Thursday, June 30, 2005

Fireworks for some, minature Canadian flags for others!

Is anyone else miffed that our great national holiday is simply named after the country? Don't get me wrong, I'm as patriotic as they come, but everywhere else they actually pick meaningful names for celebrations, especially when fireworks are involved. We may as well just call it "get drunk and blow shit up day."

Hrm. On second thought, that's not such a bad idea. It would certainly be less vague.

I've never seen Bomber more packed than it was last night. Before the end of the night, they had SOLD OUT of Molson products. That means ALL KEGS were tapped and emptied, and most of the bar's bottles were drank. Canada's unimaginative celebration almost sucked 'er dry.

. . . . .

As a side note, my creative/songwriting faculties are returning to me, including their automatic aspects. I made some KD in the office that looked a poisonous fake brown instead of the regula fake orange. As I ate it, I half-hoped I would become violently ill so that I would be able to write a song about getting food poisoning from KD. Yeah, it's a bit masichisic, but it's the frame of mind whence Darrensongs are born. It's a good thing.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

the abriged bersion

... Dave was lazy when he put on his sunscreen, so after a day of removing the roof at the cottage, he had a big red splotch of a burn in the middle of his back where he had been unable to reach. You could tell how he had applied the sunscreen from the shape of the burn. Most notable was the half handprint on the bottom and the drips coming down the left side. On Sunday while Dave, Josh, Steve and I sat around playing euchre and drinking copious amounts of cheap beer karma happened. Steve gave Dave a nice open-handed slap to his oddly shaped burn on his way to take a piss. While he was laughing and watching Dave's reaction, he smoked his head on a low hanging potted plant...

... Saw Batman Begins, it was great. Apparenly Batman begins as less of a "dark knight" and more of a "dark ninja," which is awesome in itself, although Christian fundamentialists would argue that Batman began at conception or at least early in the second trimester, and considering the lead actor is named Christian, I'm inclined to agree with them...

... Andrew Dilts' keggar: I came, I drank, I threw up on the front lawn. I went to the upstairs bathroom to clean up, and spent the rest of the night hanging out in the bathtub expelling. Margie was there originally to comfort me, but by the end of the night we were holding each other's hair.

Today, I bumped into Andrew as he was uploading this summer's back issues of Imprint to our newly restored website and he claimed that my guitar(but really Margie's Dad's guitar) was still at his place even though I had definitely brought it home. Andrew thought that we had left that night, when really I was passed out in the tub and Margie was out cold on the tiles beside me.

At some point I woke up, realized the sun was up, and made a hasty exit toward a friendly, nearby couch at Margie's. Although that isn't the first time I've spent the night in a friend's bathroom ... Somebody would knock on the door, Margie would instinctively(because that was the only type of cognition she could manage) respond "come in!", then I would say "No, don't come in!" This happened at least a couple times. Call me old fashioned, but I couldn't see the upside to somebody finding me and Margie strewn about the bathroom surrounded by vomit...

... I swear I heard somebody knock softly on the door to the Imprint office. This is a hangover that could use a couple 35 hour days. Buh...

Sunday, June 05, 2005

A model, idiot

Idiots are funny. Today on my way from Margie's house to work (riding her bike, no less), I passed a four people — two men and two women — stuck in a little buick at the intertsection on the corner of Seagram and University. From what I could tell, the engine was dead, but the light was green.

One of the men hopped out of the car and began pushing it throught the intersection while the other man sat in the driver's seat steering. The women sat idly. The guy pushing was having a helluva time moving the car. Understandable, considering the the three other bodies weighing down the car. They needed to make a left turn. They held up traffic.

Why the hell didn't anyone else get out of the car and help? Even assuming the people in the car were delicate flowers, they could've at least stood outside until the car was out of everyone's way. These idiots picked the absolute slowest possible way they could've navigated that situation. I was happy to make it to Bomber, where people at least have an excuse to be idiots.