Turns Out, Piss With Juice In It Is Still Piss.

Since I agreed to turn around some CD graphics for a band by Monday morning, that meant missing out on going to Burlington Go-Carts today. That sucked. I really would have liked to take the go-carts for a spin and crash around in the bumper cars but I probably would have passed out from being in the oppresive sun on a day like today anyway.

Melissa came in town this evening and we hung out at Dooly’s for a little bit, and only for a little bit because the bartender, who was still serving people drinks up until ten minutes before close, got a bit douchy over the fact that we were still sitting there despite him serving us maybe fifteen minutes before that. Hey, bartender. Don’t be a douche if people are still enjoying drinks you served them a half hour before closing time, alright?

One of those drinks was a Moosehead Lime that Melissa ordered and she hounded me the entire time to drink some of it. I told her again and again that it was something I wouldn’t like, and, quel surprise, it turned out to be terrible when I finally tried the damn stuff because I was sick of listening to her. She got an I-Told-You-So for it but she even admitted that she thought it was terrible so why bother me to try it in the first place then?! Anyway, I know I’m a stubborn ass but I also have a fairly good idea of what I don’t like in most cases. Moosehead isn’t one of them. Lime in Moosehead would therefore be a safe assumption of something else I wouldn’t like. I stuck to my Pepsi-Cola, thankyouverymuch.

Being booted out of Dooly’s on a Sunday night in Summerside doesn’t leave a person with many options for entertainment or even minor boredom relief so we unfortunately ended up back at the house, hanging out in the stuffy, breeze-less living room, listening to sweat beads form on our skin. Hurray. Can’t get away from the humidity, can’t get away from the boredom.

I went for a bike ride later on hoping to get a little relief from the stuffiness. Despite the heat and humidity, tonight must have been one of the nicest nights of the entire summer. I biked along the waterfront and sat at a picnic table to take advantage of the breeze coming off the water. Damn, it’s nice living by the shore.

On the way home I biked past the fancy rink and discovered a giant burning torch standing in front of it. Canada Games, right, forgot about that. I also noticed signs everywhere advertising the new fancy buffet at the new fancy race track. Now that my mom works for the same restaurant that runs the buffet, I should find out what’s offered up at said buffet and hopefully it will be enough to entice me to go. Not that I need a buffet, mind you, but I’d only rarely end up eating there if it turns out to be any good, and it is at the race track after all. Race track buffet spells e-x-c-i-t-e-m-e-n-t.

To Improve Your Flyer Design, Try Burning It.

I managed to make it to the market on time this weekend to get some veggies, eggs and stuff before they were all sold out, plus my requisite Saturday sushi treat. I also took a gander at my burned down bank all boarded up and being torn down.

Greg stopped by the house with a copy of a flyer he said I needed to see for the Fire Festival the City is putting on. I don’t know who “designed” this but I feel like marching over to City Hall’s Tourism office and informing them that there actually are trained graphic designers living right here in this city who can professionally design flyers, brochures and programs that don’t make the City’s big summer events look like elementary school theatre productions. If their goal is to attract locals, Islanders and (especially) tourists, having promotional materials that look as though they were put together by 10-year-olds during a recess spent indoors due to rain isn’t doing anyone any favours. While I’m not by any means against handmade design efforts using colour copiers, construction paper, glue sticks and scissors, there is something to be said about making use of those tools and materials that doesn’t scream grade five art project. I almost expected to see “great job” written below a smiley face sticker on the inside.

Now it’s time for me to be an anal, nitpicky asshole. Let’s break this down, shall we?

1. The fiery background image they’ve chosen has been enlarged big time, reducing the quality of the image by creating some serious JPEG artifacting. I’m also half expecting to see Lucifer sitting on a throne of skulls and bones in the background, surrounded by the wailing, charred, eternal corpses of the damned.
2. The graphic in the corner would seem to indicate the background image was stolen and used without the permission of the owner. No doubt it was a small, screen-resolution photo they found in a Google Images search, where they probably grabbed the thumbnail instead of the full-size image (further explaining #1). If you’re going to steal images, at least steal the good quality versions.
3. Nothing says exciting fire stunts, dancing and music with an Afro-Caribbean flair like Algerian, a typeface based on an antique 19th-century Victorian woodcut.
4. I can’t tell if the random yellow and orange marker-work around the letters is meant to simulate flames or if it’s supposed to be some kind of fiery drop shadow effect. Either way it fails. Also, why the space before the exclamation mark?
5. I guess using a ruler to cut some straight edges on the paper blocks and photos was out of the question?

