Blast From The Past

Whew, it's been a while since I started whacking the ol' keys! Feels great!

So this is a little tale based on some of Grimes' stupendous Blasts from the past. Now I have some good stories to tell. Some good laughs that I had as a kid. But yesterday I had an awesome story session with Andi and while the memories pained me to my core, I saw the look of joy spread across Andi's face and realized: sometimes there are bigger things at stake than your emotions. Pussy.

So here's a litte ditty inspired by Grimes....

The Story of Susie The Killer Poodle

When I was a kid, we had a black standard poodle like the one above. That's not a picture of Susie. I don't have a picture of her on my work computer. But, hey, they all look the same to me anyways. It's really just to give you a visual on the pup I'm talking about here.

Now Susie was pretty awesome, as far as dogs go. And I'd say that's pretty damn far. I remember very distinctly when she was still a puppy, rolling around in the back yard, tossing her all over the place like a little living Koosh ball. Good times my friends, good times. 

But Susie - as animals are wont to do - grew up. And suddenly that constant nibbling and biting and jumping-up-on(ing) wasn't so much cute as it was... Well, how to put this... Insanely fucking annoying. And at no point was it more annoying than when there was another animal around. Man did Susie ever bully the shit out of other dogs. Didn't matter if they were ten times bigger, she fucking went off, the crazy bitch. Just barking and biting and having a time. 

Now, for other dogs that was all well and good, but for my sister's pet hamster, it was pretty terrifying. I mean, it's one thing for a person of great dane to be bugged by this yappy piece of garbage dog. But for a hamster this was a fucking nightmare!

Luckily my father, ever the diplomat, had a solution. He brought the entire family together: Mom and I, my brother Bob, my young sister Hilary and Susie the dog. And he explained that sometimes people (and animals) were afraid of what they didn't know. That was why it was important to break down those barriers of ignorance - so all living things could exist in harmony. And with that he produced my sister's hamster from its cage and held it out. He calmly explained, "it's just like dogs in the park. They just need to sniff and get to know each other." He held out the hamster to meet Susie. Susie cocked her head to the side, staring long and hard at the hamster. And then with one swift movement bit it's head off.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!" All of us yelled in unison. Except for my father.

"Don't worry, it's alright."

"It's not alright! It's heads not attached!!"

"No, no, I- Oh, fuck a duck..."

And that was the end of the peace talks between Susie and the Hamster. We never got a new hamster. That wasn't exactly an afternoon any of us wanted to duplicate. But we never forgot that hamster. Whatever it's name was... Hamster... something...

---------------

A few years later my mother's birthday came around.

My mother is allergic to cats. I should preface this second part of the story with that. When we stayed with my grandparents, she would sit outside and wheeze away because of her allergies. I guess they hadn't invented puffers back then, or something like that. But either way - it wasn't fun for her. Susie, being a poodle, was hypoallergenic. That mean that she didn't shed. Which was good news, because it meant my mother didn't wheeze. Everyone won!

One day, while out at a farm buying a side of beef for dinner, my mom came across the most beautiful barn kitten she'd ever seen. A soft brown and white tabby. Big eyes, and an affectionate curiosity. Even through swollen eyes and wind pipe my mom seemed to bask in this kitten's presence. My father, after buying 13 Lbs. of beef, took the farmer aside and offered to buy the kitten for my mother.

My cottage sits atop a hill that overlooks hay fields to the North and East, an apple orchard to the South and a river, about 50 feet wide that cuts through steep red clay banks, to the West. There is a big wooden deck that lines the front and looks out over the fields to the Wentworth Valley, beyond which is PEI. In the summer, we would sit out on the front porch in the morning and eat toast and jam. My parents would drink coffee from red and white china cups and we would talk about what to do with another lazy day. 

On my mother's birthday we all sat outside and talked about dinner. A giant roast beef. Sides of potatoes, spinach pan-fried in butter, brussle sprouts, green beans from the garden and a strawberry shortcake for dessert. Biscuit style, not foamy cake. It was going to be a great day. And my father had an idea how it was going to be even better. He locked Susie in the bathroom, and when he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, he came downstairs, went to the car and fished the beautiful baby kitten out of the back seat where he'd made it a bed for the night before. He brought the cat up to the yard and presented it to my mother to celebrate her birthday and their love.

No one knows how the door was forced open. Whether my father hadn't checked the locks twice, or Susie had somehow figured them out, we'll never know. It doesn't really matter. All that really mattered was the look of shock in everyones eyes as we heard the thunder of paws tumbling down the stairs and the slam as the screen burst off it's hinges. The kitten, sensing trouble in the air took off and made a mad dash across the lawn towards the trees, and presumably safety. But its young hind quarters were simply not fast enough to carry it across the lawn in time. With five mighty bounds Susie had caught up to it, and in the middle of the lawn, in front of the whole family she sunk her teeth deep into the birthday kitten.

