10 random facts you may or may not know about me. I've been drinking and I'm bored...deal with it.
1. My eyes aren't one solid colour. I have a brown ring on the inside of the...umm...coloured part, and the outside half changes colours. Usually grey, sometimes green or blue. I'm already cooler than you thought I was, right?
2. I can't burp. Or puke. Well, I have actually done both, but they're very rare occurances in my life. Like eclipses or some shit. You have your fancy moon every 8 years, I upchuck in a bathtub. Not quite as romantic.
3. I can do 2 impressions. One is Grover, from Sesame Street. I got thrown off the skytrain once for doing the NEAR...FAR! skit, and running from one side of the train to the other for emphasis. Not my finest moment. The 2nd is Fat Albert...before you start in on the obvious heffer jokes, you gotta hear my HEY HEY HEY! The bitches flock to it.
4. I probably know more about jiu jitsu than you do, even though I've never worn a gi, rolled with anyone, or actually been in a gym since high school.
5. I've lost 11 housekeys since I moved in here. I've actually lost 3 of them in the bush beside the stairs/front door, cuz I dropped them trying to drunkenly get in the house at 5AM. Those fuckers bounce like you wouldn't believe.
6. I watch Dream videos a lot on YouTube. Remember them? Circa 2001 or so. I have no idea why. Before you watch one and point out they were 14 or some shit...I'll have you know they're perfectly legal now. So there.
7. I get to drink beer at work, and you don't.
8. I can do complicated 8 digit math in my head in seconds, but I can't pump gas, change a tire, or operate a motor vehicle. Well, I rode a jetski once, but I crashed it into a dock.
9. I can't afford a car, I use public transportation...I don't mind, I read till I reach my destination...sometimes a newspaper, sometimes a book...the amount of money I save, this shit is off the hook! Oh, and I get nervous in social situations, muthafucka! If ya got a pet cat, put ya hands up...if ya got a bad back, put ya hands up...
10. I owned a 98 Degrees CD a long time ago, till Danny threw it into the fireplace and stated "There, now it's 1500 degrees".
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Fuck Translink. And the RCMP.
I almost got arrested this morning.
There's a foot of snow here, and it's still comin down. This means no car is exiting my driveway to drive me anywhere, so I get to take public transit. Joyous. After squishing into a skytrain car like a drunk sardine, I get to the bus loop, about 40 seconds before the bus is gonna leave.
I rush over to the bus, which was still there...it pulled away right as I got to where it boards. After going about 4 feet, it stopped, so I walked up to the door. The jackass driver looked at me, AND DROVE AWAY. So I kicked the bus as hard as I could. I know, I know...nice and mature. But fuck that, asshat shoulda let me on the fucking bus!
There was a cop sitting in his car at the end of the loop, who came up to me and told me I could be arrested for trying to destroy public property. I said something along the lines of "Go do something productive and catch real criminals"...he again said I could be arrested, so I said "Go ahead then, arrest me. And explain to your bosses why you let 27 drugs deals go down at the loop here while you're hauling me in for kicking a fucking bus." And stuck my wrists out.
Magically, he didn't find me humorous. He told me to be more respectful to a police officer, and I responded with "Go bug Pablo the smack dealer over there, or give me a ride to work. Your choice" and turned my back to him. He kept babbling, I kept ignoring, and eventually he walked away.
The next bus didn't show up, and the one after that was 20 minutes late, so I was there freezing my balls off in the snow for an hour and 15 minutes. Cocksuckers.
Just for the record, I'm 29 years old. And single. I wonder why sometimes, until things like this happen.
There's a foot of snow here, and it's still comin down. This means no car is exiting my driveway to drive me anywhere, so I get to take public transit. Joyous. After squishing into a skytrain car like a drunk sardine, I get to the bus loop, about 40 seconds before the bus is gonna leave.
I rush over to the bus, which was still there...it pulled away right as I got to where it boards. After going about 4 feet, it stopped, so I walked up to the door. The jackass driver looked at me, AND DROVE AWAY. So I kicked the bus as hard as I could. I know, I know...nice and mature. But fuck that, asshat shoulda let me on the fucking bus!
There was a cop sitting in his car at the end of the loop, who came up to me and told me I could be arrested for trying to destroy public property. I said something along the lines of "Go do something productive and catch real criminals"...he again said I could be arrested, so I said "Go ahead then, arrest me. And explain to your bosses why you let 27 drugs deals go down at the loop here while you're hauling me in for kicking a fucking bus." And stuck my wrists out.
Magically, he didn't find me humorous. He told me to be more respectful to a police officer, and I responded with "Go bug Pablo the smack dealer over there, or give me a ride to work. Your choice" and turned my back to him. He kept babbling, I kept ignoring, and eventually he walked away.
The next bus didn't show up, and the one after that was 20 minutes late, so I was there freezing my balls off in the snow for an hour and 15 minutes. Cocksuckers.
Just for the record, I'm 29 years old. And single. I wonder why sometimes, until things like this happen.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Road trip with 2 bitches, the finale
Since my last blog was a bit of a downer (holy understatement), I thought I'd lighten it up and finally finish the camping trip story. Only 3 months post-trip. I should just get "lazy" tattoo'd on my forehead.
It's been a while, so to get yourself up to speed, refer to the first 2 parts of this tale, located somewhere below. After you stop laughing at our immature antics and my storytelling artistry....here we go again.
Day 3 began much the same way day 2 did. I cracked a beer about 34 seconds after waking up, while the bitches looked at me in disgust. After lounging around for a bit and cleaning up the doritos we all threw at each other the night before, we decided to go for a drive. Every state with an inch of coastline has a town called Long Beach. So do half the islands in North America. This Long Beach claimed to have the "Longest beach in the world"...just like all the others all claim as well. We figured it was worth a looksee, so we headed in that direction.
The beach was huuuuge. Super wide, and it stretched as far as we could see. People were driving their jeeps up and down like it was a highway or something. After chasing seagulls and throwing seaweed at each other for a while, Jess decided the windy conditions were perfect for kite-flying. I differed on this opinion, cuz I'm not 9 years old anymore. Once bitch gets something in his head though, it's go time! We walked through a fair chunk of the town, eventually coming across a...I guess it's a kite store? A hobby shop? I dunno. I'm not saying we were too old to be in there...but I kept expecting Chris Hansen to jump out from behind a display...To Catch a Predator!
While Jess rummaged through kites like a spastic preteen, Jim and I played with the shop-owners friendly dog and made mature comments relating to Jess not hitting puberty yet. He finally settled on a 40+ dollar kite, and we went off in search of food, which turned out to be at a damn good seafood place. Post meal, we ended up in some sort of antique shop/freak show. This place was full of awesome.
There was Jake, the half alligator, half man. Seriously, look up this piece of work people...he's a man among gators. Something topped Jake though...an execution machine. You put in a quarter, and get to witness a little doll guy get offed. A guy about our age was standing beside us, in awe of this thing like we were, when his girlfriend yelled out for him to come over there. His response cracked us all up...
"I'll be there in a minute honey, I'm just watching an execution."
After that hilarity, we decided to hit up the arcade. They had air hockey! Oh this shit was ON. Jess and I played with so much aggression, our arms were totally done by the end of 3 games...and after the arcade lady told us to keep it down a few times cuz we were shit-talking. I won every game. Even if I didn't, it was 3 months ago and my memory is a little foggy, and it's MY BLOG, BITCHES!
After some native ice-cream (don't ask), it was time to head back into Disappointment, stopping along the way for a shitload of alcoholic energy drinks (that were 99 cents each!) at the redneck store. On the way, Jim decided he was gonna be Mario Andretti on the windy road up to the park. After 10 painstaking minutes of him jawing about what a good driver he was, and weaving back and forth like a drunk trucker, he came up to the last big turn before the park.
And missed it.