1. BLAM! This smacks you right between the eyes, don’t it? And not in a good way. First, why are there two event title headers? I have to tell you, the mix of highlighter-enhanced Algerian font and the reflective, beveled block font really marries well. Second, why insert what looks like a frame from an animated GIF of flaming words and then scale the fuck out of it so that the pixels are noticeable even with your eyes closed? Third, why am I even asking why?
2. You obviously typed this information out so why have you underlined words with a pen? Your word processor has an underline function, you know (even though there are better methods to emphasize words)? Perhaps this can be explained by a simple lack of knowledge on your part concerning some basic computer program functions since it also appears you took the Cut and Paste commands literally.
3. Reef. Not Sea. It’s The Coral Reef Entertainers. Everyone knows that.
4. You might want to look up the definition of proofread sometime. Always proofread your copy, especially before you hit print and break out your scissors and glue stick. You might pick up on some spelling mistakes you made and notice inconsistencies in your copy’s wording and formatting. You’re all over the place with spacing and punctuation that are both inconsistent and incorrect. Again with the space before an exclamation mark! We talked about this already, and why are you using more than one exclamation mark at the end of a sentence?!
5. Is it just me or does this horribly pixelated photo look pornographic at first blush? Like a still from some 1970s B-movie with voodoo rituals, human sacrifice involving fiery limbo dancing of some sort, and sex with ladies possessed by the Devil.
6. I’d also like to know why a few select words were capitalized when there’s absolutely no reason to do so. Plus, you didn’t even consistently capitalize the same words later in the copy. Oh, and Harbor should have a “U” in it. It’s technically not a spelling error but the City refers to it as Summerside Harbour. Consistency!
7. You seem rather taken with using fiery animated GIFs and stretching the hell out of them, aren’t you? And also with repeating the same information for no reason other than to perhaps fill space using crummy web graphics.
8. This isn’t a design criticism or a comment on the performers and musicians, as I imagine they were top-notch professionals with some great talent, but…what an odd choice of entertainment for Summerside, of all places.

Just had to get that off my chest.

Ian and I went to Tim’s to hang out for a bit and when I picked him up he ever-so-graciously gave me a big slice of chocolate cake with boiled icing that Holly had baked up. I held off on the Tim’s treats knowing that slab of sweet goodness would be waiting for me to make it my dessert tonight. And that’s exactly what I did. The cake with its generous coating of boiled icing was awesome. I thought the icing would be way too rich, like store-bought cakes or 90% of carrot cakes out there, but what Holly boiled up struck a good balance between rich and fluffy. Bravo, Holly. Bravo and thank you.

Sitting around in the Tim’s afternoon atmosphere, Ian told me about how his mother-in-law believes the old wives tale that cats steal the breath of children. So, of course, something like that just gives Ian ideas and it led to him up drawing a cartoon of his cat Shmi getting caught in the act, leaning over a baby’s crib with a straw jutting from its mouth. Ian’s plan, obviously, is to paint the scene and hang it in the nursery when Holly has the baby next month. I’m sure Holly’s mom will be thrilled.

When I was at my parents’ place later on trying to figure out an iPod/iTunes issue my sister was having, Dad came home with the dogs who were transmitting their own canine brand of fetid funk. Winnie and Khaly reeked so nauseatingly bad, their stench was so terribly awful, that I decided right then and there, for reasons most merciful to humans and dogs alike, that I was taking them outside to wash the putrid stink from their wretched coats.

