all the asphalt. As we were trying to help this guy, with rain soaking our shirts, the crowd was chanting, "HEROES, HEROES, HEROES". Naturally this was amazing.

Oh, but I should mention that although it was pouring out, as we ran to the next bar, we DID stop to give high fives to people on Whyte Ave. What's so special about this? Well, we were only "high fiving" people in HANDCUFFS.

Cooker was a shit show, I won't go into the details of why Jon Houle was two-stepping. (Yes, you read that right...Jon was dancing). But I will point out that BOTH girls asked each of us why we were soaked from head to toe. I was thinking that they can't possibly be serious -- didn't they see the rain looking out the windows in the mechanical bull room? Guess not!

I also will not explain why I had 6 random girls grab my ass...but that's not the best part. You see, after feeling me up (or, as I call it, "a Lise" type of move), these chicks pulled the CLASSIC Moose move of pretending that they hadn't done anything. It was honestly one of the coolest things I've ever witnessed. Moose...your style has come full circle!

Another interesting story involves Bailey (our first waitress at Thirsty Turtle) who gave me a hand written note that I was to give to Lindsey, who was a shooter girl at Cooker. I called her out by name...and she was scared. Was I a stalker? How did I know her name and what did I want? Her fears of having to get a restraining order were alleviated when I gave her the note. Although Jon and I weren't supposed to read it, I did manage to catch bits and pieces of it, namely the part where she tells Lindsey to NOT trust the messangers. DAMMIT, foiled again!

I also ran into Jenn Zirk (a chick I RLA'd with). It was great to see her 'cause I hadn't seen her, literally, in two years. I told her that Cori and I were married...we had a new house, you know...catching up. Well, then I got a BRILLIANT idea. You see, back in the day, I had asked out Jenn's older sister. That bombed like a Japanese kamikaze pilot into a U.S. aircraft carrier. But, I thought, times had changed and maybe she would be glad to hear my voice again. So I called her up ... it was after midnight.

Krista...this is YOUR LIFE! Do you remember...the year was 1997 and the place was Six Mac. You were in the teens wing while I was in the high wing...

At this point she cut me off. Who IS this?

I ignored the question...and asked one of my own. What are you doing right now, and what are you wearing?

She said that she was reading a book and going to bed. She did NOT sound happy. So I let her off the hook and told her who I was. I BARELY REGISTERED WITH HER. Or, more like, she knew who I was and really didn't care if she ever talked to me ever again.

Oh god...bad idea! I gave the phone back to Jenn to apologize. At this point Houle asked who Krista was, if he knew her, and what she looked like. Jenn described it best: "Picture me...only with brown hair, and I have way nicer tits". Jon gasped...we did a lot of gasping that night.

I swear...one day Jenn is going to make her future husband very happy!

Eventually we left the bar and got some Mickey Dees, again on foot. As we were eating our food at the garbage can, I got into a fight with the hot mustard packet and absolutely ruined my shirt. But while this was happening, a lady with her two teenage sons again tried to run over the construction zone I mentioned earlier. The car's front bumper just SLAMMED into the pavement...and she must have wrecked her car.

After that embarassment, Houle and I again saved the dayand earned more hero chants when we placed a "road closed" barricade over the most dangerous portion of Calgary Trail North bound.

We went back to Houles, called Mish ('cause it was her stag that night) -- man was she ever drunk -- and then passed out.

It was an amazing night and there were only the two of us...but truly a night that will live in infamy.

UPDATE:

I couldn't let this go without an update. After the disappointing and heart breaking loss in Game 7, I was on the verge of tears. The Oilers had come so close...to lose like that was horrendous. I was wallowing in my beer when the topic of strippers came up.

Naturally, my spidey sense was tingling.

I'll spare you the details, but the discussion culminated in the GIRLS at the party -- 4 of them -- convincing us 3 guys that we should all go to the strippers. Sweet sassy molassy, you don't need to ask me twice. Cori, Mel, Melissa, and Lise...you are the greatest women EVER!

A Tribute to Lise

2006-03-26T18:55:00.000-07:00

The Irish Rovers have a great party song that I'm not sure a lot of you have ever heard. The song, titled "Wasn't that a Party" puts lyrics to the wild and crazy events of a house party. I don't know if the party in the song is real or not, but I DO know that the events of last night at OUR house deserve to be immortalized on the internet forever.

To give some of you a quick recap, Corinna and I have been spending money faster than an Enron executive on "home improvements". You know, a new furnace, a new stove and fridge, and a new dining room table. With these reno's completed, we thought that it was a GREAT time to host a theme party.

And thus, Travel the World in Wine and Food was born.

The premise was simple. Cori and I would supply a bunch of wine from different regions on the planet and we'd also serve an appetizer dish that also corresponded to the region from which the wine came. A lot of our guests also brought a wine (or two) with them. It promised to be a great night.

To recap, we had wines from Germany, Italy, France, Australia, Canada, Argentina, South Africa, Chile, and the U.S. The food that we prepared was equally impressive: bacon wrapped shrimp, crab stuffed mushrooms, cheese dip and tortillas, spicy meatballs, creme puffs, and bruschetta.

Sadly, great parties just don't plan themselves, so Cori and I worked our asses off getting the house ready and preparing the food. Fortunately, we had some great friends -- Lise and Steve - come early to help in the culinary preparation. Now, while Steve and I COULD have done the whole thing ourself, we decided to let the girls take over in the food department and we instead decided to drink a case of beer and watch the hockey / basketball games.

Well, I'll be damned if we didn't polish off that case of beer in a hurry and we were getting hungry. But because we are men and have IMPECABLE timing, wouldn't you know it that by the time the last beer was gone, it was time to drink wine and eat the food.

The spread was impressive, and I regret that we don't have a picture of our new table laden with food and drink...it reminded me of the pilgrims and the Indians on Plymouth Rock for the site of the first Thanksgiving. We plowed through the food like pigs at a trough. And in the process we managed to get RIDICULOUSLY drunk.

At first we were all sophisticated in the process. What started out as "Why yes, I would love to try the Californian White Zinfindel, the aroma and flavor goes well with the shrimp" quickly turned into "pass that fucking red shit down here". Corinna, in her loving fashion, made sure that everyone had a full glass of wine or a plate of food, and no one objected.

But soon we left the cozy confines of the dining room to other parts of our house. Regretably, I don't have enough pictures of the evening as it progressed. We laughed, we cried, we watched soft core porn on Bravo.

While we were mesmerized with "Sexual Secrets", Lise had managed to slip away with Melanie into our office and were preceding to fuck around on our computer.

Want an example? Click on this link: www.sanchu.justgotowned.com

If any of you reading this happened to be on MSN at the time, you likely also got a drunk and incoherent MSN message...from me, well, except not. You see, Lise and Melanie proceeded to go through my contact list and chatted with nearly everyone on there, pretending to be me. Sigh, you can imagine all the explaining I had to do with certain people this morning!

Here is a great group shot of some of us on the couch:

Can you see the stupid drunken grin on my face? Well, check it out...here is the reason why!

As they say in the pop tarts commercials....BBBBAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM! Thanks Melanie...I guess I owe you one!

As the night wore on, we noticed that the crowd in the living room had thinned out. Why? Because Lise -- who perhaps drank the most out of any girl, indeed was drinking straight out of the bottle at one point -- was DYING in my bathroom and bedroom.

To say that she puked was an understatement...the spasms were so violent that it's more like she was trying to give birth through her mouth! The next series of pictures are an amazing photo essay of her leaving our house:

Suh-weet, an orgy on our bed. Errr...only in my dreams, I guess. You see, I was pretty excited when I stumbled onto this scene, because about, oh, 30 minutes before she crashed like this, Lise had saddled up to me on the couch and proceeded to....well...grope my chest. I'm not sad to report that I liked it!

Now pay attention to the grin on her boyfriends' face. Dammit, I think Steve's enjoying this!

Oh Lise. Defiant to the end.

At the end of the night, the final tally was 10 people, (two of whom drove home) and 12 bottles of wine. It was a great night and we'll do it again!

Weight Class

2006-02-01T17:47:00.000-07:00

I have long gone to the Kinsmen center to work out during my lunch hours. Usually this consists of either lifting weights or cardio, along with a session with an exercise ball to work on abs. Alternatively, I'll slip my pale white ass into a pair of swimming trunks and go for a swim.

My boss also goes to the Kinsmen during the week days, although we rarely (if ever) see each other. Whereas I'm in the gym, she is doing some sort of instructor-led class. Wednesday, it seemed, was her "weight cardio" class.

For MONTHS she has been bugging me to try it out with her.

(Okay...lets make this clear now...you can just forget about any perverted notions that might be forming at the tip of minds regarding how my older FEMALE boss might have any sort of notions regarding her YOUNGER male staff member. We have a mutual respect for each other and share a lot of similarities...indeed, I view her as a mother figure.

Then again, we all remember what Freud theorized about boys and their mothers....)

Well, today (for once) I took her up on her offer and accepted her invitation to go to the class. "I'll tell you now," she was quick to warn me, "it's a really intense class". Pssh-aw. What does she know? She is nearly early retirement age...while I'm in my mid twenties, work out a great deal, and am in generally great shape.

So I change and go into the class room. Everyone turns their eyes on me 'cause I'm the "new guy".

It was like I was in the middle of shooting an Edmonton version of the "Call on Me" video...and I was the lucky guy that gets to work out with a room full of women. (Seriously...I was the only dude). But that little fantasy was burst when I realized that my boss was lined up beside me, my former boss in front of me, and to my rear was the Executive Director of...well, I'm not sure what Bonnie does, exactly, but she is ALSO a big-wig in my department!

I quickly learned that for the work out I need:

an exercise ball
a mat
two sets of dead weights of different size
a power band (i.e. big piece of stretch elastic -- like a wide elastic band with one end cut)
a thing that looks like a stretchy skipping rope

You can tell how much I'm into this aspect of working out...maybe I should call it "a rubber thingy" and a "stretchy what-cha-mah-call-it"

In terms of the free weights, they "ONLY" had 15 pounders. Again, my ego gets the better of me and I laugh at the puny amount of weight as I grab two of them, as well as a pair of 10 pounders.

The instructor puts on the music and starts the warm-up music. It was Bon Jovi. Awesome. She explains that the course won't build "flashy muscle" but instead developes and tones core muscle groups. Even better!

And that is where the fun ended. What happens next, well, I can only call 1 solid hour of PURE UNADULTERATED FUCKING HELL!

Allow me to provide an exampe: "Okay class...we're staring with lunges, with the weights by your sides...and down, and hold it, and hold it, and now bicep curl into a military press...hold that pose...now drop the weights...and back to standing."

Me. (*Heavy breathing*)...thank god that's over.

Instructor: Okay, great! Now...repeat ten times as a WARM UP. And then we'll do the other side.

Me: Mommy...(*cry softly to self*)

Sweet Mary Mother of CHRIST did I work my tail off. At one point we had to take our exercise ball and walk out across the ball on our hands (such that ultimately our shins rested on the ball, elevated above the ground). The move was (a) do a push up, and then (b) lift one leg off the ball (thereby balancing only on the leg remaining on the ball.

I'm not proud to admit it...but when I went into the "down" position for the push up, sweat didn't just drip off my face...it LITERALLY poured in a steady stream onto the floor. **shudder**

The work out damn near killed me. We did moves that I'm not certain are legal...and I even had to rest 15% of the time! I didn't even do the full workout!

By the end, I wanted to shove every single piece of workout equipment around me straight up the instructor's ass! Why? Cause I had nearly puked after the ab set!!! I could barely walk after the class and almost fell down the stairs to the change room from exhaustion.

But you know what? I've signed up for next week already...and I'm bringing friends!

One step closer to Jay Doss

2006-01-29T13:18:00.000-07:00

There are many in my life that I admire and respect. Notable examples include Hulk Hogan, for teaching me to say my prayers and eat my vitamins. Spiderman, for teaching me that with great power comes great responsibility. And Chuck Norris, for teaching me that a roundhouse kick to the head will shut a man up fast.

But despite all of these legends, they all pale in comparison to the one, the only, Mr. Jay Doss.

As many of you who read this blog already know the legend that it is Jay Doss, I shan't repeat his numerous qualities and character traits that make him the single greatest human being on the face of the planet. Nor will I recall the tales of adventure and wonderlust that comprise this prodigy's life to date. Indeed, my fingers could scarcely type an description equal to 1/10th the power and the glory of Jay Doss. And I daresay that all 7 of the World's Muses living high upon Mount Parnassus would struggle mightly to contain Jay to the confines of mere pen and paper.

Many try to emulate Jay Doss. While we realize the futility of this endevour, we nonetheless attempt to relive his experiences so that we may yet understand what it is like to be him.

But, just as blindfolding yourself and wearing ear plugs doesn't make you Helen Keller, neither will any lame attempt on your part measure up to the magnificence of Jay's life.

That doesn't mean we don't try...

Last night, I went to Koutouki Restaurant on the West end of Edmonton. It is a nice greek restaurant that feeds you more than you could possibly hope to consume in one evening. We were there to meet some of Cori's friends for dinner who had made the trek from as far north as Fort Mac and as far south of Calgary. Call it a get together / reunion if you will.

Anyhow, I ordered some lamb souvlaki kebaps and was waiting for the food to be delivered. All of a sudden, the lights go down real low and they pipe in really loud greek music. In the distance, the sounds of finger cymbals start softly, but slowly build in pitch and intensity...as the belly dancer emerges from the back room!

If you've never been to a restaurant with a belly dancer, the idea is that you slip a $5 or more into their hip strap. In order to convince you to tip them, they shake their bodies suggestively right in front of your face (which, don't get me wrong, I don't really mind) but they ALSO try to get you dance with them (which, if you're not drunk, is TERRIFYING...I mean, HULLO! most of the people in that eatery were white!)

Slowly but surely, the belly dancer made her way to our table. And there was no hiding me from plain view. Hell, I was sitting right next to the open portion of the restaurant where she was dancing! One by one, this subtle temptress was luring men into dancing with her by throwing her scarf all willy-nilly and making the guy who caught it (either by choice or by chance) to dance with her.

The closer she got to our table...the more afraid I became that I was going to have to dance. But fortunately, help arrived in the nick of time...our food came! Surely to god she wouldn't bug us while we were eating!

But no... Food did not grant us any reprieve. Sigh...let's just get this over with!

Oh...but it gets better. And I'm NOT DRUNK here, either.

Can't you just SEE how much I'm enjoying the "dry off with a towel" (TM) move???

In the end, did I manage to pull off "dancing with a belly dancer" with as much grace and class as Jay did? Well, you can all be the judge of that!

The other interesting event from the restaurant was this guy. How in sweet jesus did he do this?

Any ways, after dinner we went bowling. Some people, like Corinna, actually tried (and did well) at bowling. Here is Cori celebrating after a strike!

I, on the other hand, lick donkey balls when it comes to bowling. Hence, me and Mike "strongest arms in the west" Syndenham had a competition to see who could throw the ball the fastest down the lane. Mike started off with a 50.21 kmph blast that impressed us all. Not to be outdone, I managed to throw a 51.32 kmph, thereby dethroning the champ and taking back the championship belt.

But my celebration was not unlike the French upon completion of the Maginot Line...Mike countered with a BLISTERING 53+ kmph shot that I just could not match, though I did try as evidenced below. Mike's camera has a shutter speed that measures in the 1oooths of a second and it's STILL blurry...that gives you some idea of the force we were whipping these balls down the aisle!

Realizing that we couldn't beat Mike, we instead concentrated on a second game of bowling. Problem was that we only had 15 minutes to play an entire game -- and there were 11 of us! Rather than turning in our shoes, we played a game of speed bowling which involved us throwing balls as fast as we could down the lane -- sometimes not even waiting for the gate to lift!

Yeah...bad idea. We got EVERY SINGLE BALL in our two lanes jammed into the hopper. Uh...and then we made it worse by throwing every single ball in the lanes on either side of us down our lane as well... Needless to say, those balls were ALSO jammed. Gulp!

Fearing expulsion...or worse, having to pay for damages....Cori went and got a lane attendant. Before he went to fix the problem, he chided us somewhat. "Jesus, you kids...what is wrong with you. That's 21 balls in a lane that you jammed up there!"

I can only imagine the GASKET he blew to find out that instead of 21 balls...there were actually around 60 bowling balls at the end of our lanes. He started shovelling them back at us by using a broom to push the balls into the hopper to roll back to the front of the lane. But upon their arrival, we threw 'em right back at the guy! Lets just say that his broom took a beating! I still don't know how we didn't get kicked out!

Here is a picture of the balls coming back, regretably it's blurry...but by my count, there are about 8 balls being sent back at once.

All in all a good night, I'd have to say!

The MONEY PIT

2006-01-07T10:19:00.000-07:00

I ain't sending an email update for this blog entry...for those of you that happen to visit my blog from time to time, I'd like to send a big CONGRATS for coming here without prompting. Besides, if you aren't a HOMOwner, then this likely doesn't make any sense to you anyways.