Well, he didn't really miss it...but that was kinda dramatic, wasn't it? Anyways, he ALMOST missed it....after overcompensating to one side, we were about a foot from going right off the road, into a huge ditch and some trees. I guess it would be fitting if we died in a place like Cape Disappointment, but alas, Jim got us there alive...and with soiled underpants.
Back to the yurt we go, we go...Jim decides to go for a shower, while Jess and I decide to go to the beach and see if he can fly his expensive kiddy toy. After we walk all the way there, Jess realizes he locked the yurt, and Jim can't get in. After laughing about this for a few minutes, we decided to go back...Jim was not a happy camper. GET IT?
Driving like a down's kid and being angry made Jim a tired little guy, so he went for his daily nap. Jess and I went back to the beach, energy booze in tow. It took about 2 minutes for me to realize that dollar energy booze cans and a tard with a kite are MAGIC when brought together. I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt for hours. First, he couldn't get the thing to take off...then when he finally did (with my help), he tripped and fell in the sand. Attempt 1 - failed. After somehow getting it back into the air again...while running backwards, he tripped over a huge rock...let go of the kite, did a backwards flip/roll over said rock into the sand, and watched in vain while his new toy ended up in the cold ocean. 2 seconds later, he got up and chased after it, shoes and all, right into the water...and got drenched from the knees down or so. I'm laughing right now while thinking about it, 3 months later. It was awesome. Unfortunately, karma comes in many packages, and I would be on the receiving end of laughter a short time later.
After taking 10 or so minutes to laugh hysterically at the situation and finish our energy booze, we headed back to wake up Jim and go back to the Killer Jetty!
Upon arrival at said jetty, Jess decided he was gonna attempt another kite-flying adventure on the beach there, due to the higher winds. I didn't think he could top the incident earlier, so I took off down the jetty. The waves were MUCH bigger than the day before, crashing right over the top onto the other side. I hung out for a while, drinking my energy booze and chillin, till bitch squared finished up with the kite and came out to where I was. I knew where Jess was standing was wave territory, but I didn't say anythin...sure enough, 2 minutes later, KABOOM. Jess is pretty wet. Jim and I are pretty amused. This cape was not disappointing me when it came to harassing Jess. But wait...do you hear that sound?
That's karma knocking at the door! Or jetty. Or whatever.
We walked down a little bit more, but stayed safely away from wave county. Or so I thought. We started talking to some other people that were out there, and a guy was telling a pretty interesting story about the jetty. Next thing I know, KABOOM. I'm fucking soaked. Not "I jumped into the shower for a couple of seconds" soaked. I was "somebody just dropped me into a fucking dunk tank" soaked. It wasn't pleasant. Well, it wasn't for me anyways...the bitches practically fell down laughing at me. Stupid jetty. Stupid karma.
We're all gettin hungry by this point, so we went back to the yurt, got changed into DRY clothes, and went to the pub in Ilwaco. Come on...it's not a real camping trip without a pub trip! Not a fucking soul was in the place other than us and 2 employees. My food and beer were fine. The bitches, not so much. Jim called it "the worst meal he's ever had". That's gotta suck. Oh well, mine was good!
On the drive back (a much safer drive this time, due to darkness), we came across a whole lotta deer. Jess got outta the car, and crept closer to take a good pic. The deer were nice and tame...till bitch went fucking berserk, screamed, and charged at them for some reason. Shockingly, Bambi and crew ran for their lives. I still dunno why he did it, but it was super funny.
Anyways, back to the yurt., and then back to the beach. In the dark and the rain. There were a billion baby shrimp running around, and even more little wormy bug thingers jumping around too. I'm pretty sure that's the scientfic name for them. We sat down for probably 30 seconds, and were covered in them. Not so much fun. The bitches then decided it would be funny to run away and shut off the flashlights. That wasn't so much fun either...for me, anyways. It was pitch fucking black. I fell. They laughed. What a surprise.
Back to the yurt. And guess who's back? Our raccoon friends. And they brought the family...there were at least 5, probably 6 of them. We fed them every scrap of food we had, and watched them fight and yelp and do lotsa other funny stuff. They were eating right out of our hands, just chillin with us. Since they kept taking the food off the deck, we decided to see if they'd take something else with them:
Jim's beer! He grabbed it, and tried to scurry off with it...but obviously he couldn't open it. (On a side note, Jim had no idea it was actually one of his beer that klepto-coon stole until he saw this pic after the trip.) Since he couldn't open the beer, Jess decided to give him another treat...
Baileys!
Note to future campers - raccoons like baileys. A lot. Jess poured a bunch onto the deck, and the little guy licked it all up. After a little bit, he decided to freak the fuck out on the other raccoons. Then he staggered around. Then he actually came up beside us, and fucking went to sleep, lying flat out, right beside the fire! It was almost as funny as Jess falling over the rock. Almost. He stayed there for 20 minutes or so, having a snooze, oblivious to us...then got up and took off with the rest of his friends. Good times, good times.
Nothing could top the hijinks of the day, so we just drank a few more beers and tried to watch Knocked Up again on the laptop. I think I passed out before the opening credits were over, and my snoring ensured the bitches couldn't enjoy the movie...so they gave up too.
Next day, we got up and came home. I don't remember anything eventful happening that day, other than us deciding that we had a damn good time, and will do it again ASAP. Between nature kicking the shit out of us, boozed-up/candy-stealing coons, and the rest of the hilarity involved in anywhere us 3 go....Cape Disappointment gets a thumbs up.
It's been a while, so to get yourself up to speed, refer to the first 2 parts of this tale, located somewhere below. After you stop laughing at our immature antics and my storytelling artistry....here we go again.
Day 3 began much the same way day 2 did. I cracked a beer about 34 seconds after waking up, while the bitches looked at me in disgust. After lounging around for a bit and cleaning up the doritos we all threw at each other the night before, we decided to go for a drive. Every state with an inch of coastline has a town called Long Beach. So do half the islands in North America. This Long Beach claimed to have the "Longest beach in the world"...just like all the others all claim as well. We figured it was worth a looksee, so we headed in that direction.
The beach was huuuuge. Super wide, and it stretched as far as we could see. People were driving their jeeps up and down like it was a highway or something. After chasing seagulls and throwing seaweed at each other for a while, Jess decided the windy conditions were perfect for kite-flying. I differed on this opinion, cuz I'm not 9 years old anymore. Once bitch gets something in his head though, it's go time! We walked through a fair chunk of the town, eventually coming across a...I guess it's a kite store? A hobby shop? I dunno. I'm not saying we were too old to be in there...but I kept expecting Chris Hansen to jump out from behind a display...To Catch a Predator!
While Jess rummaged through kites like a spastic preteen, Jim and I played with the shop-owners friendly dog and made mature comments relating to Jess not hitting puberty yet. He finally settled on a 40+ dollar kite, and we went off in search of food, which turned out to be at a damn good seafood place. Post meal, we ended up in some sort of antique shop/freak show. This place was full of awesome.
There was Jake, the half alligator, half man. Seriously, look up this piece of work people...he's a man among gators. Something topped Jake though...an execution machine. You put in a quarter, and get to witness a little doll guy get offed. A guy about our age was standing beside us, in awe of this thing like we were, when his girlfriend yelled out for him to come over there. His response cracked us all up...
"I'll be there in a minute honey, I'm just watching an execution."
After that hilarity, we decided to hit up the arcade. They had air hockey! Oh this shit was ON. Jess and I played with so much aggression, our arms were totally done by the end of 3 games...and after the arcade lady told us to keep it down a few times cuz we were shit-talking. I won every game. Even if I didn't, it was 3 months ago and my memory is a little foggy, and it's MY BLOG, BITCHES!
