The 26th
The 25th
My brother is home visiting for a couple of weeks from Calgary so my parents invited me, my sister and Jason over for a big barbecue. This will undoutedly be followed by another large barbecue with foolish amounts of food next week for my brother’s birthday. No complaints here.
The 21st
Greg, Patrick and I drove out to the Blue Shank Road where Nathan was catsitting for Debbie and Dale. With the citronella torches lit and a some music drifting out from the house, we hung out on the patio with a fire going in the chiminea and a big yard perfect for lighting off some fireworks.
Between the handfull of fireworks I brought and the big box Greg had in his trunk, there was more than enough spark showers, screeching geysers and rocketing explosions to wake any nearby neighbours. We even tossed a couple of little, spinning ones into the chiminea behind the closed grill, too, which produced a fairly violent and colourful effect in that little space. Kids, don’t try this without adult supervision…or at least not without the supervision of some immature adults with licenses that can drive you to the hospital for the treatment of burns or eye injuries.
The 20th
Sharon, Laine and I took a spin out to Victoria-by-the-Sea to grab a bite to eat at Ruthie’s Pub right down on the wharf overlooking the water. I ordered the fries with the works and after expecting the usual fare from pubs and dairy bars was actually surprised at how good they were with the extra-cooked ground beef. Had it been the regular-but-still-good-anyway type it would have been a long drive for something I could have ordered down the street.
After dinner we took a stroll to the chocolate factory but, much to my sweet tooth’s dismay, it was closed so we continued wandering around for a bit when a white and black kitty did his own bit of strolling right up to us and followed our every move through the streets of his fair, little village. We had our own personal chaperone kitty while we spent some time taking photos of some other kitties in front of their quaint, seaside homes and of the old firetruck next to the fire hall. Next time the gals are going to have to pose in bikinis, splashing each other with buckets of suds so I can submit a photo for a fire station’s girlie calendar. I’m sure they’d totally be up for that photo shoot.
The 19th
After trivia, Greg and I went over to Melissa’s to hang out with her and her mom, and eat a whole bunch of rapure with molasses on top. They have a dog named Kylie who is the biggest, whining baby of a dog I think I’ve ever seen. The poor thing craves attention so much and all I want to do is pat her on the head. I just starts another vicious circle, though. But how can you not want to pet her when she sits next to you and looks up at you with that sad, eager face?
The 18th
My sister invited me and my parents over to her and Jason’s place for dinner where she made a tasty Kraft pizza. I love that pizza so much. It’s been a long time since I had one of those supremely classic pizzas and I’m thinking I should buy one of those kits sometime to make my own, except it would be a bad idea since I’d no doubt eat the whole damn thing in one sitting.
Her cat, Calvin, isn’t a little kitty anymore but he’s still just as crazy and destructive as ever. He’s an awfully good looking boy, though. I played with him for a bit before dinner and snapped a few photos but he’d never sit still enough to get a sharp photo. Friggin’ cats always moving around. We all sat around in the basement after eating pizza so Mom and Dad would watch the three of us play Rock Band with varying degrees of success. That game hurts my eyes because I don’t blink very much while I play it.
The 17th
Nathan Lawr and Kate Maki saw their cross-Canada tour finishing up with a final gig at Baba’s tonight so Nathan, Greg and I decided to grab some grub at Cedar’s before the show. I finally got the chicken shawarma I was craving. Kate and Nathan were actually bringing in gear when we arrived so they joined us down in the restaurant for dinner. Afterwards we all sat around upstairs until they went on stage, pushing back the go time as far as possible waiting for some sort of Tuesday night crowd to show up.
Some of the crowd that did show up was sitting right up front and decided to chat loudly during the show, distractingly so with the sort of chatting that should have been kept to a minimum for the size of the place and because of the small audience. Kate, exhausted from the tour and perhaps reading a little bit too much into what the tipsy chatters were saying, brought on some fairly awkward moments during a snippy bit of conversation with said chatters. Even though it was awkward I thought it was entertaining for the most part, especially when they left. Good enough because not only did Kate and Nathan no longer have to put up with them but neither did we sitting directly across from them. If I, being half deaf as I am, can hear them over the music then there’s a problem.
