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

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Diagnosis: crazy

As most of you surely don't know, the majority of one of my office walls is currently covered by a whole bunch of band press photos that we cleared out of a filing cabinet a while ago. Mostly, it's a tepid collection of mid-level Canadian talent, and the record stops at 2001, presumably when everyone suddenly realized that computers could be used for more than just doing your taxes and filing recipes.

But amongst the Pursuits of Happiness, the Veals and the Emm Gryners was this guy, Robert Armstrong Nelson. I guess he's a street performer (fuck, I hope he's a street performer), and I remember getting a real kick out of this photo when I found it, but since then it's really started to haunt me. Seriously, Robert Armstrong Nelson, what's up? What's your deal? Something must have driven you to such an end—what visions, what epiphanies, what screaming internal voice caused you to give up your job as an accountant for Strathcona County's Public Works (presumably) and dedicate your life to embarrassing yourself for pocket change? And couldn't you have just been a clown instead?

I wonder what he's doing now. Anyhow, I should probably take him down off the wall one of these days. He's kind of makes me want to cry.

So yeah, that's it. Carry on.

Oh, bonus medical update: on the spinal front, no news except for the fact that MRIs are crazy, crazy machines; in regards to my eyes, I'm apparently developing glaucoma. Neat. But that's treatable, so, you know... rad.

BYE!

16 Comments:

Blogger Heather said...

Hey,
Stop blogging and get back to moving to Toronto, would ya? Dink.

9:09 PM

 
Anonymous Kenny said...

Whoah, that guy had a massive coolness overhaul if you ask me. He went from Brett McCann's dad to Ace Ventura. But the most compelling thing about the photos is the before/after bit. After what? Is this part of an ad campaign to prevent kids from smoking weed? Did he lose the top of his scalp in a lawn mower accident?

Hey how far back do those pictures go? Save TPOH for me. I'm the only one who will fully appreciate it. "I'm an adult now!" YEAH!

Hey so it sounds like you had your MRI then? Those things make scary fucking sounds, don't they? You'd think a technology developed within the last 10 or 20 years would be advanced enough to avoid making loud grating noises like that, but nope. So is your neck getting any better? Give me an update. Later!

ps what's with the type in the funny letter crap? Was there some sort of yahoo using his computer to spam your blog with advertisements?

10:27 PM

 
Blogger Dave said...

Holy shit. It's like Gallagher entering the Mardis Gras Witness Protection Program.

And I know making fun of Gallagher is easy and cruel, like egging a short bus, but may I introduce you my new favourite website: http://www.gallaghersmash.com/index2.htm

Once you're done reading about the mystery of the stolen raccoon hat, move on to the political rap in the "Gallagear" section, then browse the "Galla-Gear" section (yeah, two seperate sections) and buy a "Cool Dad" cap.

Oh, and as if being the real Gallagher isn't bad enough, he sued his younger brother for impersonating him.
http://www.timeswrsw.com/N0406000.HTM

I wonder if there was a watermelon-smashing demonstration of authenticity in court that day?

11:16 PM

 
Blogger Chris! said...

> Hey so it sounds like you had your MRI then? Those things make scary fucking sounds, don't they? You'd think a technology developed within the last 10 or 20 years would be advanced enough to avoid making loud grating noises like that, but nope. So is your neck getting any better? Give me an update. Later!

Yeah, no shit they make some scary fucking sounds. And they're claustrophobic as hell. It was funny, actually; I totally wasn't prepared when they shoved my platform into the tiny little magnet hole there, and I was kind of overcome by a little involuntary panic attack. Anyhow, after five minutes the girl yells, "how's it going in there?" and I'm like, "actually, could you pull me out for a second? I'm a little claustrophobic and just want to collect myself a bit here." Her response? Turn the machine back on and ignore my crybabery. Yeah, alright, I get it... time to put my big-boy pants on. Still. Freaky.

And no, the neck's about the same, but at least it's not getting any worse. I'm looking forward to all these tests being over so I can just go get the therapeutic massage that will almost certainly clear this neck strain up. But I understand I've got to cover my bases. Besides, I've got a degenerative eye disease to worry about now. Those are way more cool!

11:39 PM

 
Anonymous Collin said...

No one ever saw Robert Armstrong Nelson after that one night when lightning struck the clock tower after the Enchantment under the Sea Dance. Whoa Doc, that's heavy!

My best guess is that Mr. Nelson found a genie's bottle and wished for fame, at which point the genie slapped a butterfly tattoo on his bald head and then boomed "you'll be famous as a crazy loser! Ha Ha, your wish has been ironically fulfilled! How'd that taste?!"

The lesson here is don't trust genies or monkey paws.

11:41 AM

 
Blogger Chris! said...

But what of sea-themed dances?

5:14 PM

 
Blogger enthrall said...

I need to make some cash. Anyone know any quick, easy, high-paying writing gigs that they aren't already doing?

(Yes, Chris - I'll pitch more Vue, but you excoriated my last two Vuepoint ideas and made me weep softly into my pillow.)

Is that as ridiculous a question as it looks? Ah, well. Let it stand - anyone know of any?

C.

1:08 AM

 
Anonymous collin said...

I need to make some cash. Anyone know any quick, easy, high-paying writing gigs that they aren't already doing?

Yes but you'll need a butterfly tattoo on the top of your head, and a knowledge of international cricket.

--Collin
(Also post coming soon)

11:11 PM

 
Anonymous Kris Meen said...

Speaking of MRIs, the U of A once paid me 50 bucks or something to get into an MRI machine, make up and then recite a speech (I believe the topic was 'travel'), then had five people come into the MRI room so that I could see them standing there are the bottom of my feet, then had me recite the speech again. Isn't that FUCKED?

Chris - Sorry I haven't been pitching Vuepoints, my plate's been overflowing, and I'm still trying to catch up. Waa.

10:17 AM

 
Blogger Chris! said...

Kris, yeah, I remember you telling me about that. Was this some sort of study to determine what kinds of retarded things students will do for fifty bucks or something? Man.

And fuck yeah, I need Vuepoints. FUCK YEAHHHH!!!!!1

12:57 AM

 
Anonymous Kris Meen said...

I believe it was an as-yet-unrevealed, but highly elaborate hoax on the part of various friends of mine to see what kind of stupid shit I'd do for 50 bucks. Hah! Jokes on you assholes! I've done way stupider shit fer nuthin'!

8:13 PM

 
Blogger Superdude said...

What's VuePoints? Do they PAY?! QJ?>E%T>?wjklt63.k4jt6lqwel;q345yh;

9:43 PM

 
Blogger Chris! said...

Man, when did this turn into a journalist jobhunt board?

11:36 AM

 
Blogger enthrall said...

My fault... although I think it fits in line with all the bitching we're doing about our jobs.

I think you should let superdude pitch you Vuepoints, though. Get the national flavour.

12:42 PM

 
Blogger Ladysir said...

May I suggest a new post?

Soon.

Please.

You're the reason God gave us Internet.

12:43 PM

 
Blogger enthrall said...

Actually, the reason God gave us Internet was to share pictures of cats in Hawaiian shirts. Well done.

C.

2:17 PM

 

Post a Comment

<< Home