Just about close enough to get eaten...
So I went to Long Beach for an after-work surf today... and caught a super awesome left that went on forever. Then I sat and waited a long while for the next one... and then, I noticed two whale watching boats... they were close enough for me to see whose boats they were... I could probably count exactly how many people were on Wasco (which is super easy to recognize because it's this huge aluminum thing with a huge orange section)... but I couldn't see what they were looking at. I looked at them for a while and kept doing my thing. For a while it looked like they were looking at me, but while I could sometimes be mistaken for a bearded man, I would be really offended if someone mistook me for a whale, even if I happen to be really far away.
When I got back to the parking lot, a friend came up to me and told me that he saw me catch the super awesome left that went on forever... it was a really cool ride even if no one had seen it... but it's just that much cooler that someone did... and better yet, it's someone who knows me and could recognize me in the surf, and who once gave me a surf lesson. Then he said "So... you saw the whale!" And I said "What whale?"... "The orcas that were right in front of you!"... "What orcas? In front of me? When?"... "You didn't see them???"... "Uh... no."... "They were *right* in front of you, breaching and everything!"... "Right in front of me how?"... "You were there, the orcas were there... they were right in front of you and coming right up out of the water!"... "Really?"... "yeah!"... "Oh..." (well, what could you say to that?)
I have yet to see an orca... and I have had so many guests this year telling me they saw orcas...
On the other hand, it's not like I got out whale watching...
Or that I'd notice one breach right in front of me as I sit on a surfboard...
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Imported Facebook Note
It is with great regret that I hereby acknowledge...
I was going to sit down and attempt to write something interesting... but then I happened to notice that one of the cork pieces fell off my flute... so I googled "flute repair" to figure out what to do about it... after a few clicks and reading complex and detailed suggestions from people who obviously take their flutes very seriously, I decided to forget about what I'm supposed to do and just super glue it back on... I did... and now it's back on there... looks fine to me. I know nothing about flutes. I bought this one from s. last year, and pick it up every now and then and play a few songs horribly. I'll never really learn to do it right, I suspect.
Anyway... Giwthamo called and said he was going to bring by this fish he caught me... I had expected that it would be more or less whole and dead looking, smeared with piscine blood and guts, jaw distended in fishy rigor mortis... but as it turns out, it was not so much "a" fish as it was pieces of perfectly filleted salmon... ready for the grill. I checked the fish for notes... there were none. (and no, I didn't actually think there would be notes in the fish)
I have 14 more work days in law enforcement... and then never again, at any level!
A couple of weeks ago, I received a letter addressed to "Dear Intelligence Analyst Ng"... haha. I'll never hear that again... it was the acknowledgement of my resignation.
Time to walk the dog... but before I do... here's an interesting little random bit... we have a new RCMP sergeant in town... his name is Sgt. Preston. I am not kidding.
I was going to sit down and attempt to write something interesting... but then I happened to notice that one of the cork pieces fell off my flute... so I googled "flute repair" to figure out what to do about it... after a few clicks and reading complex and detailed suggestions from people who obviously take their flutes very seriously, I decided to forget about what I'm supposed to do and just super glue it back on... I did... and now it's back on there... looks fine to me. I know nothing about flutes. I bought this one from s. last year, and pick it up every now and then and play a few songs horribly. I'll never really learn to do it right, I suspect.
Anyway... Giwthamo called and said he was going to bring by this fish he caught me... I had expected that it would be more or less whole and dead looking, smeared with piscine blood and guts, jaw distended in fishy rigor mortis... but as it turns out, it was not so much "a" fish as it was pieces of perfectly filleted salmon... ready for the grill. I checked the fish for notes... there were none. (and no, I didn't actually think there would be notes in the fish)
I have 14 more work days in law enforcement... and then never again, at any level!
A couple of weeks ago, I received a letter addressed to "Dear Intelligence Analyst Ng"... haha. I'll never hear that again... it was the acknowledgement of my resignation.