In 1986, Tom Hanks and Shelley Long starred in a mildly well reviewed movie about the pit falls of renovating a "first home". That movie was called MONEY PIT.

Well, today we had ATCO perform an "energy audit" of our house -- to highlight areas of improvement to reduce our gas and electrical bills and improve the overall quality of life, re-sale value, and comfortability of our first home.

Needless to say, our house appears to be it's own money pit...and suddenly, that Tom Hanks movie is a LOT more relevant and funny than it was when I first saw it.

Here is what we found out.

1. We have around a 55% - 60% efficient furnace that should be replaced. Luckily, we already knew about this and have already decided to purchase a $4,500 (installed cost) 94%, two speed, variable furnace in February.

2. We have only wood chip insulation in our attic, giving us an R-value of R-10. For Edmonton climate, it is recommended that you have an R-51 valued attic...meaning that we need to blow in fiberglass insulation PDQ. That is, of course, once we get the bathroom fan and stove fan installed and running!

Estimated cost of around $1,000...although we should be able to do most of this ourselves.

3. We have NO FREAKING INSULATION IN OUR BASEMENT WALLS!!! For the love of Christ, who puts up a basement without insulating? Thus, as Mike Holmes would proclaim on his hit HGTV Show Holmes on Homes, "It's ALL gotta come down".

Okay...so we were planning on redoing the basement anyways...but I never expected this!

Cost: an arm

4. We could look at insulating behind the vinyl siding. Granted, this was yet another home improvement we planned for later...but to have all of this stuff thrown at you in less than 2 hours hurts.

Cost: the leg.

Sigh...while I'm glad to own a home, and we actually got a good home for a 1st timer (believe it or not!), you can bet that I'll be calling on a lot of you to put your backs into it to help us do some of these renos!

Garthanarajuat -- the Fast Drinker

2006-01-05T21:55:00.000-07:00

I think the reason why I LOVE Auld Lang Syne as "THE" New Year's song is because it's one that no one really knows the words to...so you just mumble along and/or humm the words. This way, whether you are drunk or if you are sober, everyone sounds the same come Midnight.

Two guesses as to whether I was sober or not. Those of you that got a phone call from me that evening already know the answer!

But the evening started out very strangely. We told people to arrive at 7:30 so at 6:15 (naturally) Chad and Robin are already there. Cori and I were just putting the finishing touches on decorating and getting ready...but we didn't want to keep our guests waiting. In a rush, Corinna dumped half of the chocolate that we had purchased for the chocolate foundue / fountain and popped it into the microwave to melt.

She put it in for 3:00 minutes. After 2 minutes had elapsed, she RAN to the microwave...but it was too late. Half of our chocolate had BURNT to a hot, messy, unsalvagable mess. Agh...that's $5 we'll never see again! Fortunately the second half of the chocolate went a lot better, so the fondue was salvaged.

Not knowing what to do, we popped in a movie: Atanajuat: The Fast Runner.

It was the Cannes 2001 winner for best feature film...and it's from Canada. It was nominated for a Foreign Language Oscar and won 6 Genie awards. So it can't be THAT bad, can it?

Sadly, yes...yes it can. Basically, the story is about a couple of Inuit families that face adversity in the North We... Oh hell, who am I kidding. None of you care what it's about...you only care why we were watching it! But I cannot do justice to the masterpiece about Inuit Life. Instead, I will let the movie synopsis do all the talking (I've highlighted the best parts):

When Atanarjuat wins away Oki's promised wife-to-be, the beautiful Atuat, in a head punching competition, Oki vows to get even. Egged on by his intimidating father, Oki and his friends plot to murder both brothers while they sleep. Amaqjuaq is speared through their tent and killed, but Atanarjuat miraculously escapes, running naked for his life across the spring sea ice.

We made a drinking game of it. Uh...anytime something stupid happened, we had to drink. Needless to say, after 1.5 hours (or, as Corinna puts it, HALF WAY) we shut the bloody thing off and get back to DVD games and karaoke (without the karaoke machine).

The drinking is in full force in no time at all. Garth (amazingly?) puts us ALL to shame with the drinking. If we had one shot of Jagermeister, he'd have two. Naturally, that amount of booze would make him ten feet tall and bulletproof...and clumsy as fuck. I selected Garth to be on my Air Hockey Team...and we got slaughtered. Oh well, I'm in training for the great 2006 Air Hockey and Darts Tournament to be held soon at our house.

Because I have a tendancy to go on and on in this blog, I'll let the pictures do the talking.

This is my friend Felix, whom I work with. When I mentioned that I lost in Air Hockey, it MAY also be because Felix (a) was playing net for the other team and (b) was sober. In the background, you can see the unused chocolate fountain.

Uh oh... Looks like Chad's too drunk to notice that arm DOESN'T belong to his fiancee!

Hey Jody...maybe you should stick to hitting on woman. Like my amazingly hot wife. (Or...wait...that sounded bad, didn't it)??

Me, looking STUNNINGLY drunk. Uh...this is the part where I start calling everyone, I'm certain of it!

This is me after a dropped a $30 champagne flute after Garth elbowed me in the ribs.

Yes, the night goes by all too quickly. Before long, New Year's has come and gone. Jody runs around outside (in only his socked feet) and I'm pretty sure he pukes in our back yard. Why didn't he puke in the bathroom? That's 'cause it was occuppied by Garth who provided us with his best rendition of the Exorcist yet!

And not to be outdone, I (sadly) also puked.

The next day, I felt kinda queasy...but nothing like Chad who had been drinking Scotch and Jager all night long. Here is the "morning after" picture, shortly before I cooked French Toast (the smell of which also made HIM puke)!

After Chad and Robin said their goodbyes, we made our way to Fairmont. If you've never gone, you should as you see some of the best scenery this province has to offer. You literally drive right through the mountains...Observe:

While in Fairmont, we didn't do a whole lot as we were visiting the in-laws. However, one cool thing we did do is to take a drive to see some people ice fishing. Houle...Cori says she wants to try it out one time!

The other cool thing we did is visit a natural hot spring.

Now, I wasn't here just for a visit...I actually climbed in! (And yes, I need to work on my tan...so save the yappin'). The water here (in the upper pool) is about 35 Celcius. In the lower pool, I estimate the tempature being around 27 Celcius. Oh...and lets just get this clear...before you sum bitches make any comments about the chick in the back ground crawling into the water, you should know that's my mother in law!

But that's not the best part. You see, the cool part of these hot springs is that they are FREE and feed into a river. So, since I am (kinda) young and (definately) stupid, I decide to be a MAN and sit in the river.

This river is the result of GLACIAL RUN-OFF. And it's the middle of December.

Just look at the PAIN in my face. Jesus H. Christ that water was fucking cold!

With that adventure out of the way, we made it back to the condo were I proceeded to drink my face off and then head out to a local bar to sing Karoake. We DO have a video of this amazing feat; sadly, I am not certain if you can post video's to this blog. Which is too bad, because I have the voice of a choir boy that has not yet been raped by the priest!

In the end, it was a lot of fun but I'm glad to be back in the city!

Strippers!

2005-11-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

Oh my lord...where has the time and money gone?

As you know, Corinna is spending two fun-filled weeks on a sailboat cruise in the East Carribean while I'm here in the snow with work and homework and school. But it's not all bad because for two glorious weeks I am a (quasi) bachelor once again.

Don't get me wrong...Cori and I are great and couldn't be better. But if you always are eating chocolate icecream 'cause it's your favorite thing in the whole wide world, it's kinda nice to have the option to switch back to vanilla. But it's not like I'd want to STAY with vanilla...because on the whole, chocolate is way better.

Now...with the pleasantries aside...let me describe to you a recent monday night shenanigan that was witnessed by myself, Jody, and Moose.

It started innocently enough. I was sitting in Dick Beason's BUEC 502 class -- yes, he prefers to be called DICK -- and my phone was vibrating more than Mish's favorite sex toy. Now....that's NOT A SHOT against the lovely bride-to-be, but more of an off-handed commentary on the skills...er, lack there of...of my good friend Jon Houle.

The call display: Jody Blair. 5 missed calls.

Now...being that I NEVER get called on a Monday, I somehow instinctively knew that the reason for the call wasn't for a pleasent social chat. As soon as class was done, I called J-dizzle and was told to come to his place for some hard core beer drinking and strippers. I quickly booked it home, packed an overnight bag -- yes, I was prepared! -- and heading back to face my destiny in Apartment 710 (whatever that might be).

Upon rolling into Jody's, I had to play catch-up. You see, they had been drinking since at least 8:00 and it was now 10:00...so I had to drink like a Irish Catholic Highschool Principle who keeps a bottle of whiskey in the top right hand drawer of his desk and takes a pull even time a teenage female gets knocked up, or a boy molests a nun, or a priest rapes a choir boy.

Two-fisting Kokanee like it was water, I quickly caught up to my two sidekicks. Besides, RAW was on and you all know how they likes the wrestling. They were too enamoured with the likes of Trish Status to continue drinking.

Once we were good and liquored we made our way to Diamond's Strip Club. On a monday. I was worried that we'd be the only one's in there... I was wrong. The place was packed. WITH WOMEN.

No word of a lie, the club had about 35% women.

You know, I love the female sexual revolution. Back in the day, all you'd see in a strip club is dirty, greasy, unshaven men (i.e. your dad) with a fist full of dollar bills -- who here in Canada remembers THOSE days? -- sitting in gyno row with shit eating grins on their faces watching the poontang stroll back and forth. Because I can barely relate to these apes, it's kinda nice to see females in the joint. Not only does it make the place more classy -- the men feel they have to behave for the "real women" in the joint -- but more importantly the dudes feel they may actually have a shot with these fine fillies and hit on them at the strip club leaving perverts row wide open.

Thus, we grabbed three beer -- $17.50 in total -- and grabbed a front row seat.

What I witnessed transcends words. It was as though these women were dancing especially for us. The fact that we'd throw $20 in loonies there way had NOTHING to do with it. Not to mention that it was "Amatuer wet T-shirt night" and, well, I was on top of the world.

But while I was content to sip on beer and Ceaser's, Moose and Jody had ideas of private dances floating on their heads. (both of 'em, er...and both of their heads). After Jody came back from his first lapper, he asked how come I wasn't getting one.

The answer, or course, was because he had just spent $20 and had been in that room for only 5 minutes. (Honestly, I timed it)! That's not a good return for the money spent, when I could see (basically) the same thing for "free" from the front row of the club.

As I was discussing the merits of a lap dance with Jody, Moose himself went in for a private dance. I started the timer... 5 minutes. 10. 15. 25. 30 freaking minutes. Moose comes out of the private dance room and heads STRAIGHT TO THE CASH MACHINE. I will swear on my grave that Moose got a little rub and tug, or perhaps a lil' cock gobblin' underneath the table (both literally and figuratively).

I attemped to quiz him on just what exactly had gone on. His response was classic Moose, "I don't know...I guess she just liked me 'cause I was talking to her and shit, and 'cause I'm so hot"

Uh. Right. Moose, there aren't enough "O's" in smoooooooooth to describe you, buddy.

Anyhow, moving on... (uh, should I tell you this happened at least twice more in the evening)? Look...I COULD describe to you all the raunchy details, all the stripper posters, fridge magnets, and key chains we earned. I could tell you about all the people we phoned to mock whilst drunk, or how we collectively spent more money than the GDP of a small third world nation. But that would only serve to make you jealous, and since jealousy is a sin, I figure I'll leave out the sorrid details and keep you all on the plus side with the Big Guy upstairs.

I know that you are wondering, "Can this night GET any better"?

The answer is yes...yes it can.

After they kick us out at closing time, we decide to go to Keegans for some mighty fine eats. As we sit down to our chocolate milkshakes and burgers, 3 of the strippers (uh, the house ones...not the hot headliners) waltz in to the restaurant.

They are immediately swarmed by two brown dudes who, regretably, remind me of Kunal (sorry buddy). One of the more brazen assholes try to sit with the girls -- the three chicks were sitting 3 people in a 4 man booth. They wanted none of this and told him to get the fuck out. But it took a good 5 minutes and two waitresses to get this douche bag to move....right next to the table beside these girls!

Oy vay!

Realizing that he wasn't going to "get any" he proceeded to them sluts, whores, ... every name under the book. You know, things that you shouldn't ever call a girl to her face! I felt SOOO bad and wanted to do something, like rain a storm of thunder on the face of Captain Asshole.

But considering that Moose and Jody were more interested in their food than backing a brotha' up, I decided that in my drunken state, 2 against 1 wasn't in my favor EVEN THOUGH I am built like a brick shit house*

* = it's my blog and can embellish if I want to.

Instead, I went back to my tasty fries-and-gravy when the next thing I know, a piece of ice hits me square in the balls and Jody is drenched in water as a plastic cup goes pinging off the top of his head.

Turns out that the girl that was getting the most upset over the Kunal-wannabe threw her glass of water in the face of this guy. Then she proceeded to beat him on the head with said cup before throwing it at him (which missed, hitting Jody instead).

What fireworks! What drama!

They leave crying. I feel bad, but what can we do? We finish eating, pay our bill, and leave (20 minutes later). Lo and behold, those girls are STILL OUTSIDE. The one girl is crying and her friends are trying to console her. Moose -- who's DREAM is to sleep with a stripper -- tells the lady that she did the right thing. I pipe up and announce that the dick head was a total asshole.

Jody says nothing. Well, maybe, "Fuck ... lets just go...". But that doesn't count.

The kind words of me and John lift the heart of this young lass. Her friends say, "See, these guys support you...". She dries her eyes and thanks us (with a blow job). Okay...just kidding, I'm trying to see if you are still paying attention!

They tell us that we are perfect, handsome gentlemen (clearly, they are more hammered than we are) and bid us a fond adieu.

I head back to Jody's and fall asleep. Just another day in paradise! Those girls may have left our lives, but they'll never leave our hearts and minds.

Oh. And you may wonder what happened to all the stripper paraphenalia. Well, I took them to work with me to give to Sophie (who's never been to a strip club). I told her that she could use them as decoration for her wedding...she told me to go take a flying leap. Meh, you win some and lose some, I guess.

Marathon!

2005-10-30T16:59:00.000-07:00

I woke up waaaay to early. It was still dark out...and I was shivering 'cause it was cold. You mean to tell me that I was going to have to RUN in these conditions in an hour? Yes...this is an actual shot about 1 hour before the race!

We pull up to the registration tent and Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" is blasting in the back ground. This was a good start to our morning! We meet up with Mish and Edmund because they are running in the same marathon; although we did not plan on running together. We start to speculate about our times... Edmund figures that him and Mish would finish under 2 hours.

I mentioned how Cori and I had been running ~22km to train for the race. I asked them what the further distance was that they had ran. Turns out, they didn't know! To quote: "We just run until it feels like 21 km"

Oh boy. I hope they've trained enough!

Jon Houle, intrepid photographer, mentions how he would like to train and run a 1/2'er. Easy there, big guy...let us finish this one first.

Soon enough the start of the race comes. It is a surreal experience. You are surrounded by thousands of other runners waiting for the start. As time counts down, you feel the nervous energy in the air. John Stanton -- CEO of the Running Room -- counts down the final few seconds.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...and we're off!

The whole crowd is cheering like crazy and it's tough not to get caught up in the moment and run faster than you had paced / trained for.

There isn't much I can tell you about the run itself. All in all, running IS kinda boring to watch / read about. About 2 km's in I get a massive cramp but decide to run through the pain 'cause Cori has REALLY stepped up the pace and I don't wanna slow her down. Indeed, we manage to keep up with the two hour pace bunny for most of the race. But here are some action shots.

I PERSONALLY LOVE the Casino photo. Somehow...somehow, it just seems right.

As we reach the double-back point of the race and head for home, we manage to cross paths with Mish and Edmund . Uh...I'm not going to go into great length describing the pain and anguish on Mish's face. But let's just say that it wasn't pretty...it looked like she was about to die!
As we approach the finish line, I whip out my camera to take an action shot of Cori. What you don't see is that LITERALLY 5 seconds after this picture, Cori yaks EVERYWHERE! I guess the pace and the Gatorade finally got to her.

I hand her my water bottle...you know...to wash her hands; to rinse her mouth; etc. But no...instead, she yells "Let's just finish!!!!!!". What a trooper she is!

Ultimately, of course, this is the goal of the whole race...this finish! We did 21 km in 2 hours and 3 minutes...and I was so proud of Corinna because it obliterated our estimated time by nearly 1/2 hour! Here are some finishing pictures...including one amazing sign of encouragement!

Would I do it again? Maybe. But not Cori...she's done with this running shit. No, instead...she wants to do a freakin' TRIATHALON!

The Dreams of a Boy Become the Destiny of a Man

2005-09-25T13:51:00.000-06:00

It has been a really long time since I added a post to this site, but last night my friends-Yikes!!!! I really had absolutely no choice but to write something here.