I was all set to do it, to attempt holding my lunch down whilst shoulder deep in the soapiest and most fragrant waters I could devise, but Winnie (the cowardly mongrel she is) made tracks the moment I grabbed a bucket. You’d think, judging by her hasty exit, that she was savvy to my plan, but she wasn’t. It’s not that she knows what me getting a bucket means or what a bucket is for that matter. It’s not that she somehow equates buckets with baths or that she is trying to avoid being forced to bathe (she does hate baths though). It’s that she is, quite simply, afraid of buckets. Yes, afraid of buckets. Afraid of brushes, too. Afraid of drawers. Afraid of decorations, the wind, microwaves, clouds, light switches, doors…but apparently not afraid of reeking like a sour, old, dumpster-diving hobo dog. Winnie’s afraid of pretty much anything that isn’t food, ear scratchin’s or squeaky toys—which is surprising because they make a noise.

So despite the dogs’ ultra-foul odour permeating whatever room they remained in, assaulting nose and gag reflex alike, they went unwashed for yet another day. The hot and humid days of summer both locking in the foulness and propagating it at the same time. Needless to say, I was glad to get away from them and out into the fresh air.

It didn’t seem to get much cooler after the sun went down this evening so sitting on top of The Silver Fox for a bit seemed like the best way to beat the heat, even for a little while. That is, as long as no one was up there, otherwise I’d have to leave. Thankfully it was early enough that there wasn’t really anybody anywhere and the roof was vacant. Just me and the breeze, something I wish more of would blast through the windows back at the house on nights like this.

I Bet They’d Be Good in a Little Butter & Garlic.

A bunch of us piled into Sharon’s car and headed out to Anson’s for a bite to eat, but not before having a brief conversation with Chris Todd. While parked next to the Little Houses By The Rink across the street from Marcus’ place, we could see Chris making his merry way up Notre Dame before he stopped to chat through my window. He sure was mighty happy to see us and more than excited to tell everyone about his plans for going to bingo tonight and to sing Michael Jackson songs tomorrow night at karaoke at The Legion. Oh, to be even a tenth that happy…seemingly all the time.

Slemon Park was jam packed with athletes for the Canada Games but Anson’s was surprisingly dead so there wasn’t any problem getting a table. That worked out well since Ian and Holly ended up joining us for dinner, and we pretty well had our choice of seats when we had to move to a bigger table.

Marcus had reminded me of one important event happening tonight I had somehow managed to forget about: the opening of District 9. After dinner, it ended up being only me, Marcus, Sharon and Leigh going to see the movie. I was almost shocked by how completely dead it was in the theatre on the opening night of a big movie getting a lot of buzz. Fine by me, though. It would mean less chance of some gaggle of douchebag teenagers ruining the movie for me.

The movie was was being touted as the next amazing sci-fi flick, some putting it on par with Alien and the like. I doubted it but I was still hoping it might end up in the top ten best of all time. I was super impressed by the Alive in Jobourg short film I had seen years ago so I was excited to see that story as a feature.

While I thought it was damn good and stands out far from most of the other sci-fi garbage being released these days, it didn’t blow me away exactly. Definitely not in the same class as 2001 or anything, it’s not even really in the same sci-fi ballpark as 2001 (but what is, really?). People were definitely over-blowing things. I do think I built it up too much in my head before going to see it so it was probably bound to disappoint a little bit, but thankfully not much.

In any case, the plot being set in South Africa, there not being any big stars in it, the ingrained social commentary, some fantastic special effects, and the documentary style all worked to make it a great film. Though, the documentary approach doesn’t truly make a whole lot of sense later on in the film as one wonders how a camera crew could have possibly been following what was happening to the main character. A minor quibble, though.

I was super impressed with Sharlto Copley, who played the lead role of Wikus. He pulled off a great performance throughout the entire film, and played the awkward bureaucrat at the beginning of the film so convincingly.

The character designs for the aliens were great, too. Though, the “prawns”, as they call them, and the story had far less mystery than in the short film and than what the trailer seemed to suggest. Some scenes in the trailer that hooked me weren’t even in the film; a big disappointment since they made it appear as though the aliens were part of a darker and more intriguing storyline. Still, overall, I thought the movie was great and definitely one of the best sci-fi flicks in a long while.