Time to walk the dog... but before I do... here's an interesting little random bit... we have a new RCMP sergeant in town... his name is Sgt. Preston. I am not kidding.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Imported Facebook Note
Midnight Baking
I just ate a carrot sunflower muffin. This one wasn't from Tuff Beans, though... I baked it earlier this evening (c. 10PM). And now in the oven is one dozen orange apricot pecan crumble top muffin. I looked at three different recipes and decided that I didn't like any of them individually, so I put them all together. I think Jorge is right. I am complètement déchaînée. It's one thing to bake at midnight, it's another to bake two different dozens of muffins for breakfast... and to do so by combining five recipes...
And who is going to eat all of this? There are only five guests for tomorrow's breakfast... and there are still three kinds of cookies and what's left of two different loaves on the kitchen counter. Two dozen muffins? For five people? Why?
I wouldn't admit to any actual connection... but I did run into Giwthamo this morning... and he was eating a muffin. Perhaps I really am that easily unhinged? Actually... I didn't just run into him while he was eating a muffin... I ran into him immediately after he had purchased the muffin... and so during our conversation, actually watched him consume the entire muffin... from a tentative beginning to the crumbly end. Perhaps seeing the muffin being consumed triggered some sort of instinctual response... and this insane baking is akin to something like a domestic rain dance?
Or maybe it was Leon Rooke's "Muffin" that did it... (if you can manage to track down a copy, I highly recommend it... it's about Muffins and Heidegger... what could possibly be better?)... but I haven't read it in over a month... and the last time I read it, I didn't go bake muffins...
The Orange Apricot Pecan Crumble Top Muffins are now ready... guess it's time to set the table and go to bed and think about just what is going on here...
I just ate a carrot sunflower muffin. This one wasn't from Tuff Beans, though... I baked it earlier this evening (c. 10PM). And now in the oven is one dozen orange apricot pecan crumble top muffin. I looked at three different recipes and decided that I didn't like any of them individually, so I put them all together. I think Jorge is right. I am complètement déchaînée. It's one thing to bake at midnight, it's another to bake two different dozens of muffins for breakfast... and to do so by combining five recipes...
And who is going to eat all of this? There are only five guests for tomorrow's breakfast... and there are still three kinds of cookies and what's left of two different loaves on the kitchen counter. Two dozen muffins? For five people? Why?
I wouldn't admit to any actual connection... but I did run into Giwthamo this morning... and he was eating a muffin. Perhaps I really am that easily unhinged? Actually... I didn't just run into him while he was eating a muffin... I ran into him immediately after he had purchased the muffin... and so during our conversation, actually watched him consume the entire muffin... from a tentative beginning to the crumbly end. Perhaps seeing the muffin being consumed triggered some sort of instinctual response... and this insane baking is akin to something like a domestic rain dance?
Or maybe it was Leon Rooke's "Muffin" that did it... (if you can manage to track down a copy, I highly recommend it... it's about Muffins and Heidegger... what could possibly be better?)... but I haven't read it in over a month... and the last time I read it, I didn't go bake muffins...
The Orange Apricot Pecan Crumble Top Muffins are now ready... guess it's time to set the table and go to bed and think about just what is going on here...
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Imported Facebook Note
Breakfast, Narcissism, and the History Channel
Good morning! Seeing as breakfast is being served and I'm not eating, I thought I'd write another breakfast note. My level of activity on Facebook has dropped significantly recently. The primary reason is that I don't really have any time to waste... the other is that, when I do get around to logging on, all I appear to be capable of doing is clicking through those pictures of me surfing. I log in, I see the picture of me surfing, I click on it. I click on the other picture of me surfing. I stare at the picture. I click to see the other picture. I stare at the other picture. I repeat this several times. Then I walk away, a little drunk with the recollection of every good ride I've ever caught but have not seen.