After some native ice-cream (don't ask), it was time to head back into Disappointment, stopping along the way for a shitload of alcoholic energy drinks (that were 99 cents each!) at the redneck store. On the way, Jim decided he was gonna be Mario Andretti on the windy road up to the park. After 10 painstaking minutes of him jawing about what a good driver he was, and weaving back and forth like a drunk trucker, he came up to the last big turn before the park.
And missed it.
Well, he didn't really miss it...but that was kinda dramatic, wasn't it? Anyways, he ALMOST missed it....after overcompensating to one side, we were about a foot from going right off the road, into a huge ditch and some trees. I guess it would be fitting if we died in a place like Cape Disappointment, but alas, Jim got us there alive...and with soiled underpants.
Back to the yurt we go, we go...Jim decides to go for a shower, while Jess and I decide to go to the beach and see if he can fly his expensive kiddy toy. After we walk all the way there, Jess realizes he locked the yurt, and Jim can't get in. After laughing about this for a few minutes, we decided to go back...Jim was not a happy camper. GET IT?
Driving like a down's kid and being angry made Jim a tired little guy, so he went for his daily nap. Jess and I went back to the beach, energy booze in tow. It took about 2 minutes for me to realize that dollar energy booze cans and a tard with a kite are MAGIC when brought together. I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt for hours. First, he couldn't get the thing to take off...then when he finally did (with my help), he tripped and fell in the sand. Attempt 1 - failed. After somehow getting it back into the air again...while running backwards, he tripped over a huge rock...let go of the kite, did a backwards flip/roll over said rock into the sand, and watched in vain while his new toy ended up in the cold ocean. 2 seconds later, he got up and chased after it, shoes and all, right into the water...and got drenched from the knees down or so. I'm laughing right now while thinking about it, 3 months later. It was awesome. Unfortunately, karma comes in many packages, and I would be on the receiving end of laughter a short time later.
After taking 10 or so minutes to laugh hysterically at the situation and finish our energy booze, we headed back to wake up Jim and go back to the Killer Jetty!
Upon arrival at said jetty, Jess decided he was gonna attempt another kite-flying adventure on the beach there, due to the higher winds. I didn't think he could top the incident earlier, so I took off down the jetty. The waves were MUCH bigger than the day before, crashing right over the top onto the other side. I hung out for a while, drinking my energy booze and chillin, till bitch squared finished up with the kite and came out to where I was. I knew where Jess was standing was wave territory, but I didn't say anythin...sure enough, 2 minutes later, KABOOM. Jess is pretty wet. Jim and I are pretty amused. This cape was not disappointing me when it came to harassing Jess. But wait...do you hear that sound?
That's karma knocking at the door! Or jetty. Or whatever.
We walked down a little bit more, but stayed safely away from wave county. Or so I thought. We started talking to some other people that were out there, and a guy was telling a pretty interesting story about the jetty. Next thing I know, KABOOM. I'm fucking soaked. Not "I jumped into the shower for a couple of seconds" soaked. I was "somebody just dropped me into a fucking dunk tank" soaked. It wasn't pleasant. Well, it wasn't for me anyways...the bitches practically fell down laughing at me. Stupid jetty. Stupid karma.
We're all gettin hungry by this point, so we went back to the yurt, got changed into DRY clothes, and went to the pub in Ilwaco. Come on...it's not a real camping trip without a pub trip! Not a fucking soul was in the place other than us and 2 employees. My food and beer were fine. The bitches, not so much. Jim called it "the worst meal he's ever had". That's gotta suck. Oh well, mine was good!
On the drive back (a much safer drive this time, due to darkness), we came across a whole lotta deer. Jess got outta the car, and crept closer to take a good pic. The deer were nice and tame...till bitch went fucking berserk, screamed, and charged at them for some reason. Shockingly, Bambi and crew ran for their lives. I still dunno why he did it, but it was super funny.
Anyways, back to the yurt., and then back to the beach. In the dark and the rain. There were a billion baby shrimp running around, and even more little wormy bug thingers jumping around too. I'm pretty sure that's the scientfic name for them. We sat down for probably 30 seconds, and were covered in them. Not so much fun. The bitches then decided it would be funny to run away and shut off the flashlights. That wasn't so much fun either...for me, anyways. It was pitch fucking black. I fell. They laughed. What a surprise.
Back to the yurt. And guess who's back? Our raccoon friends. And they brought the family...there were at least 5, probably 6 of them. We fed them every scrap of food we had, and watched them fight and yelp and do lotsa other funny stuff. They were eating right out of our hands, just chillin with us. Since they kept taking the food off the deck, we decided to see if they'd take something else with them:
Jim's beer! He grabbed it, and tried to scurry off with it...but obviously he couldn't open it. (On a side note, Jim had no idea it was actually one of his beer that klepto-coon stole until he saw this pic after the trip.) Since he couldn't open the beer, Jess decided to give him another treat...
Baileys!
Note to future campers - raccoons like baileys. A lot. Jess poured a bunch onto the deck, and the little guy licked it all up. After a little bit, he decided to freak the fuck out on the other raccoons. Then he staggered around. Then he actually came up beside us, and fucking went to sleep, lying flat out, right beside the fire! It was almost as funny as Jess falling over the rock. Almost. He stayed there for 20 minutes or so, having a snooze, oblivious to us...then got up and took off with the rest of his friends. Good times, good times.
Nothing could top the hijinks of the day, so we just drank a few more beers and tried to watch Knocked Up again on the laptop. I think I passed out before the opening credits were over, and my snoring ensured the bitches couldn't enjoy the movie...so they gave up too.
Next day, we got up and came home. I don't remember anything eventful happening that day, other than us deciding that we had a damn good time, and will do it again ASAP. Between nature kicking the shit out of us, boozed-up/candy-stealing coons, and the rest of the hilarity involved in anywhere us 3 go....Cape Disappointment gets a thumbs up.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Read and remember. Please.
My Weekend.
WARNING: I change tenses a lot here, from past to present to future. Bear with it, it's part of my charm.
I arrived the night before the event (friday night) with my dad and my stepbrothers/stepsister. We did what we do best...got drunk with Curtis. A few hours later, my sister Renee showed up with her husband, and a litter of children. Drinks were had, Wii was played, everything was pretty normal. Ya know, as normal as funeral eve's get. A lot of people crashed there that night, and I was content with a couch and a drinking partner. Alas, due to Budweiser, Gibson's Whiskey, and grief, Curtis and I Wii-bowled till 5:30AM and discussed many things. I began to understand more than I ever imagined about the man I call my brother, and always will. No one is ever gonna leave your side bro. No one.
2 hours later, I woke up sweating, literally stuck to a leather couch, with a dog nose in my face. Joyous. The only thing that made me feel better about being this hungover was seeing Curtis stagger into the kitchen to answer the already-ringing phone a few minutes later. If I had to feel this shitty, at least I had company...I know he was just as fucking hungover as I was. I managed to unstick myself for the couch, which fucking hurt, and realized my pockets full of change had made their way into the bowels of my bed for the night. Oh well...donating 9.47 to Curtis and his couch was the least I could do. Dogs, cats and kids woke up, the decibel level went up, and I reluctantly re-entered the aggravation I've dodged my entire life.
I felt like garbage, but wasn't sure what to do about it...till Curtis sat down next to my with his trusty Gibson's bottle and took a swig. It might have been early, but I couldn't let him drink alone...good brothers don't do this kind of thing. Hello, Coors Light. Nice to see ya. I got a dirty look from nearly everyone for cracking a beer at 9AM, but they can go and make sweet love to themselves. If they wanna deal with their issues with tears and embraces, go ahead...that's not my fucking thing. For better or worse.