What happened next doesn't really bear repeating. It will be of no surprise to anyone that the image of a dog eating a kitten is not one that you want to remember too often. But let me assure all readers: it was as grizzly as anything you are imagining right now.

We never bought another pet. A few years later Susie died of a twisted stomach - typical for poodles and my parents bought another one who they affectionately named Toby. Toby plays well with others. Is kind and gentle and rests his snout on your lap quietly while you watch TV on the couch. He is a great dog - if somewhat ill-behaved in the park - and I love him very much. And yet whenever people ask me about home, as they run through the family, inquiring to how they are doing, they will inevitably ask, "And how is Susie, the killer poodle?"

Cheeeeeeeeeese!

Last night was an adventure. Not a really crazy adventre where you get too intoxicated and wake up in a holding cell at the police station at college and dovercourt, but an interesting adventure nonetheless. One of those nights where you go somewhere with no expectations and one thing leads to another and you end up somewhere you didn't think you'd ever end up, and with people you don't know.

I was running on about 4 hours sleep from my birthday drinking the night before, and I had planned to be in bed by about 9, 9:30 at the latest. However, on Thursday afternoons, at the Cameron House there is a gentleman by the name of Corin Raymond who plays guitar and sings with a backup band he calls the Sundowners. Really good folky, roots, blues country kind of stuff that tugs at your heartstrings and makes you laugh out loud all at the same time. Anywho, I try to go watch whenever I can, he plays from 6-8. So after exhausting all my options of people who would go check it out with me, I realised it was a solo mission.

I kind of really like music. Like a lot. This guy is basically a new idol of mine, after stumbling in a couple months ago looking for a pint and hearing him play. He blew my mind. So anyways, you know when you go to a bar and sometimes there's that guy sitting there with a pint and noone else, looking really awkward and kind of just glancing around the room hoping to catch someone's eye, but at the same time trying to avoid it as not to look desperate? Well that was me last night. Enjoying the tunes, having a beer, eventually I struck up some conversation with these 2 girls sitting next to me who I had seen there before. It turns out one of them was finishing her masters in Environmental Science, and weird! I work for an environmental company so that was an easy in for conversation pieces. So the two girls were sisters, one of them lived in Toronto, the other had moved to St. Catharines recently and missed Thursdays at the Cameron. The musicians had stopped playing by this point and the guy who sings, Corin, came down and sat down with them, I guess they were friends. So i was sitting on the outskirts of conversationtown pretty much dying to go home, as I was exhausted. Then Corin leaned in and said something like "Hey man, I know you, you come in here on Thursdays, I feel like I'm sitting too far away from you right now, what's your name?" It's not like this guy is a big celebrity or anything, but I was definitely fanning out a bit that he was trying to get to know me. So I told him and we talked a bit about his new album coming out, his last one etc. Then he asks me if I want to join them for some food. Next thing I knew I was on my way to Pho 88 on Spadina to have some food with these girls and Corin, all whom I've just met that night. I desperately wanted to go home, but at the same time it was one of those situations where you think "this is so random and amazing how am I NOT going to do it?"

So anyways, that was my adventure of the night. Not really a funny story, nothing crazy happened, but it was completely unexpected for me. I definitely went to bed feeling pretty happy. I didn't get the the sleep I wanted, but I'm doing alright, nothing another cup of coffee can't cure. If anybody reads this I recommend the Cameron House on Thursday evenings. I think next week is the last week of 2008 that the Sundowners will be playing, if you're gonna go, get there by 6, tables and chairs run out quick. Meet me there or give me a call.

For another kind of adventure, maybe involving a funnel, come by 749 queen st west tonight. we're throwing down. Who knows, could even be the last jam ever in Casa Belldeno.

It could be.....It could be so nice!

CELEBRATE!

In the spirit of the Mike Denby birthday celebration kicking off tonight, i have decided to write a little about celebrations from the past present and who konws maybe even the future. Let's get some feedback on this one, share a story via comment form of your favorite celebration of years past.

First i'd like to share a sentimental little story. Just about the power of Christmas. I mean let's face it Christmas rules, but it's not the same now as it was when you were a kid. I'm sure we all remember not being able to sleep Christmas Eve, and then waking up far too early and barging in on our parents to drag them downstairs so we could see whether we actually got what we were hoping for. And i mean parents always seem to come through in the holiday season. So this is a shout out to Big Mel and Little Anne for their contributions to my happiest Christmas moment. Let's set the scene. I was probably 9 or 10, and like many young Canadians i loved hockey, and more than anything i loved playing goalie. At this point i was using the rink equipment whenever i played which is smelly, disgusting, and subpar. My dream was to have my own goalie pads, i knew exactly which ones i wanted to, D&R, all white, everytime we'd go to National Sports i'd just stare at those beauties hoping and praying. Now my parents knew how much i wanted them, but i also knew they were expensive, so i never really pushed it. A day or two before the big day my mom kind of told me that she didn't want to disappoint me, but money was tight and they were just a little too expensive and didn't want me to get my hopes up. Clearly i was upset but i played it off. So anyways Christmas morning, my bro my sis and I go bounding down the stairs and into the family room. I run straight over to the tree and start looking for something with my name on it. Then i notice my parents, aswell as my bro and sis kind of watching me smiling. I'm like "what?" And they kind of motion with their eyes to my left. And leaning against the fireplace, with a big old bow on them, are my goalie pads. I'd walked right past them and hadn't even noticed. Obviously i lost it, screaming, jumping, hugging, the whole 9 yards. Never forgot that. And to top it off I even got the matching goalie glove all wrapped up, and then took my savings and bought the blocker. So is it a funny story? No not really at all, but hell i'll always remember that.

