Not a boy but a wealthy bachelor

Fifth Day In Jamaica (Thursday, November 24, 2005)

8:30 – I roll out of bed because today we are heading on some tour. My parents bust my ass to hurry up through my 2 glasses of juice for breakfast so we can go sit on the bus for a half hour waiting for it to go. One thing about my parents and Jamaica: Both my parents are proto-typical Type As. If something doesn’t go their way they get all bent out of shape. In Jamaica no one appears to give a shit about deadlines, and this causes my parents untold amounts of stress. This morning wait for the bus to leave is no exception.

10:00 – 12:30 – We ride along on some bus that drops us off at all types of wack tourist traps. It is here that I buy Mike’s birthday present. I had to barter like a motherfucker for it, so he best be appreciative. There are lots of stores selling the exact same shit, and I don’t see anything that breaks my wallet open. We also visit some botanical garden type thing. I love plants.

12:30 – 1:00 – I convince our tour guide to stop for some lunch. We hit up some Jerk shack, where I buy a half chicken and two Red Stripes. Most definitely worth it.

On this bus were my family and a young couple. I promptly fell in love with the girl and after the stop at the jerk shack I ascertained that they were from Russia, but she was getting her master in law at NYU. Someone told them I was an accountant (I don’t freely share that shit) and they tell me they used to work at KPMG in Moscow, but quit because the pay sucked. I think I fell in love with the girl even more then. Either way, I spent the whole trip trying to come up with ways to get her to love me back. It didn’t happen.

1:00 – 2:30 – We head to Dunn River Falls, which is apparently famous. This was the best part of my day, as you don’t just check out these falls but hike directly up them. We kind of though it would be our seven person tour group and a tour guide, but they throw you in a huge group who forms some kind of human chain up the falls. There are pictures of this, which are actually fairly cool. You head right up the falls getting entirely soaked the whole time. This was also cool, because it involved the two 18 year olds from Texas and the Russian girl getting completely soaked too. I am willing top acknowledge that that is really creepy, but I take solace in the fact that every dude I know would have enjoyed it just as much. So ya, the falls ruled, and then we headed back to the hotel.

2:30 -3:30 – My family heads off to lunch. I am not too hungry due to my chicken consumption, but I do drink a lot of Ting. Ting tastes like Fresca.

3:30 – 4:30 – I manage to get the last of my CASB for this week done. Now just to find a way to upload that shit. I think my days of using the office computer are over because the head management is in town and Susanna is all stressed out about it.

4:30 – 7:00 – I watch some heart warming films like Cheaper by the Dozen. It turns out that today is American Thanksgiving, so all types of shitty shows are on. I am not sitting outside because it is shitty out there for the second day in a row. Quite disappointed with the weather, but not nearly as disappointed as my sister and dad. They really wanted some killer tans. As an aside, if I was American would I be able to take two days off this week at work? Did I even get Thanksgiving off in October? I have no idea at this point.

7:00 – 8:30 – Same Chinese food as last night. I eat a lot because I like to eat a lot.

8:30 – 11:00 – My sister, mom and I take some cards to the stage area and play some Uno while drinking. This eats up some time until the nightly show starts. They have the regular icebreaker things where they embarrass resort guests. I love this shit. The host is a little dude named Mosquito who is quite possibly the most entertaining individual ever. The show was some mishmash of stolen songs from random musicals. It was entertaining enough to get us back to the curtain call hosted by Mosquito. I could not possibly get enough of this guy. I was thinking I would employ him to record us a new answering machine message. It may still be worth it. I call it a night even though I discovered that the disco is open after the show. I just feel like too large of a creep telling my family I am going to stick around after they leave to chase skirts. As fun as that would be.

And that was my entire day.

Peace.

Since you’re already up

Fourth Day In Jamaica (Wednesday, November 23, 2005)

11:00 – It was raining this morning, so I stayed in bed a little later that I would have had I been working on my wack tan. When I eventually rolled out of bed I made my way down to the beach where my dad was trying his damndest to tan through some thick ass cloud cover. The rest of my family was just sort of sitting around doing not too much. I sat around with the family until I had enough and then made my way to the lunch buffet. Another bout of monster salad ensued.

12:30 – 1:00 – My mom had figured out how to get to town to check out the shops, so she wanted some people to head with her to do this. My youngest sister had a meltdown earlier and was in a horrible mood, so I didn’t really want to end up with her. These meltdowns always seemed to happen at family gatherings, and I am pretty sure they happened because she is spoiled. My parents are super protective of her, so they don’t ever see it as such, choosing to believe that the meltdowns happen because my older sister attacks her. I am some kind of impartial observer, but never impartial enough to convince my parents what actually happened. Either way, she was going shopping, so I didn’t want any part of this shopping.