Suddenly, I'm in a hall normally reserved for drinking. A legion. If you've ever spent any time in this environment, you start to understand that a memorial service is pretty similar to your average tuesday afternoon up in a place like this. Men in uniform (or long past such trivial matters) sit around old tables with adult beverages, speaking of fallen comrades and "the good ole days". But today, my sister is that comrade, and those days are not so far gone. They were last week, and a saturday the month before that, and the celebration of another special life a couple of summers ago. Today, this place has balance...half of the people wear the uniforms of our country's finest, of which my sister was a proud member. A select few wore the pink pajamas my sister spent much of her spare time in...and the rest of us wore whatever the hell we felt like, as per Jenner's wishes.
The days leading up to this event have been filled with heartache and acrimony for many people involved, and things are not about to resolve themselves peacefully today. Her kids, my niece and nephew, are standing in front of me...confused and scared, unsure about what their future holds. 12 and 11. So impressionable. Their mom may be somewhere else, but they are not alone. Many in the room have a vested interest in their lives, and these people are just as confused and worried about how this will all play out. As important as all this stuff is, the people in this unique place of worship and death have silently agreed to set aside the next few minutes to honour the memory of someone they all hold in high regard.
People talk. The words are a blur. I'm staring at flags, at my watch, at everything but reality.
The unspoken words of Curtis resonate through the place like thunder, as much as his words did. We understand, man, as much as we can. You made me proud.
Renee is strong, articulate, and witty...the yin to my yang. I can write it here, long after the fact...but she can stand up like an adult and say it. Her words were broad and powerful. She managed to make everyone there feel like she was speaking directly to them, like no one else was in the room. She said many nice things about me up there, including compliments on my writing. And she made 100+ people stare at me. Thanks Renee! In all seriousness, sis, my writing doesn't hold a candle to your presence and personality. You made a lot of people feel really good about themselves. Jenner would be proud of you.
The power of a terrible disease was never more evident than the words expressed by the third and last official speaker at the ceremony, Jen's friend Debbie. She had known Jen a relatively short time, but Debbie had overcome cancer, and she was a true friend and sounding board for my sister. Her words were heartfelt and honest, and despite never laying eyes upon the lady until she grabbed that mic, I could see what my sister saw in her. Inspiration.
The floor is opened to anyone who wants to speak. My dad is the first volunteer. His monotone words about my mother and sister are too much for me, and I am overcome by emotion, hoping that all those people staring at me 2 minutes ago are somehow in the bathroom, or staring at the ceiling or something. I hadn't cried since the same man spoke of my mother when she passed 2 1/2 years ago, when he managed to crack up both myself and Mikey, my brother in arms. Today, I had no Mikey at my side...but I'm not ashamed to say that my lip was quivering, salty tears invaded my cheeks, and I was heartbroken. And I'm not afraid to say that as I type these words, 38 hours later...I'm wiping the same tears off the same cheeks. I've never met anyone, nor will I ever again, that will ever have that power over me. That's a testament to the greatest man I've ever known. Fred Ingram. I hope he reads this someday, so he gets it. Too bad he's allergic to the internet. : )
After that, others spoke. Members of the military spoke highly of service. Friends spoke highly of her compassion and caring nature. Everyone spoke of her stubbornness...highly or not, it was worth mentioning. : ) Sheila spoke of Jenner's love of camping, and cracked up everyone in the room after mentioning her love of tie-dye...and jello shooters. Amber, with nothing prepared beforehand, was able to define the essence of what Jenner was all about with a few short words. If anyone knew how much love Jen had in her core, it was Amber. Amber, you were Jenner's best friend...her connection to her youth, her litmus test as a mother, her sounding board, and most of all, the bestest big sister you could be to Chimene and Brandon. Thanks for tellin everyone that I'm your homey...obviously, the feeling is mutual. You're the only one I watched while they made their speech. It was all kinds of awesome. You did good....werd.
I guess you're wondering by now whether I got up and said anything. No, I did not. While I had enough to say to fill hours, days, and stadiums...I couldn't do it. As stated above, I'm much better at the written word. Jenner knew that, and was okay with it. She told me so. If I had, I dunno, 350-27,000 words though, here's what I would have said:
Jenner, you trusted me, and respected my opinion. No adult ever did before you. You came to me when times were hard, and actually asked my opinion. When I was helpful, you told me. And when I wasn't, you told me as well. You trusted me with those midget kids of yours when they were just leetle, and tried to give me part of the credit for them turning out as well as they have, deserved or not. It took a long time for me to understand the influence I wielded in your life. The confidence you showed in me and my judgement helped build the foundation for who I am today. No one has ever had the faith in me that you had. No one.
Everyone figured we were exactly alike. Every day I get accused of being just like my sister Jennifer, and I couldn't think of a bigger compliment. When mom died, you were there, right beside me. I knew I'd wake up in the morning, and you'd be there to laugh at my terrible jokes...and vice versa. Mostly yours, but hey, who's counting. Ya know what? When all this went down, that made me wanna get outta bed in the morning, no matter how terrible I felt. So I could make other people laugh, and ease their pain. These people...Curtis, of course....Chimene, Brandon...Dad, and Amber, and Val, and Justin n Jeff, Renee, Jonanthan, and their midgets, and Gerry...that's your legacy, along with many others. They make me laugh, just like you would. You would have laughed at Amber, Val, And Justin in Jenner-style pink pajamas. At Sheila talking bout you and your Jello Shots. At your military superiors commenting on your legendary stubbornness. At Renee talking about the f'n terrible clothes you used to wear back in the day.
I'm sorry I didn't get up and tell them all this. You know me. I'd rather be read than heard. Renee is the talker, I'm the writer. I hope you're not mad. Ya know, even if ya are...screw you! Next time our paths cross, I'm gonna tell you about all the awesome jokes I came up with! They're terrible and wrong, and everyone would condemn me to some bad places for coming up with them, but you woulda laughed your ass off. You're the only one that ever appreciated that kinda shit, and vice versa. Even when mom died, we mighta offended a lot of people, but we sure fuckin entertained each other! Yours were worse than mine...YEAH!...but I'll be goddamned if you didn't have me in tears from laughter every day. When your bench at Hatley is done and there....I'm gonna show up and tell you the worst jokes possible...jokes only you and I would appreciate. Screw the rest of em if they don't understand....I can just imagine the hilarity you'd get outta seeing me talking to a bench.
Jenner, always remember this...I've said it before to you...but....
No matter what they told you, you're not alone
I'll be right beside you
Forevermore.
I love you Jenner. Sweet dreams.
WARNING: I change tenses a lot here, from past to present to future. Bear with it, it's part of my charm.
I arrived the night before the event (friday night) with my dad and my stepbrothers/stepsister. We did what we do best...got drunk with Curtis. A few hours later, my sister Renee showed up with her husband, and a litter of children. Drinks were had, Wii was played, everything was pretty normal. Ya know, as normal as funeral eve's get. A lot of people crashed there that night, and I was content with a couch and a drinking partner. Alas, due to Budweiser, Gibson's Whiskey, and grief, Curtis and I Wii-bowled till 5:30AM and discussed many things. I began to understand more than I ever imagined about the man I call my brother, and always will. No one is ever gonna leave your side bro. No one.
2 hours later, I woke up sweating, literally stuck to a leather couch, with a dog nose in my face. Joyous. The only thing that made me feel better about being this hungover was seeing Curtis stagger into the kitchen to answer the already-ringing phone a few minutes later. If I had to feel this shitty, at least I had company...I know he was just as fucking hungover as I was. I managed to unstick myself for the couch, which fucking hurt, and realized my pockets full of change had made their way into the bowels of my bed for the night. Oh well...donating 9.47 to Curtis and his couch was the least I could do. Dogs, cats and kids woke up, the decibel level went up, and I reluctantly re-entered the aggravation I've dodged my entire life.