It is now night time... and I have a cranberry lemon loaf baking in the oven. It's going to be part of tomorrow's breakfast. You see, I have this German couple staying for nine days... so I figured serving the same breakfast nine days in a row would be a little tiresome for them... so one day I made banana bread... and they expressed such appreciation that the next day I made a lemon poppyseed loaf... and again, they expressed such appreciation that I then made an apple pecan bread for the following day... and now, it has become a sort of a habit to bake in the middle of the night.... actually... I really enjoy baking. Before I started baking things for breakfast... I made (within a period of three days) chocolate pecan cookies, madeleines, ginger cookies (with chunks of candied ginger), and palmitos. I don't actually want to eat stuff that I bake (with the exception of during the first three minutes that the baked goods are cool enough to be consumed) so this whole B&B thing (complete with a Jorge with a sweet tooth) is kind of perfect. Of course, it's possible for one to think that it's odd to stay up late and bake in the middle of the night when one really doesn't have to... (Jorge keeps telling me that I am "complètement déchaînée"... and not necessarily just about the baking either)
I was going to write a note on my Tofinoversary, which would have been July 28th... but I didn't get around to it because I was working till 2AM... so I guess this is close enough... August 1st was my first day working for the District of Tofino. It has been one full year since my career took an unexpected turn... and today I got a phone call from a friend asking me for a FOSS decision code for an ARC... and, oddly enough, I actually remembered it.
The other night, Jorge was watching the History Channel... apparently there was some sort of Hitler marathon... and he totally got into it... I sat down and started watching... and eventually Jorge went to bed and left me in front of the TV... I watched one Hitler documentary after another, and then a short film on Thorvald Eriksson, and then there was a documentary on mummy identification... and then out of nowhere, there was an episode of NCIS. I stayed up till three AM watching the History Channel. This what happens when you don't watch TV often... you forget how to stop watching TV. It was an interesting experience... all the history phDs they interviewed were good looking, under 40 women... what happened? I remember documentaries where every phD was super geriatric and slightly unhinged (insufficiently groomed, weird facial ticks, &c.)... television has changed.
I made Jorge promise never to leave the TV on and walk away again.
The lemon cranberry loaf has been taken out of the pan and is awesomeness incarnate (not that baked goods are carnate, necessarily)...
I suffering from ADD. There was a point to all this... but I've forgotten it now... I'm going to go set the table for breakfast and then go to bed...
Good morning! Seeing as breakfast is being served and I'm not eating, I thought I'd write another breakfast note. My level of activity on Facebook has dropped significantly recently. The primary reason is that I don't really have any time to waste... the other is that, when I do get around to logging on, all I appear to be capable of doing is clicking through those pictures of me surfing. I log in, I see the picture of me surfing, I click on it. I click on the other picture of me surfing. I stare at the picture. I click to see the other picture. I stare at the other picture. I repeat this several times. Then I walk away, a little drunk with the recollection of every good ride I've ever caught but have not seen.
It is now night time... and I have a cranberry lemon loaf baking in the oven. It's going to be part of tomorrow's breakfast. You see, I have this German couple staying for nine days... so I figured serving the same breakfast nine days in a row would be a little tiresome for them... so one day I made banana bread... and they expressed such appreciation that the next day I made a lemon poppyseed loaf... and again, they expressed such appreciation that I then made an apple pecan bread for the following day... and now, it has become a sort of a habit to bake in the middle of the night.... actually... I really enjoy baking. Before I started baking things for breakfast... I made (within a period of three days) chocolate pecan cookies, madeleines, ginger cookies (with chunks of candied ginger), and palmitos. I don't actually want to eat stuff that I bake (with the exception of during the first three minutes that the baked goods are cool enough to be consumed) so this whole B&B thing (complete with a Jorge with a sweet tooth) is kind of perfect. Of course, it's possible for one to think that it's odd to stay up late and bake in the middle of the night when one really doesn't have to... (Jorge keeps telling me that I am "complètement déchaînée"... and not necessarily just about the baking either)
I was going to write a note on my Tofinoversary, which would have been July 28th... but I didn't get around to it because I was working till 2AM... so I guess this is close enough... August 1st was my first day working for the District of Tofino. It has been one full year since my career took an unexpected turn... and today I got a phone call from a friend asking me for a FOSS decision code for an ARC... and, oddly enough, I actually remembered it.