It was cool to hear the stripped down versions of Nathan’s songs now that I’ve had a chance to become more familiar with his albums, and a few of Kate’s song too I had been hearing recently on CBC. Nathan got up to play drums with them for a few songs, and after the show everything was packed into their big Econoline van and we all headed back to Summerside so they could crash here at the house. I bought each of their newest albums on vinyl, and the artwork on both looks super-sweet especially in that large format. Album art really is meant to be viewed at that size, and hopefully someday I’ll get a chance to design an album jacket, maybe for a record with hidden, backwards messages. Bring on the backmasking and phonetic reversals!
The 13th
It’s that time of year again. The time of year when men, women and sometimes even midgets arrive on our fair island clad in Spandex and vinyl boots, ready to fight each other to the delight of young and old. Yes, wrestling is back and this time it saw Neil, Kyle and me driving out to the Borden-Carleton rink to witness another action-packed night of WWE-style wrestling from the venerable federation known as Atlantic Grand Prix. On the way into the rink we came across a Dukes of Hazzard-style General Lee, albeit the Ford Tempo version. I had actually witnessed this odd automotive reincarnation pass by during the circus protest so I was excited to be able to snap a clear photo of this orange homage to the Duke boys’ infamous auto. Though, I doubt this thing will ever get a mid-air freeze-frame photo op.
The action had already begun as we walked in to buy our tickets and the crowd was substantial (a relative term) compared to the paltry turnout for my first wrestling experience in S’side last summer. One of the key highlights of the night was getting to see The Cuban Assassin…or should I say The NEW Cuban Assassin? I don’t know if it’s the original Assassin’s son or if he’s even Cuban for that matter but he did run around in fatigues, waving a Cuban flag and growling ¡Viva La Cuba! over and over. That’s all anyone really needs in a wrestling Cuban assassin, isn’t it?
The grey areas of copyrightdom were rife with infringement tonight as the so-called Pirate of Caribbean and Wrestling Spider-Man played it up for the crowd. There wasn’t any web-slinging from our friendly neighbourhood, er, Wrestling Spider-Man but it’s probably just as well because the last time I saw a dude dressed as Spidey in a wrestling ring try to web his opponent the result was a fistful of lame-o coloured streamers. He can just stick to the more traditional rasslin’ moves instead of all those ultra-glitzy live effects they try to produce…and fail miserably. Yes, Spidey fighting a guy with eye liner who looks like he’s from Dieppe and buys his pirate-y jeans and pirate-y skull t-shirt with the cut off sleeves from Value Village is fine by me.
Like a flashing neon sign outside a seedy back street “gentleman’s club”, the event’s poster proclaimed in bold, uppercase italics “GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS” and technically delivered on its promise as there were, in fact, two girls which is essentially the bare minimum required meet their advertised claim. Angel and She-Nay-Nay entered the ring and, I found, they actually had the best moves of all the wrestlers. After their match came the intermission and Neil worked up the nerve to ask She-Nay-Nay to pose for a photo which she kindly agreed to with a big, lovely smile.
We did some posing next to the ring, our cool factor immediately increasing by a power of ten easily due to the proximity to honest-to-goodness turnbuckles. If there were pastries called “turnbuckles” I’d definitely buy them because they sound like they’d be tasty and probably filled with something like apples, strawberries or blueberries. In any case, we left ringside to check out all of the commotion happening at the tables at the back where our favourite wrestlers were autographing three-dollar glossies and posing for photos.
After the boys got their photos of The Cuban Assassins signed they set about trying to pose for more shots with the wrestlers. Much to their excitement, Angel sandwiched herself between the two dudes who were all grins and thumbs up while Spidey, whose happy demeanor shone right through his mask, posed in his trademark web-slinger pose. It was like watching two kids in a candy store but the giddiness was soon replaced with anticipation as the intermission ended with the announcement of the final match: TAG TEAM!
