Internet Hunters

So i decided to post today on a topic i really only read about today. You see i was on cracked.com which is a stupid little internet comedy site that's actually not stupid at all, it's pretty funny! Anyways the article was about the "World of Warcraft" or WOW as it shall be known in this article. Essentially it was a list of reasons why WOW is worse than real life. Now i won't get into the WOW world too much but let's just say it's pretty intense. I mean i knew that video games were getting crazier and crazier, but this list still kind of blew my mind. Anyways #1 on the list was about online sex within the game. How the characters could strip down, and not necessarily make their characters have sex, but they could position them so that they were in sexual positions and then they would talk dirty to each other. So what does this have to do with internet hunting? Well they had a couple links to articles of what online sex in WOW had lead to. And i gotta say......WOW!

They had one instance of something that occurred in China. If you don't know anything about Warcraft, which i didn't until a couple hours ago, basically players form guilds and assume roles within these guilds. You could be a hunter, a priest, the leader....it all just depends how strong you are at the game and how long you've played, aswell as how much you've built up your character. You actually have to basically write a resume to get into a guild and they could string you along for months assigning you to menial tasks only to say in the end that you don't fit. Yes it's insane i know. Anyways this incident in China leads us to internet hunting. There was a husband and wife, and the wife had quit her job and basically just played WOW all day. The husband was also in the game but only cause he wanted to spend more time with his wife and he rarely actually entered the world. So she would play this all day and they had their own seperate computers. One day she was asleep and he went on hers to check his email. He noticed that she hadn't closed down WOW and he started reading her chat with the leader of her "guild". UH OH! Turns out she was having an affair with this guy. Possibly just an online affair too. It remains to be seen whether or not she had actually met this guy in person, but from the sound of their conversation it was entirely possible.

This is where the internet hunters come into play. The husband was none too pleased and publicly posted a message in a WOW chat room about what was going on. Then the crazy world of WOW took over. People started hunting down the guy in the game to try and get at him. The majority of his guild turned against him, and hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands of gamers heard about the story and rose up against him. And then, in a mass protest of his actions, they organized a mass suicide......within the game. Where they all killed off their characters. It didn't stop there. Several of these gamers, or as i like to call them, Meganerds, decided to try and find out the guy's true identity. Which they were eventually successful in doing. They found a picture of him, they found his home and cell phone numbers, where he lived and where his family lived. He was bombarded by phone calls, emails, and people even harrassed him in public so much that he was forced to barricade him and his family in their house and not come out. He left school, and chat rooms went nuts with emails being sent to every possibly company they could think of with his picture and details of what he had done and urging them to not hire this man. Some of the messages went so far as to suggest that he and the woman he was adulterous with should be "beheaded" or "put in a pig cage and drowned." The husband of the woman eventually tried to come to his rescue and tried to rescind his claims of an affair but the harassment continued none the less. Was the affair morally wrong? Oh hell yeah. But this just serves as an example of the power of the internet. Especially in China where many people have become completley addicted and now when you enter an internet cafe in China you have to show identification in order to use a computer.

Another example of internet hunting that is slightly disturbing came from a video that was posted also in China. It was of a Chinese woman holding and cuddling with a cute kitten. She eventually puts the kitten on the ground, and uses her stiletto heel to impale it through the eye and then crush it's head. Sorry if that's a little graphic but that's what happened. Truly disgusting i know. However once people got wind of this video....well cue the internet hunters. Several decided to take it upon themselves to figure out who this woman was. They made an internet "Wanted" poster featuring her picture and what she had done and began to circulate it. Someone recognized the park she had committed the vile act in and responded. So once they had the locatoin it was only a matter of time before they discovered her identity. Turns out she was a nurse, and the guy filming was a DJ or something. Anyways both were found, and both were exposed, fired from their jobs, and eventually basically run out of town. Neither were charged with any crimes however because in China there are no laws against animal cruelty.

So we can all have our opinions on internet hunting, whether it's a good or bad thing. In both these cases the people in question had both been up to some unsavoury activities. But it is a little unsettling when you see how truly powerful the internet is. Especially with some of the pictures i have up on facebook! Already looking forward to coming to work someday and walking in and seeing a huge blown up poster of me wearing a women's bikini while my boss stands there and says, "Eric......we need to talk."

Any opinions on the matter? Cause i'd sure love to hear 'em!

Books That Fill Your Pants With Shit - A Response

I am not impressed.