I’d Rather Play a Major Lift Than Do One.

Nathan needed help moving a piano tonight from Jack’s place out in Fernwood back here to the house. I drove out there with D’Arcy, Marcus and Luke while Greg and Nathan took the truck. Jack’s front door had a “Beware of Dog” sign on it warning people of a little twelve-week-old terrier type thing whining and pawing at its cage wanting to come out and play. Or maybe it didn’t want to play, perhaps it actually wanted to attack us. I just assumed the sign was meant to be ironic…

The piano was bloody heavy but we all got it out to the truck without much trouble. I say “we” but it was mostly “they”. Since I have the upper body strength of a preschooler, I mostly put down plywood to protect the floor. Any major lifting made my head feel like it was going to explode.

Other than the dark, swirling clouds of bloodthirsty mosquitoes draining our blood pint-by-pint as we worked, the move went rather smoothly. The piano made the trip back in town and into the living room without any traffic incidents or need for hospitalization.

I went to visit my parents and the dogs afterwards but both Winnie and Khaly were upstairs somewhere and didn’t come down to say hi. I peered into the darkness of my parents’ room and asked if there were any puppies in there. All I could hear was a tail wagging so I flicked on the light and the first thing I saw was Winnie sprawled out on their bed like a goof, wagging her tail and awaiting a belly rub.

He Was Born of Flame on a Moonless Night.

Today was a fairly productive day for a change. I got some reading done and took in some sun on the back step, did some chores that needed some doing and finally got around to cleaning my damn car. For some reason, I used to be better with car care when I had my old Sentra but now that I have the Alero I don’t seem to be looking after it as much. It’s a nicer car by comparison so you’d think I’d be more on top of those things. The Supa-Sentra burned oil like it was going out of style and the tires were shot so I had to stay on top of it, while the Alero has fancy computers in it and goes bing when it needs attention.

After running it through the car wash (only because there’s no hose at this place), I got back to the house not long before D’Arcy, Marcus, Greg, Nikkie and Melissa showed up for a fire in the backyard. I think it may only have been the second of the summer which is pathetic. More fires and beachin’s should be happening, especially on nice nights like tonight where the weather was perfect. The backyard was sans mosquitoes, and the sky was sans moon but Marcus isn’t sans a nickname. I don’t know how it came up but Marcus will now be referred to as “Sparky”. It’s ironic enough to suit him and I’ll do my part to make sure it sticks. I find it really rolls off the tongue: Marcus “Sparky” MacLean.

Of World Peace and Drinking in Vans.

Last night, I hung out here with Marcus, Nathan, Greg and Shawn, who decided to go on and on about how people warring and killing each other just need to “take a breather, relax, and read a book. Like Narnia or something by Tom Clancy, or just watch Lord of The Rings”. Apparently popular fiction and blockbuster movies are Shawn’s answers to solving world conflicts and ending racial, religious and political violence.

If only Shawn were Global Emperor, right? He’s proven that he has some fantastic ideas for bringing about world peace. However, we may not want to get that political campaign for his election underway just yet. Turns out making him Ruler of Earth actually isn’t such a hot idea after all. He quickly followed up his proposal of literary and cinematic solutions for world peace by saying that if he were World Emperor he’d simply kill all of the people that were warring and killing each other to begin with. So it looks like his solution to all the violence is just more violence. Seems about right for Shawn reasoning; threaten to wipe out all warring factions across the globe unless they go straight home to read Clear and Present Danger.

After that stimulating “debate”, the four of them left for the bar so I decided to relax on the couch and watch some teevee. Nathan returned later without any drunks tagging along so I figured I was safe to continue watching TV undisturbed. That was until Luke showed up in the pouring rain.

Thinking it was only him, I opened the door to let the poor boy in from the rain. Mistake numéro uno. No sooner had he walked inside than I spotted a very drunk Shawn and an equally drunk Melissa making their way down Cambridge. Mistake number two was letting them in the house too. After some foolishness on the stragglers’ parts and yelling for Nathan to get up, start the party and order food, I decided to ignore them to the best of my ability.

