Monday, July 25, 2005

Imprint Party!

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come here after the staff lunch, that address again is 47 Academy Cres.

If you get horribly lost, my phone number it 883-7-388.

For a closer look at the map, it's here

Friday, July 22, 2005

The Meaning of life is nigh

Summer term ends: July 29th, 2005

The eggs in my fridge go bad: July 29th, 2005


Tuesday, July 19, 2005

To clarify

...yeah, I'll take hockey back. Yeah, I will still be a Leaf fan come next september, just don't expect me to congradulate them for solving their own problem. I only hope the league actually survives.

Thursday, July 14, 2005


Fuck ice
Fuck rubber
Fuck skates
Fuck jerseys
Fuck off-sides
Fuck icing
Fuck the cake
Fuck players
Fuck the World Juniors
Fuck the World cup of Hockey
Fuck the London Knights
Fuck the OHL
Fuck ponds
Fuck hockey
Fuck Jeremy Roenick
Fuck every sports section in Canada
Fuck the CBA
Fuck Gary Bettman
Fuck Bob Goodenow
Fuck the NHL
Fuck the lockout
Fuck it being over
Fuck being excited

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Hardly Working

Friday was a blast from the past at Bomber. Some UW alumni were celebrating somebody's 40th b-day. Sarge threw on the "Retro Mix," and they started breakdancing. 40 year-old white dudes breakdancing to Everybody Wang Chung Tonight is just about the funniest fucking thing on the plantet. I had my doubts that they were actually former students here, but in the middle of Take on me, while a guy was spinning on his back, a Blackberry fell out of his pocket. Yup, definitely UW guys. Apparently these dudes were 20 year alumni, meaning they graduated in 1985. I was born in 1985. I feel some cosmic connection here, I just don't know what it is.

The next night I was at Fed Hall working the kitchen for Summerfest 2. A mouse ran into the kitchen from outside, and my co-worker Krister started chasing him with a broom. Determined to catch the little bastard, I grabbed the big dustpan we had back there and got Krister to herd him into it, at which point I scooped him up into the air in an effort to tire him out or something(it wasn't a very good plan). I flipped him like a sautéed mushroom, but the bugger kept running towards me, trying to bite my eyes, I assume, so I just kept flipping him around(off the oven, into my manager) until I eventually missed, and he scampered away. Krister set up an elaborate trap(cardboard box + shredded cheese) to catch him, I just wonder what would've happened if I had flipped him into the deepfryer.

I love working at Fed Hall, the menu is: fries, onion rings and pizza slices, each of which costs $1.25. Furthermore we take our own orders and earn our own tips. At the end of the night, I put down this curtain over half of my counter to signify that I was closed, then this couple started making out up against it. All I could see was this body-shaped, moving indent on my curtain. A mildly intoxicated Tim Martin convinced me to hit them with my broom. I did, gently at first, but upon seeing no real consequence, I started poking them in the head, or with the wood end of the broom. They didn't seem to care. Tim eventually sidled on the counter, behind the curtain so he was inches from the action. He took over sweeping them for a bit, then I told him to grab an ass or something, maybe try to join in. Tim was drunk, but unfortunately not that drunk.

Ahh, the world I see from the safety of my kitchen.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Don't phunk with Phergie

Leave it to the Black Eyed Peas to once again revolutionize the North American dialect Sometimes I wonder if these guys have gotten retarded to the point that they acutally are now retarded.

It strikes me as odd that most BEP tunes seem to be about the whole gang of dudes fighting over Fergie. What if its real? What if they all just lose it one night? That's three on one, not counting the backup band. Sounds like bad news bears to me. If I were in that situation I would get the phunk out of there slickety split.

I am so sick of that Goddamned song...

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Hey, it's a Jesus reference

...Jesus was a euchre player. He went alone on nothing and took all the apostles to school in their six-team tourneys(Judas sat out). Aside from feeding the hungry, curing lepers and that wine making one, it was his coolest miracle. Like I'm talking ace, ten, off-ace, he'd make it on the fucking king! The three wise men? yeah, they were just looking for a fourth...

I was playing guitar on the porch with my good pal André at a house on the corner of Erb and Dunbar, when who should wander by with blizzards in hand but Dave, Steve and Chris...

The story goes that Dave Bertenshaw, Steve McCourt and Chris J.(it's silent) Abela were sitting around in Aurora on Saturday. None of them had work to go to, Dave had plans to hang out with the GF, but they were fudgable. Euchre was at hand, but they needed a fourth.

Sure, they could have called Verity(too busy), Sam(no answering machine) or Anya(never seems to be able to figure out the damn rules) but that would've been too easy. If this was to be the greatest euchre game in history, they would need a more hard earned fourth euchre player. That fourth man was me.

The three of them grabbed some beer and buds, hopped into Chris' car and began the journey to Waterloo. They knew where my house was, they knew I worked at a place called "Bomber" and that I might be in some kind of "Imprint office." Of course they had no clue where Bomber or the office are, so they basically drove to my house and asked random people "Do you know Darren?" or just, "Where is Darren?"

They picked a direction and wandered around, got high, went to DQ, continued wandering and found me. They were trying to get to a bar which would somehow be close to Margie's house then Margie would know where I could be found. These were never actual plans, because "if we make plans, they can only go wrong" as Chris in his wisdom, told me. These guys don't know Waterloo and they had no idea where I would be. The odds of them actually finding me are astonishing. It could only have been planned by the Lord, my father God.

So we went to the bar, discussed the uncannyness of our encounter and the cosmic weight of our upcoming Euchre game before heading back to my house to actualize it. By random draw, it was myself and Dave(AKA D-team) versus Steve and Chris (A-team).

It was a best two-out-of-three game. D-team took the first game. A-team rallied and took the secon. The rubber match got to a score of 9-5 for D-team, then I decided to go blind alone for a possible 8 points. I called hearts. I had the ten(for you non euchre-er-ers[um euchrists?] that = bad) and was euchred for to bring the score to game point for each of us. Needless to say, D-team won.

We switched up teams and played another round(which I won too, damn not to say I'm miraculous or anything, but I seem to be quite the euchrist).

The next morning I woke to find that they had left as mysteriously as they had appeared. There was even an eerie mist on the driveway where Chris' car had been parked.

...And the Lord said "No face, no ace, no trump, bitches"...

Tough Times: starring Darren Hutz

Today, I ate a chewable vitamin C tablet and it felt like food.