Walter Greyhound is a GuestBlogger on The Chronicles of Gritz. He also contributes to Spin, Details, New York Magazine and gives suggestions on Amazon as DarwinLVR72

Books that fill your pants with shit!

Today i'm going to discuss a topic very near and dear to my heart that i sometimes take flak over. Scary books. Horror novels. Whatever you want to call them, i love 'em. And it's always the same sort of reaction you get from people when they ask you what you're reading. "What book are you reading right now?" "Oh well i'm reading "IT" by Stephen King." Then their faces sort of show slight shock and maybe even a little fear and they find a way to get rid of me. WELL FUCK YOU! I mean what is this stigma attached to horror novels? Why is it that the crazy old abo Julien Favre can be completely obsessed with the Saw series of movies and no one bats an eyelash, but i mention that i like Stephen King books and people seem to think i'm going to cut their faces off and wear them as masks? I mean i can pretty much guarantee you that people that have read "Catcher in the Rye", have killed a hell of alot more fellow human beings, than those that have read "Cujo".

The beauty of a horror novel is the fact that the writer can actually scare you by using your own imagination against you. He has to be able to make you see what he sees in your head, and doesn't have the ability to rely on shocking your system with a quick scene change to a guy in a mask holding a knife. He has to be able to rely on a slow buildup. He has to be able to set the mood and accurately describe the environment in which the action is taking place. He has to describe every detail vividly without going overboard and losing his grip on your suspense. Not an easy task. Horror novels are also quite different from their movie counterparts. You're not really going to be able to read a book and all of a sudden scream or throw the book against the wall.

Now i'm not trying to knock horror movies in anyway. While i may not see Saw V opening day like Favre, i do enjoy the occasional horror flick. Jaws is one of my favorite movies of all time. I saw the movie Scream on my birthday back in the day and thought it was entertaining as hell. And even movies short on plot and high on gore can be a good time just to see what the hell new ways a director will come up with to knock people off. (Re: Turistas, Hostel)

So now i'm going to give a few suggestions to people for books to read if they enjoy horror novels, or have never really tried reading one. This isn't to seem like a pompous asshole, they're just books i loved. First off is the one i'm re-reading right now, which is "IT" by Stephen King. I read this book probably ten years ago and didnt' remember much of anything about it since my brain is mostly full of malted hops and bong resin. (Tommy Boy) And i gotta say....wow....just so good. Probably his best. I mean in terms of fear factor how can you really go wrong with a demonic clown named Pennywise? The book takes place, as all his books do, in Maine. You follow a closeknit band of "losers" at two different time periods. When they're 11 and meet Pennywise for the first time. And again when they are in their late 30's and have returned to face him once again. The book regularly flips back and forth from each of the two eras and does not focus on a singular main character, but rather each member of the group in turns. It's a long book, 1078 pages to be exact, small type too. But well worth it.

Another beauty which i've read countless times is also by Stephen King writing under his pen name of "Richard Bachman", and is called "The Long Walk". One of the main reasons i loved this book is for the mystery involved in it. You're never quite sure what year it is exactly, or why what's taking place is happening, and even more importantly why it's accepted. It's almost as if you are being lead to believe that you are already living in this world and know what it's all about. I know that sounds strange. Basically the book starts with a group of 50 kids that have all received "the invitation" in the mail. They have all showed up, because you are lead to believe that being invited to the long walk is a huge honor. It is the most prestigious event in the country every year and is lead by a man known only as "The Major". I personally picture him as Sargeant Slaughter. The mystery of just what the hell is going on is what leads you into the book. Soon you realize that these fifty kids are going to take part in a yearly competition known as "The Long Walk". The rules are simple, they start to walk, and they keep walking. They have to maintain a certain pace which is closely monitored. If they fall below the pace they receive a warning. If you get three warnings....BLAMO! Last one left is the winner and receives the ultimate prize which is constantly hinted at but never explained. It's not an unbelievably clever book, but it's high on entertainment and is one of those books that you end up flying through. For the most part it takes place in the head of one of the walkers and it is interesting to see how King delves into his emotions as the race continues. Either way it's awesome, check it out!

I realize this is too long already so i won't give long descriptions of any others. However other great scary books include Firestarter by Stephen King obviously. About a little girl with incredible mental powers. The Historian by a girl i can't remember about Dracula and him being alive in present times. And Different Seasons by Stephen King, which is 4 short novelettes in one book. 3 of the four novelettes were made into movies, and you know them as "The Shawshank Redemption", "Apt Pupil", and "Stand by Me".