Luke grabbed a cab home but I made mistake number three by letting the other two boozers stay. They sat in the living room talking over the television, asking all sorts of questions and making comments about what I was watching. To make it quite clear I wasn’t happy with the two of them being here, I continued to ignore them, hoping perhaps they’d disappear back out into the rainy night and leave me alone with the Discovery Channel and a quiet house. When Shawn fell asleep in the chair I decided it was time they said their goodnights and the quickest way to do that was to give them both a lift home, which meant driving out to the country to drop Melissa off.

I eventually got to bed at 5:00 am, not unusual for me but I had planned on being in bed by 3:00 am so I could hopefully be up in time for the market. That didn’t happen. I slept way late and decided to spend my Saturday running some errands and getting non-market groceries. I ended up buying a package of Garibaldi Biscuits that seem like something very classic my grandparents might eat, an old-timey treat brought over from Great Britain. The biscuits were actually quite good, what with their baked, golden crispiness and chewy currants. I should have made some bangers ‘n’ mash for dinner then eaten those biscuits for dessert while I finished a cup of Earl Grey tea.

Even though I had already had dinner after getting back from grocery shopping, I went to China Star with Melissa anyway to get an egg roll or two. Her mom called while we were eating and asked if she and Jim could park their van in my driveway for the night. Their plan was to go to the squall at the fire hall and then crash in the van afterwards. They also wanted to know if we wanted to hang out in the back of the van with them and have a drink before they headed down to the hall. I certainly didn’t want to and made it very clear to Melissa I’d much rather go do something else. Almost anything else.

Kathy and Jim showed up and parked the van, the sliding door opening to reveal the interior was converted to be like a mini-camper with a bed and stuff. Then Melissa hopped in and told them straight up that I didn’t want to hang out with them in the van. Gee, thanks for putting me on the spot and making me feel ultra-guilty, Melissa. Much appreciated.

Next thing I knew I was sitting on the van bed while they busted out a cooler full of booze. And I mean full of booze. We all sat around chatting while the three of them got progressively drunker but since they’re funny people and I like them I admit that it wasn’t so bad after all. I just don’t like unfamiliar social situations with people I don’t know that well, especially cramped ones. Plus I’m not generally one who tends to hang out in the backs of vans while people get sloshed either.

The Big, Blue B Stands for “Boring” & “Bland”.

After going for dinner at Maid Marian’s with Shawn, Sharon and Nathan, I wasn’t overly impressed with the food this time around (not that it’s exactly haute cuisine to begin with) and didn’t bother with dessert despite there being an abundance of choice. The novelty of The High Pies has worn off seeing as the vertical scale of most of the pies is comprised almost exclusively of whipped cream. Their impressive pies are merely the product of illusion. I want the substance in pie to be pie, not mountains of edible oil product. We went to Frosty Treat for dessert instead because one can’t go wrong with a Skor Flurry made with chocolate soft serve.

Later, I watched Defiance with Shawn, Nathan and Desiree then I went for an August night stroll, taking photos of dumb things like the Lefurgey Centre’s lawn looking as though giant gophers had attacked it, another lonesome shopping cart in a park at night, some people probably living it up on their yacht in the Summerside harbour, a weirdo wanted poster of some sketchy-looking dude, and an unsightly BellAliant billboard covering a historic mural.

What bothers me about the billboard, besides its size and BellAliant’s dull design, is the fact that it’s covering one of the murals commissioned to be part of the walking tour of the city. We’re at the height of tourist season and this bloody billboard is hiding one of several murals the City uses to promote itself, that gives exposure to local artists and brings awareness to the heritage and history of Summerside. Perhaps there’s nothing the City could have done, maybe Bell owns the building or has the right to put up advertising as they see fit on the side of their business but that billboard is awful in a lot of ways and I certainly hope it’s not permanent.

