Friday, December 30, 2005
Walkin' On Down
Corona Man
I saw him while I was riding the 4 bus from Kitsilano to Hastings. Somewhere around Granville and Georgia I saw him. He was striding down the street in torn jeans and a dirty t-shirt. His worn work boots were speckled with mud. He must not have shaved in months as his beard flapped behind his ears in the wind. He was easy to spot in the crowd because it was raining and all the busy city-folk had there black umbrellas unfurled creating a writhing stream of water-repellant material. It was not that he didn't have an umbrella nor was it that he was not as nicely dressed as the others because he did and there are enough underpriviledged types on Granville Street to make him blend in. It was in fact that he too had an umbrella, a bright, yellow, Corona sun umbrella from a bar table, that made him stand out. He was marching merrily down the sidewalk weaving in and out of the masses twirling the umbrella behind his head like a parasol seemingly oblivious to the rain that he could be keeping off of him instead. He made me think about what possessed him to steal the umbrella if he was not using it to keep dry and just how he had managed to make off with it in the light of day when such umbrellas come out to play. Questions that will likely remain unanswered I suppose...
The Bird Man
It wasn't so much that his appearance was anything special, he was simply your usual slightly-overweight, scruffy-bearded, homeless fellow. He did not appear to be the type who would offer me drugs as he walked passed but would probably end up asking for change for food and maybe wish me a seasonal greeting. No he was nothing out of the ordinary for The City and I would have taken only a passing notice if he had not done what he had done. He crossed the street as the lights began to turn green and yet he was definately not oblivious to the people waiting to drive onwards once he had passed. They did not honk but he mocked them anyways, flapping his arms as he walked slowly infront of the car. He passed me by and gave me his greeting as I had suspected and I continued on my merry longboarding way, but he would stick with me at least long enough to write it down.
The Hanger Dance Kid
The kid was dressed fairly nicely and it was obvious he was not destitute as he still sported glasses that he had no hawked for rent, food, or crack. He carried a thin take-out container that he continually shifted back and forth in his hands to circumvent the heat problem presented by the contents of the container. In one pocket of the hoody stuck out a bottle of Green Tea Snapple™. He juggled the container continuously while also periodically removing the bottle for a drink which required an elaborate dance with the other object in his hand a single empty jacket hanger. There was no indication of any use for the hanger other than the part that it played in the juggling dance of food items. It looked so out of place and yet he showed no signs of making this realization. He most certainly had thought that this was odd and I know because that kid was me two days ago.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Musings About Irrelevent Things #2
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Homecoming: Good News and Bad News
Bad News: I will not be doing as much snowboarding as I had hoped due to a) parents unable to afford a pass for me (political statement ahead: Fuck you Mr. Campbell) and b) the company running the hill seems to be comprised entirely of douchebags who in the holiday spirit have decided to hike the prices over christmas. Merry Xmas to you too Assholes! So now I get a day of boarding and must choose my day wisely for maximimum powderability.
Good News: Cherry Tarts are still awesome
Bad News: The Weather is all about the icey rain right now
Good News: It WILL be a white christmas
Bad News: This computer does not easily facilitate my watching of short films for research
Good News: Bars are a-hopping and I feel like having some brewskis avec my Fernie friends.
Summary: X-Mas scheduling will have to be re-evaluated to account for less snowboarding and possibly more drinking. As I imagine someone might say in this situation "Crunk Crunk It's time to get Drunk!"
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Moustache Month Photojournal: Week 4 and Moustaches Galore!