Now let's look at some other awesome celebration moments. Just quickly. There was the time Mrs. Denby planned a surprise party for Mike. We were all waiting in the basement for him, and we hear him coming down the stairs with Julien who was the setup guy. He gets to the bottom of the stairs, we scream surprise, and he's wearing a leotard over his face and like almost falls backward into the wall. That was awesome.

Then there was the time i planned an elaborate surprise party for the man you all know as "The Comfort", yes Derek Mumford. I had it all figured out, everyone was at my house waiting, mumford and i came back, i think from bowling. Before we could get into the house old Pinelli comes rolling up drunk as fuck. "So derek......were you surprised?" I'm shooting fuckin big old pointy daggers at him from my eyes, as in "shut the fuck up!" But pinelli keeps going, "Eric, was he surprised? Were you surprised? Weren't expecting that were you!" Hahha he just wasn't taking the hint. Sure enough the jig was up, i slumped my shoulders and put my head down, and we went to the basement and Derek feigned surprise!

Another great celebration night. New Year's Eve, at the Mod Club last year. Julien somehow gets kicked out super early in the night, he's absolutely smashed and proceeds to whip some snowballs at the Mod Club for a while. Ends up heading back to Denby's i believe and continues to get hammered. Eventually he decides to stumble his ass home. But it's freezing out so he tries to get a cab. As we all know New Year's Eve is not the easiest night to hail a cab, damn near impossible actually. So some guy sees him, and out of the goodness of his heart pulls over and offers Julien a lift. Favre gratefully accepts. So after some polite smalltalk the guy gets right down to it and puts his hand on Julien's lap. (i'm convinced it's the same guy from Degrassi who says to Wheels, "nothing wrong with something that feels good!") Starts rubbing Julien's leg and talking about how all he wants to do is suck his dick. Now most of us would have probably felt uncomfortable at this point and asked to get out. But young Julien, perhaps because of the cold, or the drink, just continues to repel his advances, "no i'm ok man....i'm good", until he's made it the majority of the way back to his house. Without a doubt that was one of the best, "morning after a shitshow" stories i've ever heard.

I myself have had a few memorable birthdays. The Canada Day weekend in Ottawa, where young Alex Kitz proved to be the most gracious host of all time, and when we arrived at 9 p.m. on my birthday Friday night, he had bottles of Rye, Vodka, Jager, and Rum, as well as copious amounts of beer and Redbull waiting for us. Not to mention a bag full of fireworks and tickets to a Toronto FC game. Got there at 9, drunk off my ass by 10. Great night! Then there was the time in Australia on my birthday.....actually can't tell that one....X rated! But a great night for sure! And then the best one of all in England, Colin and I an hour or two deep in our bartending shifts, colin says to me, "yo.....it's your birthday!", and i respond, "it is? Oh yeah!" That was a good year. But in fairness to me and my memory, we had joint celebrated his and my birthday a few days before.

So there's a little celebration posting to carry us into the night and the weekend. I for one am not a huge birthday guy, i don't really care, but at the same time it's always a great excuse to hang out with friends and do it up right. If you have an awesome celebration story, then post it as a comment, cause we'd all love to hear it!

Blast from the Past!

Today i will be blogging as quickly as possible. I have alot of work to do and believe it or not i've been doing it today. But myself and my old chum Michael Robert Denby were just having a little trip down memory lane as we sometimes do, and an old scenario came to mind that we both had a little giggle over, while at the same time blew our minds about how weird it truly was. Sometimes you have to take a step back and look at the situation as an outsider would just to see how truly momentous certain snapshots of time really were.

So what were we remembering? Well i'll tell you. We were recalling the fact that when we were in Grade 6 back at Old E.J. James Middle School. For a brief period of time, Mike was going out with the hottest girl in the whole school! And while this may not surprise that many people, i mean yes Mike is a hell of a specimen, you have to take into account that she was in Grade 8 at the time. So let's look back at the relationship that was Mike Denby and Janice Hutchins.