I love how the plaque with the historical details of the Great Ice Storm of 1956 isn’t covered so that tourists can at least read about the event and the mural while gazing—probably a little confusedly so—upon a boring billboard design. I’m all for white space in design but I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the reasoning for using portions of a giant B in Bell’s ads, other than the obvious. Is the abstract use of angular, close-cropped sections of corporate typography amid an ample field of white meant to act as a mnemonic device to drive home Bell’s stark, bold “look”? Perhaps but, unless I’m missing the point, these ads have always come across to me as l-a-m-e.

Megapixels? More Like Negapixels.

My Participark nostalgia reminded me of a small set of black and white prints I made in my junior high’s industrial arts class. Ceramics, and programming on a Commodore 64 were fun and all but the photography portion of the class was definitely my favourite, albeit far too brief.

A bunch of us headed out one winter day with camera in hand to take some snapshots to develop back in class. I honestly don’t remember if these three shots were all I took or not. I imagine everyone in the group was given a section of the film roll and so we were limited to only a few shots each.

The photo of Andy and I, both mid-punch, in a mock bout of fisticuffs is my favourite. Note the high tops, tight jeans, shirt tail hanging out from under my nylon jacket, and the presence of long-forgotten, parted hair and even bangs (yes, bangs…stiff, gelled bangs). In the next photo, Andy is in the foreground onlooking while Glen and Ellen jump off the bridge together, but I can’t figure out who the other two people are unfortunately.

Over the years I spent a lot of time at this playground after my family moved into town when I was in grade 3. Even before then, I remember an outing my kindergarten class took when I was an even littler kid. It was like our class had marched all of our tiny legs into another province to get from St. Paul’s kindergarten on the corner of Notre Dame and Central all the way up to the park several blocks away. Quite a hike for preschoolers. I don’t remember much other than I think it may have been in the fall, and the tunnel they had running through a small hill was perhaps full of fallen leaves and stagnant water. The mini cabins were perfect for us little kids but it mostly felt like hanging out in a fancy dog house with windows.

In grade 9, many lunch hours were spent at Participark. Lots of friends who were already in high school hung out there at lunch hour, too, and we ended up with a pretty large crowd at times. The old folks in the apartments by the park must have loved us. I seem to remember there being rumours that satanic rituals were being performed there, no doubt due to all of the symbols scratched into the wood and scribblings from teenagers that were into rock and metal bands, and/or Dungeons & Dragons. There may have also been some possible candle burning that led to the rumour, and it all may have even been mentioned in the Journal-Pioneer. That last part seems a bit ridiculous, I’m probably not remembering things correctly, but it was a small town newspaper after all so it wouldn’t surprise me if there was a whole story written about a stupid rumour.

Despite the questionable, early ’90s look I was sporting, I wish could find other photos from this excursion that somebody in the group or class may have saved from that day. I’m sure there must be lots of other photos from that time in our lives but these self-developed black and whites are fairly unique for a bunch of teenagers to have, I would think.

How many millions of digital photos have kids and teenagers alone taken over the last decade or so? Their lives are über-documented in exponentially-growing grids of megapixels and video frames every single day on digital cameras, web cams and smart phones. Whereas we were exposing film to light on few precious frames each, on a roll of perhaps twenty-four frames, being careful not to waste a shot. We then processed the film by hand in a dark room to avoid ruining the film, using chemicals and real photo paper (not the inkjet variety), and a photo enlarger. All of that just to get poor quality black and white photos.

The substantial change in photographic technology and the ubiquity of digital imaging in everything from top of the line dSLRs right down to Fisher-Price cameras for tots is kind of crazy. The idea of having a filmless camera with the capacity to take hundreds or thousands of shots would have blown my mind as a teenager. The only major documentation of my youth was done using a shoulder-mounted VHS camera I took with me whenever our group was up to no good or wanting to shoot awful skits. When I look at or watch some of these things from time to time, part of me is glad the material exists while another part of me wishes many of these things went undocumented. That’s especially true when I find a photo of me in an Ocean Pacific sweater.

Child Sleeping Helmets Receive CSA Approval.

Shawn and I went to see Funny People tonight and the funny people in it were funny, funnily enough. Isn’t that funny? Actually, I liked it quite a bit and found it funny in a funny sort of way.