WEEK 4: Last Day Of Facial Hair





WEEK 4: Moustache Day is HERE! Casey and I were Miami gangsters. I was significantly less badass than Casey, who looked like a cast member from Scarface and even more Cuban than before.
Steve kind of looked like he should be the old guy running a record store. He still has the soul patch but recognizes that he should shave it off because it lame. Or at least he says he does. I think he secretly covets the soul patch. Alternate looks like options are french beatnik poets, but although he can speak French he has no beret. A shame really. Steve shaved at midnight of this day and sent the unholey moustache back to hell, I did likewise.
I could say "Fuck Dave" again, but his supertrooper appearance makes me feel as though my embarassment by comparison was all worth it. The guy on the right is Phil. He joined in about a week and a half before the end of Moustache Month and destroyed me in the non-competition.
This is quite possibly the most badass photogramaphone of Mr. W. B. Fudge in existance. Hans voted him worst moustache but I disagree, it is quite obviously badass. Hired Gunman Badass!
Magnum P.I. made an appearance in the form of Wes. Sort of not pictured is his massive chest hair. Wes too redeemed himself for being totally wicknar in his facial hair use on this day. I don't hate Wes. Wes is too cool for school.
In the end the rumblings of Chris not shaving were untrue. He looks like a science teacher...poor Chris...give him his loud sweater and send him on his way.
And FINALLY, WHAT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...
Up close and personal with my ronnie (that's british/irish slang for shitty moustache that is barely even there). It would probably look more substancial if my hair was darker but that isn't saying much. I look like 2 parts my dad, 3 parts wannabe rocker from every 70s movie ever, and 1 part 15 year old nerd. I sent the moustache back to the vile depths (of my drainage system) from whence it came at precisely 2 minutes after midnight. I pulled "I live here" rank to cut in line to the bathroom and then I hooked Mr. Fudge up with a cut in the line 'cause that is how I roll...bitches!
Moustache Month Photojournal: Weeks 2 and 3: The Itchening






WEEK 3: The Horror, The Horror





Moustache Month Photojournal: Shaving and Week 1
WEEK 1: The Shavening


WEEK 1: The Handsome Years





My contemporary Mr. Woodrow B. Fudge can barely contain the laughter.
NEXT: The Day The Laughter Died
Saturday, December 03, 2005
December Beach Party!!!

*Beach will be played by a kiddy pool and some sand at Hans and Stu's house.
EDIT: The keg will now be 10 dollars a piece as we are getting a 50 litre one
Friday, December 02, 2005
The Snakes On A Plane Application Form Is Here!!


Your eyes do not decieve you folks! That most excellent and mysterious of mysterious secret organizations Snakes On A Plane is opening up its doors to applicants. Simply by filling out this application form you are potentially entering the world of secrets previously known by four special individuals: Stuart, Steve, Dave, and Jesus. Those with the highest scores may even learn some things we know that Jesus does not. We are that awesome.
So get out your pencil and get to the writing. You could be the next Snake on a Plane.
-Disclaimer-
Filling out this form does not ensure entry. It does ensure that your answers will be scrutinized and ridiculed by Snakes On A Plane members and their close friends...and maybe Jesus. By filling it out and sending it back to me you are giving me the right to make fun of you, so just remember that and don't sue me.
The Snakes On A Plane logo is courtesy of Mr. Jeffrey Rowland (www.wigu.com)
Dr. McNinja is courtesy of Dr. McNinja (www.drmcninja.com)
Moustache Month: One Week Left Update!
Some of the participants have grown respectable facial hair (some have full beards) and are already expressing that they are loathe to part with it for reasons of either their girlfriend likes it (take that Jason!) or they think it makes them look "cool" or something like that.
Others spend at least ten minutes every morning staring themselves down in the bathroom mirror, gripping their razors and cream tightly as the cold ceramic of the floor saps the heat from our toes, fighting the burning desire to end it all and shave off the ratty uneven mess that marrs their once clean features.
I, myself, have never come so far as to fight a battle of the wills over my bathroom sink but I am by no means proud of the sparse facial hair that litters my face. In fact, the only thing that has saved me from such an early morning war is my competitive spirit. I, in fact, am the worst off of those still holding to the pact. Not only is my beard patchy and slow growing but I am also the fairest haired of the bunch rendering what hair that does grow nearly invisible from any kind of distance. Everyday I am subjected to questioning from my peers as to whether or not I have shaved the previous night, yet I still itch as bad as the rest. Girls still avert from my gaze. I could deal with these things if I was in fact gaining a "wick-nar and totally badass" moustache at the end of the month, but all signs point to grade 9 puberty nerd-stache. I will attempt to offset this by wearing AVs (aviators for those of you playing at home) all day and throwing a supremely badass December Beach Party in the evening. If you are reading this and have the means to contact me for directions that means you are invited.
Where are the pictures you ask? Well seeing as how the promised(?) weekly pictures did not happen but were taken I will post them all at the end of Moustache Month thus given you the full embarassing experience. I will also post a photo journal of the party so you can all relive my drunken foolish escapades.