Jagdeep is now back in Canada, and for those of you out of the loop, he's a Whitecourt buddy who has spent the last year teaching English in Taiwan. Arriving back in Edmonton on September 20th, Jagdeep chose the Strat on Whyte Avenue as a good place to get re-acquainted with a bunch of his friends. God bless that man for choosing such a spot!

I arrived late to find Jag in full flight, beer flowing like wine, joined by another old buddy from high school, my friend Rory. Soon, I was in full C-U-Next-Tuesday mode, and found myself relegated to the corner of the bar, swapping dirty jokes with my friends. Just like ol' times...

A pedophile and a young boy were walking alone together in a dark forest one night.

"I'm really scared of this forest, Mr. Pedophile Man! It's so dark and scary!" the boy said to the pedophile.

Replying, the pedophile said, "You think you're scared? I have to walk outta here by myself tonight!"

Yup, we are fucking awesome...

And it was during my time in the corner that I saw them, glaring at me, almost mocking me. They were so many of them too; it was rather intimidating. Putting on my game face, I decided that I would not be pushed into something I did not want to do. "Fuck you pickled eggs! Glare at me all night long, and I still won't fall for your powers!" I screamed my new mantra to myself.

Turning away from a sure fight to the death with a jar of pickled eggs on the counter, I quickly realized that our table had been overrun with these strange, unusual creatures, the likes of which I generally only see at the Titty Bar's (or, to appease Cpt. Asshole and all of his Frenchness, Le Titee Bar; Mon dieu! C'est un grenouille dans l'Alberta! Zut alors!) (and yes, I really do hope I butchered that!). They weren't as hairy as we were, and they certainly didn't wreak like us...Perhaps...they were...females? Couldn't be, could it? I mean, don't they only exist in places like www.persiankitty.com or a kitchen? Whatever they were, I decided to strike up a conversation with the one closest to me..The creature was drinking beer, so I knew it couldn't be that bad...

"How's it going?" I asked her.

"Not bad, you?" she replied, obviously impressed with my witty opening remark.

"I'm okay...I'm here to see a buddy. He just got back from Taiwan, and we plan on getting a bit fucked up tonight," I said.

"Cool! I think we are here for the same reason then!" she said.

"You mean, you also plan on getting puking drunk and passing out in your own clothing?" I asked.

"Haha! No! I think we are both here to see a guy from Taiwan. Jagdeep, right?" she said.

"Yeah! Hey, cool! We should have a good time, then!" I say, "Do you happen to be in school right now?".

"Yeah, I'm getting my master's degree in Comparative Literature," she replied.

"You're studying C LIT at a graduate level?" I ask, smiling like a motherfucker at my own charms.

"Yup!" she replied, not slapping me.

Finding out that her name was Janelle, we talked and drank awhile longer, eventually achieving Nirvana in our hammerdness.

"MICROWAVES, T.V.s, STEREOS!" she would yell.

"ALL AT DISCOUNTED PRICES!" I would yell back.

It was an unlikely love. There she was, a grad student with barely two nickels to rub together, occassionally caught in her own class level; me, well, I'm a rich and sophisticated aristocrat, charming and polished to the end. But there was some magic in the air that night, like Cupid himself was shooting arrows into my heart and/or groin. We're going to make it after all...

And like all good things, eventually my love affair had to end.

"It was good meeting you, John! Goodby..." she was trying to say.

Cutting her off, I cried, "I hate goodbyes!...Please, let's get this over with...Just go, don't look back," I said. With that, Janelle left, gone from my life forever.

"Out of all the sleaze bars in all the world, why did she have to chose this one to come to tonight?" I asked my freind Rory.

"Hey John! Look over there! That blonde is wearing a belt for a skirt!" Rory said.

"Fucking sweet! We should try and double up on her!" I yell.

"It's a deal," Rory said.

As I was undressing the blonde with my eyes, something on the bar again caught my attention. Looking more cocky now, the eggs were back. Smiling their arrogant little egg smiles, they thought that they had me in a corner.

"Awwwww...Look at Mr. Skinny Man...He don't like no eggs...Eggs too strong for Mr. Skinny Man! He get all sick if he eat us!" the eggs were saying to me...Not quite drunk enough yet to feel the need to issue a response, I ignored those eggs, though I knew that one way or another a breaking point would be reached, and the eggs and I would have to resolve all of our differences.

There were still some skirts left at our table, so I decided to break out the elephanitis of the testicles story on them. Surprisingly, they were not runnig for the hills; I think I may be on to something here, as I used the same story five minutes into a first date a month ago, and the girl didn't leave, either. I guess girls like stories about dudes with big balls...

For the next hour, I proceeded to drink my face off, and before I knew what was going on, it was last call. Doing the only thing that I could think of at the time, I ordered more booze for the table. As I was talking to the bartender, a guy who would have his face torn off if a magnet was ever brought to within 18 feet of his body, the eggs stepped up again.

"Listen cunt. We know you are a pussy, and we are pretty sure that you realize that yourself, too. Drag your raggedy ass on out of here before you get hurt," they said. "Only real men can handle this thang," the eggs said, slapping their collective booties.

That's it...The last straw. "It is time," I said to myself. The Lion King theme music started playing in the background- a tone setter, as I was about to climb my own personal Pride Rock and take on the Pickled Eggs of The Strat. Recruiting another buddy from the 'Court, Dave, we ordered twenty of the little bastards.

I charged into my eggs at a ferocious pace, eating them whole. Dave chose a more conservative, and ultimately smarter, aprroach by taking his time. This fight was one of endurance, and I was treating it like a sprint. I nearly ralphed on egg number eight, forcing me to slow down the pace. By the end of egg ten, I was nearly blind, and I lost feeling in my left leg.

Dave was doing no better; his face was the same green colour as the brine that keeps the eggs oh-so-delicious. Looking at ourselves, and realizing that we had nearly eaten a dozen eggs each in less than twenty minutes, a feeling of pride spread over our faces. We did the impossible, and we had survived. But just as I was about to do a victory lap around the bar, most likely a nude victory lap, I noticed the jar of eggs; there were still ten left. Five more eggs apiece...That would bring me to 15 for the evening if I tried to accomplish this feat. Fuck me!

Sometimes, the mark of a real man is to know when he has been beaten by a worthy adversary and simply to walk away. There was no chance that I would be able to finish all of those eggs. Indeed, I ended up having two strokes and a heart attack on the walk home, so anymore may have caused real damage. I lost the battle that night; my greatest challenge, and I came up short. The war is far from over though, and as God is my witness, the dreams of a boy will become the destiny of a man, and I will one day eat all of the Strat's pickled eggs.

God speed,

Moose

The Jerky Boys?

2005-09-22T08:10:00.000-06:00

Ring, Ring.

Agh. Dammit...what could be so important that I have to be disturbed during the season premiere of Lost?

It was Moose.

“Hey Muley, do me a favor and call 922-#### and if a lady answers, then ask for Colin”.

Naturally I’m more suspicious than a hooker who hasn’t paid up front by the John. “Why should I, Moose…what’s the deal here”?

Moose in usual fashion simply tells me to “Just do it” like I’m in a Nike commercial. Although I can’t see him, I KNOW that he has a giant grin spread from ear to ear.

So I call.

“Hi, is Colin there” I nervously inquire?

The amount of ice in her response would have brought down the core body temperature of a small child down to 21 degrees Celsius, placing it in cardiac arrest. (Uh, that’s a joke for Jay Doss, now that I’m an expert doctor after watching the T.V. Drama “House”). I won’t soon forget her three-word response: “No, he isn’t”.

I realize that something is amiss. She sounds pissed off…as if Colin SHOULD be there but wasn’t. I feel as though Moose has just tricked me into calling this lady just to piss her off. I make a real lame excuse to get me off the line, but in reality, I just hang up the phone.

I phone back and ask Moose just what in the hell is going on. He giggles and mentions that our recently married friend is in town and left a message on Moose’s phone, stating that he could be reached at the number I just called. But clearly some signals got crossed, and Moose had called that same number twice…gotten the lady twice…and had gotten the response that Colin wasn’t there.

So he called me, instead, to “triple-check” that Colin wasn’t there. He didn’t want to look like an idiot three times over, so he had me call instead. This poor woman had received three calls, all in the span of 5 minutes, looking for some guy named Colin when no Colin was to be found…

But still…why didn’t this broad simply state that, “There is no Colin at this address”?? But I guess that’s one of life’s little mysteries.

So what is the POINT of this blog entry? It’s the fact that after I realized that I was a pawn in Moose’s game, I wanted Moose to get Paddy to call this broad and ask one simple question.

“Hey, this is Colin…do you have any messages for me”?

I am SPIDERMAN.

2005-08-28T10:33:00.000-06:00

It's 5:00 and Moose phones me up...we are going to Joey Tomato's.

Why Joeys? Because...hmmm...how to put this delicately....ever since coming back from Africa, Moose has been 5 times as horny as normal. Which means that he is now masterbating 5 times a day. The waitresses at Joey's are hot. Need I say more?

I tell Moose that I'll pick him and Garth up. Getting to Garth's place, he asks me if I'm feeling better 'cause he got the email I sent out. Pardon, I says?!?!? What email....?? Ugh. This one...I have quoted it for posterity to remind myself that I should never drink again:

Im' not goig to lie...I'[m fucking hammere.d. But I love how the Ekss won tnoniht. Aned the Riders blow . That is all....thank you, good night wdmonton, we Love hyoud.... Dave..

Ah...shit. Nothing like having proof you are a dumb ass.

Driving to Joey's was an adventure. We are at the lights on 109 and Jasper and this fucking moron runs the red light. But wait...it's Patty! Apparently having only 3 hours of sleep and then moving all day doesn't make you the most attentive of drivers!

We get to Joey's and the wait staff are pretty hot. Not as hot as my wife, mind you...but still, a close second place. While I'm certain that these girls all realize that the only reason they have been hired is for esthetics, I think that when they count up the billions of dollars a second they make in tips, they don't feel so bad. Unfortunately, the place is packed and the wait is 45 minutes long. At this point, I'm hungry enough to eat the asshole out of a skunk, so we decide to jet.

We eventually decide to walk to the Overtime. I seriously LOVE that bar. Great food, good decor...and incredibly hot older people that frequent the bar. And by older, I mean the 25 - 35 crowd. Sigh...growing up sucks after a while. Highballs are $2 and we go to town. Eventually our waitress asks us just what the hell we are doing, sitting on the patio, when inside it is MS. EUROPEAN EDMONTON night. Unbelievably hot women all around us...

We grab a table inside and are immediately surrounded by pageant contestants. Now...I may be naive but I'm not an idiot. On a good night, maybe, (and I stress maybe) one of these women might say "excuse me" and she walks past us on the way to get another drink...but that would be the extent of any conversation we would have with them. So when Ashley and Maria actually sat down at our table, I KNEW that they wanted us to buy something from there. Not that I care, mind you...it's kind nice to have women introduce themselves to us for a change...but it was clear they were selling something.

Maria asks our table if we are nerds. Uh...how the fuck do you answer that question? I give her a resounding, "No, no I am not...but I can't speak for the rest of 'em"? "Too bad", she replies, "because I think nerds are hot".

Wait...Maria...I take that back. I play the odd computer games. I actually READ the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I thought Beavis and Butthead were actually pretty funny....

In the end, I know that her comment was a thinly veiled shot against us...but what could we do? Moose is drooling like an idiot, and Houle and Garth are into it as well.

Then starts the game. You see, Moose tells Ashley that he'll buy a $30 ticket to the final pageant if she can convince Pratch, Patty, and Bissel (sitting at another table) to buy one as well. So she saunters over to their table and solicits them... Being the men that they are, they refer her back to us and she asks to "speak to the captain of the Canadian Ski Team" (Houle).

We reply that we really don't have a lot of money...Canadian Amateur Athletes don't make a lot of coin...but we point out that Pratch is a lawyer and Patty is an accountant with boat loads of cash. I think I see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes...and she once again makes a bee-line for their table. she MAY have been wearing a micro mini skirt...but I'm not really paying attention. I'm immune to stuff like that.

Patty and Greg look over at us with the evil eye...and I'm waiting for one of them to knife us. The rest of us, of course, are doubled over in laughter. There is no denying that a lawyer and an accountant aren't going to be able to convince this chick that they don't have the $30...

Finally Ashley comes back to our table, this time directly to me, and asks whether or not the MBA student wants to purchase a ticket. Oh shit...she got me good, fucker...

Luckily, I have a back up plan. The pageant is on the 10th of September and I have a ball tourney. But I give her my most sympathetic (fake) voice and lie to her, saying "That's too bad, Ashley, that I can't make it...'cause I really wanted to come for sure! And I'd vote for you, 'cause you seem like a nice and sincere person".

Eventually I get sick of this mindless back and forth. So I go up to the bar in time to see Amber Taylor's fiancee laying on the bar with whip cream in his belly button, with his guy friends lifting random chicks, making each of these women lick the whip cream. These incredibly hot cougars at the bar use this opportunity to slide up next to me at the bar. I pretend not to notice their penetrating gaze which is directed to my groin region. I pretend to ignore them...but am forced to respond when one of them asks if I'm "with" the whip-cream crowd. I explain that I know the guy, but that I'm not with that group. And because I have zero interest in the wares they were peddling, I give them the cold shoulder and they leave...

I had to make it clear that I would not be their prey for the evening.

As I'm waiting for my beer at the bar -- damn, it's taking a long time -- this blonde taps me on the shoulder. She is way to young and way too good looking. You get the sense immediately that she is "that girl" at the bar. You know...the one that NEVER has to buy a drink 'cause guys are falling all over themselves to do it for her?

She asks me -- and I quote -- "Are you shy? Because normally guys want to talk to me and I'm trying to get your attention". I roll my eyes and sigh to myself. She is as tranparent as a sheet of glass...but I don't want to be a complete ass, so I introduce myself. She explains to me how this is the first time she has been in the Overtime...but she really likes it over Whyte Ave 'cause -- and again I quote -- "all the guys I have met here are much more sophisticated and hot and it's really nice to have met you".

Then, I shit you not, she blinked twice and glanced shyly at the ground. It was like a move out of any romance movie ever made! Argh....why is this happening? First the cougars and now her...dammit, I wear my wedding ring proudly for all to see...

At this time, I feel it appropriate to quote one of my favorite movies. Not everyone is meant to make a difference. But for me, the choice to lead an ordinary life is no longer an option. With great power comes great responsibility. Who am I? I'm Spiderman.

But I know that she wasn't into me...it just happened that I had flashed a roll of twenties when paying for my drink; and hers was empty. I brush off her blatant advances and explain how I love this bar and used to go to it more when I lived down town. But now that ME AND MY WIFE bought a house, I don't make it out as much as I like.

This girl apologizes. Lamely mentions how she wasn't trying to hit on me. Uh-huh...right. She leaves my side in all of 3 seconds there after. WOW...COMPLETELY like a guy in many respects...so this is what we look like, hey ladies?

Way to soon, we leave Overtime. Not by my choice and not by Moose's. Apparently, the guys I was with have an issue with mingling with hot women. So we head to the Stone House and the place is fucking dead. And of the handful of people in there, most of 'em are guys. Moose starts to cry and wants to go back to the Overtime. The night is then filled with Jager Bomb after Jager Bomb. At $35 a pop for a round of 7 drinks, lets just say it gets very expensive very fast.
But we also get blitzed out of our minds.

I start calling everyone in the country. Namely, Sanchu and Chad... I have to bug the shit out of Chewie 'cause the Riders shit the bed. But oddly, I get no answer...just voicemail. I hope mi amigo didn't throw himself off a bridge in suicide last night.

Cori calls. She is in Kelowna packing up her shit from her house...but there is a problem. She had to be evacuated 'cause the mountain her house is on is on fire! I hope they were able to save the house; I'll have more details tomorrow. Suddenly, my comment of "Unit 92, Unit 92 ... do you require my assistance" is not as funny...

Finally, the night begins to wind down...but Moose still wants to pick up. Pickings are very slim, and amazingly enough, his dirty jeans and t-shirt look isn't winning him many points...so he does the next best thing and hit on the rudest pigs in the whole bar. ** SHUDDER **

I ask Moose if he REALLY wants to do this. "Fuck off, Muley...you are married to a hottie and can get laid anytime you want. I'm not so lucky".

Okay then. I was a wing man...and I had to choke back the puke. At the end of the night, Moose got into a cab with these ... women (if they were, in fact, female). He called me the next morning to explain that by some grace of god he didn't get laid...even though he tried.

I will end this entry with a promise to my friend. I WILL PAY FOR THE GOD DAMNED HOOKER...JUST NEVER TALK TO WOMEN THAT DIRTY AGAIN.

You learn something new ever day

2005-08-10T13:28:00.000-06:00

So. You know Worchesterchire sauce?

Apparently it's pronounce "Wuss-ter" sauce.

Thanks to Sophie for the head's up. (You see, she used to live in the U.K. before her and her family emigrated -- I mean, got deported 'cause she's brown -- to Canada).