That concludes my little chat on horror novels, i'll understand if you avoid me next time i see you.

Off The Trail

Just Palin' It Up

You'd be right to point out that American Thanksgiving is coming up this weekend anyways - so in that sense, perhaps Sarah Palin is giving us all insight into cruelty towards animals in America. Or perhaps she's showing us that nothing goes with the slaughter of a turkey better than the new Starbucks Mocha Ginger Frappaccino. I guess we may never know.

No matter how you cut it though, the look on the turkey farmers' face kind of says is all. "Are you actually filming this?" And the timing is almost impeccable, the synchronization with which she finishes her first answer and he finishes with the bird is almost way too good.

On the other hand, you have to give Palin a whole lot of credit. Any Governor can show up at a Turkey Pardoning (a traditional activity in the US) but it takes a media GENIUS to turn it into an international fiasco.

If anyone is wondering where they've seen this before, FFW to 4:28 in the below video. It may jog your memory...

What a Weird Day!

Ok so this is going to be a quick little blog, but i just wanted to talk about two events yesterday, neither of them are super over the top make you scratch your head and say "huh?!" But at the same time they are not typical Wednesday occurrences.

Ok so first of all, there is this homeless guy who sits out in front of my building in a wheelchair everyday. He's a really nice guy, i've never seen him drunk, he doesn't yell at people, and alot of the people in the building have conversations with him sometimes. So every so often when i've got some loose change i send it his way. Anyways i was walking by him yesterday and he was all smiles and just starts talking to me. Here is a verbal account as best as i can remember from our exchange.

"Hey man you might have seen me yesterday sitting here playing with a watch?"

"Actually no i didn't see that, but why what's up?"

"Ok so yesterday i'm sitting here and i bought this watch off a crackhead for two bucks!"

"Oh yeah, nice, seems like a good deal, was it a nice watch?"

"Well that's the thing i bought it and I immediately went to a jeweller to get it appraised."

"And what did he tell you?"

"Well at first he told me that it might be just a knockoff, like a five dollar watch or something. But he couldn't find it in any of his books or online or anything. So he told me he'd hang onto it and find out for me. So i called him again today and he told me to come in. So i went in and you'll never guess!"

(He is literally busting and can barely talk at this point, he's so goddamn excited. He's almost trying to say words faster than his mouth can process them. And he has a little zip up pouch in his lap. And he points at it. I can't see any money in it, but i can see a little orange ticket, about the size of a business card with stuff written on it.)

"I can't see that man what does it say?"

"6500 BUCKS!"

"WHAT!?!?!"

"Yeah man, 6500 bucks it's worth! See look!"

(Again he points at the ticket, and sure enough it's a jeweller's card, with the amount written on it! He starts laughing when he sees the shocked expression on my face. At this point i consider knocking his wheelchair over and stealing the ticket)

"Man that's amazing! Congratulations, there's your meal ticket for a long long time!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA I know I know! I'm going to go into the welfare office and when they give me my cheque i'm going to say, NO THANKS! I DON'T NEED IT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAH!!!"

"Hahaha, ok well hang onto that ticket, don't take it out of there, and don't let it out of your sight!"

"I wont man, i'm going to get it tattooed to my body!"

"You also realize now that you told me this, that i'm never going to give you any change again!"

(He has a good laugh at this, i again congratulate him on his good fortune, and head back inside)

So there you go, not your typical Wednesday afternoon story as i said, but you gotta feel good for the guy, i mean sure it sucks that someone out there lost a 6500 dollar watch, but if you have a watch that's worth that much, you're probably not strapped for cash, and the guy didn't steal it, he bought it off some "crackhead" as he put it. So hopefully he puts the money to good use.


My second story is not nearly as interesting, not even close actually, and will take maybe 30 seconds to write down. But again it's one of those things you see maybe once a year or so. After my hockey practice with my company team yesterday, i was walking back to my apartment from my car in the snow. Head down, not really paying attention, when all of a sudden, "CRUNCH!" I quickly turn around and a car had been trying to parallel park and somehow hadn't seen this other car behind him and backed right into the driver side door on an angle, and scraped the shit out of it and put a mighty dent in the door aswell. Myself and another younger guy were right there, kind of looked at each other, muttered a few, "oh shit that sucks", but we both kind of stuck around to make sure the guy didn't take off or anything. The guy got out of his car, and had one of those looks on his face that says, "Why God? Why me? Why now?" He said to us, "don't worry guys i'll take care of it," and got back in his car to move it out of the middle of the street. I turned to the other guy who was lighting up a smoke and asked him if he was going to stick around a few minutes to make sure the guy didn't take off. He said he would, and i trudged back home.