The stickers for District 9 were posted in a few places throughout the cinema complex and I was really tempted to peel them from the walls and posts. I love the simple cleverness of this movie tie-in—the restroom sticker seems completely ridiculous. Maybe I’ll check out eBay for some stickers and other movie memorabilia junk I don’t need.

It being such a nice night tonight, I went for a bike ride after the movie to get a bit of fresh air, ending up at the park on Central Street. I guess it’s called Legere Park or something like that now but it will forever be the Participark in my mind. The awesome wood playground equipment it had during my youth is long gone now, replaced by a bunch of the colourful metal equipment. It looks fun, I guess, but it’s lacking the charm the old brown-painted wood had. The same type of equipment was at the playgrounds of both of my elementary schools too. The chain “spider webs” connecting platforms were covered in dozens of black plastic sheathes criss-crossing the chains, and probably sliced open a few palms and shins in their day too.

That style of equipment, splinters and all, definitely had a warmer feeling than the new, shiny metal constructions. The miniature cabins scattered over the playground were neat, too, but the zip line the old playground had puts the new setups to shame. A metal seat attached to perhaps fifty feet of zip line had two foot pegs that you’d set in a slot at the edge of the platform. Putting your feet above the recessed pegs, you’d then hold on and have someone lift you out and push you down the line before coming to a stop and bouncing in your seat halfway down the strip. Highlight of the playground that zip line was.

They probably can’t even include things like that any more in children’s playground equipment. It’s kind of sad really. They’d need parents to sign waivers before the kids could take a ride on the zip line, and only after the youngings were forced to wear a helmet, joint protection, a mouth guard and safety goggles. They’d throw in ear plugs, too, just because, and cover the ground in foam to be doubly, extra-careful safe. Obviously, paramedics would be standing by all day as well.

I found this lonely cart not far from the playground. I wonder if it’s looking through the trees at the new multi-coloured playground, wistfully remembering the old wooden equipment like I am.

“Would you like some sugar with your cereal?”

I tried Blueberry Muffin Mini-Wheats today. I’m not a fan. I think I’ve been down this same road before then they came out with other flavours. The Original frosted flavour and the Brown Sugar flavour are still the best, in that order. I find the flavours they’re adding to cereals, like blueberry, vanilla and strawberry, only work in a very select few varieties. Strawberry Honeycombs were great when they had them, and the cereals of the chocolaty variety are usually pretty good but in small amounts as a snack. When I want a bowl of cereal for breakfast, something that leaves my milk a pale shade of blue just ain’t doing it for me any more. I think maybe I’m just getting old and now sugary, flavoured, dyed milk just doesn’t have the appeal it once had.

To test that theory, I think I’ll need to try a bowl of Count Chocula.

Hobos Forced to Sleep on Local Man’s Sofa.

Zero energy today. I can feel the blahs setting in big time. Melissa stopped by in the afternoon to hang out for a bit. Nathan found pieces of old film under the house and no one has any idea what the heck its from but it looks pretty cool. The three of us went out to Emerald to look at a plot of land Melissa is thinking of buying as an investment and to maybe someday build a place on. It’s in the middle of nowhere but it’s a nice spot in the country, lots of space and a pretty good view past the tree line.

Since we were out that way, we decided to grab some dinner at the Island Stone Pub in K’town. Neil and Crystal happened to be there so we sat outside at a table next to them. The chicken burger and fries I ordered were just so-so which was a big disappointment after having such a great meal last time I ate there. At least the blueberry pie was good.

D’Arcy and Palmer happened by and joined us for a bit before they headed out to at party at The Dunk. They invited us to go too but Melissa was the only one keen on going so he joined them out there after driving two of us back to the house. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize or sit in the middle of a mosquito-infested field while people drank. I watched The Hurt Locker instead, and it turned out to be a lot better than I was expecting. Melissa got dropped off here later on and crashed on the couch after she’d locked herself out of the cottage she’s been staying at. Sleeping on the hobo bed currently isn’t an option for people crashing at the house seeing as the hobo bedroom has been ripped apart, leaving the hobo bed covered in junk and drywall dust. This “out of commission” status may seriously put a crimp in some people’s plans to take advantage of the hobo bed’s usual availability on nights of drunkenness.