I felt like garbage, but wasn't sure what to do about it...till Curtis sat down next to my with his trusty Gibson's bottle and took a swig. It might have been early, but I couldn't let him drink alone...good brothers don't do this kind of thing. Hello, Coors Light. Nice to see ya. I got a dirty look from nearly everyone for cracking a beer at 9AM, but they can go and make sweet love to themselves. If they wanna deal with their issues with tears and embraces, go ahead...that's not my fucking thing. For better or worse.
Suddenly, I'm in a hall normally reserved for drinking. A legion. If you've ever spent any time in this environment, you start to understand that a memorial service is pretty similar to your average tuesday afternoon up in a place like this. Men in uniform (or long past such trivial matters) sit around old tables with adult beverages, speaking of fallen comrades and "the good ole days". But today, my sister is that comrade, and those days are not so far gone. They were last week, and a saturday the month before that, and the celebration of another special life a couple of summers ago. Today, this place has balance...half of the people wear the uniforms of our country's finest, of which my sister was a proud member. A select few wore the pink pajamas my sister spent much of her spare time in...and the rest of us wore whatever the hell we felt like, as per Jenner's wishes.
The days leading up to this event have been filled with heartache and acrimony for many people involved, and things are not about to resolve themselves peacefully today. Her kids, my niece and nephew, are standing in front of me...confused and scared, unsure about what their future holds. 12 and 11. So impressionable. Their mom may be somewhere else, but they are not alone. Many in the room have a vested interest in their lives, and these people are just as confused and worried about how this will all play out. As important as all this stuff is, the people in this unique place of worship and death have silently agreed to set aside the next few minutes to honour the memory of someone they all hold in high regard.
People talk. The words are a blur. I'm staring at flags, at my watch, at everything but reality.
The unspoken words of Curtis resonate through the place like thunder, as much as his words did. We understand, man, as much as we can. You made me proud.
Renee is strong, articulate, and witty...the yin to my yang. I can write it here, long after the fact...but she can stand up like an adult and say it. Her words were broad and powerful. She managed to make everyone there feel like she was speaking directly to them, like no one else was in the room. She said many nice things about me up there, including compliments on my writing. And she made 100+ people stare at me. Thanks Renee! In all seriousness, sis, my writing doesn't hold a candle to your presence and personality. You made a lot of people feel really good about themselves. Jenner would be proud of you.
The power of a terrible disease was never more evident than the words expressed by the third and last official speaker at the ceremony, Jen's friend Debbie. She had known Jen a relatively short time, but Debbie had overcome cancer, and she was a true friend and sounding board for my sister. Her words were heartfelt and honest, and despite never laying eyes upon the lady until she grabbed that mic, I could see what my sister saw in her. Inspiration.
The floor is opened to anyone who wants to speak. My dad is the first volunteer. His monotone words about my mother and sister are too much for me, and I am overcome by emotion, hoping that all those people staring at me 2 minutes ago are somehow in the bathroom, or staring at the ceiling or something. I hadn't cried since the same man spoke of my mother when she passed 2 1/2 years ago, when he managed to crack up both myself and Mikey, my brother in arms. Today, I had no Mikey at my side...but I'm not ashamed to say that my lip was quivering, salty tears invaded my cheeks, and I was heartbroken. And I'm not afraid to say that as I type these words, 38 hours later...I'm wiping the same tears off the same cheeks. I've never met anyone, nor will I ever again, that will ever have that power over me. That's a testament to the greatest man I've ever known. Fred Ingram. I hope he reads this someday, so he gets it. Too bad he's allergic to the internet. : )
After that, others spoke. Members of the military spoke highly of service. Friends spoke highly of her compassion and caring nature. Everyone spoke of her stubbornness...highly or not, it was worth mentioning. : ) Sheila spoke of Jenner's love of camping, and cracked up everyone in the room after mentioning her love of tie-dye...and jello shooters. Amber, with nothing prepared beforehand, was able to define the essence of what Jenner was all about with a few short words. If anyone knew how much love Jen had in her core, it was Amber. Amber, you were Jenner's best friend...her connection to her youth, her litmus test as a mother, her sounding board, and most of all, the bestest big sister you could be to Chimene and Brandon. Thanks for tellin everyone that I'm your homey...obviously, the feeling is mutual. You're the only one I watched while they made their speech. It was all kinds of awesome. You did good....werd.
I guess you're wondering by now whether I got up and said anything. No, I did not. While I had enough to say to fill hours, days, and stadiums...I couldn't do it. As stated above, I'm much better at the written word. Jenner knew that, and was okay with it. She told me so. If I had, I dunno, 350-27,000 words though, here's what I would have said:
Jenner, you trusted me, and respected my opinion. No adult ever did before you. You came to me when times were hard, and actually asked my opinion. When I was helpful, you told me. And when I wasn't, you told me as well. You trusted me with those midget kids of yours when they were just leetle, and tried to give me part of the credit for them turning out as well as they have, deserved or not. It took a long time for me to understand the influence I wielded in your life. The confidence you showed in me and my judgement helped build the foundation for who I am today. No one has ever had the faith in me that you had. No one.
Everyone figured we were exactly alike. Every day I get accused of being just like my sister Jennifer, and I couldn't think of a bigger compliment. When mom died, you were there, right beside me. I knew I'd wake up in the morning, and you'd be there to laugh at my terrible jokes...and vice versa. Mostly yours, but hey, who's counting. Ya know what? When all this went down, that made me wanna get outta bed in the morning, no matter how terrible I felt. So I could make other people laugh, and ease their pain. These people...Curtis, of course....Chimene, Brandon...Dad, and Amber, and Val, and Justin n Jeff, Renee, Jonanthan, and their midgets, and Gerry...that's your legacy, along with many others. They make me laugh, just like you would. You would have laughed at Amber, Val, And Justin in Jenner-style pink pajamas. At Sheila talking bout you and your Jello Shots. At your military superiors commenting on your legendary stubbornness. At Renee talking about the f'n terrible clothes you used to wear back in the day.
I'm sorry I didn't get up and tell them all this. You know me. I'd rather be read than heard. Renee is the talker, I'm the writer. I hope you're not mad. Ya know, even if ya are...screw you! Next time our paths cross, I'm gonna tell you about all the awesome jokes I came up with! They're terrible and wrong, and everyone would condemn me to some bad places for coming up with them, but you woulda laughed your ass off. You're the only one that ever appreciated that kinda shit, and vice versa. Even when mom died, we mighta offended a lot of people, but we sure fuckin entertained each other! Yours were worse than mine...YEAH!...but I'll be goddamned if you didn't have me in tears from laughter every day. When your bench at Hatley is done and there....I'm gonna show up and tell you the worst jokes possible...jokes only you and I would appreciate. Screw the rest of em if they don't understand....I can just imagine the hilarity you'd get outta seeing me talking to a bench.
Jenner, always remember this...I've said it before to you...but....
No matter what they told you, you're not alone
I'll be right beside you
Forevermore.
I love you Jenner. Sweet dreams.
Friday, November 23, 2007
10 reasons why Vancouver transit sucks a dick
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Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Road trip with 2 bitches, part 2
You should know what you're reading...no need to recap. If you are click happy and ended up here by mistake...stay, read, tell your friends.
Onto...
Day 2
Upon departure from the futon of death, I headed straight to the cooler for a tasty adult beverage. Bitch and bitch were obviously not hardened campers like me, and chose sobriety and packing over laziness and drinking. Rookies. Well...they were the ones doing the driving. I guess that's a valid reason. If you're one of THOSE kinda people.
Due to the wonders of geography, 90% of our drive that day was through Oregon, even though we were going from a place in Washington, to a place...in Washington. It was about a 2 hour drive from Paradise Point to Cape Disappointment. Jim and Jess started bickering by minute 2.