So there you go, 2 things you don't often hear or see, in one day.

The Tittie Pipe

Dexter

Sundays, 9 PM EST, on TMN

I have been fortunate enough to have watched Dexter from when it first started. I don't really remember my parents ordering TMNOD. But they did. And it was a great gift in a number of ways, not the least of which was that I got hooked right off the bat. Which is not to say I'm better than late-comers (though that's likely true). It's just to say that I've known Dexter for quite some time.

And oh the difference familiarity makes.

Last night's episode was, at least according to it's script, about the butterfly effect. About one little action setting off a string of equal reactions which, given time and circumstance crest into something bigger than you could possible imagine. And that was certainly true in Sunday's episode. Give a man a kill, and he's satisfied for a day, teach a man to kill and he can murder for a lifetime.

Other blogs have said that Dex is stupid to be sharing his carefully laid out system. I don't think so. I think he is lonely. Or rather, I think he may be stupid, but he is first and foremost lonely. He needs someone to know his darkness. He needs someone who can understand him rationally. For a man with no emotions, being loved for the sake of being loved is an odd idea. The rational mind would dictate that he must be loved for his true qualities. And he aims to have his new Best Man know those qualities. Even if they are shown in intermittent flashes of his psychosis. 

But I would say the minute to minute of this episode, while totally fucking awesome, was less important than the bigger questions of morality which, when dealt with in a subdued manner are dealt with better here than on any other show on TV. Because really Miguel isn't doing anything worse than Dexter. Is Dexter born with it? Is that why it's alright? Is Miguel just doing this to further his career as a lawyer? Is that why he seems so evil? Does it really matter?

I brought up how long I've been watching Dexter because I think it holds some weight in looking at the bigger moral questions. We, as loyal viewers, have all become complacent to Dex's murders. If he doesn't murder, we almost feel gypped. That is because we know him. And so it is interesting to see Dexter creating a new version of himself. Someone who, in theory at least, follows the code (or some of it). Someone who knows the practical aspects of it all. And yet someone who we cannot root for. 

The remainder of the plot has been derided as a bit of a foregone conclusion. Miguel murders the defense lawyer, Dex has to murder him, all is well that ends well. But I'm not so sure that is the case. I'm always excited with Dexter plots, so I will just say this: I am excited for whatever happens from here on in. But I'm mostly excited for the bigger questions that will be tackled here - namely, can Dexter find some kind of justification for what he does. Or will his half pulling him toward good and normalcy and his half pulling him further and further towards his darkness pull him apart completely?

In side story news:

Worst line of the week: "Trimmed trees! The skinner's been here!!" But on the bright side - the fear in the perp's eyes about his boss suggest that they're finally hunting a bag guy that isn't a serial killer. I mean, honestly, if there are that many in Miami alone, it kind of takes away from Dexter, doesn't it? regardless, Deb chasing an evil drug-lord (or something to that effect) is a good call. And while it could risk the B-plots going into CSI-like territory, I think the character of Deb can help steer it away from mediocrity.

Also, Angels' getting laid. Awesome.

The Monday Screw (cont'd)

So Grimes loves to tell hilarious stories from his past, but I've got a few too.

So around February of 2008 we were all heading down to Costa Rica for a little surf trip. Now this story happens to start with a little screw right off the bat: I was going down a week early, taking a full two weeks off of work and getting in a shitload of trouble for it, but it was worth it because I was going down with a good friend Mike Sackville. 

Sackville even made us change the date we were going down so he could come along. And that date was changed without anyone blinking! Well worth it to have ol' Mikey boy. Anyways, all the other gents were going down a week late, but Sackville and I were going to chill and surf and have a good time.

Did Sackville end up coming down? Oh lordy day no. So I ended up heading down to CR with nothing but a tent and sleeping bag and board for the week, waiting for the rest of the crew to show.

So naturally, looking down the pipe at a week alone, I decide that the night before I fly I should have a few drinks with the boys. 

Now back in February, Jimmy Doug Stevenson lived with us and he and Tym Frank and I used to frequent a place called Molly Bloom's on Thursday nights. $3 pints and $3 grilled cheese sandwiches with fries. And man alive were those sammiches ever fucking good! So for my last night for a couple of weeks, Molly's seemed like a good choice.