1:00 – 3:30 – I did some CASB. If I manage to accomplish anything in my life I hope that it is getting CASB shut down. That program seems to go out of its way to make you hate it.

3:30 – 4:30 – My dad swings by to see what I am doing. He didn’t want to go shopping and spent the day trying to soak up the non-existent sunrays. My dad has already had melanoma scares, but doesn’t seem to give a shit. He just likes a good tan. Regardless, he decides we should go for a beer and wait for the girls to get back. I had four beers over the following hour and we likely exchanged 10 words. I think I initiated every aborted conversation.

4:30 – 6:20 – The whole family sits around doing not too much. This period is actually lost to me in my current gin-glossed state. I have no idea what happened. I’m sure I got changed into something appropriate for work and likely listened to some music in my headphones. I haven’t written much about that but every time I say I am with my family I am actually listening to music.

6:20 – 7:00 – My parents decide we need a drink so we head off to the lobby bar. I knock back a few beer and listen to some stories about what my mom and sisters saw in town. Thrilling stuff. I am trying to ascertain what I can pick up for mike in Ocho Rios to make up for missing his birthday. So far I have no good ideas. We will see what tomorrow brings.

7:00 – 8:30 – We head to the Mandalay, which is billed as the Asian restaurant. It is supposed to be a tapanyaki joint, but ends up being just another buffet. I really have no complaints as the food trumps the Asian fare I normally eat (Singapore Sam’s). I eat a buttload of deep fried goods and feel very, very full.
8:30 – 9:30 – The nightly show doesn’t start until 9:30. I know this because I asked one of the performers named Anthony. Have I pointed out yet that all the dudes here call me soldier? I like it. It is hard as hell to make friend with the staff here, or at least way harder than in Palm Beach. They tend to try to stay out of your way, but if you make the effort to approach them first they are all quite nice. And they teach you cool handshakes. Either way, on our way back to the rooms after supper my mom points out she bought cards in town and now we have something to do while we wait. I grab a beer and we start playing uno, except my dad who doesn’t play card games. I lose to Tory who is totally cheating.

9:30 – 10:45 – We head to the show to watch some reggae band from Montego Bay play. The same sort of skits and icebreakers are put on by the staff for the first half hour. The dude who hosts all of these is a tiny guy named Mosquito who speaks five languages that all sound the exact same. He is vaguely not straight, and comes across like a Hispanic Martin Short. He is fucking hilarious. After the staff show the band comes on, and one drink in my whole family leaves. I am once again left to hang out by myself or head to bed ridiculously early. I swear to something that tomorrow if they pull the same shit I am posting up at the bar and waiting until the last person leaves to head to sleep. Until then I’ll write shitty blog posts.

Peace.

Thirty-two softly focused, brightly coloured eyes

Third Day in Jamaica (Tuesday, November 22, 2005)

10:30 – Roll out of bed after a horrible sleep. I have no idea why it took me two days to notice that the beds here are rock hard, but it somehow did. It’s like sleeping on a 2x4. Maybe all beds are like this and my concept of comfort is warped due to the fact that my bed at home is a piece of old shit.

11:00 -12:30 – Lay about the beach doing my best to ignore my mom. She seems to have it in her mind that we have had enough sitting around reading and should now participate in water sports. After numerous variations of “piss off” and “get bent”, she relents and I head off for lunch. I have taken to creating monstrous salads in the belief that if I eat a whole lot of vegetables here I won’t suffer from the scurvy during busy season. I expect to eat a bunch of garbage and sit at a desk for long periods of time for those months. I am fucking excited.

1:00 – 3:30 – Sit around while my ever-so-active parents compete in some sort of resort based triathlon of their own creation. They request I take pictures of them during their various activities and we now have poorly framed photos of them kayaking in the ocean. That was the only adventure of theirs I could get the motivation to photograph as I didn’t have to move from my seat to capture the moment. Around 2 I notice that I am not as tanned as anticipated by this point and as returning home looking pallid will lead to ridicule from possibly Mark or Chris I turn my chair to face the sun and continue re-reading A Cook’s Tour. This was all the physical activity I got today.