It was pretty funny, actually. Jim was super hungry. We'd drive through some village...Jess would ask if we should stop at the gas station on the left...Jim would interrupt with a restaurant request on the right...and before they could decide anything, we would be past them both, leaving said village. In addition to being hungry, Jim had no smokes. Thus, he was not a happy camper. GET IT? A HAPPY CAMPER? After multiple requests to "turn that frown upside down", Jim was starting to crack. This was the beginning of his "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats. Sadly, this threat never came to fruition, despite my best attempts.
Due to my awesome navigation skills, we managed to make it to Astoria. It was pissing rain, but we hung out on the pier for a bit, checking out the wildlife and such. Tim was compared to the sea lion in front of us. How original. Bastards. We had lunch in town at a nice waterfront restaurant (where the dumbass waitress forgot to bring my fat tire!), then walked around the town for a bit. I really like the place...although I'm not too sure why. The bitches didn't seem impressed.
Finally we got to one of the things I really wanted to check out....the uber-long bridge. It's 4.1 miles, across the mouth of the columbia river, back into Washington. The weather was shit, so we couldn't see the other side till we were within a mile of it. The bridge was...well, a bridge. After we got across, I realized something...why the fuck was I so excited to see a bridge? I = weird.
After a little while, we stumble upon the area we're supposed to be at. We drive past Ilwaco, up to a lighthouse. The weather had not improved at all, but we went to check it out. Bitch and bitch bust out their trusty Walmart ponchos. I wear my hoody. They look queer. I look...well, like a fat drunk. I guess it's a tie?
The wind was unbelievable up at the lighthouse...it was awesome. It was strong enough to almost knock me over, which is quite a feat. After goofing around in the rain/wind, and listening to Jim's pathetic "I'm gonna push you off the cliff, dilly bar!!"* threats, we went back to to the car, and back to Ilwaco to buy beer/water/elephants.
* He started calling me dilly bar on the drive down. Like a lot of what Jim says, I have no idea where this came from.
The store was your typical redneck haven o' shopping. Chew, live bait, liquor, and diapers all in the same aisle. No elephants though. Denied! The counter woman looked at our ID's, and asked me "Arr yew awl fishermen, on a boat?" Uhhh...what?
We managed to escape unharmed, and headed to...Cape Disappointment!
The cabin we rented was pretty shitty, and was located right next to the camp host. Since we are now full-on YURTHEADS (It's my blog, I'll invent brutal words if I want to dammit!), we went back to the front and requested a change of residence. We were rewarded with a dope yurt, in an area with no other campers/yurtheads as far as the eye could see. Now we're talkin.
I opened a beer approximately 11 seconds after we got there. Go Keystone Light! I was stuck with the top bunk in this yurt, even after explaining that my manatee-like body could collapse the thin piece of plywood seperating me from Jess, who was sleeping below. My logic was veto'd.
Jim is a hardcore dude, so after all this excitement, he needed...a nap. After laughing at him for a bit, Jess and I decided to go to the park store. When we arrived, we were greeted by a redneck woman outside her truck, who looked like she was talking to a bush. Umm...okay. It was only after she moved her dumpy ass outta the way, that we saw...a raccoon. With no tail. Standing on his hind legs, staring at us. Not scared in the least. Umm...okay.
We went into the store and asked about said raccoon...the lady told us that he was attacked by a cougar, and nursed back to health by the owner of the store. When they released him back into the wild...he didn't leave. He just hangs out by the store. The lady then told us that the little guy waits for people to come into the store, follows them in, steals candy bars from the rack by the door, and takes off before the door shuts! This was the best story I heard on the whole trip. Priceless...I couldn't stop laughing.
Jess ended up buying a can of beans, and we left. After returning to our yurt and waking up city boy, we went to check out what this place had to offer. First stop: Killer Jetty. For the uninformed:
jet-ty - a pier or structure of stones, piles, or the like, projecting into the sea or other body of water to protect a harbor, deflect the current, etc.
It was pretty long...at least a km, probably more. Waves were crashing up on the jetty a little bit, but nothing insane. Jim and I walked pretty far out along it and drank a beer, while artsy bitch took pictures of birds and waves n shit. The view was pretty cool...I was very impressed.
And then....
Jim got eaten by a wave!! YES!
Actually, he wasn't that wet...but it was still pretty funny, and good timing by Jess.
After our jetty antics, we returned to the yurt. The weather wasn't cooperating very much...thus, the fire Jess attempted to make fizzled out quicker than Jim's patience. Jess had bought a can of beans, but had no way to A) open the can; B) cook the beans on the fire; and C) get the beans from the can to his mouth, assuming he solved A and B. After somehow opening the can, and constructing some sort of retarded cupholder out of a metal hot dog stick, he managed to cook the fucking beans...and ate them with his finger. Reason number 29 why this was retarded? The dipshit doesn't even like beans!
An executive decision was made to retire to the yurt for the night to play poker and watch a movie on un laptop de artsy bitch. And drink beer. We started watching 1408...it blew. A side effect of beer drinking though, is the constant need to...ya know, take a piss. I was waaaay too lazy to actually step off our deck and walk over to a tree, so I pissed off the side. After finishing up, I turn around to come back inside and observe...
A big fucking raccoon making a beeline for the open yurt door. And he had a tail.
I've had my fair share of raccoon issues in the past (see Toronto hostel blog, circa 2004), so I did what any man would do. I screamed like a girl, ran inside, slammed the door, and told the bitches of my encounter with the hippo-sized carnivore.
Of course, I was greeted with laughter and ridicule. Guilty as charged.
Jess jumped up right away, opened the door, and coaxed the man-eater up onto the deck. He didn't eat Jess. And he wasn't hippo-sized. He was...well, raccoon-sized. And friendly. A couple of his friends eventually joined him too. The bitches proceeded to feed them for a little while, while I drank on my safe top bunk. I was shouting stuff like "THOSE ARE WILD ANIMALS! DON'T FEED THEM OUTTA YOUR HANDS! YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY! YOU COULD GET RABIES!"
Suddenly, I was 85 years old or something.
They took off after a while, and we returned to 1408. It was just as bad as pre-raccoon. Jim started the gas party with some napalm-like farts. Being on the top bunk for this did not make me a HAPPY CAMPER! GET IT? Alas, Jess and his beans soon returned the favour. Jess bareass-farted on Jim's head while he was busy watching the movie. Bare ass people. He was not amused, since he probably had poo particles in his hair n shit. Jess and I laughed for a long ass time. More "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats ensued. Fun was had.
After that hilarity, we started watching Knocked Up, but we all just passed the fuck out before it was over. And Jim smelled like Britt poo.
This is pretty long, so I'll finish it up in a seperate entry.
Onto...
Day 2
Upon departure from the futon of death, I headed straight to the cooler for a tasty adult beverage. Bitch and bitch were obviously not hardened campers like me, and chose sobriety and packing over laziness and drinking. Rookies. Well...they were the ones doing the driving. I guess that's a valid reason. If you're one of THOSE kinda people.
Due to the wonders of geography, 90% of our drive that day was through Oregon, even though we were going from a place in Washington, to a place...in Washington. It was about a 2 hour drive from Paradise Point to Cape Disappointment. Jim and Jess started bickering by minute 2.
It was pretty funny, actually. Jim was super hungry. We'd drive through some village...Jess would ask if we should stop at the gas station on the left...Jim would interrupt with a restaurant request on the right...and before they could decide anything, we would be past them both, leaving said village. In addition to being hungry, Jim had no smokes. Thus, he was not a happy camper. GET IT? A HAPPY CAMPER? After multiple requests to "turn that frown upside down", Jim was starting to crack. This was the beginning of his "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats. Sadly, this threat never came to fruition, despite my best attempts.
Due to my awesome navigation skills, we managed to make it to Astoria. It was pissing rain, but we hung out on the pier for a bit, checking out the wildlife and such. Tim was compared to the sea lion in front of us. How original. Bastards. We had lunch in town at a nice waterfront restaurant (where the dumbass waitress forgot to bring my fat tire!), then walked around the town for a bit. I really like the place...although I'm not too sure why. The bitches didn't seem impressed.