So right after work we sauntered down. And we called up some more peeps too. So by the time we were drinking, we had a good booth sized group carrying on in revelry with us. Included in that group was a lovely young woman who I was attempting to woo at the time. But that's neither here nor there - for now. So as we're consuming more and more booze and all having a good time, suddenly through the front doors come the Budweiser Air Crew (essentially just a bunch of hot babes in stewardess uniforms giving out free beer). And you'd better believe they wanted us to drink more. And so we did. And it was good. And in fact we all drank enough that by the end of the evening (closing time, around 4.5 hours before my flight was to depart) this young woman, this apple of my eye, was sufficiently inebriated to find me attractive enough to come home with.

Mmmmmmrack-POT!

Sadly, I was sufficiently inebriated that I could not physically express my affection for this young woman.

How can I put this... Whiskey Dick? Yes, that will do quite nicely. So I was a useless hunk of bastard. I passed out and around 6 hours later awoke with a splitting headache in an empty bed about 4 hours late for my flight. Shit.

It had departed. Long gone. I had fucking missed my flight.

I leapt into a cab and burned rubber to the airport. Explained that I'd been in an accident on the highway and missed my flight. They kindly put me on the next one out - the next morning at 6:45.

So I went home, licking my wounds and before falling back asleep I hoped online and posted the story you see above on Grimes' Wall (back then we were all about the Wall. And then this happened... and we had to curb our usage...).

And that was the end of that. I flew out to CR the next morning, had a great time. A week later the boys came down. And we all had a great time too! Good times all around!

When I returned I was tanned and happy. Happy because of the trip, but mostly because that little bitty I was hitting on before I left was still somewhat interested in me! Magnificent! So one night we're talking on the phone. I am likely whispering sweet nothings when she asks, "so what do you know about Facebook?"

"Facebook!! Well, you have come to the RIGHT PLACE! What do you need to know?"

"Well, you know Walls right? How many people can see a wall?"

"That depends on your security settings I guess... But pretty much just the people you know."

"Okay."

"Why?"

"Well, for example, when you wrote about us trying to have sex... How many people saw that post?"

"Oh... oh good lord...."

"Yeah... maybe in the future you can refrain from using my name and the word 'whiskey dick' in the same sentence?"*

"Uh, yeah, I think I can do that..."

It turned out that someone, someone who knew both Eric and I, someone who may or may not have been from Oakville, someone who I would have trusted had seen the post and immediately brought it to this young woman's attention. Man alive did I ever eat shit for that one. And no doubt that getting turned in for that posting was the biggest screw I've ever had put on me in my entire life.

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

*editors note: the wishes of the young woman were respected from that day forth. That is why at no point have I insinuated in any way shape or form who that woman is or used her name in the same sentence as "whiskey dick"

The Monday Screw

So i'm sitting here at my desk, facing the hell of another Monday afternoon, and thinking about how bad Monday always screws me over. I mean no matter how hard I try, and how cliche it is, I just truly always hate monday so much. I didn't have a bad weekend or anything, a pretty fun one actually. And the Bills are playing tonight so that should be fun. But still Monday just always hits me like a sack of dirt from a fifth floor window. So in honor of the day that is Monday, let's look back on some awesome screws laid down by myself, on myself, or from one friend to another.

First let's have a look at rather ligthhearted awesome screw by Michael Robert Denby on me today. Michael has a lady friend, she's a very nice girl and they get along quite well. She had a friend at Mike's party on Friday. I thought the friend was quite cute too, however i didn't quite get the opportunity to talk to her, maybe out of fear, or maybe because the amount of alcohol in my veins exceeded the amount of blood. So anyways i shared this information with Mike, and he decided to share it with his lady friend with instructions to pass it on down the line to the girl in question. Did i ask him to do exactly that? Hmm.....i might have, but still. It's reminiscent of a screw i laid down on Mike way back in the day. He had a thing for Sara Spudowski, a very cute girl in our grade. So Mike asked me to call her and tell her. So in front of him, on his home phone, i did just that. "Hey Sara....it's Eric. Eric Grimes. No not him that's Eric Hoibak. Grimes. I'm in your English class. Uhh.....yeah that's right....the one that looks like he's 8 years old. You got it, thanks for that Sara. Anyways you know my friend Mike Denby? Well he likes you and he wants to know if you like him too." At this point Mike starts making frantic gestures to abort, so i find my way off the phone. Then the yelling starts. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT!" "Uh..you asked me too!" It was a great moment in screw history. Let's look at some more.