I want to be a roadie

2005-08-03T08:17:00.000-06:00

HOLY CHRIST I am tired...but it was worth it.

I roll into Jody's around 5:00 pissed off at the world. You see, the thing is that I am insanely fucking busy at work and there is no end in sight. I was complaining because I had to leave work "early" at 4:30 (wow...are my priorities ever fucked) and how I had too much to do.

Recognizing what condition my condition was in, Jody did the only thing he knew how...and gave me a beer.

The amber liquid rolled down my throat like liquid valium. Soon there after another beer followed, and another. We watched the Family Guy Movie (TM) and getting snapped. The Motley Crue: Carnival of Sins Concert started at 6:00 but Jody and I didn't want to see shitty bands so we continued drinking.

Soon enough, however, we got to the concert and made a bee-line for the beer stand. There was the chick -- what a delight she was -- who was checking ID. There was this kid in line with beer in hand. She asked to see his wrist band (proving that he was 18). He didn't have one. She asked to see his ID (proving he was 18). He couldn't produce it. So she grabbed his FULL BEER and dumped it...and the dude didn't even complain. Likely because he was SO fucking busted and had nothing. Jody and I pointed and laughed...

We settled into our seats just as Sum 41 started playing. Uh....either Deryck Whibley was too tired (from banging Avril the night before) OR ELSE they were pissed off that they couldn't be a headliner -- I don't know -- but I have to say that their set was weak! Look...I don't CARE about the obscure songs you sing; I want to hear the shit they play on the radio! Honestly, I recognized maybe 2 songs!

Whatever. We weren't really there to see them anyways. We were all getting hard in anticipation of the greatest band to ever perform: MOTLEY CRUE.

I will save you the details, mainly 'cause I'm at work (and don't have time) and because I couldn't do it justice anyways... But here are some highlights of the show the Neil, Mick, Nikki, and Tommy put on:

Played for over 2 hours
Midgets
Chicks with huge tits wearing nothing but lingerie performing acrobatic moves in the air
Juggling
Harley Davidson Motorcyles on stage
Hot chicks on stilts
Fire dancers
Pyrotechnics
Fireworks
"Tittie Cam" including 'machine gun flashing'
Tommy Lee doing a drum solo whilst flying thru the air back and forth to two drum sets that were suspended in the air.

It was, without a doubt, the greatest concert (and loudest) that I have ever been too. If you are a fan of the band at all and you didn't go to the show, then you made the biggest mistake in your life... I would have paid triple the amount for the ticket; it was that good of a concert.

We're going into OVERTIME

2005-07-24T13:10:00.000-06:00

You should all call my cell phone.

The evening was amazing. First of all, the Riders got DESTROYED which always makes my night. Then, after discussing politics and finishing a 40 pounder of spiced rum and the remainder of "Mitch's Cabin Vodka" at my house, Garth, Moose, me and Cori went to the Overtime Bar and Grill. We drank like Lords at the bar -- and we almost got nunchuked! You don't even know!!!

(Uh...watch wedding crashers to get this reference. Not only is it an amazing movie, but if Cori meets a tragic fate and dies after being bitten by the lethal green mamba snake as we explore the jungles of Brazil, then I have already decided that I am going to become Owen Wilson. Moose has already called dibs on being Vince Vaughn. And we too shall live the life).

Eventually Cori decided she was tired of dancing with the same three dudes and left; Garth followed shortly thereafter. Moose and I stayed, uh....dancing with ourselves. But only 'cause we are comfortable with our sexuality

I was prompting and prodding Moose to go ask certain women to dance. Afterall, he just came from AFRICA (15 pounds lighter, if you can believe it) and should have more lines than he would know what do to with...so he would do his "shoulder shuffle" and work his way into a group of chicks. And then say nothing...and get shot down...all in all what we've come to expect.

But there was this one chick that was actually INTO the whole schtick and was dancing with Moose. Believe it or not, she asked for his number. I will vouch for this momentous occasion as I was there and it didn't require any trickery or a roofy-colada.

But because he didn't have an Edmonton phone number, but yet didn't want to look like a stain, he did the only logical thing that came to mind...

He gave her my number.

Then he told me to change my voicemail to make it sound like him and I are room mates.

And because I love to help all the brothers from different mothers, I complied...

Recognizing what a flawless victory last night represented, Moose and I left the bar. Okay...so more like they flipped on all the lights and told us to get the fuck out. We tried to get a ride home with these Italians (ummm, don't ask) and then decided to walk home.

The End.

P.S. We have to start going to the Overtime more often. It is a slightly older crowd (kinda like the Gas Pump) but it's actually classy and the people (in general) are all good looking (kinda unlike the Gas Pump)

Another one bites the dust

2005-07-04T20:57:00.000-06:00

I was shivering with anticipation. Why was I so giddy? It was because I was relishing the prospect of a 5.5 hour drive from Edmonton Alberta to Fairview Alberta. Now some might be asking, just where in the hell IS Fairview. While the answer to that question would make a good Jeopardy response...I'll put you out of your misery now. Fairview is about 1 hour North of Grande Prairie in the middle of god's country.

Why were we going to Fairview? Because as Queen sings, "Another one bites the dust". That's right...it was Yackie's (er....Jackie's) wedding and many of us had an invitation to go to the social event of the year as far as that sleepy little town was concerned.

The trip and the weekend was amazing...and, hopefully, unlike the last blog entry I can cut down on the length and instead replace it with pictures!

Friday

Friday started great. Afterall, I didn't have to go to work since it was a holiday and my day only got better when Robin called me to ask if Cori and I could "pick her up". Regretably, my elation was somewhat diminished when I realized that she was NOT proposing a threesome...but, meh, you win some and you lose some. We roll up to Chad's parent's house and are immediately attacked by a rabid pitbull of a neighbor.

You see, all the parking stalls in front of their house were taken, so we had parked TEMPORARILY behind Robin's car. That particular stretch of the sidewalk belonged to another house and there were "no parking" signs on each end of the property line. Realizing that I was illegally "parked", but knowing that we were leaving in all of 5 minutes, I took my chances with the motor running.

And that's when this fucking bitch comes out from her hobbit hole and announces, "Guess you can't read, huh".

Wow...and good morning to you too, sunshine! Ugh...as Moose would say, "Back into the Loch with you, Nessie".

Recognizing immediately that this lady was "that girl", I simply responded, "Yes, I saw the sign...but I am only picking up my girl friend and we'll be gone in a moment, thanks ma'am". But she didn't quit! FINALLY I just announced out of exasperation, "Look...we'll be gone in two seconds, seriously...".

Never mind the fact that not once did I shut off the ignition, and hence was never actually parked. But she didn't seem to be the one that would understand the subtle nuances of the law. I then proceeded (in classic fashion) to pretend to ignore her. As did Corinna.

Shortly thereafter, we met up with the rest of our convoy -- namely, Grant driving the Plymouth Laser along with Greg and Garth for a fueling up both for our cars and our bodies. Mmmmm....Harvey's....droooooollll. I gave Turks a burnt CD in exchange for a walkie talkie. You see, the deal with our road trips is that we always bring along a two-way radio. Seriously, it makes the ride go way faster. For my part, I explained that the CD contained songs about Roads, or Trucks, or Transportation of some kind in some way.

For example: Song one of the CD: "Convoy" by Paul Brandt.

The first time that I can recall getting sustained response on the two-way was song four of the CD: "Leaving on a Jet Plane" by Chantal Kreviazuk. Yup...a quintessential chick song in a car full of dudes.

The trip itself was like most road trips, featuring a couple of pit stops and a chinese fire drill in downtown Whitecourt. But for the most part in eventful...until we got on the last stretch of divided highway up to Grande Prairie. Since I'll never be able to explain it in words...may I present exhibit A:

Okay...so the story is that we are driving 130 km/h down the road and Greg announces that he wants a bottle of water over the two-way. Cori announces that we have some...and that he should come and get it. So there I am driving like a bat out of hell with Robin holding the water bottle out my window as we are screaming down the highway like raped apes. Garth is similarly leaning out of Grant's passenger window and grasps the water bottle after a few failed attempts.

My car, literally, was no more than 4 feet away from Grant's. In the end, our hand off was incredibly stupid of us to do...but look at this concentration! How could we NOT try?

While the car might have been going 130 per hour, the adrenline was pumping at a million miles a minute. After the handoff, we became rejuvenated; powered up if you will. The chatter over the two-ways became incredible and non-stop. After a while, Grant asked me if I was able to understand who (in his car) was talking and mentioned that it was pretty easy for them to tell when I was on the radio (since my only other car mates were chicks).

At this point, someone ELSE got onto our channel. Sensing a brilliant opportunity was at hand, I replied back to Grant to explain that I was going to have Cori punch me square in the nuts and then we'd see how well they could guess who was talking. Needless to say, the chick that had been listening in nervously stammers, "Uh...Mike, I think we better change channels, pronto"! Flawless victory.

Soon we had to part ways. You see, Corinna and I had booked ourselves two delicious nights at the $53 per night hotel and didn't want to miss out on that action. But by the same token, Grant et al were trying to lure me with promises of poker and the cashino in Grande Prairie if only I stayed. And they were like Wile Coyote, trying to keep me from keeping on to Fairview; pointing out that Corinna could drive the rest of the way, etc. It took every fibre of my being to resist...but Jebus would later thank me for my commitment.

For starters, I got to drive over Alberta's only remaining suspension bridge. Luckily for you, we have a picture!

We finally drop Robin off at the farm, drive the rest of the way to Fairview. Like weary soldiers we march up to the front desk and request our check-inn. The lady at the front informs us that "there'd been a little mix-up". Uh oh...that can't be good. I began making preperations to "make like Jesus" and look for a manger to sleep in. But fortunately I was not relegated to some horse stall on a farmer's barn. Instead, they informed us that they had no choice but to provide us with a free room upgrade to the HONEYMOON SUITE! (The bad news was that the room rate was almost double what we were expecting).

Boo-yah. Take that, Grant / Garth / Turkey. See what you almost made me miss??? It had a living room, two-man jacuzzi tub; king sized bed; and a full length mirror at the end of said bed! What a treat...

After unpacking and then eating at the finest restaurant in town -- Subway -- we get back to the room in time to get a call from Robin to meet them downstairs in the Aurora sports bar for a drink. Jackie and Gordie are there, along with (pretty much) every young person that was going to be at the wedding. After a few beer we start playing this game where you have to introduce yourself and announce if you are single or not.

When it gets to Jackie, I cleverly shout out that she is DEFINATELY NOT SINGLE. Normally this would not have to be said; but, well....Gord is from a REALLY small town and the choice of women ain't good to begin with. Nevermind the fact that I didn't exactly trust Jackie's cousins....after all, they ARE from Eckville.

Saturday

We wake up in the morning really early. I announce to Cori that I'm going for a run with only one problem -- I didn't pack enough t-shirts to go running. No worry; I'll just go shirtless; besides, I could use the sun. So I'm jogging down the road and get to this four way stop where I'm greeted by a minivan filled with women. They see me and honk and wave wildly -- they were excited to see the beefcake! My chest sticks out just that little bit extra 'cause I realize that these minivan moms probably don't get to see these kinds of sights everyday.

I give them a wave and keep jogging; happy to have brought a little ray of sunshine into what ordinarily must be a dull existence.

I get back to the hotel and get purdy for the wedding. Chad (who had previously decided not to come to the wedding) phones us to let us know that on his way. Suh-weet! He rolls up with an hour to spare and also gets purdied up...just in time for Greg to roll into our room with a bottle of rum. SHOTS FOR EVERYONE BEFORE THE WEDDING!

We get to the Church and take our places. Before long, the woman of the hour arrives. She is absolutely stunning:

In the back ground, I hear Chad faintly whistling Squeeze's "Tempted by the Fruit of Another".

The ceremony itself, I am sorry to say, blew ass. Don't get me wrong...the bride and groom where great. The singer was phenominal. The flower girl and ring bear were cute as buttons. Everything was perfect -- the problem was that the Priest did not speak any semblance of English. Jesus on a stick! Where do they find these people? The only thing I can distinctly remember is him talking about India and a threesome with Jebus, or something like that.

After the ceremony, we are right ready to get pissed. Except that we first needed to stop to take a picture of a stone plaque that read "Loving Memory of the Innocent Victims of Abortion". Hey...I don't blame the Catholic church for having strong views about this subject...but did they have to display it so prominently? Here is a picture; someone (Grant?) has a better one with Chad standing side-by-side said plaque.

We get back to the hotel room and begin drinking in earnest and playing poker-for-shots. In no time, my mickey of rye is whittled down to nothing and Cori has polished off a whole bottle of wine...in little over an hour! I refill my mickey, stuff it down my pants and untuck my shirt. I may look like a classless fool but when you are smuggling booze into a wedding, you can't afford to look good.

I Now, I only think that it's fair that you see a picture of us BEFORE we are completely gooned out of our minds... Ooops, too late...I can tell that I'm ready to PAR-TAY DOWN in this pic. Or, maybe this is because we're watching the new Jessica Simpson video...who knows?

Along the way to the school Grant, Greg, and I stop in the Aurora sports lounge for a couple of shots. 'Cause why drink free / cheap booze when you can pay through the nose for it, right? A quick gladiator later and we were rolling out. Naturally, I'm snapped.

We get to the school -- an elementary school no less -- and sit down at our table Table 14. Jackie...oh, you crazy chicka...you have made it OFFICIAL.

Now this being a country wedding, there were no table numbers (uh...for you city folk...it's actually a common occurence amongst country weddings). But there was one table -- in the deepest darkest corner of the hall reserved for Table 14. You see, at our wedding, we put all the crazy drunk guys at Table 14. That in and of itself was not unusual...instead, it was the fact that I made specific REFERENCE to Table 14 in my wedding speech, thereby igniting this whole shenanigan. We made a pact that the next wedding (and every wedding there after) would have to have a Table 14 and we'd have to sit at it.

We started it and Jackie continued it... From now on, every wedding of my friends that I go to HAS to have a Table 14... Robin and Chad, since you guys are next, you have the dubious task of assigning people to that table. Maybe you'll need 14A and 14B?

We get to the party, have our picture taken, and make our way to the table were I hide the mickey under a sombrero of corn chips. Regretably, fafter I lift the hat, all of the corn chips fall onto the table. That's okay...in our drunken state we eat them anyways. At this point we have an open bar...and yet we're still drinking purchased booze! Keep in mind that this is on top of the triple rye and coke's Turkey and I are had obtained from the bar as well as the doubles for the rest of the table...the hint (and I do mean hint) of Coca-Cola makes it look like we're drinking ice tea!

Check out that great bunch of folks at table 14. Notice also the booze. ALL of it would be gone (and then some) before too long. The people you DON'T recognize are Wes and Steph. They didn't quite understand the legend of Table 14. They would by the end of the night.

The wedding party makes its grand entrance and soon enough we are in line to get food. I don't know how we got in there so quickly; I think it's 'cause Grant new how to speak Mexican or something. (As did I..."Arriba" and "Ole" being two such words).

We fill up on food and I can barely eat everything on my plate. So...being an IDIOT I go for more. Two plates later and I can barely move. My eyes are heavy and I'm worried that I'm down for the count. Wes and Steph (the only non-6 Henday people at Table 14) are worried that I'm not going to make it.

But then I look around and see all the little hulkamaniacs who are cheering me on.I shake off the lethargy and go hard...right into a pile of gym mats!

The shenanigans happen fast and furious. Regretably, there are not pictures for them all. Highlights include:

1. After supper, the usual course of food through the bowels occurred for a guest at the wedding. Regretably, he did not make it to the bathroom. That's right...a hot steamy turd on the floor of the men's bathroom. Why do I tell you this? Because you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and then you have the Facts of Life.

2. The theme of the wedding was mexican. As you can see, Cori took this in earnest:

Speaking of Mexican's...what is a fiesta without a pinata? Check out this little guy...I was right in the middle of the action and almost got nailed in the head.

And...going and saving the best for last, Chad would later boast about how much candy the kids had given him after the pinata burst. Uh...Chad...you're busted you ass. Stealing candy from a child -- an all new low.

3. Before long, as you can imagine, we were too drunk to stand. But that did not deter me -- I went up for more coke (you know, since the Mickey was still under the sombrero). Along the way, Robin calls out my name so I stumble over to the head table.

"So...", she says, "Did you happen to have a minivan honk at you this morning and see a bunch of girls waving"?

Uh oh...how did she know? I cautiously replied that yes, that had happened. Turns out that it was NOT a bunch of minivan moms...but instead was the bridal party! I was crushed...my one chance to excite a bunch of cougars was dashed and ruined forever. But then I thought about it -- it was women my own age that were excited to see me half naked, thereby making the story that much better.

Giggity, giggity. In the words of Jackie (according to Robin), I had made her have last second thoughts about marrying Gordie!