This bout would see The Cuban Assassin and Jeff Dupré tagging up against a spectacular masked duo. Spider-Man returned to the ring in all of his red and blue lycra-clad glory with a tag team partner that to date and probably until the end of time will have THE best wrestling handle ever known to man. I speak of none other than the masked luchador wonder, French Mystique! With his black, vinyl garbage bag pants and silver and gold mask, he brings a thrilling exhilaration to all of his adoring fans. Together, this hooded twosome would take on the considerable force in the opposite corner, that is, until all hell broke loose as the ring erupted into a singular and inevitable outcome: ROYAL RUMBLE!
From the wings came racing into the ring a number of other combatants, and a flurry of simulated violence broke out which saw backs being smashed by chairs, and out-of-the-ring scrapping with heads being slammed into the hockey boards. What a climax! What a finale!
As always, rink wrestling was a smash hit that provided us with some solid entertainment for an hour or so. Completely stoked by the evening of leg drops, body slams and lady wrestling, the three of us hit the road back to our less exciting lives still brimming with the delight that only the square circle can produce. Unfortunately, the post-rasslin’ excitement didn’t last very long as I was almost immediately pulled over by the Borden-Carleton police. Cantankerous Officer Buzzkill quickly made it evident that I’m completely clueless when it comes to owning a vehicle, and only through the confusion he conjured up by bringing to light so many of my glaring infractions did I manage to avoid a $600.00 ticket and escape with but a $70.00 fine instead. I could blame it all on it being Friday the 13th but this all came about because I’m a total dumbass who, though fined in the end, can still be considered lucky overall.
Wrestling was still awesome though.
The 11th
I had an apple sitting on the counter waiting to be eaten but instead of eating boring, old apple slices I felt like eating an apple that was hot and full of sweet goodness as a late night snack. I made it into something I haven’t had in a long time: a baked apple. My dad used to core some apples, fill them with brown sugar and butter to make these for dessert when I was younger but his usually had cinnamon sticks jutting out of the tops of them. Mine had raisins jammed into the middle with the sugar so, for the sake of space, I had to forego the cinnamon stick and use powdered cinnamon instead. Baking it in the toaster oven also limits an apple’s overhead clearance quite a bit too.
I basted the apple in its own juices sweetened and thickened in the hot pan by the sugar and butter, the raisins becoming plump in the core, while the apple softened inside its leathery peel. After I let it cool a bit, the apple ended up being fairly tasty, I just wish it had been a better, juicier apple for baking and that I had had some vanilla ice cream to go with it. Baking the apple in such a tasty way sure makes them delicious-er but it defeats the purpose of buying the apples to eat as a healthy snack. Meh.
The 10th
I took my sweet-as-all-hell Sentra through the car wash this evening to remove the undignified bird poopings from it and noticed something very odd and amusing when it was being sprayed and hosed down. While listening to the radio waiting for the car wash to do what it does best, the robotic arm passed over the roof and hood causing the radio to emit what sounded like the robot’s static- and distortion-filled thoughts. The mundane tasks running through its robo-servos came screeching out of my car’s speakers in searing sweeps and staccato frequencies.
I’ve always liked going through car washes in my dad’s car ever since I was a little kid: the muffled mechanical sounds; the full, dull roar of the spray against the car’s roof and doors; and the mildly claustrophobic feel that was at the same time both cozy and exciting. I especially liked visiting the Shell station near my subdivision that had a little car wash with gigantic orange and white brush rollers which did not look unlike an impaled Barkley from Sesame Street whose shaggy, soapy corpse was spinning at a high rate of speed across the windshield. A sad, pathetic image but an accurate one nonetheless.
Then there was the Irving’s extra long car wash that became eerily dark the further you ventured in and whose soapy mat of layered cloths would shift back and forth over the car like an army of ghostly Muppets. I guess soft, cloth-like things in car washes generally remind me of Jim Henson creations for some reason. Car washes were and still are fun no matter how you slice it but even though there aren’t Muppet-like devices soaping up and wiping down my car nowadays I know what car wash I’m going to again to pick up some robot thought transmissions.
