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

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Blog, I am your Father

IF Darth Vader had a blog, I think this is what it would be like.


This isn't funny, on second glance. Sorry. I'll try harder next time. Bonnie says I've been infested by tapeworms from space. Wait. That's not funny, either.

Monday, January 23, 2006

You Knit WHAT?

Sure, knitting is really boring and all, but my girlfriend found and enjoys this knitting blog on blogger that is about 98 per cent swears! You can't believe the shit these girls swear about!
To quote http://youknitwhat.blogspot.com/2005/08/my-eyes-my-eyes.html:
"You're damn fucking right no one would pay for this shit. You couldn't pay me enough to wear that fucking thing, let alone to knit it. And what the fuck is up with the crocheted bunting, I mean edging. What, this wasn't fucking ugly enough?"

Can you imagine? What's bunting?

These chicks are nuts! Wait. I'm not allowed to say chicks. "I can say chicks, but you can't," my girlfriend says.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Fishin' Accomplished

Any doubts I harboured about Ontarians having ice fishing completely figured out were put to rest this afternoon when I had pizza delivered to my ice fishing shack out on the lake today.

I finally went on my first fishin’ trip since moving to Ontario. I went about 90 minutes north of Toronto, on Lake Simcoe. Jody, Rue Morgue’s ad guy (in the orange G.I. Joe-like get-up), Gary, our head designer (gray coat, armed with a fish), and myself rented a shack for the day and jigged for perch. Previously ice fishing trips in Alberta usually meant a cold day sitting on a bucket over a hole, or in a tiny one-man tent. But here little shanty towns spring up on the lakes as soon as it’s safe enough to go out on the ice. Ours was 7’ x 7’ and has a propane burner (ringed by roaches – not the kind that crawl) in it that keeps it toasty. Each side is lined with a bench, and there’s a hole about 2’ x 3’ in the middle that allows for a big window into the lake.

Upon arrival there was a big jack hanging around the bottom, and later we saw a sucker fish cruise by. The perch were around all day, but it was slooow, and they were small (dig that monster I'm holding up). You know when they say the fish aren’t biting? Well this was today. We could see ‘em dart over to our hooks, stare at ‘em for awhile, and then be all like, “Naw, fuck that” and swim away like they had something better to do. It was a bit frustrating, but we managed to get maybe 30 or 40 between us; nothing nearly big enough to keep.

At least the beers we brought out were regulation-size, and damn if they company we rented from didn’t bring warm pizza right to the door. I could get used to this. The next hut I rent better have a fold-down massage table, PS2 and a goddamned crepe station.

Flowers: nature's unfunny clowns

Well, once again, let's all give Superdude a round of applause for his poignant observations on the very nature of man himself. Thanks for the broken source code for a poll on some Halifax bar, good sir! We are richer having tried to make sense of it.

Meanwhile, in awesome news, Kristine and I went to the Muttart Conservatory yesterday, since I've never been and soon will never again have the chance, and wouldn't you know it? It's full of pretty things. I took some pictures of flowers. They were colourful. After that, we went out for an awesome dinner at Culina's off 99th Street to cap off the Chris's Last Weekend in Edmonton With His Girlfriend festivities, then watched Ong Bak. And that's where this story gets interesting!

Just kidding. That was it. Pictures, anyone?