The other night, Jorge was watching the History Channel... apparently there was some sort of Hitler marathon... and he totally got into it... I sat down and started watching... and eventually Jorge went to bed and left me in front of the TV... I watched one Hitler documentary after another, and then a short film on Thorvald Eriksson, and then there was a documentary on mummy identification... and then out of nowhere, there was an episode of NCIS. I stayed up till three AM watching the History Channel. This what happens when you don't watch TV often... you forget how to stop watching TV. It was an interesting experience... all the history phDs they interviewed were good looking, under 40 women... what happened? I remember documentaries where every phD was super geriatric and slightly unhinged (insufficiently groomed, weird facial ticks, &c.)... television has changed.
I made Jorge promise never to leave the TV on and walk away again.
The lemon cranberry loaf has been taken out of the pan and is awesomeness incarnate (not that baked goods are carnate, necessarily)...
I suffering from ADD. There was a point to all this... but I've forgotten it now... I'm going to go set the table for breakfast and then go to bed...
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Imported Facebook Note
Can't Handle Pynchon
Why learn German? Why? German? Why? Why German?
People have been asking me that a lot lately... why German? I didn't think learning German is that out of the ordinary... there are, as far as I know, a whole lot of people who learn German as a second language... look at the popularity of the Goethe Institute, for instance... the market is there.
About five years ago, I had mentioned that I wanted to learn German... Csaba (who speaks English, Hungarian, German, Danish, Spanish, and some Russian) told me that there is absolutely no reason to learn German, as every German with whom I could possibly want to speak with would speak English... and that if they didn't speak English, I probably won't want to speak with them (why did he learn Danish, I might have asked). I was too busy with learning Russian at the time anyway and so put off the German thing...
But I keep hitting the wall each time I try to read Rilke... I've read over ten different translations of the Duino Elegies... and re-read Gass's _Reading Rilke_... and I've come to the conclusion that I have to learn German... but no one seems to accept this as a good enough reason...
And but so the other night while at work, just as the Sean is going on about how there's no use for German in Tofino, we pull up behind a motorhome with German plates-- just German plates... the post 1994 EE style German plates... German plates in the front, German plates in the back... with no indication of any registration in the Americas. People were camping in this motorhome on Main Street... Sean knocks on the door, and this old couple who opened the door spoke only German! Aha! and what, praytell, did you say was useless? I directed them to a campground in international pidgin, and gave Sean a knowing look... German is uber useful in Tofino.
Now... how did a German motorhome with only German plates make it to the streets of Tofino? Surely, they did not import it for my benefit (though there really was no more dramatic way to prove a point than to plop down a German motorhome (complete with unilingual German occupants) right in the heart of downtown Tofino)... how did it get here with those German plates? How do people who speak neither English nor French manage to get *that* into Canada? Well, if I spoke German, I would have found out... but as it was, I'll probably never know.
So... the adventure has begun... I am learning German. The only odd part about it is that I can't seem to say anything in German without making a Dr. Strangelove face (baring teeth and all) and using a Dr. Strangelove voice...
As for everything else, I finally managed to get my brakes on the Aerostar fixed. The lights had been on for a while, but everything seemed to be working okay... and as it turns out, I wasn't exactly in mortal danger... but I should definitely have gotten it looked at earlier. The mechanic remembered me from June 2007... and asked me what I did with my Pathfinder. You see, a year ago, I drove to Tofino with a couple of friends visiting from Toronto, and somewhere on this side of Sutton Pass, the car started leaking water under the glove box everytime I made a left turn... I took it to the only garage in Tofino and this guy fixed it (unblocked the AC water egress hose whirlygig with a compressor) and didn't charge me anything for it, but allowed me (upon some insistence on my part) to buy him a tuna burger... at that point in time, I was a tourist here... in fact, it was during that trip (June 1-5) that I got an offer on my apartment in Burnaby for the full asking price... and a week and a few days later... I came out for a job interview and ended up buying the place I'm in now... and now a year and a month and five million changes later, he remembers me and my car as if very little time has passed... which, actually, is sort of true... which makes it sort of cool...
And... I've had excellent luck with the B&B guests for the last few days... there has always been at least a few people that I really like... it's taking the edge off my misanthropy.