4. The dance had started and we were all shaking our rumps on the dance floor. It should be noted that at one point I was doing the chicken dance -- by myself... There were other funny events on the dance floor such as Chad and Grant dancing TOGETHER and Turkey wearing 5 pairs of blow up boobies. I don't know where they came from...but Grant and I started licking the nipples.

Regretably, NONE of this is on film...

5. The garter toss was a gong show. Turkey tackled the guy who grabbed it. Here is the aftermath:

6. Uh...don't ask. I have no idea. Yes...that is a butterfly on my second top most button.

7. And saving the best for last, the guys got to do the "One Last Dance" with the bride. You know, where the guys make a huge circle around the bride and then dance with her as she comes around? Well, most guys were two-stepping with her...but not Turkey and I. No...instead, we make a JACKIE SANDWICH. Use your imagination. I still recall vividly her gasp... We DO have pictures of the dance...but they are so blurry and dark that I didn't include them -- don't worry, I have all the pictures that I need up here ( ** taps head ** ).

Phew...and that's not all. But I figure this has been long enough as it is and without pictures there is no sense describing it. It was finally time for this hombre to go home to bed and pass out, don't you agree?

The next morning was hell. Literally. As you can see we were forced into detention (i.e. gift opening) ... I haven't had to sit on chairs like this in a long time. They were hard and bony...is it any wonder that kids act up in class?

Meet my new lover ... the Hawtub

2005-06-27T08:01:00.000-06:00

Wow. First post in nearly two months. As Jeremy would say, "Qu'est-ce que c'est". (Okay...as I warned in the email, and for you Frenchies out there, this likely makes NO fucking sense whatsoever. What is it...??? Is that guy on crack? Sadly not...it is a phrase that we use to describe everything from "what is going on" to the more concrete "I have never seen something so amazing in my life".

Getting back to the story, the reason why I have not posted in so long because I have had no life with school. The spring term Sophie and I took was brutal with homework and between that and being her manager (you know, since she's a stripper). Not to digress...but, uh, Kaitlyn...if you want, I could show you a few pointers. You know...as in how to get in the business and what not? Most of the girls I manage started out slow...basically just stripping in my living room in front of my guy friends, who are also ... uh ... "talent scouts". Yeah...that's it...talent scouts. And if you believe all of this horse shit, I've got some swamp land I'd love to sell you too.

Friday

I am up at the crack of dawn. I am so frickin' excited to go on this trip that I wanted to start right away on the list of tasks that I had to do that morning such as shopping for the food, packing the cooler, and watching porn. Twice. Well, really...I only wanted to watch porn but apparently Val thought we might need to eat something on this trip. She's kinda smart like that...

So I saunter on over to the ol' Super Store. It's barely before 9:00 (I think that was when the store opened) and there is a line up of blue hairs and Minivan Moms waiting to get through the doors. I have come to the conclusion that old people only do two things in their life. 1) Practicing to walk really slow and 2) sharpening their elbows. Jebus...it was ridiculous trying to get around that store and it's worse when some Grandma blocks the cookie aisle with her walker and reaches for the last box of triscuits with her cane.

One item on my list was "supper food". Now...I am a domesticated man. I do a lot of the cooking and grocery buying in our household. But imagine me scratching my head to figure out what the hell was the difference between (a) meatless burgers and (b) veggie burgers. I know that they SHOULD be the same thing...but, part of me couldn't help but wonder why the meatless burgers wanted to high light the fact that they had no meat instead of pointing to the potential veggie goodness. The other part of me wondered if "meatless" equated to "sawdust", which is how I've come to associate any product that is cleverly trying to be something that should only be reserved for red meat.

I honestly spent at least 10 minutes in the meat...er, meatless...er, veggie burger section of Superstore and finally settled on "meatless burgers" and made my way to the check out whistling Deadeye Dicks "New Age Girl". Or, for those of you that don't know...think the "Mary Moon" song...

I got back and packed my cooler til it was bursting at the seams. And that's when I got the call from Val to announce that she got into work late and hadn't packed. We revised our go-time schedule from noon to 2:00pm. No biggie. I was running my schedule...and my schedule wasn't about to run me. LOL, finally she arrives at around 4:00 all flustered, explaining that there was some sort of cluster fuck getting the keys to her ex's place to pick up the dog. It is a long story that includes multiple broken pay phones, lost car keys, and nosy neighbors. Under the auspices of consolling a very stressed out friend, I give her a hug. But in actuality, I was checking to see whether the roots of her hair were blonde or not. Zing...but with all apologies to blonde chicks everywhere -- including my hottie wife!!!

We stop for gas at one of the last gas stations on the way out of the City. It's a self-serve station and I have to show Val how to gas up...

The drive out there is non-eventful...but I"m driving. WTF? We roll into Wainwright and notice that the big rodeo is in town. Stetsons and pick up trucks everywhere. We head into the liquor store to fuel up on "go-juice". I get a flat of kokanee, a 26 ouncer of Orange flavored vodka, and 6 pre-made shooters. Val gets a bottle of wine, 8 strong bow ciders, and Coors Lite (just for you, Paula...a drink in your honor).

All told we spent more on booze than we did on food. By a lot. Which is how it should be.

Finally we get to the cabin. Since I'm driving Val's car rather than my own, I can see everyone craning their necks trying to find out who the fuck just pulled up. That all changes as I jump out of the car to a thunderous roar of approval. (Okay...maybe not, but it's my fucking blog and I can write what I want). Craig hands me a beer and I crack it and take a deep swig. Ahhhh....that hit the spot. You know what? There are times when I'm convinced that alcoholics are the smartest people in the world.

Realizing that we are hungry but that we should set up the tents first, I jump into the car (beer in hand) and park in a more suitable location (i.e. meaning more than 2 feet away from the main fire). Hmmm...beer in one hand and steering wheel in the other. This is what it must be like to grow up in rural Saskatchewan!

All kidding aside, I was all over the unpacking like Michael Jackson on a 6 year old's ass. (Remember...the jury only found him not guilty; not that he was innocent) Within no time I have my tent up and my air mattress is inflated. Let me tell you that an air matress and the ability to sleep on a cloud of air is pure luxury when you drink and feel like shit the next morning. Lord knows that I would need it. Val is also setting up as well, and asks if I would mind if she set up her tent next to mine. I think to myself how odd that is. You see, normally it's ME that's pitching a tent in the general direction of the ladies and not the other way around.

As we are unloading and drinking -- or, as I call it, multi-tasking -- more people start to show up. First Jeremy and Adam, then Ryan / Grant / Tyler, and then Turkey in his new truck. At some point in the weekend I ask Greg when he got that bad boy. His reply was, "Six months ago...it's just that usually we're too fucking hammered that we never need to use it". The man has a point.

Actually, speaking of Turkey, this year Greg was pretty stoked 'cause he had purchased an inflatable air matress. Sadly, he blows that bitch up only to find that the fucking thing is larger than his tent. But, as an ex girlfriend of mine once told me, just push til it fits! I honestly do not know how we did it...but eventually Turkey's mattress is within the four walls of his tent. It took four guys, he'd have to hold his breath a certain way, and definately couldn't move on it...but damn it, that thing was in there.

** edit: please realize that I have no concept of TIME when I'm fucking hammered. So, while everything I type did actually happen...and I'm fairly certain I got my days right, the actual order of SOME of these events may be outta whack **

After pitching our tents (heh, heh, that still kills me) we go and make some supper. We get introduced to a few people who are also cooking. Uh...Brian, Lindsey, Trevor, uh...girl, and other person, and that guy. (As you can guess, I'm a master at remembering names). Lindsey is cooking supper for her husband and throws on one of those garlic toast bread things. It's wrapped in tin foil.

Hey...Sophie...pay attention to this next part. I'm talking about "cooking" and figure you may want some advice. Oh...did I just type that? Meh...you're in Calgary all week and besides, you're not Lise and won't punch me next time we get drunk together unlike she does. (Wow...keep it up, Mulyk, you are on a fucking ROLL).

Now, tin foil and a BBQ go together like white on rice or shit to toilet paper. They are meant for each other. NORMALLY, the tin foil heats everything up without burning anything...hence why it works well with a BBQ. Except not today. Whether it was just 'cause the conditions were right or because Lindsey was a bad cook...but she MELT THE TIN FOIL into the garlic bread. Is that honestly even possible? Oh well...I ate it anyways. You just had to try to avoid the silver parts is all.

Nothing goes quite as well with burgers like beer and I was pretty much two-fisting it from that point on. Uh, and not surprisingly, the remainder of the events from Friday night are starting to become less and less recognizable to me.

But that's not to say that there weren't some amazing times. Craig rolls up to me, drunk as hell, and breaks out his money routine. "Muley...they want to make me a boss. It would be a 27% raise...go from siddy plus (60+) thousand to making 87 thousand. They just hand me bags of money up there". Thanks Craig...I LOVE it when you talk about the billion dollars a second you make in Fort Mac. As Moose would say, why don't you go turn a fucking valve? But...the best part is how Craig kept forgetting that he was telling me this story over and over. Finally, by the 5th rendition, I told HIM the story before he could tell me. He looked at me with amazement, convinced that I was greater than that most amazing T.V. psychic of them all, Miss Cleo.

Just teasin' ya, Craigo. Afterall, you were on your second bottle of vodka and red bull of the evening by that point and, quite frankly, I don't even know how you were standing upright at that moment, let alone talking in a lucid fashion. But things for Craig would get even better when we started the fire. In keeping with Blair tradition, Craig emulated the example of his brother from last year and then "made it his own" (Sigh, that Sass Jordan on Canadian Idol is dreamy...but I digress) by throwing his OWN coat on the fire. That son of a bitch lit up quicker than the Hindenburg...

Eventually someone had the great idea of going in the hot tub. I run to the tent and put on my trunks and climb in with, oh I don't know, 10 other dudes and three chicks. Yeah...the sausage to clam ratio was not so good, 'specially on Friday night. Paula...what did I tell you? My friend you REALLY missed out...

Not that I care for myself, of course, but only because I was worried about the peace and tranquility of the evening being shattered by the sounds of "wanna be Alpha Males" competing for the affection of so few females.

Meh...any other day I'd get in there and show 'em how to swing.

(** At this point, maybe I should clarify for the newbies to the blog. That was a line from Super Troopers (a.k.a. the greatest show ever made). Thus, please don't take it at face value and think that I'm a disgusting pig and that Cori is too good for me. Well, even though THAT statement would also be true, I assure you that I was on really good behaviour the whole weekend. And you don't have to believe me...ask Val, she was my conscience for the evening **).

But, instead I was content to simply stand there, knee deep in the hot tub, drinking my beer. Two fisting, again.

At some point (uh, all I know is that it was dark now), a game of beersbie started up. I joined in the ruckus. Brian, being the helpful dude that he is, decided to grab Mitch's "Redneck deer hunt poaching spot light" and shine it right in my eyes. At that moment, Turkey placed a well aimed throw of the frisbee -- Greg, how can you throw so hard and accurate and yet be so drunk -- and cold cocked me something fierce. I go down and spill my beer...asshole. THAT will leave a bruise in the morning.

At some part I make my way back to the hot tub. And, this time, I have the thing pretty much to myself. A couple of other people join me and I kid you not that I don't move for hours. Well, save for the beer that I'm chugging and running out to the cooler to get more of that glacier fresh tasting Kokanee.

At some point in the evening, I run out to the fire. Now...it is worthy to point out that once the sun went down, I wore NOTHING but my swimming suit. As in, not even sandals...barefeet over the open ground, baby. Val is there with her camera taking a few pictures (I don't really know how she had gotten it back...you see, she had entrusted me with it to take pictures and I, as per usual, had instead abandoned it in the arm of my camping chair. So perhaps in the end it's not surprising to ANYONE to find out I had lost it. I...have a habit of doing that. For example, I lost my virginity years ago and I STILL haven't found that son of a bitch again.

For some reason, I feel faint (could it be that the heat of the hot tub and copious amounts of beer had something to do with it?) I see a bench and I see a lawn chair and for some reason I opt to sit in neither. WHAM...flat on my ass. Scraped my back all to shit but I didn't feel a thing. Too drunk.

Realizing that getting back into the hot tub would be a great idea, I jump back in. Another few hours melted away into the recesses of my mind. The water was actually really cool 'cause it was all cloudy. In the dark, with the lights in the hot tub, the water had an eerie illuminscent glow to it. All the same because not unlike Will Ferrel in old school, I scream at the top of my lungs "We're going streaking" (and I repeat this, oh, a BILLION times). From there I proceed to remove my swim trunks and it was only the cloudy water that saved a few people from seeing the kibbles and bits. Sigh...I am so shamed. Thank the frickin' Lord that Val wasn't there with her camera at that point...I am afraid there are more than enough mostly naked pictures of me as it is... In fact, Val...quite frankly, I want you to burn most of the pictures of me along with all the negatives.

Val announces that she is going to bed. Even though it is 4:30 am, I think she is a complete wimp. But I'm still in the haw-tub with the hanger ons...Lindsey and Brian, and Lindsey was about to crown us with her shining moment of the weekend. You see, Turks had made this CD of all female artists which he had called "Wood". Lindsey announces that she wants to hear the CD...that is, she wants someone to put in the wood. I'll let you figure that one out on your own.
After we contol our laughter, out of no where, my buddy COMPLETELY redeems herself by agreeing to come back in to soak with us. And, because I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't tease her, it was no coincidence that she made that decision after finding out Brian would be there...HI OH!!!

: )

I'm only teasin'...but I warned you I'd do this!

Someone quite brilliant suggests swimming in the lake. Afterall, it's only 5:00 am...if there was a better plan then, quite frankly, I hadn't heard it. Brian and I book it for the lake and jump in and swim around. Oh Lordy it was cold and it was only by the grace of god that our nuts didn't shrivel up permanently into our bodies. Finally, at 6:00am and nearly 20 beer later (as the sun was coming up) I collapse into my tent.

Saturday

9:00 am. Nature calls and I agonizingly make my way out of my tent. "Hi buddy", cheers a too jubilant Val. How in blue blazes did you get only three hours of sleep and have that much energy? I crawl back to bed and sleep for another hour -- or, as I call it, 25%.

At 10:00 our troop makes its way to the wrap around deck by the cabin. I have a mission this early...and it was to find my glasses! I had taken them off sometime in the evening and could not find them. I had thought that it was near the hot tub but I couldn't find them. I was fearing the worst -- that I had lost my glasses in the lake when Brian and I had jumped in. Turk suggests that maybe I should check the bottom of the tub. Since I failed to remove my trunks from the previous night, I announce that "I'm going spelunking" and dive head first into the water. I'll be damned, but those glasses are there!

Deciding that we need to wake up Craigo from his drunken pass-outedness, Turkey takes a can of Axe deodorizing spray and squirts him square in the mouth...this way we can say that he's "had his daily shower". He hauls his ass out of the cabin carrying a bottle of Sour Puss. We crack it there. I can barely stomach the shit -- it's not the good Green Apple flavor...or even the Raspberry. No. That ass hat purchased "Blue", the worst of all flavors of Sour Puss. Uh...maybe it's just me, but what the fuck flavor is blue, anyways? Last time I checked, blue was a color normally associated with the birthing of little boys and not the flavor of, well, anything.

The day wears on and Turks and I sing shitty 80's power ballads at the top of our lungs. (Oh Jody, we needed you my friend). As more people emerge to the pounding headaches and massive hangovers that await them, preparations are made to go golfing. Val arrives back from town in the nick of time for me to go. (The Americans had never had poutine and she needed more toys for her dog since he had destroyed every one of them that we had brought with us).

When she gets back, it is discovered that her camera is lost. On the outside I was really sympathetic and sorry for her loss. On the inside I was giving thanks to Jebus for losing the camera and the incriminating evidence that (I was convinced) was located therein.

The guys get back from golfing and I have the unfortunate experience of seeing a zoomed in digital camera picture of Craig streaking on the golf course. Not to be outdone, the other guys are sans pants and only the thin veil of boxers are separating cock-and-balls from daylight.

Jeremy and Adam break into the Pilsner and I start my remaining Kokanee. The other American dude -- Eric -- saunters over and both me and Jeremy offer him a beer. He accepts the Pilsner. That's okay...he's not from here. He doesn't know better! As Scabs opens the lid to their cooler, I can't help but notice that Jeremy had stashed a bottle of Jagermeister into his cooler. That liquid brown honey is not unlike the Ring of Power was to Gollum. We wants the precious... but, in reality, we're simply too hung over at that point to stomach it.

Starting to feel really good with ourselves, we head over to toss the football around. Needless to say, after a few beers, we weren't that good. Finally, after the third time of hitting Shannon's truck with the football, we decide to stop. Although she MAYBE weighed 110 pounds when soaking wet, she looked pissed enough to take us on all at once!