3:30 – 5:00 – Head up to the front office to find the lady who will allow me to print off my week 4 casb assignment. She isn’t there and appears to be gone for the day. Good thing I have a 2 week backlog to work on until I get that shit. I head off for some pizza to pass the time and notice that it is starting to rain. This seems like a good time to start dealing with that huge backlog, so I head to the hotel room and get to work making a playlist that will create the proper mood for doing CASB while on vacation. In case anyone is wondering, here it is:

1 – The Wolf Parade – You are a runner and I am my father’s son
2 – Broken Social Scene – Anthems for a seventeen year-old girl
3 – The Decemberists – 16 by 32
4 – Test-Icicles – Boa vs. python
5 – Pharell – Can I have it like that?
6 – Broken Social Scene – Hotel
7 – Broken Social Scene – Almost Crimes
8 – Dillinger Four – bitethecurb, bitethecurb
9 – The Most Serene Republic – Proposition 61
10 – Franz Ferdinand – This Boy
11 – Immaculate Machine – Broken Ship
12 – Broken Social Scene – KC Accidental
13 – Scribe – Stop the music
14 – Metric – The Police and The Private
15 – Architecture in Helsinki – Sooner than soon
16 – Art Brut – Modern Art
17 – Broken Social Scene – Fire Eye’d Boy
18 – Broken Social Scene – Ibi dreams of pavement (A better day)
19 – Iron Maiden – Run to the hills
20 – Dillinger Four – Shut Your Little Trap, Inc.
21 – Placebo – Teenage Angst
22 – Metric – Live it out
23 – Placebo – Bruise Pristine
24 – The Most Serene Republic – You’re a loose cannon MacArthur… but you get the job done.

Not the best mix ever, but I did what I could with the songs I have on this computer right now. Plus it comes to just under one and a half hours, the maximum amount of time I can devote to CASB in one sitting.

5:20 – 6:30 – Struggle through a business valuation for Week 3. If I ever have to do this at work I am jumping off one of the tops of Canterra. Actually that’s a lie. I spent a good portion of this time typing this up. I did however copy and paste my last try at a week three assignment into a new excel sheet. One of these days I will get the numbers switched up and figure out how to hand it in.

6:30 – 7:00 – I track down the manager who says she can give me internet access on my laptop. I have plans to do things I should have done last week like put an out of office thing on my e-mail so some manager’s head doesn’t explode when they can’t get ahold of me, and get the CASB assignments I am missing. It turns out I can’t get the VPN to work, yet again. This is kind of not cool because that means 4 late timesheets this year. Ryan will not be pleased. I do manage to work the ipod as a jump drive and get the assignment off the CASB website. I am now ready to rock that shit or quit again. We’ll see how the week plays out.

7:00 – 8:30 – We head to the main dining area where it is Jamaican night. I am looking for Jerk Chicken but end up with a plate full of suckling pig, oxtail, curried goat and catfish. It was all pretty damn good, but watching meat get cut off a pig’s face is slightly offputting. Luckily I have been reading Anthony Bourdain all week and feel like I could eat pretty much anything put in front of me.

8:30 – 9:30 – I put the finishing touched on week 2 of CASB. I am on fire.

9:30 – 10:30 – My sisters are firmly planted in front of the TV watching the season finale to Real World: Austin. I have already spent far too much time watching that show so I take off with my parents to catch the steel drum band playing on the main stage. They are pretty damn good, but my parents aren’t feeling like sitting around and watching. Once again I am set with the decision of chilling by myself and trying to meet people or heading back to the room and doing a whole lot of nothing. I vote on nothing and type this shit up.

I am unsure what really goes on at night at this resort. They have these shows where it appears a bunch of 20 to 30-somethings get boozed and then I have no idea what goes on, because I’ve never been around for it. There is a disco, but I have never seen it when it is open as that would likely involve staying out past 11:00 or so. I see groups of girls who don’t appear to be with anyone, so they must do something other than drink a bunch of fruity drinks and call it a night. This would be worth exploring if I weren’t here with my family. And that is my final thought for this night.

Peace.

Raise some hands, say my name and let it break

First day in Jamaica (Sunday, November 20, 2005)

12:30 – This is when I roll out of bed. My entire family has been up since 8 in the morning. I wander into the shower in a failed effort to look moderately presentable. I venture outside and immediately begin to sweat. No worried though, as I learned my lesson in Palm Beach and have packed multitudes of undershirts.

1:00 – I track down my family and we head to the first of what would appear to be many identical buffets for lunch. I lunch on random meat and salads before finding out that there is a jerk chicken shack on the beach. I will conquer that tomorrow.

1:30 – 4:00 – My sisters and I sit on the beach trying to soak in as many of the sun’s cancerous rays as possible. I read Transworld Snowboarding and appreciate the situation as I am sitting on a beach on an island pining for snow on mountains. At least I know I live in the proper hemisphere. My dad and I take some time to wander the beach and check out the topless sunbathers. Everyone has to appreciate hot European teenagers and their desire to have an even tan. I contemplate it, but can’t bring myself to break out the camera.

4:00 – 4:30 – My dad and I lose at horseshoes to a couple Germans wearing Speedos. I think they won due to the lack of drag. The workers here seem determined to make sure I move my fat ass around. I am more than content to sit in the sun and listen to music while reading. Those dudes are having none of that.

4:30 – 6:00 – I get started working on my back log of CASB. This really just involved staring at the computer and telling my parents that if I fail this module I am quitting accounting to open a bar somewhere in Calgary. They seem unfazed.