Back in the later high school years, my friend Derek Mumford took a hankering to smoking weed. Hankering is actually a bad word, underplays the love affair that was born. Derek loved weed. But it wasn't enough to just love it, Derek who is a master of all things relationship wise went all out and started constructing elaborate vessels devoted to smoking his green sticky master. And that Comfortable Mumfordable man is no slouch when it comes to handywork. Some of these contraptions were brilliant. The gas mask bong which reduced me to rubble many times was incredible. There was the triple chambered bong which when filled with ice, was oh so smooth. And the list went on. So Andrew Wade decided one day that he would like one of Mumford's creations, and decided it would be pretty awesome to have a bong made out of a forty bottle, since that was pretty much all we drank at that time, just like our idols from such films as Boyz 'n the Hood, and that other movie that i can't remember what it's called. So Mumford did as we has asked. Purchased the items he'd need to make the bong, took an old forty bottle, and built Andrew his request. Charged him a fair price too. Andrew took one look, decided he didn't really like it after all, and said no thanks. Never paid him the money, and Mumford was stuck with the bong. Haha it still repeatedly comes up in conversations to this day. A fantastic screw by young Wade.

This next one goes out to our only friend who's a father, Alain Mercieca. Now probably right now those of you that read this are thinking this has to do with Alain ditching our crew of mediocre popularity, to hang with the top dogs in high school. Well no that's not it. We forgave him for that. Cause it's hard to hold a grudge against a guy with a kid. No this is something i can never forgive him for. In Grade 5 i had a pretty considerable crush on a girl named Trina. Now being one seriously shy motherfucker there was not a chance i was going to do anything about it. Sure i knew that while the rest of us were heading to E.J. James to continue our education in the public schooling system, she was going to St. Mildred's, an all girls private school. But that didn't change anything. My mouth was staying shut. At Linbrook our desks used to be grouped in 5 or 6's, and that would be your team, and you'd get "jetons" for doing well and shit. So she was in my group, and so was Alain. So it's nearing the end of the day and all of a sudden Alain blurts out.

-"Trina......Eric has something he needs to tell you...."

-"Uh.....no i don't...."

-"Yeah he does, he wants to tell you that he really likes you!"

-"No.....no i don't...."

And then i just sat there. My face burning red. Embarassed as all hell. She was embarassed too. I think she probably figured i was one of those genius kids who's pushed ahead 4 grades. How else would you explain the sweat pants with holes in the knees everyday. I mean most normal kids had discovered denim by that point. It was brutal. Alain....i know you thought you were helping me out.....but goddamn it man a little warning maybe!?

Another good screw, that still rages on in debate nowadays again comes from the early days, myself screwing over Julien Favre, we were probably around 10. We were at his house, probably playing "Jordan vs. Bird" or "Battletoads" or something like that. Anyways we went down the hall, and the song "Everything I Do" by Bryan Adams was playing in his sister's room on the radio. Anyways Julien informed me that, "i love this song!" and then started singing along to the chorus. Now there's nothing wrong with singing along to the chorus, i mean hell i loved that song too. But just the way he sang it, and the fact that Julien was not even remotely close to being a singalong to that kind of song guy......well i was kind of standing there next to him thinking, "Hmmmm........weird....." Anyways i told all the other guys about it the next day and we had a good chuckle. And then when it came up that day in front of Julien.....HE DENIED IT! That's right he claimed it never happened. And the best part....he still claims it to this day! Yes this battle has raged back and forth now for over 15 years. Did he or did he not sing it? Well i'll let you guys decide for yourselves. (He totally did!)

Screws can come in all shapes and sizes. There was the time i tried to lay a mild screw on Mumford by kicking one of his legs into the other from behind.....and it turned into a hot and spicy screw because he tripped and landed in a puddle. There's the unintentional screw....like the time Mumford passed some unneccessary information regarding me and a female onto one of her best friends....and i caught holy hell for it! There's the everyone can enjoy it except the screwed screw, which usually involves a shot to the nuts. And of course the consistent screw, which Pearson lays on me pretty much every single day by never once being on time when we meet up for lunch. Either way monday is a great day for talking about screws, so feel free to comment on a time where you screwed, or got screwed, and we'll all have a good laugh.

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...

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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.