The 8th
Cory and Becca decided to join me for a little trip up to Ch’town to grab a bite to eat and go see The Strangers. We ended up eating dinner at Eastside Mario’s where I had a tasty little pizza and Cory was attacked by a junebug that the waitress promptly stomped on with a sickening, wet crunch. Not very appetizing when one is in the middle of chowing down but I suppose it’s better to eat your dinner with a dead junebug nearby than a live one. I just wish they didn’t sound so juicy when they get squished.
Squished junebugs are nothing compared to a taught thriller though. I was looking forward to The Strangers because the preview looked fantastic and I had heard reviews calling it very suspenseful but through the use of subtlety and mood instead of being a big slash-em-up gore-fest. While it had its clichés, I thought they did a great job in making it a weird, nail biter flick that doesn’t come along often enough. I really liked the characters and the already tense relationship, the entire creepy atmosphere they created, and was satisfied with the movie as a whole. Though, it lost me a bit mid-way through when the tension seemed to drop, which was kind of odd since they really had a tense buildup to that point. The only glaringly unnecessary scene that could have been left out was at the very end but it was a shocker shot so I can understand why it was in there.
I was never into scary movies until I was probably in my late teens or even early twenties but now I can’t seem to get enough of them. If they can keep making movies like this and avoid re-hashing the same ploys and visuals over and over again (ahem, Japanese remakes with little dead girls à la The Ring 2, etc.) then I’ll enjoy being creeped out in a darkened theatre a lot more.
The 6th
A couple of weeks ago Laine organized a meeting to discuss the plans for protesting the upcoming circus and to make signs for the protest, which was on this bright, sunny Friday afternoon. I slathered some sunscreen over my pale, hairy flesh and donned a hat to protect my exposed scalp from the harmful UV rays of the sun, grabbed my sign, and headed to the west end for the protest in front of the fancy rink.
A small crowd turned out to support the cause, as did some news people to cover the protest, and we did our best to make ourselves visible to the people passing by and to those attending the circus’ afternoon show. There were a lot of smiles, waves, beeps and thumbs up from passersby, and thankfully only a couple of people acted like dicks. At one point one of Laine’s friends dressed up in the gorilla suit to draw more attention and pose for some photos. I can only imagine how bloody hot it must have been for him in that latex and black, synthetic fur suit. Laine put it on later when we came back before the evening show but thankfully, for her, it had cooled off some and there wasn’t any sun beating down on us.
Some people went around back to get a look at the few animals they did have in the circus. From what I heard there was an elephant, some camels, zebras, and big cats in the show but I don’t think anyone saw anything overtly abusive other than the small cages the animals live in as they travel thousands of miles for weeks at a time in trucks and trailers. There are so many things wrong with wild animals being kept captive simply to entertain us by performing ridiculous tricks. It’s such an antiquated form of entertainment that sees so many forms of abuse and mistreatment towards the animals they enslave once they are removed from their natural habitat, social groups, or from their families and parents often at very young ages. It really is cruel no matter how you look at it, and if people don’t become vocal on behalf of these animals and speak out against circuses with animal acts then the cruelty against these animals, both wild and domestic, is only going to continue.
PEI’s animal protection laws are apparently pretty sub-standard in the grand scheme of things, not to mention in Canada overall. The hope is that we can collect enough signatures to submit a petition to the City, perhaps the even the province, to pass some sort of legislation that bans entertainment featuring animal acts outright. I’m sure we’ll have to get together again to figure this whole thing out and do some research but it’s a worthwhile cause that I’d like to dedicate some time to. Circuses are fine, just keep animals out of them and let talented, human performers entertain audiences.
The 1st
To celebrate my grandmother turning ninety years old today, my aunt and uncle invited family and friends over to their house for a big birthday dinner for her on this beautiful first day of June. For a couple in their nineties, my grandparents seem to be doing pretty well for themselves, and I can only hope I can be as independent as they are and that the genes deliver for me like they did for them when (or perhaps if) I get to their age. It was nice to see so many people over at the house for the party and to see a big ice cream cake for dessert that people were more than happy to keep offering me slice-upon-slice of since it was starting to melt. It would end up a ruined mess and a tragic waste if it didn’t get eaten up so I was glad I could be of service. Just doing my part to help out, folks.