6:30 – 10:00 – We head out to the supper buffet place which has a substantially larger selection. I had a bunch of random veggie dishes and some dumpling things that were supposed to have meat in them, but did not appear to. I am well on my way to being a well-rounded vegetarian, except for the desire to consume as many animals as possible. After supper finished the family wanders around and settles into some seats to watch a reggae band playing on the beach.

I have left until now to talk about girls as I haven’t really seen any up until now. Any girls I checked out on the way over were most definitely with dudes, which leaves them fun to look at but that is about it. After supper, when we hit the larger crowds, I noticed that there were a bunch of hot girls around, they just appeared to be with their families. I figured since I was with my family as well, that left these girls fair game for being perved on. Bulletproof reasoning if such a thing ever existed.

It is worth noting that while we listened to this reggae band I probably tripled the rest of my family in drinks (those members that were even drinking), which both of my lovely sisters decided to point out. I told them that if I was going to have to spend the rest of the week with them, I would need something to keep me going. I think my mom was kind of unimpressed.

So I am sitting with my family, checking out random girls who are likely between the ages of 16 and 20, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this. And then my whole family calls it a night and takes off. This leaves me in the uncomfortable position of hanging out by myself waiting for the (extremely) off chance that I meet someone, or heading to bed myself, not quite half cut, at 10 at night. Needless to say I cut out of there pretty quick and joined the fam, my first day in Jamaica cut short because of a lame crew. And then I nerded out and typed up a blog entry.

Peace.

I’ll stick to my needle and my favourite waste of time

This is a disclaimer, as I wouldn’t expect anyone to read this shit. It is likely unentertaining, and really just here so in a few months I recall what I did on this trip. Kind of like what I tried for Palm Beach, but forgot anyways. It ended up all getting posted on the same day even though it was written on the proper day.

Travelling to Jamaica (November 19, 2005 - Mike’s Birthday)

2:30 am – I get started on packing my bag. I should have made a list or something as this appears to be an exercise in haphazardly throwing shit into bags. I fill two bags with stuff I hope I will need and head to sleep.

5:00 am – Wake up to Common’s Be turned up really, really loud. At least I woke up. Get showered up and call a cab, which is there in about 6 minutes. I end up taking off to the airport far too early.

5:30 – 6:30 – I sit around trying not to look like a terrorist. It is hard to do with my awesome 2 day old beard.

6:30 – My family shows up and apologizes as they gave me the wrong time.

7:15 – I finally board a plane to Toronto and promptly fall asleep, much to the disappointment of the old guy beside me. His listening audience cut in half, he promptly starts telling some retarded story to the lady on the other side.

Lost track of time due to time zones – We arrive in Toronto and find out we are in Terminal C. From prior experience I know that the C terminal at Pearson has some of the worst airport restaurants I have ever seen. I fail to convince my family to shuttle to a better terminal and we sit down to eat shitty chicken wraps at Swiss Chalet.

3:20ish – We board a plane destined for Montego Bay. I am seated next to another old person who promptly introduces himself. I pull out the rap star head phones, as these are better at indicating a lack of interest in discussions than the iPod earbuds. The sweet sounds of Dillinger Four drown out yet another retarded story and I close my eyes.

10:00 Jamaica time – The plane lands in Montego Bay after flying through an electrical storm. Exciting to be certain. We then sit around in a bus to take us to our resort and listen to the drunk 40 year old dorks behind us. My rap star headphones make another appearance and the volume gets turned up while I let Placebo drown out the retards. Nothing is quite as annoying after a day of travelling as drunk white losers mimicking Jamaican accents. We get to the resort after a 2 hour bus ride with the drunk bachelor crew on what is by far the worst roadway system I have seen in my life. The bed in my room looks far too comfortable so I pass out.

Note: Mikes, if you ever read this I totally didn’t forget your birthday. I was travelling all day and by the time we got here I found out I have no cell coverage in Jamaica. It also appears that you need to buy some online time. As such I am going to pile a bunch of stuff up for when I actually pay for it, which includes your Happy Birthday and throwing this shit on my blog. I am heading into Ocho Rios at some point this week and will try and buy you something that doesn’t suck.

Still a sucker for a broad with some tattoos

I am off to Jamaica for a week. First my dad and I are going to watch Chicago kick the shit out of the Flames. Everyone knows it is going to happen. Are the Flames good enough to win 9 on a row or whatever it is? Probably not.

Not too much to say other than that.

Peace

and the machine getting in between the thought and the finger

I am about to try my hand at describing the Broken Social Scene show Tuesday night. I say I am about to try because there is every possibility that I will fail horribly to describe how impressive this show was. In fact I can’t imagine doing it justice. Maybe Evan will give it a shot and put together something better.