First off let's look at Janice. She was somewhat tall for her age, or at least not short. She was amazingly hot. She already had a smoking body. (This is the 11 year old Eric talking so i'm allowed to say this stuff). And there's no doubt she could have had any guy in the entire school had she wanted. She was also 13 year's old and as my old pal Mikey put it, "and like at her age she should've been making out and giving HJ's or whatever."

Now let's look at my old pal Denbasquez. Our whole crew was fresh out of elementary school, and we were 11 years old at the time. Mike was by no means a large developed boy at the age of 11, (as for me, i was 11, but i think i looked like i was 6). There's not a chance he'd made it to puberty yet. (I shouldn't know that, but i do) None of us ever hung out with girls and for the most part just played football at recess. And what you really need to look at in all this, is the fact that he was 11 and she was 13!

So just how in the hell did this happen? They didnt' have any classes together. Parties didn't exist yet, they weren't sharing danks behind the school. The answer: not a clue. I don't think anyone knows. Which is why it will remain one of the most unexplained events for all of us who were fortunate enough to witness it 17 years ago.

The Tittie Pipe (Silver Screen Edition)

On Hugh Jackman

I know a lot of people have been waiting for this post anxiously: when will Kitzy talk about everyone's favorite actor!? Well, I was approaching it with the Inside The Actor's Studio theory. I would deal with him when he catalogue was impressive enough to dissect. But with the release date for his new WWII epic Australia being pushed back again, I wonder if any more films will be added to his catalogue. Ever. So, just in case, I want to take this opportunity to talk about a subject near and dear to my heart: Hugh Jackman.

Now some of you may laugh at this. Hugh Jackman has been the butt of jokes for quite some time now. Let's face it, he hasn't exactly defined Hollywood stardom as successfully (if at all) as other actors. He had a few blockbuster hits - namely the X-Men trilogy. But that was it. he has never been seen as a leading man. He has never been the focus of tabloid rumors or late-night talk show monologues. So why do I like Hugh Jackman so much? Because he fucking acts like he has balls the size of watermelons.

No, I don't mean acts acts. Like, in movies, I'm never that blown away. But he acts, like in real life, like when he's choosing rolls, that he is the most demanded and loved actor to ever grace the silver screen. And you know what? I give him kudos for that effort.

A Brief Biography:

Look at it this way, Jackman was playing Curly McLain on TV versions of Oklahoma! deep into the 90s. In fact, until 1999. A year later he was cast, an unknown, as Wolverine in Bryan Singer's X-Men. Now, Bryan Singer had tossed out one of the best regarded movies of the 90s just a few years prior - The Usual Suspects. So there was some logic in Jackman seeing X-Men as a place where filmic geniuses hung out, shot the shit and prep'd for their bigger rolls. What Singer, I suppose didn't tell him - was that X-Men was where actors went to make money so they wouldn't have to try and surpass their previously set high-water marks. Unfortunately - or fortunately depending on your perspective - that memo was never passed around to Jackman who must have seen the set as a spring board rather than a tomb. 

Jackman's IMDB profile has the letter X more times than any non-porn actor ever should. Toss in a couple of Van Helsings and a forgettable turn in Swordfish in which his acting talents were vastly outdone by Halle Berry's titties' talents and you'll see that Jackman, ultimately, hasn't done a whole lot with his career. But it's the few roles in between his forgettable ones that make him an actor of note in my mind.

The first is The Fountain. Easily one of my favorite movies of all time. Originally a Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchette vehicle, it took Darren Aronofsky about 5 years to put the whole thing together. And it shows. It's a beautiful, mind-bending, life-changing kind of movie, and no one but me ever saw it. It was more than a bust. It was a total and complete disaster. A great movie that was far, far, FAR too long and too  inaccessible for anyone without 4 hours and a comfy couch. The studio was so shocked that Aronofsky had taken all their money and decided against making an even remotely personable movie he ended up scrounging for cash again to make his follow-up The Wrestler, which is now garnering huge Oscar buzz. And who was the actor who thought that he could carry this titanic flop? You guessed it, Hugh Jackman, whose name, upon being attached, re-convinced the studios to come up with the $60 million to finance the picture. Hugh Fucking Jackman. Never lead a film before. And here they are hanging a historical epic / sci-fi epic / love story on his flimsy resume. Gotta love the kid for trying. Even if it meant failing miserably.

So The Fountain flops, Hugh says, no problem, and heads off to rebuild his career with a few family-friendly movies. With Flushed Away, Happy Feet and the great Christian Bale film, The Prestige, Jackman puts together some semblance of a comeback. So how does he celebrate?

How about starring in and producing a remake of a quasi-successful British show about a run-down casino? Oh, and by the by, it's a musical. The show now has the dubious honor of being as close to being cancelled before the pilot even finished as any show in recent memory. The only show cancelled faster was about the Hitler's moving in to a quiet British town after the war. 