Asgard’s Mighty Warrior Ditches Hammer for Ax.

On my way to the market today I found that part of Water Street was blocked off for what I thought was a sidewalk sale until I saw the fire truck parked in the street. I figured it was for another one of those money/coupon drops they’ve done in the past where a crowd fills the street below the bucket ladder extended a few stories above, awaiting a flurry of random coupons and, apparently, real money. A great way to encourage people to shop in a failing downtown is to bribe them with mostly useless coupons and free dough. But I digress. There wasn’t any crowd willing to trample each other for 5% off Gordon’s Mens Wear (Saturdays ONLY) coupons littering the street but there was plenty of water on, erm, Water Street and the “uh oh” yellow tape. That’s when I noticed the windows missing from the Royal Bank, blown out from a fire in the middle of the night which has left my bank is in a state of ruin. I’m not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do now that the only branch between here and Hunter River has burnt down. A half hour each way to deposit a cheque is a bit of a pain in the ass but them’s the breaks.

I passed the gawkers and descended into the market nearing closing time to grab me some sushi and veggies, and some deep fried dumplings from Gail which were tasty morsels. I did a post-market pop-by at Mom and Dad’s to say hi and see the dogs before dropping by Luke’s for a bit where a bunch of people, un-freshly fresh from a wedding ceremony in a stifling hot church, were cooling off in the pool on a bright, sunny afternoon. It had been quite a while since I had seen or hung out with Josh so we sat poolside, him explaining how his lengthy motorcycle ride from Cape Breton had left a burn on his face, made all the more pronounced by the white area around his eyes from wearing big shades.

The MacDonald family dog, Rex, was shaved down for the summer, making him look like a puppy even though he’s in his teens. I had to snap some pics of him with his big happy, puppy face before I left for home.

Later on, I headed down to The Legion with Nathan for Trish and Adam’s wedding reception. We ended up sitting at a big table of twenty but since Tyler and his girlfriend Jenny, and Neil and his girlfriend Crystal were at our end I thankfully wasn’t stuck sitting with a bunch of strangers. The meal was a classic turkey dinner with pie for dessert, which were both fine, but the place served the worst and weakest coffee I think I’ve ever had. A Coffee Crisp bar contains more actual coffee than my cup of coffee did.

The speeches and ceremonial-type stuff one expects at a wedding reception was followed by an impromptu percussion performance. Adam and his percussion ensemble pals blew everyone away with their crazy, choreographed use drum sticks and chairs in motion. I wish I had recorded it. After that rousing piece, the live band and the dancing started up. I hung out with the small group of people I knew along the wall like we were at some grade nine school dance.

The band’s first set began as stereotypically as possible with the opening number being “Brown-Eyed Girl”. The second set featured a guitar player who had Mighty Thor hair and played the most inappropriate solos imaginable, all of them in the same jam-as-many-notes-in-as-you-can style, with total disregard for the genre of music being played. Classic Rock? Deedly-deedly. Traditional? Deedly-deedly. Celtic Rock? Deedly-deedly. Josh put it perfectly by saying, “He plays guitar like his hair looks.” I wish I had a picture of his hair so the solos could be seen.

Having just narrowly avoided being dragged onto the dance floor by Shauna after she danced the hell out of a drunken Shawn and forcing him to collapse to the floor, I left with Nathan, Josh and said drunken Shawn, retiring to the house for a bit before hitting up China Star for some late night grub. With bellies full, I dropped Nathan off and the three of us headed up to Luke’s second poolside party of the day for a little while. Being away from the dance and the giant social gathering made me feel a little more at ease. As did relaxing in the low light around a pool full of people splashing and diving, and chatting with Josh while I ate king-sized Peanut Butter Cups. By the time I got home, though, I felt like my social stamina (which is severely limited to begin with), had been taxed quite thoroughly from the last couple of days of gatherings and the only remedy for that was lots and lots and lots of sleep.