Some background before we get started. About six months ago I was likely making fun of Mark for having this band’s songs on his computer. You see, they are not tough, arty as hell, and decidedly not punk. So that was where I was around then. Then I saw this indie rock bandwagon coming along and jumped on whole-heartedly. The groundwork for this scene had been laid with Hot Hot Heat who were still somehow punk enough for me to not be embarrassed to enjoy. Then I got started with some Belle & Sebastian, The Decemberists and Bright Eyes. My indie predilections moved along cautiously with the Garden State soundtrack leading to The Shins and the like. Then I ran into a girl who convinced me to listen to try out some more intimidating indie stuff. I’m fully ready to admit that I wouldn’t have listened to BSS if I wasn’t trying to impress her, but I’m glad I did, as the music worked out, but the girl didn’t. Now I jump all over bands like The Joggers, Art Brut and The Wolf Parade (and even enjoy my arch-nemesis Modest Mouse). And here we are.

The Most Serene Republic were listed as the opening band and I had read good things, but I figured there would be some local act opening that I could afford to miss, so Evan, Mark and I started the show off in the beer gardens with a fine Molson product. Near the end of the beers Mark points out that this band I had taken to be some local outfit sounds good and we should go check them out. Upon entering the hall I determine that this may well be The Most Serene Republic and we have just missed half their set to drink a solitary Canadian each. A lesson is learned.

We find a spot near the sound booth and are able to enjoy what I believe to be just over half the set. This band had excellent energy, but I can’t remember all too much because they broke my brain when the lead singer started beat-boxing on Proposition 61. I can’t explain how incredible this sounded, and unfortunately the album version is quite tame in comparison to the live one and about 2 minutes shorter. They concluded the set with a song that in not to be found on the cd, and one that we all agreed was one of the weaker tracks we heard. This may have been because it was new song, but it lacked the energy of the other tracks despite the singer (Adrian?) wielding a mop. The final verdict was that this was a good band, resulting in my purchase of their cd at lunch today.

Adrian announced that Broken Social Scene was up next and a huge line formed to get into the beer gardens. We grabbed a spot on the floor up against a wall and per Evan “put the vibe out”. This is a good thing to do at these shows as there is often an overwhelming majority of hot girls. This remained true for this show. Unfortunately they all appeared to be with guys wearing girls pants. Not something I can see getting into. I saw that the crowd was starting to form so I got the guys up off the floor, we dropped our gum off on some ledge, and found another spot in front of the sound booth. Not a terrible vantage point, but certainly not the best.

After a good 20 minute wait punctuated by some mild callisthenics on Evan’s part Broken Social Scene took stage. Actually a better description would be part of the band took the stage. I think there were about 6 guys on stage for the first few songs. I wish I could name tracks that were played, but I haven’t seen a set list on the internet yet, and my memory isn’t so hot these days.

The specific songs that were played aren’t really the important part though. The band played songs off of both Broken Social Scene and You Forgot It In People, plus a few that I didn’t recognize. In the end I am fairly certain they played everyone I could have wanted them to. This feat was due to the fact that they were on stage for a solid two and a half hours. This may have resulted in some sore bodies from standing around for that long, but the fact that the band was able to play that long and maintain the energy they did was amazing. The lead singer was apparently fuelled by booze that night, and proclaimed that he had the home town jitters which resulted in him drinking more than he usually does. The thing is, it wasn’t even his hometown, but the new female singer (Lisa Lobsinger) is from Calgary and it was her first show here with the band. She has been getting savaged on message boards, but I though she did a bang-up job.

Band members wandered on and off stage depending on whether or not they were involved in the song being played and at one point in time I counted 11 people on stage playing instruments. I appreciated that this show was at Mac Hall because the sound there is always top-notch. I don’t really know how 3 guitars, bass, 2 drummers, keyboards, violin, and random horns would come across at Louie’s or a smaller place like that. Here it sounded spotless. The drums were way louder than on the albums and it helped immensely. You could always pick out each instrument being played and no one sound dominated the rest.

I don’t really know what else I can say about this show. They played all the songs you wanted and it sounded great. There were hot girls all over the place, and no one got tackled by a security guard. All in all it was a successful night out.

Tonight I’m headed to Broken City to see Immaculate Machine. They too will rip, although not to the same degree.

Peace.

I get my kicks from complete annihilation

I am quitting my job to be a pro snowboarder. Or maybe just to hang out in bars pretending I’m a pro snowboarder. That sounds more my style/in my league.