Alright, so not a great comeback. Could have been worse I guess.... Though I'm not sure how. But luckily Jackman had done the comeback before. He knew he just had to put in some hours with studio-friendly directors and everything would be okay. And what movie could be more studio-friendly than the new Baz Luhrman WWII epic Australia about an unnamed ranch hand and the woman he loved fleeing through, you guessed it, Australia? Well it turns out, just about any movie, anywhere, ever, would have been a better choice. With its release date pushed back by almost a year total now, and Luhrman shooting a new ending, it doesn't look good for ol' Hugh.

And yet - another flop only makes me respect him more. Hugh Jackman was never a great actor. He found middling success in middling films. But, perhaps more than any other actor in the past few years, he has consistently found the absolute, most doomed-from-the-start pictures possible and managed to grab the starring role. 

You know, you rarely see the successful jumps by Evel Knievel played on tv anymore. On the other hand, that one where he bails after landing? I see that on Spike every day. Similarly, I think Jackman will be remembered fondly after all of these disastrous projects. It takes talent to create even the tiniest career in show business. But it takes talent and balls of steel to create a tiny career, and the consistently careen off of cliffs and over lakes of fire at every conceivable opportunity. Jackman has made more career-destroying decisions than the oldest of Hollywood stalwarts, and for that, I tip my hat.

Off The Trail - The Shittiest Post Yet

So I'm back.

There are probably a few things that you loyal readers would like to hear - but the only thing I feel like saying right now is this: I regret nothing.

"You suck because you didn't post!" I regret nothing.

"You promised you'd keep in touch!" I regret nothing.

"You promised me you'd be faithful!" I regret nothing.

Now, I missed people, sure. But man alive, I was just in a different universe. I only vaguely knew what it was like to love your job before this. I used to wait tables at a bar in Glasgow, and back then we'd have quiet moments where we'd all be hanging out, sneaking drinks on the sly, and having a few laughs. Those were good times. I remember getting too drunk and proceeding to strip on the stage in the centre of the bar (if that isn't a positive work environment, I don't know what is!). So I loved those moments - especially naked moments - and I guess in my own little way I loved that job. Or rather, I loved aspects of it. I never loved every minute of something. Hell, I don't think I've ever loved every minute of anything. Until Florida.

I suppose it's hard to talk about your first loved job in terms of any other job... Every othe job just pales to the point of invisibility. I liken it more to surfing. Or to skiing. The paddle out, or the epic chair ride up the hill. Those things that would be brutal in any other situation, are not only okay, but almost good by the very virtue of where they are leading. It's a rare moment where you see the forrest through the trees. See the bigger picture. There is so much good, it outweighs the brief bad moments.

Sitting up at 3:30 AM on a Wednesday night just cashing data like it was going out of style. That would have been the worst moment of my entire life. Except somehow it was the absolute best.

Now I know that people are probably reading this (actually, that's unlikely... but for the sake of this paragraph, let's assume it's the case) and thinking, "he loved his job... what a dick." And they'd be right! Anyone who signed on after almost a month-long absence should not, in any way, be allowed to gloat about what a great time they had. Their stories should be light-hearted romps, things that you could understand even if you weren't there. Like this Korean girl with Downs Syndrome who worked in our office. Oh man, there are some stories there! So why would I log on and proceed with a diatribe on my passion and inspiration for political work?

It's not because I want to rub it in that I love(d) my job. Hell, if anything is makes ME the most miserable of all to read or write about it!! I'm the one who tasted the sweet before being tossed back into shit creek. So why am I putting finger to key to tell you all what a fucking amazing time I had?

So you can come to understand that I have almost nothing to say about it. It was, in the most profound way, the most important thing I have ever done in my entire life. It is a daunting high-water mark to face at 25. There is likely nothing that will come close to the thrill of where I was and what I did. So there's no way I can even dream of writing any of it down. It was too big for me to be able to digest. Like a 12 Lb hamburger. It didn't just fill me up, it re-made me into something completely new - mostly beef and bun with some ketchup for taste, my pores smelling of charbroil. 

So while I will periodically start sentences with, "In Florida..." from now on, I'm just going to go out on a limb right now and say: I have nothing to say about my past month working for Obama.

Don't Knock Croc Rock or I'll Clean your Clock!

So i'm at work, haven't eaten anything yet today, and i have slow creeping hangover that's steadily getting worse. Also i'm about to self inflict Taco Bell on myself, which is like hitting yourself in the head with a shovel when you've got a headache. Worst....cure......ever. And why do i feel this terrible you ask? Only cause i was fortunate enough to attend the greatest Wednesday night bar in the city last night....yes you guessed it.....Crocodile Rock!So now you're probably thinking, "why the fuck are you going out and getting wasted on a Wednesday night in the first place?" Well calm down...if you could maybe just be a little patient i'll tell you.

