Our dirt bikes bring all the boys to the yard. Damn right, they're better than yours.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Bee-lee! Bee-lee!

That's what it sounds like when thousands of French people try to get Billy Talent to play an encore. Strangely enough, it didn't work (seriously, they didn't come back out. I have no idea why, considering I'm sure that was the biggest crowd they've played to in their entire career).

Anyway, yeah, so I totally saw Billy Talent on Friday night (yeah, yeah, I know—it's a guilty pleasure, okay?). It was surprisingly good, but I think that had more to do with the fact that they were playing to what was probably close to 10 000 people on the Plains of Abraham than their music. Ah, being crammed in front of a stage with thousands of sweaty French people—is there anything sexier? Quite possibly.

Speaking of sexier, I was introduced to a bunch of guys from Mississippi on Friday night, including Mississippi Jed (yes, that's right, his name is actually Jed), who has long hair and enjoys telling us this story over and over again about some guy in the town he goes to college in saying, "Don't y'all got barbers back in [insert name of equally stereotypical hometown here]?" He also has a hilariously thick accent and says y'all all the time, but this isn't nearly as good as his friend Drew. Close your eyes and think of what a high-school football player from Mississippi would look/act like, and it's like you're looking at a photo of this guy: polite, corn-fed, kind of dumb, blonde bowl-cut, too-high jeans with his polo tucked into them, old Nikes, etc.

So anyway, I went down to see Billy Talent with Matt, Mississippi Jed, and some guy from Grant MacEwan (the sheer number of people from Edmonton here is kind of creepy) with the intention of meeting up with some other people later. Unfortunately, I managed to get separated from everyone (like I said, thousands of sweaty French people), and only managed to avoid going home by myself by chance when I ran into Garrett and Sean (the other U of A guys), who were with a couple of lovely 18-year-olds from Saskatchewan, whose favourite pastime is apparently complaining about walking up hills (I guess that's something you can generally avoid doing in Saskatchewan). The highlight of my evening was when these two girls were going on and on about how we weren't doing exactly what they wanted to be doing, and Sean actually came out and said, "You're not the queens of your high school anymore." They left after that.

So after getting rid of the Saskys using Sean's subtle tactics, we wandered over to Dagoberre, the club we were at last Friday, to see if anyone was around, and discovered that if you stand outside Dagoberre for long enough you run into every single person you know in Québec City. Seriously. Not only did we find Matt and Jed again, but I also saw about half my class there and pretty much everyone else I've met since I got here. Despite the ridiculous popularity of the place, however, we decided we weren't really in a "watching people grind on speakers" kind of mood, so we wandered around Vieux Québec aimlessly until we found some bar with shitty live cover music in a back alley—which reminds me, there's this one song you hear everytime you listen to live music here about a Québecois guy being in love with a girl from Saskatchewan. The chorus is "Saskatchewaaaaaaan!" which is almost as good as that "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, Québec!" song we heard on our first day here.

Anyway, after drinking there for a while, we decided it was time for a poutine break, and headed over to this ubiquitous fast-food place called Chez Ashton, where they not only sell regular poutine, but poutine with peas and roast beef in it and, best of all, hot dogs with fries on them—I took a photo of the menu, so I'll post that when I get home. After that (it was a long night), we decided to wander up along the old walls so those guys, who are kind of potheads, could smoke up. While up there, we ran into two guys looking for speed. After discovering that we weren't able to help them, they decided to take the opportunity to discuss separatism with us. Unfortunately, they barely spoke English, and I was the best French speaker in the group, so this resulted in a very strange political argument, half in broken English and half in broken French, about Québec's place in Canada. Good times.

Other than all this, I haven't been up to too much. The tour of the city we were supposed to take on Thursday got rescheduled again, as God was all like, "What's that? You want to get to know this city before you go home? Well that's too bad, because I totally hate you!" and then there was a big thunderstorm about ten minutes before we were supposed to leave. So now we're going next Wednesday, weather and organization permitting, of course.

Last night a bunch of us went and drank on the Plains of Abraham. It was a little bit of a throwback to high school, especially since almost everyone were drinking 40s (not me—I couldn't bring myself to stoop quite that low, despite the fact that my dinner consisted of an inedible wrap made out of—wait for it—ham and cheese and a bag of chips from Couche Tard, the Québecois version of Winks). Since about half the people we were with were Newfies, we spent the evening being taught Newfie slang, which is eerily like Cockney. My favourite was the word "burger," which means "awesome." Why? Well, because the original Newfie term for awesome was "best kind," which got shortened to "bk," which then turned into "Burger King," which is now just "burger." That island is a strange, strange place, I tells ya.

Oh, and I think I'm very slowly getting Joanna to hate me, which is a good thing. See, on Friday they went downtown without me in the afternoon (I was sleeping), but she forgot her wallet. Apparently, it's my responsibility to bring her things when she forgets them, so I agreed to meet up with her and give her her wallet whenever we made it downtown. Then, when she found out I wasn't going to come downtown until 9:30, she got really mad and just came home instead. Yesterday, in an attempt to make this up to her (for some reason), I agreed to come with her out to Québec's equivalent of South Edmonton Common so she could get her phone replaced at the Fido store—round trip, this took about three hours. While enjoying another lovely afternoon in the mall, I got lectured about how annoying it is when I talk about Edmonton with Matt, Sean, and Garrett, told that I should stop hanging out with them because people are going to start thinking I'm their "roadie" (whatever that means), and then, finally, told that she was "so over" going out every night, implying that I'm really childish because I enjoy staying out past 8pm and drinking sometimes. Then when we got home I lied about how I had to call my parents so I could get rid of her, and went and met up with those guys without calling her.

Hiiiiiigh schoooooooool!!!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

those guys from mississippi sound totally hot. you should bring them back to edmonton when you come back...you are coming back right?! we may not put peas in our poutine, but there are less dirty frenchmen here. and we've got that dry, dry alberta air that makes your hair so managable.

too bad that girl has to act like she's 80. But in her defence, it does sound like you are being those guys' "roadie". you know, carrying around their amps and microphones, doing their soundchecks and that kind of thing.

anyways, i should probably stop wasting government time and money and get back to work.


9:17 AM


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