We just had another successful weekend in Canmore by the Heavy Metal Dick standards. Saturday involved riding for a half day (for me at least), eating really old sausage mcmuffins and double cheeseburgers, and drinking a lot of high quality drinks (4 doubles for $8 with roughly $40 coming out of my pockets). The nights highlights involved Erik getting kicked out of both Hooligan’s and The Drake and not remembering why he got kicked out of either, me making an ass of myself on the dancefloor at The Drake and being filmed doing so, the white guy dance off that took place at Hooligans (which was thankfully not filmed) and Mark’s outstanding puke and rally. Oh ya, and Brehon freaking out because of the place we ended up sleeping that night.

I’m sure Ryan’s roommates are already wondering how they are going to put up with this shit all winter, so we are going to have to present them with some kind of peace offering. We did offer to find the new guy a soulmate, but that didn’t really work out. Maybe just a bunch of beer or something will help them not kick Ryan out.

There were no pictures taken as Kirsty was not in attendance, but I’m sure when she quits being lame we’ll repeat it with photographic evidence. I suppose Ryan or I could have taken pictures but if you have read my Palm Beach posts you would know that sometimes cameras don’t make it home from the bar with us.

I have nothing else to talk about. Saw D on Friday night which was sweet. I’m sure she was impressed with how much we’ve matured since she moved out. On that note, I sat on the couch all day Sunday trying to figure out what I could eat and keep down. It was everything I imagined it could be. And I settled on Kraft Dinner.

Oh ya, Leo thinks I should move to Toronto to join Sean Desmond’s posse. Can you think of anything that would be cooler than that? I sure can’t. I’m sure Sean Desmond needs a CA school drop out in his crew.

Albums of the day:
Dillinger Four – Midwestern Songs of the Americas: I don’t even think I need to talk about this album. Everyone should know by now that it fucking kills.

Franz Ferdinand – You Could Have Had It So Much Better: I like catchy music and this album is full of it.

Peace.

Vertebrae by vertebrae roll your way out of a coma

Second Day in Jamaica (Monday, November 21, 2005)

9:30 – I somehow make my way out of bed at a reasonable hour, and wander down to the pool to lay right back down. My sister points out that breakfast is over at 10 (or more accurately it stops being served) so I should go get something. I plough through a huge plate of waffles with random syrups (maple, chocolate, some kind of berry, and ice cream, which melts into a syrup). I also ignore everyone’s suggestions to get some fruit.

10:30 – After being accosted by various resort employees attempting to get me off my ass I wander into the pool and after about 10 minutes of floating around make my way to the swim-up bar to order the pinkest drink they have. It is called a Copacabana and you can get it without alcohol. That is even fruitier than a drink with booze so I go for that option. I float along with my fruity drink and head back to my chair on the pool deck, chosen for its wonderful vantage point of the pool. I think I spent the next 2 hours alternating between being asleep, reading, and checking out random girls. I could live like this.

12:30 – Head to the jerk shack for lunch. A couple people in front of us in line request utensils and are cussed out by the cook. Apparently one does not eat barbequed chicken with a fork and knife. My dad and I pick a few random chicken parts out of the pile and head back to try it out. The chicken is most definitely barbequed, and also not jerked. I would consider the chicken shack a bust were it not for the cook heckling the patrons. I want to hire him for my bar, but I don’t think he would like the cold.

1:00-4:30 – I sit in the sun. Not much else happens. I’m sure at one point I contemplated heading up to do CASB, but obviously hot girls in bikinis trump trying to succeed in the CA profession every single time. Hell, moderately attractive girls in swimsuits trump becoming a competent accountant every single time. I had a few of the random beers they serve at this resort and went to grab some pizza with my older sister.

Oh ya, in here at some point I decide to try windsurfing. Since I am mediocre at every other board sport I have tried I have every reason to add one more to my arsenal. The best thing I can say about this experience is that I provided physical comedy for most everyone on the beach. Like watching a fat kid fall down stairs. The dude teaching me kept saying it was ok because it was my first time, then making jokes in some other language when I was almost out of earshot. I vow to try this again before we are done here, although I still don’t really get the idea of having to ride both goofy and regular depending on where you want to go.

4:30 – Supper – Getting clean was a priority as I had been in the ocean, and that just makes you feel gross. After a shower and realizing all my shirts are super wrinkled due to shitty packing, I head off to the bar to find my parents. They are seated with another old couple engaged in some serious discussion. After seating myself and drinking a couple beers from the tap I decided to ask about getting a Red Stripe. They don’t have glass bottles outside of the hotel rooms here, but the bartender says she will look into it for me. About a half hour later after I have forgotten my request she returns with three bottles and says I shouldn’t drink them out front because she had to grab them from the staff room or something. I head back to the room to throw them in the room after slipping her whatever American money I had in my pocket – a maximum of $7, if that. Red Stripe is still a shitty beer, but I thought I should try some while here.