So to set the stage, myself, Julien Favre, Jordan Blain, Dave Segal, Mike Tonner and Dave Barbaree all went to the Raptors game last night. Before hand we enjoyed a lovely meal at Hoops, the new sports bar by the ACC. They have 122 Tv's, including some in the floor. Yes you read that correctly....Tv's.....in the floor. So after our waitress made 122 mistakes with our orders, one for each TV, we took off and hit the game. Julien and i had seperate seats, and although the game had it's exciting moments, we were dismayed to see our lovely Raps lose to the well oiled machine that is the Detroit Pistons, even minus newly acquired A.I.

So post game, someone suggests we should get more drinks, because our pal David Segal, of David's Tea fame, hasn't had a proper celebration of his newly found engaged status. So the usual suggestions were knocked around, Jack Astor's, Loose Moose, and then someone, although whom it was will never be determined, suggested Crocodile Rock. It had a similar effect to asking a group of guys if they want to watch Dr. Phil, sure we all want to see that moustachiod pompous fuck send some snotnosed punk to boot camp, but no one's going to admit it. Ok i lied, we all said fuck yeah let's do it. Crocodile Rock as we all know has a legendary status as a cougar bar. So we arrived, paid the 5 dollar cover even though it was empty, and were delighted to discover wednesdays pay host to 3 dollar drinks. We sauntered in, shacked up in a great central location, between the bar, the dance floor, and the tables, and grabbed some drinks. Although the place was pretty barren, it was still only like 10:15 and i think none of us figured we'd be there for long.

But steadily, as our drink levels got lower, and our blood alcohol got higher, the place started to fill up. I was quite excited when a pack of high schoolers showed up (high school might be generous, probably more like last year at E.J. James), and a steady influx of cougars wandered in from the mountains or wherever the fuck it is that cougars call home. Before you could even utter the words, "i want to have sex with an old woman!" the place was humpin' and bumpin'! And this is why i now love Wednesday nights at Crocodile Rock. Cougars of all ages, races, shapes and sizes. Girls you feel ashamed to even look at let alone talk to since we're probably old enough to be their fathers. A nice mix of girls in between so you don't feel too out of place. And without a doubt, some of the true champions of mankind. Just absolute bangers everywhere. Moustaches coming out of the woodworks. Creepers. Skeezers. Dancers. Prancers. You name it, they were there last night. The dance floor absolutely went off with all your latest top 40 tunes. Yet it wasn't too loud so that you could have a conversation.

Now we all know that nobody picks up a women like Eric Grimes, i mean you just say that name in a crowded room and your bound to find at least one girl who's been subjected to my greasy advances. Ok well that's a lie, i couldn't hit the broadside of a cow's ass if i was sitting on it's tail with a shovel. But being at this place i actually truly felt like if i manned up for a change i wouldnt' have too much trouble. Plus i was with old Mike "smooth as a silk sheet" Tonner who unfortunately ladies, is now a taken man, but could be the greatest wingman in the history of time. However I had no intention of trying anything at all. Why you ask? Because i was having way....way.....way......WAY WAY WAY WAY too much fun people watching. I was good and sauced at this point and i honestly could have been by myself at a table creeping the shit out of people, and had as good a time as i had. Not to say that my company wasn't riveting, cause truly those boys are hard to beat when it comes to good times.

But the storylines surrounding me were too juicy to ignore. Guy in the black button up shirt just staring at the girl next to him at the bar. He was probably at least 15 years her senior. But he had a stare that could knock you on your ass at a thousand paces. Then there were the high school girls on the dance floor bouncing around and laughing....while the guy in the black beret dancing by himself slowly moved in on them. Not to mention the ongoing saga of Dave Barbaree's ever growing love for the shooter girl. She did well off of us last night. If put in the same position do you really think you could have ignored these subplots? I seriously fuckin doubt it.

As the saying goes, all good things come to an end. A couple members of the crew slowly made their exit, Favre had a big day at work, Barbaree had a train to catch, Tonner had found a friend from his softball team to chat to. So despite the feeling of being at the most glorious ball, i couldn't ignore the warning bell in my head screaming "HANGOVER!" So we left, and i'm ashamed to admit i did not follow a couple of my campatriots to the rippers. I went home. I stumbled to bed, with visions of nice bums, lodged firmly in my head.

Woke up this morning, was surprised to feel not too shabby. But you must always beware the creeper hangover. It got me good around 11:30 a.m. So will i be going back to Crocodile Rock next Wednesday? No....probably not. But i'll always remember this magical night, and maybe a little piece of me doesn't want to go back, sometimes it's best to heed good advice. And as my boss at the bar i worked at in Australia said to me on my last day, "Eric....i have one piece of advice of for you.....don't come back....cause it won't be the same...."

A New Day

YES WE CAN! And apparently they could. Even for someone as ignorant as me when it comes to politics, couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when the Americans overwhelmingly said "YES WE CAN!" and voted Obama into the Whitehouse yesterday. Now i know most of you are thinking, "yes finally a kitzy post, it's about time, that Grimes guy really fuckin sucks!" Well fuck you who were thinking that cause it's me, Optimus Grime.