Yes, I'm now on Dave Egger's _A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius_... I'm taking a pass (for now) on _Gravity's Rainbow_ ... it's just a bit much for me right now... maybe September will be better for it... The last time I felt this overwhelmed by a novel, it was Joyce's _Finnegan's Wake_... (I was just informed this evening that there's a David Eggers who was a pro surfer at some incredibly young age and rose and fell and is now in his thirties and no longer surfs... but the guy who told me also said that he lives with his father in Florida or something of the sort... which means it can't be the same Dave Eggers... (I just googled it... different dudes... born the same year, two months apart! Hah!))
I should sleep. (how's that for an abrupt ending?)
Why learn German? Why? German? Why? Why German?
People have been asking me that a lot lately... why German? I didn't think learning German is that out of the ordinary... there are, as far as I know, a whole lot of people who learn German as a second language... look at the popularity of the Goethe Institute, for instance... the market is there.
About five years ago, I had mentioned that I wanted to learn German... Csaba (who speaks English, Hungarian, German, Danish, Spanish, and some Russian) told me that there is absolutely no reason to learn German, as every German with whom I could possibly want to speak with would speak English... and that if they didn't speak English, I probably won't want to speak with them (why did he learn Danish, I might have asked). I was too busy with learning Russian at the time anyway and so put off the German thing...
But I keep hitting the wall each time I try to read Rilke... I've read over ten different translations of the Duino Elegies... and re-read Gass's _Reading Rilke_... and I've come to the conclusion that I have to learn German... but no one seems to accept this as a good enough reason...
And but so the other night while at work, just as the Sean is going on about how there's no use for German in Tofino, we pull up behind a motorhome with German plates-- just German plates... the post 1994 EE style German plates... German plates in the front, German plates in the back... with no indication of any registration in the Americas. People were camping in this motorhome on Main Street... Sean knocks on the door, and this old couple who opened the door spoke only German! Aha! and what, praytell, did you say was useless? I directed them to a campground in international pidgin, and gave Sean a knowing look... German is uber useful in Tofino.
Now... how did a German motorhome with only German plates make it to the streets of Tofino? Surely, they did not import it for my benefit (though there really was no more dramatic way to prove a point than to plop down a German motorhome (complete with unilingual German occupants) right in the heart of downtown Tofino)... how did it get here with those German plates? How do people who speak neither English nor French manage to get *that* into Canada? Well, if I spoke German, I would have found out... but as it was, I'll probably never know.
So... the adventure has begun... I am learning German. The only odd part about it is that I can't seem to say anything in German without making a Dr. Strangelove face (baring teeth and all) and using a Dr. Strangelove voice...
As for everything else, I finally managed to get my brakes on the Aerostar fixed. The lights had been on for a while, but everything seemed to be working okay... and as it turns out, I wasn't exactly in mortal danger... but I should definitely have gotten it looked at earlier. The mechanic remembered me from June 2007... and asked me what I did with my Pathfinder. You see, a year ago, I drove to Tofino with a couple of friends visiting from Toronto, and somewhere on this side of Sutton Pass, the car started leaking water under the glove box everytime I made a left turn... I took it to the only garage in Tofino and this guy fixed it (unblocked the AC water egress hose whirlygig with a compressor) and didn't charge me anything for it, but allowed me (upon some insistence on my part) to buy him a tuna burger... at that point in time, I was a tourist here... in fact, it was during that trip (June 1-5) that I got an offer on my apartment in Burnaby for the full asking price... and a week and a few days later... I came out for a job interview and ended up buying the place I'm in now... and now a year and a month and five million changes later, he remembers me and my car as if very little time has passed... which, actually, is sort of true... which makes it sort of cool...
And... I've had excellent luck with the B&B guests for the last few days... there has always been at least a few people that I really like... it's taking the edge off my misanthropy.
Yes, I'm now on Dave Egger's _A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius_... I'm taking a pass (for now) on _Gravity's Rainbow_ ... it's just a bit much for me right now... maybe September will be better for it... The last time I felt this overwhelmed by a novel, it was Joyce's _Finnegan's Wake_... (I was just informed this evening that there's a David Eggers who was a pro surfer at some incredibly young age and rose and fell and is now in his thirties and no longer surfs... but the guy who told me also said that he lives with his father in Florida or something of the sort... which means it can't be the same Dave Eggers... (I just googled it... different dudes... born the same year, two months apart! Hah!))