Supper – We head to one of the actual restaurants in the resort, this one the apparent steak house/grill joint. Our wine guy (I wouldn’t call this dude a sommelier) is just cooked, and having a hell of a time. He made the meal substantially better with his random banter. I had the Australian beef cubes which just ended up being a steak. I was looking forward to some kind of random beef kabobs or something. It was still good though. Our wine guy informs us that the Michael Jackson review is on that night and that we should watch it. Being a huge Michael Jackson fan I am all for it.

8:30 – 9:00 – We sit a ways back from the stage and drink random fruit drinks while listening to some cheesy band that would not be out of place at a high school dance. My older sister is devastated that we are sitting there listening to some kind of easy listening reggae covers, but there really isn’t much else to do. I entertain myself by guessing the ages of random girls.

9:00 – 9:30 – They pull 6 guys from the audience on stage and make them do their best Michael Jackson impression. The first dude is some absolutely trashed fat guy from Toronto who brings the house down with the most awkward dance moves this side of the EY Christmas Party. He absolutely gave’r on stage. The only one who could compete is another guy from Toronto, who resists dancing at first but eventually busts out some straight Wild Style popping and locking. It had nothing to do with Michael Jackson, but was so out of left-field that I think he eventually won. It is amazing to think that this forty-something black dude kept up with his 1980s dance moves just in case a situation like this arose.

9:30 – 11:30 – The actual Michael Jackson impersonator takes over and we are treated to 2 hours of lip-synching to old Michael Jackson songs with a huge dance troop backing it all up. I’m not gonna say it was awesome, but it was probably right up there. How often do you get to see some skinny black dude with his face painted white dance around like Michael Jackson? Not often enough I say.

And that was the whole day.

Peace.

I'm gonna get myself deported

I just got home from work. Fucking awesome.

I have two pieces of information to add regarding Art Brut and one piece regarding Tim Horton's chilli prior to heading to bed (barring any possible UFC or UFC type programs on the telly).

Art Brut: After listening to their album all day for two days I have determined that these guys have written the paramount song about not being able to get it up. It is called Rusted Guns of Milan. Fucking brilliant. Second, there are hand claps on Good Weekend, so any criticism I may have had for the album was misguided. Apparently these guys aren't for everyone though as Andrea said the lyrics ruined it for her. She sucks, but at least she tries out the music I send her. I give this album 10 of whatever rating thing you want out of 10.

Tim Horton's chilli: That stuff is delicious.

So now based on my week I am making no promises of making it out of Hooligans alive on Saturday night. If you want to see me again it would be wise to make it out to Alberta prior to that night. One dollar highballs are my arch-nemesis.

I'm going to bed, there are no guys kicking the living shit out of each other on TV for my amusement.

Peace.

It makes me want to step outside, I want to loosen my tie

This is another post about music. Apologies to all the nerd and commies. Art Brut has written the funniest goddamn song I have heard in quite some time. Actually their whole album is funny. Sometimes you want to sit down and listen to bands who are taking themselves and their music seriously, and sometimes you want to be able to not think during a song. Art Brut made me laugh out loud and I think they would be happy about that. The first song on the album is about how the band started a band. Think about that for a bit. They are singing about how happy they are that they are now a band. The chorus is the whole band yelling “look at us, we formed a band!!” How can that not make you smile?

I might actually break this album down by how awesome all the choruses are. The second song on the album is My Little Brother and is about the singer’s 22 year old brother started listening to rock and roll and how he is out of control, and started making tapes of bootlegs and b-sides. That was a shitty description. Goddamn am I ever not selling this well. Whatever. They have a song called Modern Art and the chorus is “Modern art makes me want to rock out!” I’m putting exclamation points after all the lines from the songs because that is how they sing them. Another song is about the singers new girlfriend and how he has seen her naked twice. Maybe you need to listen to the song to get the feel for how fucking excited he is that he has seen her naked, but goddamn if listening to crap like that doesn’t make me happy. My only complaint with this album is the lack of hand claps. If there was ever a band that should employ gratuitous hand claps this is it. Someone should write them a letter to tell them that. I think I used gratuitous wrong up there, but I can’t think of a better word.

Alright, I’m done advertising this stuff. People should seriously give this a listen though. I suppose I should say what kind of music it is too. It sounds like early punk kind of stuff. Guitars and bass and drums with some distortion. It sounds better than that. I think I can’t describe it because I read some reviews that compared the music to The Buzzcocks, but I know if I put that in no one will ever listen to it. So ignore that shit. But has anyone even ever heard The Buzzcocks? I sure haven’t. Maybe they are super good based on this band that sounds like them being super good. I may need to check this out. I’ve also seen them compared to Weezer before Weezer started making boring music. Maybe that is a better selling point than The Buzzcocks.

In other news, it looks like Eric is coming down to go riding this weekend. It’s nice to know that some people from Saskatoon like the mountains (even if he’s not in Saskatoon anymore). I remember a time when we actually had organized trips out to the mountains. What the hell happened to everyone who used to go on those? Maybe they realized I suck, so they don’t want to come visit me. Well I think they suck. I guess that makes us even.