The three of us then decide that we need a fire and we work on it for a good 30 minutes. It was raining off and on during the day and the wood was wetter than a porn star...so you can imagine that our efforts were considerably hampered. Finally we had a tiny fire that was pumping out more smoke than heat. Disheartened by our efforts at fire building but deciding that we would rather die than admit defeat, we sit around the fire -- nearly choking to death of smoke inhilation. I tell the boys not to worry -- that I have a theory of campfire smoke. Specifically, that women are drawn to the smell of a musky smoky men. We make plans to head back into town to the bar -- Wuzzies -- and allow the women to flock to us like moths to a flame. If only we weren't too cut so that one of us could actually have driven.

(Don't worry, Cori...I was only going to be wing man)!

While we were building our fire, another game of beersbie had broken out amongst the golfing boys. You know, the same ones that had no pants. In a moment that I never thought I'd ever witness...and something that I STILL can't believe...there was Grant...whipping down his boxers, bending over, and rubbing his ass cheeks back and forth to mercilessly taunt and tease the other team. Hey Grant. I don't know what sort of funky shit you picked up in of Peru...but what happens in the jungle STAYS in the jungle, capiche?

We head back to the cabin to cook some supper. The last of the 4 Americans -- Calina and Nicola -- decide to come with us. I totally impress them with my ability to light the BBQ...you know, turn the propane on and light a match. Okay...I'm being slightly facetious...but I did find it pretty funny that they couldn't turn it on. That's okay...Nicola was able to turn other things on, like Mitch. Uh...on the assumption that he won't read this entry...and even if he does, that he won't be mad....but you might be surprised to know that she had...uh, how to put this delicately, "rug burns" on her back...from the night before. (Or at least that's what it looked like...but that's all I'm going to say about that...HI OH!!!)

As supper is cooking, Jeremy asks the two ladies if they want some Yag. So the six of us (Scabs, Timbo, me, Calina, Nicola, and Eric) pretty much finish the bottle in one setting. Funny stuff, that Jagermeister. Spelt with a J but pronounced with a Y. Blessed with a brief moment of enlightenment that can only come from being drunk, I announce that later that evening I would go "Yump in the Yacuzzi" to a gaggle of laughter.

Now the drinking begins in earnest. I have a 26 of vodka and some tequila shooters. Jeremy brought a bottle of Gibsons and the Yag... Oh what a shit storm tonight was going to be. Saturday night was THE night at this place. I have never seen so much funny shit happen all at once.

For starters, we head back to the fire pit area where the masses had begun to congregate. There is some dance music playing and Nicola and Calina are suggestively dancing with each other. Not to be outdone, Brandy jumps on the picnic table, grabs the supporting beams of the roof overhead, and dances in such a way as to have me CONVINCED that she had some experience as a stripper in a former (or current) life?? That was pretty much the only thing I can remember about her...but what an absolute delight she was. And her boyfriend wasn't even mad...which suggests to me that it was "par for the course" with her! I start singing "Bump and Grind" by R. Kelly. You know..."My mind is telling me no...but my body. My body...is telling me yeah". Calina and Nicola can tell that I want to dance and I accept heartily.

The dancing is interupted by Garth loading a wheelbarrow full of wood (I had been chopping wood all day) over to this old outhouse. He must have stacked in at least two full loads. At some point in the evening...don't really know when (prolly about the time that Jeremy threw his lawn chair onto the fire), they lit that structure fire. The heat was enormous. Even though it was raining like a mo-fo that night, you could see that outhouse burning from across the lake and I think I heard that airplanes were using it as a homing beacon!

Uh...again, pouring rain and I somehow have no shoes, no shirt, and only my swimming trunks. I think I need professional help!

After staring at the fire, I head all around the campsite trying to convince people to come in the haw-tub with me. But before we jump in, Jeremy, Adam, and I make a quick pit stop at the cabin to try to call Patty collect (to no avail). Eventually, even the OPERATOR HERSELF hangs up on us.

Sadly, I was unable to convince many people to go hot tubbing with me. Looking back, I have two general theories why.

1. No one wanted to be associated with the loud obnoxious drunk

2. I have a body that is molded as though it was made from the finest Italian marble; so chiseled that even the world's greatest sculptors weep at it's perfection. Guys feel inadequate and the women were afraid at what they may try to do.

Since I would rather choose death than admit to theory number one, I consolled myself into believing number two.

Indeed, in the end, I was only able to convince Jeremy, Adam, and Lindsey to come back into the hot tub. Again...another few hours and most of the alcohol is consumed...including all of my shooters and (nearly) the rest of the vodka. By now, we have even finished off Garth's Jagermeister in the freezer! Jeremy and Adam go for a swim in the lake -- in the pouring rain -- and I would have gone but was scared 'cause I was too drunk to trust my swimming abilities at that point.

I crawl back into the hot tub but it's clear that my body is giving out. At 4:00 I call 'er quits and head to bed. I wonder briefly why my tent has lost the tarp that had been covering it (whereas Val's now had a tarp awning!), but frankly I pass out before I ever get to the point to decide to try to fix it as the rain pours down...

Sunday

Okay...I'm not going to lie. I'm tired of typing... Get up by 9:00 and I feel like death and want to die. We pack up, say our goodbyes, and head back to E-town. Oh...and Val nearly hits an old lady crossing the highway...but she would have only been worth 500 points and, frankly, it wasn't worth it.

Later schmangs! It was a gooder and I hope that you'll come out with us next year.

Limbo Competition at the GAS PUMP? Count it!

2005-04-30T11:38:00.000-06:00

Game, set, match.

I had just absolutely fucking destroyed my imaginary friend Sophie at a game of ping-pong. I say imaginary, because she has yet to come out with my big group of friends and they are doubting the existence of my stripper friend. I don't necessarily blame them -- after all, who would really believe that DAVE would go to a strip club at lunch, get a lap dance from a 'ripper, and then become her friend afterwards? Wait...okay...so maybe I WOULD do something like that...

But the irony in the whole situation is that I'm going out for her birthday in the middle of May...but HER boyfriend (who I also happen to think is imaginary, pictures notwithstanding) won't be there. Then again, maybe he doesn't want to meet me and maybe I don't want her to meet the rest of you. Why? Because this is the line and I usually cross it with Soph.

After body checking Soph into the wall (either I under estimated my weight, or I over estimated hers, because the force I exerted sent her flying), I got her to drop me off at Chad's.

I was the first one there, next to Chad and his bro. I survey all the free booze that we must consume before Chad and Robin have to leave. It is enormous...there is NO FUCKING WAY we'll drink all that -- and certainly not the shitty marguerita mix, or the bottle of tequila. But...just as the first man learned that eating whatever comes out of a chicken's ass is actually pretty tasty, I realized that we'll never know what we can accomplish unless we try.

I pour myself a rum and diet and settle in for a long haul.

Soon Cori shows up and I'm slightly buzzed. Shortly Garth shows up and I'm slightly drunk. Then I see Jody Blair and I run onto the deck and scream like Lil' Jon at him -- Yeah. I'm full fledged drunk.

More people show up. How many...is a blur to me. But I do know, that three hours later, we had to send Stav and Walls for MORE BOOZE. Huh? WTF? How in the hell did that happen...??? What happened in the meantime? Well...lets see what I can recall.

1. Watched the new Family Guy episode that is the premiere of the next full season on Fox (this SUNDAY). That's right, we got to watch a pirated copy of the show...

The producers make a not-so-subtle point to the audience to show what their animators can do, you know, when you ACTUALLY have money. Long live Family Guy.

2. Standing on the deck, waiting for Scabs and Mark to get back from Mac's. See this chick waiting at the bottom of the building. Decide it would be fun to moon all of them...so Jody, Moose and I drop our pants.

We are SO FUCKING COOL. Then it turns out that the chick we mooned actually was coming to the house party. We give her some feeble and weak excuse, a lame apology, and I'm pretty sure she fucking hates us.

3. Again with the deck. Cack! Chad plays Call on Me...and you know what that means!

Hey Soph...you're friends...how mean to me are they going to be when I ring the demon bell at your birthday...? Can I at least bring Felix? What about Val? My wife if already committed for that night...is it such a good idea that I show up with the knowledge that these harpies may tear me and my fragile ego to shreds?

Since we are good and liquored up, there is only one place to go. That's right...our most favorite bar in the whole world -- the GAS PUMP.

Now...I know that I speak highly of this bar, usually for no real GOOD reason. And though I have a flair for hyperbole, I can honestly say that last night was the BEST TIME WE'VE EVER HAD AT THE GAS PUMP.

Seems that friday nights are now "beach wear" nights, where you can win trips to...well...non-beach locations. I think last night was a trip...to Whistler...?? Sadly I can't remember. I check my coat and walk through the front door. This relatively hot chick -- no lying here...definately not the usual "ditch pig quality" we are used to -- asks me if I'll let her lay me.

"Pardon", I says? I weigh my options carefully...I mean, sure...there IS the broom closet close by; perhaps the bathroom stall. Oh, I know, I'll just tell me wife that I'm an FBI agent and that I must take this chick and PUMP HER FOR SOME MORE INFORMATION.

"No silly"...she laughs coyly and then wraps one of those god-awful plastic lei's around my neck and hands me a free bellini.

Uh...yeah...I wasn't fooled. No, not at all. Whoops, my bad...of course...ha ha ha...will have to laugh about this one in the morning...

I make a bee-line to the pisser. Not to hide my embarrassment, but because I've been drinking for a few hours at this point and really needed to take a leak! As I'm standing over the urinal, I wonder why in the hell bars now-a-days are hiring bathroom attendents. I mean...to say that these people are AGGRESSIVE is an understatement.

No thanks...I can shake it myself!

And what's worse, these people are usually black, thereby perpetuating every single fucking horribly wrong stereotype that exist in our society. We do we subject people to these kinds of torture and racism? It really truly makes me feel sick and disgusting. Besides, we all know that the attendent really should be a brown dude, I mean, if we wanted to get technical...

(Kee-rist, did I ACTUALLY type that...?). At this point, Sanch and Kunal want to knife me in the back.

Normally I just suck it up and don't even maintain eye contact with the attendent. I ignore all the fancy soaps and colognes, the free gum, the hand towels, etc. The reason why I'm able to do this is cause, again, the attendent normally is a really tiny, scrawny dude and you can just blow right passed him.

Not this time. The dude was a monster. As in..."Baby, I'm gunna butter your bread" variety. I tip the last three bucks to my name and pray that I don't have to go to the bathroom again for the rest of the night.

Normally when I get to a bar, I like to walk around to scope out the joint and to see who is there. (Read: stare at hot chicks in an innocent and casual way). Over by the pool tables, way at the back of the bar, my jaw hits the floor. Why?

1. There are three chicks wearing bikini's playing pool. And they are HOT. Again proving that the bar had to HIRE the girls to walk into that meat market looking like that. I chuckle to myself as I make up a little rhyme in my head: that sarong cannot hide your thong.

2. All the female bartenders and shooter girls are similarly in bikini's -- how the shooter girl was able to fit her enormously fake (but not that I was complaining!) rack into her bikini top, I'll never know. I think upon the degredation of female kind this environment breeds, but then I look at the overflowing tip jar and realize that "they'll probably get over it".

Because I am immune to the wiles of beautiful women, I head out to the dance floor so that I can once again confirm that I have more guy friends compared to gal friends. But luckily for me, I get there just in time to participate in a LIMBO contest. What do I know about limboing? Nothing. How many of my friends join me? Only a completely ridiculously hammered Patty.

We get to the semi-finals before losing out to these unnaturally flexible women.

It was FLAWLESS VCTORY. (But good god damn did my knees hurt after that).

Whatever you say about me and my friends, you simply cannot argue that we have a lust-for-life, as evidenced by the fact that we'll make complete asses of ourself for the sake of a good time.

I take my meagre winnings and purchase more drinks.

I get back to the dance floor to see Kunal in an "apparent dance-off" with this flaming homo from the limbo contest. The guy is acting like a fucking stain, and Kunal is getting a bit pissed off. (See last week's blog entry re: beaking off a cop). Kunal is about to push him when this fat black broad comes into the fray and attempts to kick Kunal. Well...that is what it looks like, but the chick was so heavy that she could barely lift her leg two feet off the ground!

(Oh yeah...now THIS is the usual quality of girl that we see in this bar).

In the end, Kunal never had to do anything as Patty storms in there like a bat outta hell and pushes the stupid mang onto the floor. I think the dude got the point and left the vicinity to go dance on the speakers. By himself. (I don't know that I've seen Patty that drunk in my life...) This leaves Kunal to go back to his first passion -- tearing the various inflatable beach toys from the roof and tossing them around the bar.

We go back to dancing. Moose and I ring the demon bell again (hey...the song was playing...what the hell do you want me to do?) and Chad and Robin go back to making out on the dance floor. FOR CHRIST'S SAKE...get a fucking room.

(See...they pull shit like this...and then wonder why I mention that they were practically screwing each other the time that Patty, Cori and I were forced to sleep in Chad's bachelor apartment with nothing to do but pull a pillow over our heads and hum a tune, praying that we would fall asleep soon enough).

Realizing that my time is almost done, I grab my wife. And then I ask her if she's ready to go. (Zing...! Oh wait...that's actually a double ZING!!! I've highlighted the double entendres in bold).

Were there more stories than this? Undoubtedly. For example, I got a call at 3:00 am from Sanchu explaining how they were at Keegans with all of the blow up toys from the bar. And no doubt Patty has some 'splaining to do after seeing how drunk he was -- if he can remember the stories, that is.

But that is for another time.

My mind's telling me no... But my body...my body, is telling me yeah!

2005-04-24T16:59:00.000-06:00

The following story that I am about to relay will be useless to you unless you understand what I did leading into last night. Briefly -- got hammered at a bowling alley on the Friday night (only one out of my group to do so, btw). Then I woke up at a god awful hour to help Cori's friends move houses for 3+ hours (read: heavy lifting for this "office guy") and then spent 1 hour in the blazing sun practicing slow pitch.

So I'm picking out mags for my car. You know...shiny wheels that are ridiculously priced? I go to the Kal Tire to price 'em out and have to wait in line behind this young kid -- all of 20, I'd guess -- who adamantly declared that he wanted spinners. For his 1986 Dodge Ares, no doubt. Now...you know me...I don't judge people. (Er...much, at least....er, who the fuck am I kidding?)

The kid was a loser.

From the tips of his ratty Nike airwalks that were so "in style" when I was so "in highschool" all the way up his L.A. Lakers jersey - with ridiculously ornamental chain and pendant -- up to the beak of his hat that hanged sideways off of his head. It was at that moment that I realize -- I can NEVER buy spinners for anything I ever drive for as long as I live. Once I have a little bit of an idea of how much my bank balance will be set back -- ...guess Cori won't be getting that one karat ring she's had her eye on...ZING!! -- I rush home to email my compadres to let them help me pick out which wheels I should purchase.

I breathlessly await their reply's like a 35 year old women waits for the results of her invetro fertilization tests.

It is during this interlude that I learn that we are going to be drinking that night. At Patty's. Stat. Now...Cori's gone to Hot Randi's (TM) stagette and I have the house to myself. I have to remain sober as I'm her DD. Evil Banchu is coming up next week and wants to drink everyday, and I have that one-week course coming up that requires me to have all my homework done ahead of time. I'm tired as all hell and both my arms and my back are real sore. I should just stay home.

I'll be there in 5 minutes...

Along the way I pick up Chad and Robin from the condo. It is a mess...you know, like a hurricane blew threw it due to all the packing that's going on. One of Chad's sex toys -- a plastic (and disturbingly realistic) cock shaped water gun -- makes it into the car along with us. After we blow that popsicle stand, we run out to Val's to pick her up. By this time, it's fairly dark outside so naturally I have my neon on. I roll up to the door...invite myself in...and shoot the shit with Val's bro who was suitably impressed with the neon purple glow emanating from the underbelly of my car. I bite my lip so as to not yell out "BAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMM" like they do in the pop tarts commercial.

(BTW...I can't find those damn commericals on the 'net ANYWHERE).

I make the second biggest mistake of my life and try to get to Patty's by staying on Whyte Ave. We move slower than the old people with walkers in the Supermarket. But at least I'm getting a lot of stares at the car...and then I realize it's only because Chad has the cock water gun pointing out through the sunroof. I thank whatever god it is that watches over me that Val had AT LEAST met Chad just two days before... I mean, I love Chad and all...but to see him playing with a plastic cock and giggling wildly like a little school girl is a little much, even for me.

Robin and Val threaten to stand up through the sunroof and flash passer bys.
Uh...ladies..."threatening" to show boobs really isn't all that threatening to me...

Finally we DO get to mi amigo's place and the horde start drinking with reckless abandon. We are watching the smash BBC hit "the Office", look at a little Play Boar (for those that don't know...think Play Boy...with Pigs...and no, I'm NOT lying)...you know, the usual. In no time at all Crystal and Cory Bergeron show up. Patty discovers that Willie Nelson is going to be playing Saskatoon. Are the two incidents related by coincidence? I think not... After Patty drops $136 boners on a pair of tickets -- he doesn't have anyone to go with him yet -- he decides to play a few choice Willie Nelson songs on the stereo. Within seconds, Crystal begins to complain and beak about the song selection. I point this out ONLY 'cause it will be relevant later on.