I don't think their can be a doubt in most people's minds, especially those of us way up here in Canada that this was the right decision. "Y'all from Canadar? Hmmmmm.....where dat at?" Especially considering what would happen if McCain, god forbid, ever kicked the bucket while in office, can you imagine? Palin running the world's biggest superpower? That's like telling me to design a building on my own, bad things would happen. Although let's be honest, we've seen over the last eight years that the President can be a puppet, and things won't totally go to shit. Although the latest financial crisis might be evidence against that statement.

I think the most important thing to take from all this, is not the fact that a black leader was elected. Yes it's a great step and will no doubt further serve the cause of equality in the States. But more than anything it's that the RIGHT person was chosen. Black, white, red, yellow, woman, man, doesn't matter, the fact that the American public voted the RIGHT person for the job is the most important thing to take from all this.

No doubt Obama is going to have his hands full now. Basically Bush had an epic metaphorical bender with like 30 kegs, mounds of shadadadadanay, and the most questionable of guests, and then moved out and said to Obama, "ok.....you clean it up! I'm going to go give retarded speeches for the next ten years and be paid through the teeth to do it!" So i don't envy his position. However the thing about Obama that most people would have to agree with is that he inspires confidence. He's well spoken, he's clearly very intelligent, and he speaks with passion. Is it bullshit? I hope not. I've never met the man, and i'm a terrible judge of character. (How the hell was i supposed to know she was a prostitute? She never told me! I'm supposed to guess?) There is something to be said about a man that can rise to be the most important man in the world, and yes he is the most important man in the world now, from basically out of nowhere. He has what a great leader must have, he has what Trudeau had, and what JFK had, the ability to speak to the people and make them believe. Now he just needs to back it up. I for one hope he does.

Freaky Friday

To be honest i'm starting this post blind. Not blind drunk, i mean yeah it's halloween but it's still only 11 in the morning. By blind i mean i don't have a clue what i aim to talk about right now. All i know is that with the loss of my old pal Kitzy, i'm lost. When this blog first started i was so jazzed up, we were posting shit all the time, and it was a hell of a good time. But once faced with the task of having to support this page for the most part on my own? Well i floundered, and i still am. Subscriptions have dwindled, comments are at an all time low, and i've had the same nutshot of the day for 3 or 4 days now. (although you gotta admit it's incredible).

So maybe i'll just ramble for a bit and see what comes to mind. I mean no one's fuckin reading this anyways so if anything it'll just be a good writing exercise. Speaking of writing, many of you may wonder, "why the hell did Grimes start a blog in the first place? Does he actually think people want to hear what he has to say?" Well there's a number of reasons, first and foremost Kitzy and I used to facebook back and forth every damn day to avoid the monotany of our daily working lives. It was fun, and somehow a few people here and there picked up on it and woudl check in once in a while to see what kind of filth we were spewing. None more so than Michael Robert Denby. He used to follow the conversation, step in with a comment or two once in a while, and it was like we had a reader. So essentially much of this is for him.

I also have always enjoyed writing but i've been too lazy to really do anything about it. It seems the number one question writers get asked is, "where do you get your ideas?" Now i'm not really even a writer, but if i ever was, for me, no doubt, right before i fall asleep at night. I'd love to write a book one day, not because i want to be famous or anything (i have no urge to be famous, i had my 15 minutes of fame with "Team Eric Grimes" at McGill Carnival), but it's just one of those things in my life i'd like to do. It's on my bucket list. And the way i've been treating my body lately, i should get on it soon. But i digress as usual, whenever i get an idea for anything writing related, it almost always happens at night as i try and fall asleep. I toss. I turn. The idea spins around bumping off the walls of my brain picking up an addition here, a character there, a plot line down yonder. And then i start to worry. "What if it's a good idea and then i can't remember it tomorrow?" I try to put it out of my head but it never works, i just keep tossing and turning and getting tangled in my sheets. Until finally i get up, i turn on the lights. I grab the pen and pad i keep next to my bed, and i scribble a few notes down. A synopsis in it's most basic form. Something that convinces me that if i look at that pad in a couple days, i'll remember whatever the fuck it was i originally though might work. Usually once the light goes off, it comes back on a couple more times before i sleep, as i add a note here and there until i'm satisfied the transcription will reignite my brainstorm.

Now i've only had this happen maybe 5 or 6 times, in the last few years. Pretty rare. I mean i'm not a writer. I'm an engineer, and a damn.......adequate one. So i'm not searching for ideas, but it's just like the saying goes, "you only find things when you're not looking for them." I actually think the saying is worded way better than that, but i'm not a very cunning linguist.

Out of those 5 or 6 ideas i mentioned, i've only ever had one that kind of blew me away. Most of them i really like, i think, "yeah that could really work!" But about a year and a half ago i had one that kept me up for hours. I don't even know how it came about, maybe i was baked, if you heard the idea you'd probably come to the same conclusion. I did the usual write it down, with many lights on lights off moments. And like every other idea, i did nothing about it. But unlike every other idea, it stayed with me. I thought about it alot, and i still do. It's changed and evolved, characters have come and gone, and i know the names of the two central figures.