Sunshine is going to have 6 chairs open or something ridiculous this weelend. That is where I will be riding. Come find me on Green Run doing sweet carves.

Peace.

I love your friends, they’re all so arty

Band of the moment: Test Icicles. (I jump bandwagons super fast). They sound like Thunderbirds Are Now! had Thunderbirds written and recorded all their songs while they were drunk. I mean that in a really good way. Plus, they scream. Think Blood Brothers, but wussier.

Something else: Tim hooked me up with tickets to the Flames/Blackhawks game on the 18th of November. I believe this will be the 3rd time I have watched Chicago play Calgary with my dad. Chicago has won each of those encounters, and I expect the same outcome this time. I’ll swear at anyone who thinks otherwise. I was going to say fight, but everyone knows that I won’t fight anyone, except maybe one of the guys on the KPMG hockey team. Those guys are dicks and they suck. In that order.

Second band of the moment: Architecture in Helsinki. They sound like they have too many people to play a live show, but they still manage to pull those off. This is nice mellow music with just enough keyboards to remind me of videogames. That is always a good thing. If you have no idea what I am talking about track download “Sooner than soon”. It is all video-gamed up. Plus they are from Australia, home of such kick-ass bands as Silverchair, Frenzal Rhomb and Kylie Minogue, who is not a band but a hot old lady.

Snowboarding: The mountains are snowy enough to get out there, which I will do on Saturday. Look for me to be quite fashionable while sitting at the base of the hill drinking beer. I don’t ride, so much as pose like a motherfucker. I will need to get a more fashionable hat. Then I can wear this hat to hooligan’s that night and amaze people with how much fun a bunch of assholes can have laughing at each other.

Something I learned today: Nirvana covered a lot more of The Vaselines’ songs than just “Jesus doesn’t want me for a sunbeam”. Turns out Molly’s Lips and Son of a Gun are both Vaselines’ songs. It is bloody weird listening to the different versions of these songs.

About this weekend: While I was a waste for the majority of it, I did not drink too much at any point in time. I think that is pretty damn good. Unfortunately it results in exactly zero good stories. Not like I talk about those here anyways, so I suppose there is no loss. I watched lots of hockey and ate miniature Yorkshire puddings. This is why I’m not writing about my weekend.

Music trivia: It turns out that The Go! Team is a group put together for live shows only. The actual band is just one dude who is some kind of DJ and one of the vocalists (Ninja). He made all the tracks and got Ninja to throw down vocals after some try-outs. The rest of the band came in later. He also said that he is going to do their next cd the same way, all by himself. I am still bitter that I didn’t get to see them this past weekend, but the prospect of more Go! Team music makes me quite content.

Last stupid fact: The new Lagwagon album is right fucking strong. I recommend it, because you will enjoy this one if you ever liked that style (pop-punk). And honestly, when was the last time anyone really enjoyed a Fat Wreck album? Not since Sofa King Cool came out I’d wager.

Disclaimer: I know I have nothing to talk about but music, but who doesn’t like reading about music? Nerds and commies, that’s who. And seeing as everyone I know probably falls into one of those categories, this was pretty awesome.

Peace.

Digging ditches out of boredom

It finally snowed in Calgary last night. This probably didn’t impress some people (like the ones with cars), but I don’t like it when Halloween comes around without snow. Something just isn’t right about that. I actually have no idea if it did snow before the 31st when I was a kid, but I seem to think it did.

This next part here is for everyone I haven’t talked to in a while (read: everyone outside of downtown Calgary):
- I went to a Flames game last night. They won and I drank beer that tastes like heroin. This was followed by ribs at the Regal Beagle. Plus there were multiple fights, one involving Tony Amonte. It was a good night.
- I have taken up the sport of hockey again myself. It is way harder to play then it used to be. Damn good thing the league is so bad.
- I bailed on the Metric show because I had no one to go with. I even had a ticket and everything. This shouldn’t happen in the future because I am just going to force Brian to come with me now that he lives here.
- I started school again.
- I have yet to meet a female in this city who will talk to me for more than 2 minutes outside of a work setting.
- Halloween was suitably ridiculous. If I ever track down photos you will see the crew in our 70s glammed out state.
- I have nothing else to say, so as you can see none of this merited an actual e-mail or phone call to anyone. No need to get mad like Mark would.

Wow. I have noting substantial to add. I bought some cds. I can’t see anybody getting worked up over those. I wish I knew someone in Calgary with a house so I could go to a house party. I miss those. My ability to start almost ever sentence with “I” should be a super power, or an indication that this post is completely self-serving and should be aborted (but it won’t be).

Peace.