Somehow we get on the topic of the various street vendors on Whyte Ave. Cory listens in awe to the tales of "Push-Up Man", "Stompey", and others. Cory then announces how much he'd like to see said persons. I point this out ONLY 'cause it will be relevant later on. (Hello...hello...hello. Is there an echo in here...here...here...???)

Eventually, we decide that although the Ave. is packed, we should go anyways. We all pile into two vehicles and roll out. First stop is Hudson's Canadian Taphouse and we are NOT going to get in.

While we are trying to figure out what to do next...guess who should arrive but PUSH UP MAN!!!! We pay him...uh...$5 to do 30 one-armed pushups and the dude does them on the spot! As he is counting them off, this chick in a really short jean skirt bends over, hikes the skirt even higher, and emulates the up and down motion of a particularly kinky sex position in the same rhythm as Push Up Man is doing his feat of strength. Naturally, it was awesome (uh...the girl in the skirt, that is).

We have little to no appetite to wait in the line-up at Hudson's, so we walk down the Ave.

1. We pass this dude strumming a guitar wearing a Darth Vader Mask. I have an urge to whimper, "Father...???"

2. We pass by this crazy person asking us for our pocket change so that he can buy a pair of fake breasts, since that was the only way anyone was going to respect him. Patty yelled back that his dog didn't need 'em....

3. We wait in line to get into the Black Dog where Patty throws a hellacious "hip check" on this girl celebrating her birthday. But it was a bit too hard and she would up getting a cigarette burn mark on her pants. Patty felt real bad...so, to make up for it, she made him kiss the burn. Patty bends down and this chick takes his head and jams it into her legs...rubs his face around a bit... DAMN this chick knew what she wanted for her birthday! I think that Patty got rug burn on his top lip!

But Patty...really...first you yell at a homeless person and then you hip check a girl on her birthday?!?! Did I ever mention what an ass that Patty is?

Black Dog blew ass so we get on truckin'. Somehow, someone convinced the group to head to the One * VAL!!! *. Along they way, who should we run into at the Army and Navy? STOMPEY!!!! Sweet sassy molassey -- all of Cory Bergeron's dreams are coming true! Stompey stomps us a tune as he plays his guitar but eventually we get to the One.

The One is surprisingly packed. Shots and more rounds of booze are purchased. Houle lights up a fat cigar...oh my...Party Dave "a.k.a. DUFFMAN" really wants to come out... To make matters worse, Val and I are a drinking team ... and as we all know, there is no I in TEAM, but there IS in DRINKING!

So, not unlike a 16-year old teenager who's got blue balls, I have to relieve myself of the immediate situation facing me. I go for long walks around the club, amazed at how invisible a sober person can be in a night club full of drunken asses. Even my own friends barely notice I'm gone -- my shrink calls it "abandonment" -- but I do get to see some interesting sights and scenes, namely all the girls at the One who are now forced to wear corsets.

Sob...Val...why did you quit?

I hook back up with the group which had split into two groups. On the one hand, you had Patty, Val, and Houle literally joined at the hip at the bar drinking shots hand over fist. On the other hand, you have Chadwick et al drinking booze hand over fist, eying up the dance floor. At that exact moment, there is a chick dancing on the speakers. And Chad gets an idea.

You see...there are two types of girls that should dance that those that should NOT. Lets just say that Shamu the Whale was in the latter category. Chad's idea is to go dance with her. He wants me to come. As in, dance with her on the speaker. Do I hear my new theme song? My mind is telling me no...but my body, my body is telling me yeah!

Thank Jeebus I was stone cold sober or else I would have made the BIGGEST mistake of my life.

But we did want to dance...so there we were, 5 dudes and Robin dancing. Sigh...nothing like the good ol' times! Finally the three amigo's (Jon, Patty, Val) decide to join us, at which point Val informs me that she requested my song. That's right..."Call on Me" by Eric Prydz.

I tell her that she is crazy if she thinks that I'm going to ring the demon bell without being drunk. But when the song starts, well, lets just say that my mind was telling me no...but my body, my body was telling me YEAH! Thankfully, I was able to resist.

Shortly thereafter a gang fight (!) breaks out not more than 2 feet away from my body. Patty yells out to me to get the fuck outta there -- did I ever mention what a great guy that Patty is? -- and we explode out of the club into the cool night air quicker than the first orgasm of the day on a gang-bang porno set.

As we walk home, Kunal and Crystal get a ticket for starting to cross a crosswalk when the flashing hand is going. Even though we ALL know that they NEVER lip off to ANYONE ( * end heavy sarcasm * ), they both get a ticket. I wonder if beaking to the cops had anything to do with it? Kunal...you should have just offered to suck his cock. I've heard that it works like a charm each and every time.

Timing things PERFECTLY, my tipsy wife calls and we shove 5 bodies into my car. How...I'll never know. Hot Randi (TM) sticks her head into my car. I know that she knows who I am...hell, even says my name...but I'm not sure a lot of the conversation was registering. God, I've been there on my own stag...!!!

Wow...I've gotta wrap this up here. If only my stamina in bed was a great as my stamina for sitting at a comp. typing out these blog entries for an hour straight?

We go back to Patty's 'cause Cori and Val still wanna par-tay. People seem to crash (secretly, I'm cheering like a Roman watching a lion maul a slave in the Coliseum)...and I start the process of driving people home 'cause I'm tired! Well...the night air must have given the little group their tenth wind...because next thing I know we are partying at my house. The logic being that this way, I can drink too.

Only problem is that I've been up for nearly 24 hours and would just be starting to drink...whereas I'm convinced that Cori/Val/Houle will pass out any second. Luckily, I do manage to convince them that I should drive them home and that its NOT an imposistion. Geez...you tell people that you'll be their DD for a night and they don't believe you!

We get back and Cori announces that she isn't tired -- DING DONG, ga ga ga goo, hubba hubba -- instead of what I'm thinking, however, she asks for a massage (damn....). Within 20 minutes of me starting, she's passed out sleeping. Yes...my hands ARE that good.

You'll have to ask me for a demonstration some time. Unless you're a guy...'cause that would be gay. But ladies...give me a call...

Sometimes you want to go...where everybody knows your name

2005-04-10T12:06:00.000-06:00

Making your way in the world today,
Takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries,
Sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away....

Some times you want to go
Where everybody knows your name.
And they're always glad you came.
You want to be where you can see
Our troubles are all the same
You want to be where everybody knows your name.

I love nostalgia. It reminds you of a better time, a happier and simpler time. Where you could just hang out with friends and not have to worry about whether or not Chad would have to pimp out Robin for rent money, or if Houle would have to sell crack to some school kids to buy groceries for him and Mish. Yes, last night was just such a night at the Lister Hall Alumni party.

And if you missed it, let me recap all of the sorrid details!

* * *

Me, Cori, Val, Vanessa were all drinking chocolate coffee tequila -- thank you Mexico for developing such a delicious liquid panty remover that a guy can feel proud to drink as well. And by drinking, I mean (of course) doing shots hand over fist.

It's 7:35...

Or perhaps I should clarify. You see, I think it was just me that was doing shots, partly due to my alcohol problem but mostly because of the fact that ALL of the lovely ladies I was with were looking hot enough to make a preacher sweat!

The show started at 8:00 and I had promised to be there shortly thereafter. So we jump in a cab and head to Fort Edmonton park. The cab ride works out to be $16.40 and I just give our Croation Cabbie Friend a $20. He weirded me out a bit 'cause I thought he was going to cry on my shoulder with gratitude! I think it was because he could finally afford a Tim Horton's sandwich...cause the dude seriously could have used it. Not saying that he was skinny...but lets just say that I've seen fatter Ethiopians!

(Hey Moose...you catch the blantant Africa joke there?)

We walk to the hanger which was, quite easily, 15 minutes away. As we walk, Corinna poses as tour guide to Val and Vanessa who have never been to Fort Edmonton Park. Wow...a party AND a visit to a historical Edmonton site! Along the way Cori points out the old buildings, the old tractors, etc. My contribution to the history of Edmonton is to point out a cow. And a horse.

We finally get to the Hanger and have to sign waiver form after waiver form. We are instructed to actually read each and every line -- limited liability, you cannot sue, blah blah blah. Ha ha ha...those cock suckers didn't mention ANYTHING about suing for injuries sustained whilst riding the farm animals in a drunken stupor. Dave...you are a crazy genius!

Turns out that we're are basically the first one's there. No matter, I think to myself, I'll just have a tasty delicious Sleeman's and wait for my buddies. Afterall, they assured me that they'd be there around 8:00 just as I was. (Now...don't get me wrong...hanging out with the Lay-Days -- which included Jocelyn "Hotness" Downes at that point -- is fine, but it's not like you can crack rude jokes about some broad in the distance without some male accompaniment).

After three beers and 40 minutes later, mes amis finally showed up. As you know, nothing says "lets get drunk" like a triple Vodka and drinking games. But with no cards and no dice, we were resigned to playing I've Never Ever. I go first. "I've never ever NOT played this game". (Ouch...just broke the only rule of the game -- the use of the double negative). But, in my defence, I wanted to get the newbies drunk quickly.

The rounds go by quickly. Some noticable highlights are I've Never Ever:

Slept with a guy

I seem to remember Moose and Sanchu cuddling on Colin's hide-a-bed...but Moose didn't drink.
_
Made out with Q McQuarie

fuck...drinks for me...
_
Had Clarkey as a room mate

The best about this one is that Val asked it...after I whispered it in her ear. Mish...don't you miss that little guy, even a little?
_
FUCKED A CHICK ON JON HOULE'S COUCH

Only Moose drank.

Even better is how Houle had NO IDEA THIS HAD HAPPENED and was finding out for the first time right then and there!

Really, how do you top that one?

From there, literally, all drinking hell broke loose. Turkey went to play pool with Val. And won 4 straight games. I think it was because Val carried the team..... In retrospect, Val agreed to be on his team if only to learn more of the mysterious "Mickey Chug" phenonimon. I will piss on your dead grandpa's grave if you don't believe me that I have seen my good friend Greg drink a whole mickey of booze in under 5 seconds. And I will punch you in the face if you doubt the fact that Greg has also drank more than 100 oz. in one night.... (Molest Me's party...now that was a good time!).

Cori went around mingling with the other people there that we new from yesteryear...such as all of the HOT RLA's we used to work with. Honestly, there were so many people, so many faces...you forget all of the friends you had in Lister until you come back to see them all again at (what was) essentially a reunion. I used the obligatory "hug and squeeze" move on many of my old gal friends, 'cause that move is SO money....

Moose and I just got smashed, pretty much by ourselves but also with Bissel, Garth, Houle, Army...the list went on and on. At one point, Moose showed me some girls he used to hit on in the Ship and the ones that he asked out. And that's when we had an epiphany. The feeling of "I think I know you but can't remember your name" came from the fact during our reign in Lister, we'd getting fucking hammered on a Thursday Ship Night and hit on all these lovely lasses without ever learning their names.

(I'll let you guess how successful we were back-in-the-day...)

All the hotties were there. There was Dana from 2K. Cat from 4K. Orally...I mean Anally...I mean Onolee from MH. There was Jenn from 6M, Ann-Marie from 5M, Jill from 2K....too many to mention! But sadly, no Marni -- eh Houle?

The night progressed rapidly through 3 bands that no one danced to and before we knew it, the bands had packed up and a CD was inserted to the sound system. Consequently the dance floor became instantly packed.

I feel it was because they all wanted to see me cut a rug, but I could be wrong.

The only other item to note is that Val and Vanessa, of course, lived in Nova Scotia when we lived in Lister Hall...so they had to pretend that they belonged. I kept teasing them all night to go up to some chick and say, "Hey...how's it going...I haven't seen you since the time you danced naked on the bar". A close second was to go up to a guy, slap him in the face, and say "You ass...it's been five years and your child needs to know his daddy".

I didn't think they'd do it. But at the end of the night, Val did say something to this guy! He was completely dumbfounded. It was a FLAWLESS, VICTORY.

The evening at Fort Edmonton closes with the girls getting into a cab with a box full of leftover booze -- Count It!! -- while Moose and I ring the Demon Bell to "Call on me" as the last few people filter out... Curses...that fucking song just had to be played, didn't it. I am tempted to shout out that Nothing Say Money Like Showing the Cunny...but didn't think we needed the unncessary attention.

According to Jody, Moose hates all women and that's final. But Jody...I'm telling you right now...that I'm pretty sure that was not the case last night!

After Houle finishes off his official organizer duties, we grab a cab back to my place for the after party. On the way home, Cori calls to inform me that the girls are having naked panty tickle fight. I run up the stairs like a man possessed and throw open the door. Regretably, the girls must have JUST changed back into their clothes.

Damn...came THAT CLOSE to reaching Nirvana!

The rest of the evening feature watching Dodge Ball the Movie -- which I now own on DVD. Turkey drinking Vodka straight from the bottle. It had Jon Houle -- or Joule (Jewel) as I shall now call him forever -- cursing at the lady for taking longer than the second coming of Christ to make our pizza.

And because this is MY blog entry and 'cause I want to look like a total stud hero, I saved Vanessa from trying to go home with a skeezy cabbie by herself since she was WAY TOO HAMMERED to even think straight. She passed out, face first, on my lap. While this sounds cool, you horn-dogs will be disappointed because I had a foot thick pillow on top of said nether region.

No...if you want gratuitous sex and nudity, you'd have to hang out with my stripper friend Sophie.

Things wound down VERY quickly from there. I offered Val and Vanessa a place to sleep -- really, Vanessa was too drunk to go anywhere -- and tempted them with the prospect of french toast in the morning. But it was all for not as they hopped in a cab and went home.

Cori and I pass out. It's 5:45 and the first hint of daylight is peaking up in the horizon.

As per usual, any of you stains that didn't come...(hmm...cum stains?...), you totally missed out. Which now forces me to berate Sophie...seriously, when in the hell are you going to come out with us? You too could have your own chapter in these entries -- especially when you flash everyone the goodies!

Describe the perfect XXXX in 50 words or less

2005-04-03T18:32:00.000-06:00

I hate those kinds of contests; you know, the ones that make you spill your guts on some important subject but having to limit it to a ridiculously small number of words?

I mean, can you imagine trying to describe why world peace is important to you in under 100 words? Think about Sanchu trying to describe how great world peace would be if it meant that the horrific violence between India and Pakistan would cease, and how his family would be safe and wouldn't have to worry about the threat of a nuclear pakie attack from the sky (all apologizes to Sophie, Kunal, and Sanchu for the blantant use of a blantantly racist term).

I know what the organizers of these contests are trying to do....they want to limit the amount of reading they have to do in order to declare a winner.

Speaking of organizers, I'm an organizer. Along with my imaginary-friend-who-you-have-never-met, Sophie, we are the Organizers of a ping-pong tournament at work. Although I haven't told Sophie yet, I'm making a new rule whereby each female participant must compete naked from the waist up, and will earn additional bonus points if they go naked from the waist down as well.

Because planning a naked ping pong tournament is infinitely more fun than trying to write a long winded blog entry, I will instead provide you with the abridged version of last night's shenanigans. Keeping in the spirit of the aforementioned contest, I will attempt to relay the nights events, as I saw them, in 50 points or less.

1. Prior to getting picked up, listen to theme music such as Colour Me Badd's "I wanna sex you up" and Jewel's "Who will save your soul".

2. Get picked up at 11:00 by Houle, Mish, and Moose. Explain repeatedly to Mish why we need to steal a pet from the pet store in order to satisfy the requirements of "The List of Things We Must Do on Moose's Birthday".

3. Go to the liquor store. Contemplate whether or not three guys can finish 48 beers by ourselves or not.

4. Listen to Moose rationalize why 48 beers, between 3 guys, over one full day, really is less than one beer an hour.

5. Try to answer the question "Do you know this man?" in the liquor store. Realize later that it was not an in-store contest; those pictures were individuals who stole from the store.

6. Go to Quizno's and get a tasty, delicious, Black Angus Steak and Cheese on fresh oven baked Rosemary parmesan bread covered with bubbling cheeses and special sauce.

7. Start drinking -- by 11:30 -- at Houle's. Play PS2 and kick Houle's ass at NHL 2004 (but, like it was hard)

8. Receive a phone call from Val. Ask if she is going to wear her corset to work that night at her final night at the Club.

9. Explain to Val that I would go visit her regardless, because she is my friend.

10. Further explain to Val that it was my dick head friends -- Moose and Houle -- who asked me to ask the initial question in the first place. God I hate those guys.

11. Surf the net to see if anyone responded to our www.plentyoffish.com profile. Scratch my head and wonder why this chick needs to put a profile on an online dating service: http://www.plentyoffish.com/member380876.htm (Trust me, it's worth the click...and she lives in Edmonton)

12. Discuss the death of the Pope. Muse to myself if a new email address The_Pope_Kicks_Ass_for_the_Lord@hotmail.com should be created or not.