I never talk about my ideas with anyone, i can't. I have it all mapped out in my head, it sounds cool to me, it works, but the very few times i've tried to explain something, it comes out of my mouth sounding like dogshit. Like a fresh steaming pile on the sidewalk, on a hot summer day. I get embarassed about it. I don't know if i can write well, i don't know if my ideas would translate onto paper, so it's hard to talk about something you have so little confidence in. But i sucked it up and actually talked to a friend about this idea of mine. He loved it, and it was the best thing possible for me. As i explained it new things came to light, i kept adding parts in that i didn't know existed yet, and my buddy gave me a different kind of perspective on the idea that helped me figure out a bit of a storyboard.

So this is long....it's boring....but it's a post, no one can argue that. I want to write this book, i hope that one day i'll get off my fat ass and do it, the idea is there, but apparently the drive isn't present to match it yet. Either way, despite my part timing ways, i love this blog because it's fun for me, i can write all this drivel and then Denby or Blain can come and rip me to shreds for it, and i love it. So do your worst boys, it only fuels the fire!

TV Tuesday!

I know you're all disappointed right now, cause here's an article on Television, but it's not by Kitzy, yes that's right, because that little politicunt is over their in Florida making sure the right man ends up running the country of our closest allies. An honorable mission no doubt so i'll try and fill in for him. Problem is, unlike Kitzy who watches every single horrible show that gets pumped out through network TV, I don't really have that many regular shows that I watch. And no i'm not even trying to claim to be one of those people you come across that says, "I don't even watch TV!" Cause I do. But i usually watch hockey, movies, and reruns of Seinfeld and Two and a Half Men (that Charlie is just incorrigible isn't he!). However there are two shows i watch on a regular basis. Dexter, and Entourage. So right now i'm throwing up the warning bell, if you're not caught up in either show, DING DING DING! SPOILER ALERT! Dont' read on!

Dexter:

Probably the greatest show on television, i can't think of anything that would top it. For those who have never seen Dexter, essentially it revolves around a forensics expert with the Miami P.D., aptly named.....Dexter. Dexter is a serial killer. However his father, who adopted Dexter at a young age, caught on to this early on in his life, (which is explained through numerous flashbacks), and taught his son how to kill, and more importantly who to kill. Using his skills in forensics and police work he tracks down those that deserve to die, but are not in jail, and FUCKS THEIR SHIT UP! Sorry...i really like the show.

This week's episode was an absolute banger! Things are really starting to heat up, Rita is pregnant and Dexter is now faced with the fact that he is going to be a father whether he likes it or not? Can someone who kills for a living really be responsible for another human life? Stay tuned! Not only that, but now Jimmy Smits character, who is just fantastic, knows Dexter's secret! HE KNOWS! And the craziest part is that he's fine with it! The A.D.A. for Miami is well aware that Dexter is killing people and taking out the trash, and approves of it, and is possibly willing to help? Will Dexter accept an accomplice in his actions? He's always been a lone wolf, can he accept help from another? If not what choice does he have? Stay tuned. And Deb, getting a little close to her C.I. it seems, we all know she hasn't had a lot of luck in her lovelife in recent years, is her luck changing? Stay Tuned.



Entourage:
Maybe i'm the only one who feels this way, but the first five episodes of Entourage so far this season....have been kind of shit. I mean each episode is already short enough, 25 minutes or so, so it seems over before it starts most of the time. So at the beginning of this season they decided to....well basically do nothing. Each episode seemed to be an exercise in pointlessness, is that a word? And what was even less encouraging was the fact that I used to like all the characters, i felt they genuinely all fit in to their roles, but that was starting to fade this season. Besides Ari who always seems to be Gold, pun intended, it seemed that Vince was just kind of frustrating, because i'm sorry, if you're going bankrupt, i don't give a fuck who you are, you definitely care. E seemed like this cocky little fuck, Turtle wasn't really doing anything at all, and Drama seemed to be finally becoming slightly played out.

I fell behind a couple episodes but finally got back on track Sunday and caught up. Complete 180! I'm back baby i'm back! Loved it! Love the way the story line was going, finally some action. Probably solely because their was some plot invested in the scripts, the characters came back to life for me. Vince's dilemma with Ari's possible decision to become a studio head. Turtle becoming Drama's personal assistant and then fucking him right over. And Ari taking what looked to be an awkward career decision and spinning it from straw into gold. Loved it. So now Vince has a movie to make, Ari is still his agent, and the show has life again. Considering i only really follow two shows, the fact that both are good again....well i couldn't be happier.



Sidenote: Stay tuned in the following weeks, as Mike Denby will be writing an article about his favorite show, "How I Met Your Mother," which i for one am quite excited for.