Finally we got to one of the things I really wanted to check out....the uber-long bridge. It's 4.1 miles, across the mouth of the columbia river, back into Washington. The weather was shit, so we couldn't see the other side till we were within a mile of it. The bridge was...well, a bridge. After we got across, I realized something...why the fuck was I so excited to see a bridge? I = weird.
After a little while, we stumble upon the area we're supposed to be at. We drive past Ilwaco, up to a lighthouse. The weather had not improved at all, but we went to check it out. Bitch and bitch bust out their trusty Walmart ponchos. I wear my hoody. They look queer. I look...well, like a fat drunk. I guess it's a tie?
The wind was unbelievable up at the lighthouse...it was awesome. It was strong enough to almost knock me over, which is quite a feat. After goofing around in the rain/wind, and listening to Jim's pathetic "I'm gonna push you off the cliff, dilly bar!!"* threats, we went back to to the car, and back to Ilwaco to buy beer/water/elephants.
* He started calling me dilly bar on the drive down. Like a lot of what Jim says, I have no idea where this came from.
The store was your typical redneck haven o' shopping. Chew, live bait, liquor, and diapers all in the same aisle. No elephants though. Denied! The counter woman looked at our ID's, and asked me "Arr yew awl fishermen, on a boat?" Uhhh...what?
We managed to escape unharmed, and headed to...Cape Disappointment!
The cabin we rented was pretty shitty, and was located right next to the camp host. Since we are now full-on YURTHEADS (It's my blog, I'll invent brutal words if I want to dammit!), we went back to the front and requested a change of residence. We were rewarded with a dope yurt, in an area with no other campers/yurtheads as far as the eye could see. Now we're talkin.
I opened a beer approximately 11 seconds after we got there. Go Keystone Light! I was stuck with the top bunk in this yurt, even after explaining that my manatee-like body could collapse the thin piece of plywood seperating me from Jess, who was sleeping below. My logic was veto'd.
Jim is a hardcore dude, so after all this excitement, he needed...a nap. After laughing at him for a bit, Jess and I decided to go to the park store. When we arrived, we were greeted by a redneck woman outside her truck, who looked like she was talking to a bush. Umm...okay. It was only after she moved her dumpy ass outta the way, that we saw...a raccoon. With no tail. Standing on his hind legs, staring at us. Not scared in the least. Umm...okay.
We went into the store and asked about said raccoon...the lady told us that he was attacked by a cougar, and nursed back to health by the owner of the store. When they released him back into the wild...he didn't leave. He just hangs out by the store. The lady then told us that the little guy waits for people to come into the store, follows them in, steals candy bars from the rack by the door, and takes off before the door shuts! This was the best story I heard on the whole trip. Priceless...I couldn't stop laughing.
Jess ended up buying a can of beans, and we left. After returning to our yurt and waking up city boy, we went to check out what this place had to offer. First stop: Killer Jetty. For the uninformed:
jet-ty - a pier or structure of stones, piles, or the like, projecting into the sea or other body of water to protect a harbor, deflect the current, etc.
It was pretty long...at least a km, probably more. Waves were crashing up on the jetty a little bit, but nothing insane. Jim and I walked pretty far out along it and drank a beer, while artsy bitch took pictures of birds and waves n shit. The view was pretty cool...I was very impressed.
And then....
Jim got eaten by a wave!! YES!
Actually, he wasn't that wet...but it was still pretty funny, and good timing by Jess.
After our jetty antics, we returned to the yurt. The weather wasn't cooperating very much...thus, the fire Jess attempted to make fizzled out quicker than Jim's patience. Jess had bought a can of beans, but had no way to A) open the can; B) cook the beans on the fire; and C) get the beans from the can to his mouth, assuming he solved A and B. After somehow opening the can, and constructing some sort of retarded cupholder out of a metal hot dog stick, he managed to cook the fucking beans...and ate them with his finger. Reason number 29 why this was retarded? The dipshit doesn't even like beans!
An executive decision was made to retire to the yurt for the night to play poker and watch a movie on un laptop de artsy bitch. And drink beer. We started watching 1408...it blew. A side effect of beer drinking though, is the constant need to...ya know, take a piss. I was waaaay too lazy to actually step off our deck and walk over to a tree, so I pissed off the side. After finishing up, I turn around to come back inside and observe...
A big fucking raccoon making a beeline for the open yurt door. And he had a tail.
I've had my fair share of raccoon issues in the past (see Toronto hostel blog, circa 2004), so I did what any man would do. I screamed like a girl, ran inside, slammed the door, and told the bitches of my encounter with the hippo-sized carnivore.
Of course, I was greeted with laughter and ridicule. Guilty as charged.
Jess jumped up right away, opened the door, and coaxed the man-eater up onto the deck. He didn't eat Jess. And he wasn't hippo-sized. He was...well, raccoon-sized. And friendly. A couple of his friends eventually joined him too. The bitches proceeded to feed them for a little while, while I drank on my safe top bunk. I was shouting stuff like "THOSE ARE WILD ANIMALS! DON'T FEED THEM OUTTA YOUR HANDS! YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY! YOU COULD GET RABIES!"
Suddenly, I was 85 years old or something.
They took off after a while, and we returned to 1408. It was just as bad as pre-raccoon. Jim started the gas party with some napalm-like farts. Being on the top bunk for this did not make me a HAPPY CAMPER! GET IT? Alas, Jess and his beans soon returned the favour. Jess bareass-farted on Jim's head while he was busy watching the movie. Bare ass people. He was not amused, since he probably had poo particles in his hair n shit. Jess and I laughed for a long ass time. More "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats ensued. Fun was had.
After that hilarity, we started watching Knocked Up, but we all just passed the fuck out before it was over. And Jim smelled like Britt poo.
This is pretty long, so I'll finish it up in a seperate entry.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Road trip with 2 bitches, part 1
About a month ago, Jess and I decided we need a mini-vacation. We floated a few ideas around, but the best one seemed to be the Oregon/Washington Coast. We looked into camping...but camping in October = wet and cold. And let's face it, Jess and I are crybabies. So we found the next best thing...yurts!
A yurt is a mongolian tent thinger, with a roof. Circular, 16 ft around. Has a bunkbed and futon couch inside, wood floors, lights, electricity, and heat.
There, that's a yurt. Tim's new, improved blogs come with pictures! Contain your joy.
Anyways, there weren't a ton of choices for these lovely yurts, since a lot of them were already reserved. We settled on 1 night at Paradise Point, in southern WA, and 2 nights at...Cape Disappointment! I know, brutal name. It's on the southwestern tip of WA, a few miles from the Oregon border. Pardon the pun, but it most definitely did not disappoint.
Oh yea, we also recruited the other bitch for the trip, Jim. He needed a break from the rigors of watching concerts and getting drunk. Just kidding, little guy.
Day 1
Sane people leave for a trip when they get off work on friday, right? Nope, not us. Jess had school. On saturday. SATURDAY! And he can't miss a class, cuz his 450 lb teacher will end him. That, and he's a huge nerd who loooves to learn. So bitch went to school saturday till 11AM or so, then came and got me. We braved cambie construction to go get Jim...then back to Jess's...then get the rental car...in other words, we didn't cross the border till closer to 3:30pm. We got grilled at the border by a low-rent Dave Chappelle about our intentions in the states, then it was off to Jack In the Box. Where I think I saw Jana.
After that, we were off. Dipshits 1 and 2 decided stopping every 3rd exit was a good idea, so we didn't get to Paradise Point till about 9:45. We stopped at: 2 gas stations, WalMart, a closed liquor store, and another gas station. And went BACK to the last gas station after we got there. We gassed up exactly once. You do the math.