13. Defend my making of the Terry Schiavo email address. Apologize to Moose for disappointing him and his views on humanity.

14. Head down to the back alley to get picked up by Misheala. Have beers in hand...pound them...go to throw empty cans in trash can. At this point, "Oscar the Grouch" -- a homeless dude -- pops his head up through the dumpster. Takes our cans.

15. Moose has a 5 minute conversation with Oscar.

16. Me bouncing off the front driver side bumper of Jon's SUV after Mish tries to run me over.

17. Somehow being forced to ride in the god damned trunk with Moose.

18. Sad to admit that it is not the first time him and I have been in that situation.

19. Moon cars from the back of the S.U.V. Pray that Houle has a "Honk if you are horny" bumpersticker, to explain the reactions of the drivers of the other vehicles.

20. Get to the strip club and order a drink. Gag at the $5.25 price. Miss the $5.25 prices when they start charging $5.75 for a drink.

21. Cheer and scream wildly at strippers. Ring the Demon Bell when "Call on Me" is played.

22. Go coo-coo for coco-puffs when a stripper does an entire set to Motley Crue songs. Win Moose poster after poster after poster.

23. Get a cab when we could have gotten a ride for free. Discuss with cabbie what it's like to be a cabbie. Contemplate about sleeping with an escort in the back of the cab after the cabbie swears it nearly happened to him two weeks ago. Urge the cabbie to "go for it" as he discusses his career goal of driving a cement truck.

24. Buy aviator sunglasses -- an item from ""The List of Things We Must Do on Moose's Birthday". (Begin looking for a fuzzy pink item for Jill; a small Avril Lavigne T-shirt for me; a new pen for Jody; a male thong for Houle).

25. Repress the urge to punch Moose upon finding out he threw "The List of Things We Must Do on Moose's Birthday" in the garbage, along with the stripper posters that we spent dozens of dollars winning.

26. Go to a petting zoo. Marvel at the minature horse, the drugged goats, and the angry turkey. Wonder which one we should steal...

27. Play laser tag. Unmercilessly hunt down the little children and women in the same group as us. But at least I got first place!

28. Go to Julio's Barrio. Order a round of bull-dogs (a double sized lime margerita with a corona tipped upside down). Then order another round of said drinks.

29. Wear my aviators the whole entire time in the restaurant. (Keep in mind that to wear aviators, I need to remove my regular glasses so I can't see worth a shit, not to mention it's dark in the restaurant).

30. Meet up with Jody and Jill. Jody also wears aviators in the restaurant. Why? Because he can.

31. Explain to the waitress that I drive jets for a living. Emphasis on "drive" as opposed to "fly". Pretend to ignore the fact that she rolls her eyes at all of us.

32. Try to convince my friends that (a) Sophie is real and (b) is actually a nice girl and (c) isn't nearly as mean as she sounds. Regretably, Val did little to back me up in this regard.

33. Pay $100 for supper. Do you know how many day's wages that represents to a Mexican?

34. Get Moose a date for next weekend. But I don't think he remembers this little fact at all, do you Moose?

35. Go back to Houle's and win the Stanley Cup.

36. Drool over all of the incredibly smokin' hot Meadow Lake girls. Megs...I believe the line was "Are you smokin'....as in, smokin' hot?" I've got more class than I know what to do with...

37. Moose and I place a pressed ham on Houle's patio window.

38. Become disturbed over the fact that Moose and I spend a lot of time half naked together.

39. Yell at cars off of Houle's balcony.

40. Watch this pack of guys stare my wife up and down as she crosses the intersection wearing a skirt.

41. Explain to Cori that I'm not lying; that she has great legs; that those guys were, in fact, totally checking her out in a leacherous manner.

42. Back peddle when pressed as to why I didn't "defend my wife's honour" w.r.t. those horny dudes.

43. Sneak into the Stone House. Don't pay cover; don't show my ID, nothing. Feel like I'm in a Fat Joe Music Video for Lean Back -- you know, the line that goes "And we walk around those metal detectors".

44. Shake my rump on the dance floor where, at some point, a chick with long curly blonde hair decides to grab me around the waist from behind. For the love of Christ, what is with that bar...I swear to god I do NOTHING to attract this kind of female attention. Thank Cori for not being jealous.

45. Promptly begin to grind with Megan and Mish. Sigh...I'll never learn.

46. Make a "Jill Sandwich" with me and Jody as the pieces of bread.

47. Head to the stage on the dance floor to perform our version of the Full Monty...without the "getting naked and showing our kibble and bits" part. Amazed at how Jody can "nip-up" at will.

48. See Kenton, Kayla, and Marie. For some reason, at that moment, I have a strange desire for Chinese food...bizarre. Kenton...are you sure you don't have a little sop, sop, soy in you at all?

49. Say good bye to everyone and leave the bar. What time is it? I have no idea. But I do know that it's been 12 hours of drinking....again. (Sob...our A.A. members are going to be SO disappointed with us).

50. Take a bus home and pass out.

I'm sure there was more to the day than I can recall...especially the parts that occur after I get back to Houle's. But at that point, needless to say, we were blitzed more than an opposing quarterback facing a stauch defence.

Peace Out, A-town down.

Life Set to Theme Songs

2005-03-26T14:53:00.000-07:00

So, I'm working here in my little apartment, studying for yet another midterm, and my mind naturally started to drift from the task at hand. I am as sober as a church mouse, am blessed with the reflexes of a jungle cat on crack, but have the attention span of a gnat. Because of this flaw, instead of studying the genetics of flies (fun, motherfucking fun), I have put my life to theme songs from "popular" television shows and movies. Here's the list:

1. Taking a crap-One of life's necessities. We all do it, we all hate it, unless it happens to defile a buddy's bathroom before his new girlfriend is about to visit his apartment for the first time. Then, it is funny as shit (I'm fucking awesome with my ironic word choice)...Shit also has a lot to do with the old '80s show "Airwolf", moreso than just their desirability to watch for long periods of time. When squeezing out an anaconda, nothing gets the motor running like the sound of rotors churing to life. Using the inspirational instrumental as a metronome in which to coordinate the pushing, you can force out any corn-ridden crap in record time. A heroic shit needs a heroic them song, and "Airwolf" fits the bill.

2. Recovering from a hangover but still "needing" to drink-Again, one of life's necessities. The hangovers can be so brutal that they make you want to cry, but knowing that life dictates that you have to pull the rip cord on the drinking machine again the next day makes a theme song for this part of life absolutely paramount. Something truly inspirational is needed, because God knows that your body is screaming at you to stop:

Brain: "I fucking hate you John. Quit fucking drinking you stupid twat."

John: "Brain, you are a piece of shit, and you are coloured like afterbirth. Fuck yourself. I can drink all I want to."

Brain: "You think you're soooooo special, don't you asshole? 'I'm John, and I'm cool. Look at me go!'. You know what dink? Tonight, when you're good and lit, I'm going to convince you that the fifty year old swamp donkey in the bar really is Sharon Stone's hotter sister. If you're lucky, she won't try and do it with you in her grandson's treehouse. Try that on for size prick."

John: "You would be an asshole like that, wouldn't you? You know what? I hope that I do sleep with an old swamp donkey. You know what else I hope? I hope that she has syphillis. The syph goes for the brain, fuck stick."

Brain: "Fine...It looks like I came to this battle of wits unarmed. Drink yourself to death. See what I care."

John: "I will, you bag of dicks."

To resolve this seemingly endless battle, "Terminator 2: Judgement Day" was created. The scene, and the music, where Arnie, apparently dead and no hope for mankind, finds the alternate power supply, pulls the spike out of his body with one arm, and goes and fucks up the most advanced human killing machine ever invented ranks as the epitome of popular culture's cinematic achievements. Though the thumbs-up he gives to John and Sarah Connor as he is lowered into the molten steel, preceded by the "I know now why you cry, but it is something I can never do" line makes real men weep, it still is one of the more inspirational moments ever, and definitely helps all those with the proverbial spikes in their chests find their alternate power supplies to pull through and begin drinking again. Hasta la vista hangover...

3. Writing exams-Unfortunately, many of us are still in school, and as such, we are still burdened with the joys of exams. And with exams, comes the pangs of self-doubt during the test. Sometimes, you just feel like an idiot, and that the solutions are just out of your reach. I've been there literally millions of times myself, but instead of drawing crude pictures of jagged objects penetrating your prof's urethra in the answer spaces, just think of "MacGyver" and his theme music. Now, ol' Mac was one smart prick, and was a walking resource on how to use the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology to your advantage if you're ever trapped in a Peruvian temple by grave-robbers.

"Thank you MacGyver! Thank you so much for preventing the northern chunk of South America from breaking off in the massive earthquake!" a random local villager would say.

"No need to thank me. This pack of gum and the moon's gravitational pull are the real heroes!" MacGyver would answer.

The guy was smart, and he had a mullet. Enough said.

4. Having sex-Now, I've never tried the following theme song out in person, but it has to be better than yelling "Yatzee!" as you blow your wad. Next time you and your partner are feeling amorous, try playing "The Price Is Right" theme song in the background. The happy, high-paced music is a perfect mental distractor from the fact that your girl is faking it this time, and has probably been faking it for the last few years (although I'm still not convinced that girls can orgasm. It seems like a bit of a myth, kind of like aliens or STDs). And if you follow "The Moose's Guide for Picking Up" manifesto, and you happen to find yourself with a warpig, then you can always imagine her to be one of the "Barker's Beauties", the chicks that Bob likes to sexually harass.

There is one flaw with this little song though, and that is Bob's warning to "have your pets spayed or neutered". With the routinely poor performance- immediately going for the goodies without any foreplay, pounding like a jackhammer for two minutes, and passing out on top of her due to the eight Big Bears that you consumed previously that evening-she may consider giving you the old "snip-snip" to prevent you from breeding offspring. Like many of the games on the show, playing this song as you do it comes with great reward, but also great risk.

Let's see...Hmmmm...Shitting, drinking, school, and fucking...Yep, that pretty much has life covered. You now have the keys to everything it takes for a successful existence. Enjoy.

Moose

I Hate You Liver

2005-03-19T18:59:00.000-07:00

With Jay Doss being back where he belongs, here in the centre of the universe with us, this past week has been a straight shit-show. We've been drinking like we were still in Lister Hall again, and apparently believing that even still at our advanced ages, we are still appealing to the young girl crowd of The Ship. Muley addressed this very well in his last entry, and most of us were creeping it up pretty well, looking totally unappealing in our boozed up state. After seven years of living in Edmonton, I still can't get it through my brain that chicks don't like guys who smell like they just had a bath in Jack Daniels, or whose eyes are burning holes through their bummers or their yams. Yes, I don't learn from my mistakes, but that's okay. I'm comfortable in my idiocy.

The one thing that I do know, though, is that my body definitely cannot handle the excesses of alcohol like it use to. The hangovers are unbelievable now, to the point where I seriously think that I am close to breaking into weepy girl tears. Yes, I know I sound like a gay, but I ran for mayor of pain and I won (credit to Jody on that one). My liver is close to death now, and when it goes, I go. Regardless, Doss is in town, and we all knew that we had to charge on through the madness. Thursday's gong-show was an opening act for the Drink and Puke Party (a.k.a. Friday afternoon).

Arriving with Craig Blair to SCABS' place at 1:30 with a 60 of rum to meet Muley, Chad, Doss, and Jeremy, we immediately started boozing. I was really hungover from the day before, but thank God that my alcoholism kicked in, as I was soon "Moosing-up" (according to Craig)- swearing and generally acting like a waste of oxygen. SCABS had Grand Turismo 4 at his place, so the classic battle had to be waged. Yes, Moose in an '83 Corolla versus the Jeremy in an Echo. I lost, and this would later prove to be the theme of the weekend.

As I was getting worked at video games, the rest of the mangs were playing poker. In my mind, this was a recipe for disaster, as pissed-drunk cocks and gambling can only lead to terrible things happening. Soon, "twat", "cunt-face", and "ass-fuck" were being thrown around with reckless abandon. Combine this with the requisite racial slurs, and you know that the group had reached prime time. Fucking money.

Soon, my addiction to being stupid when I'm wasted raised it's ugly head, and I decided to go to the nearby Mac's. Fucking bad idea. I was in the "charming-drunk" stage, and I managed to con Jody, SCABS, and Doss into coming with me. We also left with instructions from Captain Asshole to buy him a hoagie. We ended up buying him a salad. I could say that I care about his health, but really, I just wanted to fuck with him. Eat shit Houle. At the Mac's was when we shone. Jody was dropping the N-bomb every two seconds or so, SCABS was fucking every women in the place with his eyes, and Doss was laughing so hard that I thought that he was going to soil himself. I was in the mood for pornography.

"I need the porn with the ugliest women possible," I asked the cashier girl behind the counter.

"The ugliest women?" she asks, laughing.

"Yes please," I reply. She hands me a High Society, the magazine that would later be used to decorate Paddy's bathroom.

"Are you single?" I ask her.

"Yes, are you?" she said.

"Obviously," I reply.

"Well maybe you should leave me your card," she said.

"Well, I have beer to drink, so maybe another time," I replied, leaving the store.

We arrive back to SCABS place, and a game of bowling was going on in the hallway, the poker game had degraded into a yelling match, and the place smelled like a fucking brewery. It was disgusting in how much fun it was, and it reminded me so much of the nights in Lister Hall when we would get ourselves juiced on the floor. Vandalizing Paddy's bathroom with some of the most disgusting pictures ever only further confirmed this fact.

Two more hours of solid boozing had us realize that it was time to go to the Stonehouse. I remember next to nothing about this part of the evening, but these were some of the things that I vaguely recall: SCABS lost his coat for the second night in a row, and a Native dude got pissed off at me for some reason. Kunal bought a million shots of Jagermeister, and Muley was trapping people with his 5 XL t-shirt that he was wearing. This is a poor desciption of the events, as I simply didn't know what was going on most of the time. I'm sure idiocy reigned, but I was too busy killing my body with booze.

The drinking machine didn't get fired up the next day until around 7:00 PM. I had spent a lot of money up to this point, but I still was in the mood for partying. Turkey felt the same way, so we decided to go on the welfare and pick up some cheap shit. He was able to find cans of this vodka mixture that only cost one dollar each; he bought a million of them. I bought a magnum of Baby Duck Champagne, as I wanted to hurt the next day. We decided to destroy my apartment, and Scunt, Garthy, Greener, Turkey, and myself managed to turn a child's boardgame into a drinking misadventure. Soon, my place was fucked, Scunt was nearly vomitting on my coffee table, and the boardgame was thrown out my window by Greener and Turks. Fucking awesome. In the state that we were in, there was only one place on Earth that could contain the madness. Yes, we made the excellent decision of going to Diamond's Gentlemen Club, the closest peeler bar to my place.

The strippers are always interesting. You absolutely have to be wasted to enjoy it, as sobriety makes you realize that throwing pieces of metal at female genitalia is pretty fucking degrading. Indeed, I have had many interesting stripper stories from my short life. I have seen a pregnant girl on stage, taking it all off at Pinky's. I have seen a girl launch a ping-pong ball from her goodies at Fuzzies. I have witnessed a good friend (who shall go nameless) have a bottle of whipped cream rammed up his ass on stage due to evil friends. I have taken out a hundred dollars in loonies on Muley's stag with the intention of winning one hundred posters, only to come away without a single one because I was too ripped to aim properly. I have had a peeler push her tits in my face when I told her that strippers "are people too". I have eaten the lunch buffet in gynecology row (awesome hairy tacos). I had a friend's girlfriend (who shall also go nameless) flash the stripper for a poster. I have a friend who caught the worse case of SARS in the history of mankind when a peeler took his glasses from his face, placed them between her groin, got them dripping with goo, and put them back on his face. I had the pleasure of waiting in line for the urinal behind a guy who was spanking one off into the toilet. I have had the honor of having a stripper tell me about the reasons behind her career choice, to get money for coke, one night during a school party at the rippers. At this same school party, I had a cocky guy in my class piss off a dude so much that he ended up waiting in the parking lot for all of us with a 2 x 4 as a weapon. And last night, I had the pleasure of seeing the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen in my entire life. Honest to God, she was almost as hot as Paddy's young sisters (or the coug that Jody had relations with). She nearly helped me win the battle with my ED. In short, I'm in love.

To make a very long and sordid story short, rounds of lap dances were purchased, which were strange to say the least. The beer was cheaper than the Power Plant, I fell in and out of love with every dancer on stage, we nearly lost another coat, and the cabbie nearly ran over Greener after he dropped him off.

Reading this blog entry back to myself, I know that it isn't up to the quality of the previous entries. I just drank waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much this weekend, and in some ways, it's a bit disappointing that I don't have more memories. It's not often that an old friend from Philly comes up, so as the stories start rolling in from the friends, an updated chapter can be added. Fuck, Liver, you should eat some shit. You let me down, preventing me from drinking like a raging alcoholic while still retaining total recall of all the shit that went down.

Moose