I should sleep. (how's that for an abrupt ending?)
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Imported Facebook Note
Wer, wenn ich schriee, hörte mich denn aus der Engel Ordnungen?
Facebook can eat up time... and I've had no time with which to feed this monster for a while now. And seething homicidal rage is also not conducive to expression, unless it be violent and physical.
But here-- I'm back. Decisions have been made, and plans are in place. The domino tiles will tumble. Things are looking up. After reading Jean-Paul Sartre's "Huis clos" on the ferry last month, I managed to get through two books *in* Tofino. These are the first two books I've read within the town limits-- "The Virgin Spy" by Krista Bridge, and "The Inheritance of Loss" by Kiran Desai. Up next is Thomas Pychon's "Gravity's Rainbow," then Dave Egger's "A Heartbreaking Work of Straggering Genius"... and at some point, maybe I'll get back to Vali Nasr's "The Shia Revival."
And maybe I'll even learn German... because aside from the fact that Rilke is super cool (Rilke's got cachet!)... I'm suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to be able to know German... much like I felt about Russian five years ago... no plans to ever "use" it... I just have to know it... now! and well!
Of course, learning a language is going to be more difficult now that I don't have the encouraging moments of urgency I used to at the airport (what could be better than a perfectly indulgent native speaker who is so grateful for the help that he/she would be willing to accommodate my every linguistic handicap?)... there is no shortage of German speakers in Tofino... but unless I set out with ropes and things to capture one, there will be no help.
I have stopped searching for profundity. The new order is vacuity and insipidity. Misanthropy has been so provoked that passive distaste has turned into active rage... and I've decided that the best way to deal with it is to not... but rather surf more, eat lots of fish, read, and learn to read German.
Wirf aus den Armen die Leere zu den Räumen hinzu, die wir atmen; vielleicht daß die Vögel die erweiterte Luft fühlen mit innigerm Flug.
Facebook can eat up time... and I've had no time with which to feed this monster for a while now. And seething homicidal rage is also not conducive to expression, unless it be violent and physical.
But here-- I'm back. Decisions have been made, and plans are in place. The domino tiles will tumble. Things are looking up. After reading Jean-Paul Sartre's "Huis clos" on the ferry last month, I managed to get through two books *in* Tofino. These are the first two books I've read within the town limits-- "The Virgin Spy" by Krista Bridge, and "The Inheritance of Loss" by Kiran Desai. Up next is Thomas Pychon's "Gravity's Rainbow," then Dave Egger's "A Heartbreaking Work of Straggering Genius"... and at some point, maybe I'll get back to Vali Nasr's "The Shia Revival."
And maybe I'll even learn German... because aside from the fact that Rilke is super cool (Rilke's got cachet!)... I'm suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to be able to know German... much like I felt about Russian five years ago... no plans to ever "use" it... I just have to know it... now! and well!
Of course, learning a language is going to be more difficult now that I don't have the encouraging moments of urgency I used to at the airport (what could be better than a perfectly indulgent native speaker who is so grateful for the help that he/she would be willing to accommodate my every linguistic handicap?)... there is no shortage of German speakers in Tofino... but unless I set out with ropes and things to capture one, there will be no help.
I have stopped searching for profundity. The new order is vacuity and insipidity. Misanthropy has been so provoked that passive distaste has turned into active rage... and I've decided that the best way to deal with it is to not... but rather surf more, eat lots of fish, read, and learn to read German.
Wirf aus den Armen die Leere zu den Räumen hinzu, die wir atmen; vielleicht daß die Vögel die erweiterte Luft fühlen mit innigerm Flug.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Imported Facebook Note
Experimentations with Alcoholism
When we first moved to Canada, we had a neighbour across the lane that was (I did not realize at the time) a dedicated alcoholic. She was friendly and generous, and almost always wore jeans and flannel shirts. She had a withdrawn teenage son who was only ever seen in ripped jeans and various band t-shirts. I believe she was a single mom. She mowed the lawn with one hand and held her can of budweiser in the other. At ten years old and having trouble pushing our lawn mower with all my weight, I was impressed by her strength.