I did get a cool camo hat at a gas station for 5.99...and found the same hat 10 minutes after at walmart for 2 bucks. Bastards. Bitch squared got ponchos and various other retarded things at walmart. And I couldn't figure out how to use the automated checkout stand. And they made fun of me. Well played, assholes.
Jim was not amused that I forgot to change money before we crossed the border, so I had 200 canadian on me...and no one would take it. We traded 60 bucks (how cool is it to trade USD for CAD straight up?), and he whined for all 3 days about how he was short on american...even though he still had more than enough. Can you tell he's related to Jess?
By the way, let me make the joke for you, since you're probably thinking it....yes, 3 men went to a place called Paradise Point. Yes, that sounds slightly sexually challenged. Yes, I was even mounted by another man there. Wait, what? I'll get to that later. But for the record, this location choice was purely coincidental, and is not a reflection of the sexuality of me or Jess. Jim...still not so sure.
Paradise Point was not exactly Eden. It was about 32 feet off the interstate, actually. After cracking a beer, checking out the yurt, and making fun of the korean family in the next yurt (does it smerr rike flied puppy face to you? Are they BBQing?), Jess attempted to make a fire. Jim thwarted all such attempts. Jess got annoyed. Jim laughed. After 2 hours, an entire bottle of lighter fluid, and burning every piece of paper we had, Jess had finally made a fire. A shitty fire, but a fire nonetheless.
For some reason, Jess the Brilliant claimed the top bunk before we left, on my facebook wall. For the world to see. Why? I have no idea...who the fuck wants the top bunk? He tried to deny he staked this claim, but it's documented ON THE INTARWEB! Internet 1, Jess 0. Anyways, I got the futon. It had two wooden pegs holding it in position as a couch. Take pegs out, voila...a bed. One problem with this.
Attached to the pegs are big, hammer-like wooden ends. These things were big fucking mallets.
As soon as we figured that out, we beat the living shit out of each other with them, of course. Jess destroyed my knee. I clubbered Jim a couple times. Jim was not amused, so he climbed up onto the top bunk, and frogsplashed me from the top. Twice. Then proceeded to climb on top of me and "pink belly" me. This was as disturbing as it sounds, people. He sat on my back and slapped my gunt until it turned pink. I was powerless to stop him, because he had full mount. FULL MOUNT! If I had flattened out in an escape attempt, it was rear naked choke time, and I'm done like dinner. Don't mess with the rear naked.
Yup, rear naked and pink belly in the same paragraph. See why I'm still a little worried about him? I can just see the hamster in Ottawa Mike's head running like hell on his wheel, churning out 40 homo jokes a second. By the end of this, he should have more material than a pair of Rosie's pants.
Anyways, these 2 sissies were completely shitfaced off of 6 beers a piece. I had consumed 6 tallies, and 6 regulars...and was fine. Jim passed out first, cuz he was "soo drunk", and me n Jess bullshitted about hockey for hours till we finally passed out.
Part 2 will include - plenty of Jim-Jess disagreements, nature's wrath, raccoon hijinks, rednecks, malt liquor energy drinks, air hockey injuries, almost dying, and me winning the mother of all arguments. Stay tuned.
A yurt is a mongolian tent thinger, with a roof. Circular, 16 ft around. Has a bunkbed and futon couch inside, wood floors, lights, electricity, and heat.
There, that's a yurt. Tim's new, improved blogs come with pictures! Contain your joy.
Anyways, there weren't a ton of choices for these lovely yurts, since a lot of them were already reserved. We settled on 1 night at Paradise Point, in southern WA, and 2 nights at...Cape Disappointment! I know, brutal name. It's on the southwestern tip of WA, a few miles from the Oregon border. Pardon the pun, but it most definitely did not disappoint.
Oh yea, we also recruited the other bitch for the trip, Jim. He needed a break from the rigors of watching concerts and getting drunk. Just kidding, little guy.
Day 1
Sane people leave for a trip when they get off work on friday, right? Nope, not us. Jess had school. On saturday. SATURDAY! And he can't miss a class, cuz his 450 lb teacher will end him. That, and he's a huge nerd who loooves to learn. So bitch went to school saturday till 11AM or so, then came and got me. We braved cambie construction to go get Jim...then back to Jess's...then get the rental car...in other words, we didn't cross the border till closer to 3:30pm. We got grilled at the border by a low-rent Dave Chappelle about our intentions in the states, then it was off to Jack In the Box. Where I think I saw Jana.
After that, we were off. Dipshits 1 and 2 decided stopping every 3rd exit was a good idea, so we didn't get to Paradise Point till about 9:45. We stopped at: 2 gas stations, WalMart, a closed liquor store, and another gas station. And went BACK to the last gas station after we got there. We gassed up exactly once. You do the math.
I did get a cool camo hat at a gas station for 5.99...and found the same hat 10 minutes after at walmart for 2 bucks. Bastards. Bitch squared got ponchos and various other retarded things at walmart. And I couldn't figure out how to use the automated checkout stand. And they made fun of me. Well played, assholes.
Jim was not amused that I forgot to change money before we crossed the border, so I had 200 canadian on me...and no one would take it. We traded 60 bucks (how cool is it to trade USD for CAD straight up?), and he whined for all 3 days about how he was short on american...even though he still had more than enough. Can you tell he's related to Jess?
By the way, let me make the joke for you, since you're probably thinking it....yes, 3 men went to a place called Paradise Point. Yes, that sounds slightly sexually challenged. Yes, I was even mounted by another man there. Wait, what? I'll get to that later. But for the record, this location choice was purely coincidental, and is not a reflection of the sexuality of me or Jess. Jim...still not so sure.
Paradise Point was not exactly Eden. It was about 32 feet off the interstate, actually. After cracking a beer, checking out the yurt, and making fun of the korean family in the next yurt (does it smerr rike flied puppy face to you? Are they BBQing?), Jess attempted to make a fire. Jim thwarted all such attempts. Jess got annoyed. Jim laughed. After 2 hours, an entire bottle of lighter fluid, and burning every piece of paper we had, Jess had finally made a fire. A shitty fire, but a fire nonetheless.
For some reason, Jess the Brilliant claimed the top bunk before we left, on my facebook wall. For the world to see. Why? I have no idea...who the fuck wants the top bunk? He tried to deny he staked this claim, but it's documented ON THE INTARWEB! Internet 1, Jess 0. Anyways, I got the futon. It had two wooden pegs holding it in position as a couch. Take pegs out, voila...a bed. One problem with this.
Attached to the pegs are big, hammer-like wooden ends. These things were big fucking mallets.
As soon as we figured that out, we beat the living shit out of each other with them, of course. Jess destroyed my knee. I clubbered Jim a couple times. Jim was not amused, so he climbed up onto the top bunk, and frogsplashed me from the top. Twice. Then proceeded to climb on top of me and "pink belly" me. This was as disturbing as it sounds, people. He sat on my back and slapped my gunt until it turned pink. I was powerless to stop him, because he had full mount. FULL MOUNT! If I had flattened out in an escape attempt, it was rear naked choke time, and I'm done like dinner. Don't mess with the rear naked.
Yup, rear naked and pink belly in the same paragraph. See why I'm still a little worried about him? I can just see the hamster in Ottawa Mike's head running like hell on his wheel, churning out 40 homo jokes a second. By the end of this, he should have more material than a pair of Rosie's pants.
Anyways, these 2 sissies were completely shitfaced off of 6 beers a piece. I had consumed 6 tallies, and 6 regulars...and was fine. Jim passed out first, cuz he was "soo drunk", and me n Jess bullshitted about hockey for hours till we finally passed out.
Part 2 will include - plenty of Jim-Jess disagreements, nature's wrath, raccoon hijinks, rednecks, malt liquor energy drinks, air hockey injuries, almost dying, and me winning the mother of all arguments. Stay tuned.
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