Today, as soon as I got home from work, I decided to recreate that scene. It's performance art of a sort... all for my own benefit, of course. I downed a couple of Strongbows and mowed the lawn. It was not at all challenging, not even when it ran out of gas and I had to figure out how and where to get more gas without driving. I therefore concluded that I was not drunk enough. I downed a third strong bow and slashed away at carton boxes with an Olfa box cutter (made in Japan and available at your local co-op hardware) in preparation for the first day of curbside recycling in Tofino (yes, you'd figure a place like Tofino would be all about recycling... but tomorrow is in fact the first day). I slashed away mercilessly at the carton boxes with the blade fully extended and managed to get them all into the little blue bags. I didn't find that sufficiently challenging, and therefore concluded again that I was not drunk enough. And so I got started on the 4th Strongbow... and sorted out my recycling for refund, which has been accumulating for months. The third activity was less demanding... and had to be, mainly because the webs between the fingers of my left hand were all bloodied from what I assume must be papercuts. I'm done sorting now... and still neither challenged nor drunk. If it were not getting dark so quickly, I believe the thing to do would be to start on a 5th and grab a ladder and start cleaning my windows on the top floor.
Many of you will of course point out that Strongbow is in fact not strong at all, and that I really should be drinking something else if I wish to engage in a truly "jackass" style tableau... but the fact of the matter is that I have no Unibroue left... and am not sufficiently willing to drink the other left over drinks from the party on Friday... all my red wine is either undrinakable or far too expensive to get drunk on... so... I guess I fail. Alcoholism requires much dedication and foresight... neither of which I have in abundance, especially now that mould has begun consuming brain matter and filling the void with its progeny within my skull.
Yes, I am bored. No, alcohol is not the answer.
Okay then. I will now read Revelation in Russian... either that or watch Têtes à claques...
When we first moved to Canada, we had a neighbour across the lane that was (I did not realize at the time) a dedicated alcoholic. She was friendly and generous, and almost always wore jeans and flannel shirts. She had a withdrawn teenage son who was only ever seen in ripped jeans and various band t-shirts. I believe she was a single mom. She mowed the lawn with one hand and held her can of budweiser in the other. At ten years old and having trouble pushing our lawn mower with all my weight, I was impressed by her strength.
Today, as soon as I got home from work, I decided to recreate that scene. It's performance art of a sort... all for my own benefit, of course. I downed a couple of Strongbows and mowed the lawn. It was not at all challenging, not even when it ran out of gas and I had to figure out how and where to get more gas without driving. I therefore concluded that I was not drunk enough. I downed a third strong bow and slashed away at carton boxes with an Olfa box cutter (made in Japan and available at your local co-op hardware) in preparation for the first day of curbside recycling in Tofino (yes, you'd figure a place like Tofino would be all about recycling... but tomorrow is in fact the first day). I slashed away mercilessly at the carton boxes with the blade fully extended and managed to get them all into the little blue bags. I didn't find that sufficiently challenging, and therefore concluded again that I was not drunk enough. And so I got started on the 4th Strongbow... and sorted out my recycling for refund, which has been accumulating for months. The third activity was less demanding... and had to be, mainly because the webs between the fingers of my left hand were all bloodied from what I assume must be papercuts. I'm done sorting now... and still neither challenged nor drunk. If it were not getting dark so quickly, I believe the thing to do would be to start on a 5th and grab a ladder and start cleaning my windows on the top floor.
Many of you will of course point out that Strongbow is in fact not strong at all, and that I really should be drinking something else if I wish to engage in a truly "jackass" style tableau... but the fact of the matter is that I have no Unibroue left... and am not sufficiently willing to drink the other left over drinks from the party on Friday... all my red wine is either undrinakable or far too expensive to get drunk on... so... I guess I fail. Alcoholism requires much dedication and foresight... neither of which I have in abundance, especially now that mould has begun consuming brain matter and filling the void with its progeny within my skull.
Yes, I am bored. No, alcohol is not the answer.
Okay then. I will now read Revelation in Russian... either that or watch Têtes à claques...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
