don'tcallmebob

Ain't so Littlest

2011-08-20T13:14:00.000-07:00

"There's a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the road, that's where I'll always be.
Every stop I make, I make a new friend,
Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on."

- London 'littlest hobo' Doggy Last Name

Having arrived at my third 'home' city in less than eight months I think I've decided that my Littlest Hobo days may be at an end. I've tried to save the day and played the hero in various locations, in various scenarios hip to tha hoppin' across Canada for a while. Mostly I've gotten drunk though. Foggy memories. Good pictures. Until tomorrow becomes today is here.

Caroline and I moved to Sherbrooke, Quebec about two weeks ago and so far so good. It's a cute town founded by the Loyalists and later expanded by French Catholics, located at the edge of the Appalacition Mountains. If there was no such thing as traffic, it would be about an hour and a half south-east of Montreal, just north of the border with Vermont. There is a huge park with two 'mountains' (Winnipeg folk would agree they are mountains, Calgary folk probably wouldn't) to bike and hike up less than 5 minutes away. The town's hip strip is just down the hill, as is the Pita Poutine where, I assume, one can get a poutine in a pita. I will be eating one of those this week. I hope it tastes as good as it sounds cause I'm sticking around here for a few years.

In other news, here's a quick list of things that have happened to me, mostly in connection with unknown old men, recently:

an old man took a shit in the change room next to me at The Bay
I went to the Roger's Cup Tennis Finals last weekend without sleeping the night before. Very strange noise distinction between Montreal After Hours parties (LOUD) and international tennis matches (quiet).
Saw an old man almost die choking on a hot dog at the Roger's Cup Tennis Final. They stopped the match and asked if any doctor was in attendance and, if so, if they could help the choking man. Must've been a lot of doctors there cause at least 60 people ran towards him. And not at the same time. Over a period of about a minute, more and more doctors ran up the stairs towards the crowd of people watching the old man choke on a foot long. He was okay. Didn't even miss a point in the match. Not sure if he finished his hot dog.
Saw first live French comedian last night. Understood some parts. Didn't understand a lot. At one point I thought he was talking about a father and son. Turns out he was talking about sperm being ejaculated by a 75 year old man.

Here's the video of the man choking. You can see me standing up from about 0:10 - 0:25 in the bottom left corner of the screen, just to the above and to the left of the score. I stand up, beer in hand, and I'm wearing a beige hat and a light blue shirt, looking like a jackass. I'm famous.

News and Other Weird Things

2011-06-29T10:25:00.000-07:00

I was going to wait until either a giant pair of balls teabagged my picture, or at least until I was slowly bombarded by falling Canuck logos that disembarked from an obscured inner sphincter of a peach fuzz butt, before I posted again. I thought that the latter, the virtual modern-digital form of ancient Chinese water torture, was a sure thing. All Steve had to do was shift it from the top corner of Icebakes. Now who's being lazy? Yeah. But since nothing happened, and I have some free time today, I think the moment has arrived for a new post.

I've never been one to post lists on Icebakes, mostly because I'd never get past 4 items for any list. That's as far as my brain will take me. But today I've decided to share a little list that describes some of the weird things I've seen while living in Montreal. Some I've seen recently, others in the past. All strange. Giddy up:

The Call-in TV Contest : I don't know if this exists in the West or not, but in Quebec there is a really low budget TV show that is on 7 days a week where people call in and try to answer some puzzle. The host stands in front of a live camera for an hour waiting for callers. Sometimes there are lots of calls. Sometimes there are no calls. It's when there are no calls that the show is interesting. When this happens, the host sometimes gives up trying to convince viewers like me to call in and answer the puzzle. She will just sit there, on both live TV and the verge of tears, staring into the camera. There are often different hosts and I've seen 2 of them wiping their eyes because they've been stuck in front of live TV for the last 40 minutes with nothing to say or do. Not sure if it's funny or sad, but it's definitely worth watching.
Quebec TV in general : come to think of it, almost all local Quebec TV is weird. I think its kinda cool that there is this whole system of cultural infrastructure in Quebec that allows people that you see on the street to also be a well-known TV personality. But it's always the same people on EVERY show. Especially talk and game shows, which there are LOTS of. The difference is that this guy is the host of Show A and only a supporting member of Show B.
The Sullen-Faced Figure Skater : I used to eat lunch beside an indoor skating rink in one of the office buildings downtown a couple times of week. There were a few people who frequented the rink and who I'd see skating by me while I ate my sandwich. These people tended to be smiling. Except for the Sullen-Faced Figure Skater. I never saw her smile. She was older for a figure skater, late-50s or older, and appears to have done a lot of figure skating in her life. She'd skate these routines, lost in the moment, that she seemed to know very well. But she never smiled. And if there is one thing weirder than seeing a graceful grandma (and she did look like a grandma) executing a pretty good 'Camel Spin', it's seeing a graceful grandma executing a pretty good 'Camel Spin' with a sour look on her face.
The Ste-Catherine Street Spiderman : this one is an oldy but a goody. Montreal has some wickedly weird and well-known street performers. There's the engineer turned Spoonman who sits outside Ogilvy's every day. There is the group of blind mentally challenged singers, with its somehow horrible, somehow awesome falsetto leader. There are hairy, leather clad and biker looking gentlemen who like to dance with bright flags. But the off-beat techno dancer, slightly obese and middle-aged as he is, who dresses in a bad Spiderman costume is something that all should see. It's like a gout Spiderman the day after he took too much ecstasy and mescaline.

1 and 2 and 3 and 4, can we get a little more? Nope (see paragraph2, line2). There is lots of other good ole weirdness here but I'll save that for another day. I will mention that I'll be moving to Sherbrooke QC, about an hour and a half from Montreal, in a couple weeks. This is going to be my third city in about 8 months and I'm excited about staying in one place for a while. It's a small, cute town surrounded by mountains and forest. Lots of hiking, camping and snowboarding. Should be rad.

And, of course, Welcome Back Jets!

how was your xmas? is that right? mine was awesome, so there

2011-01-04T11:46:00.000-08:00

when i was a kid, christmas was all about the presents. no real epiphany there. i loved quantity and quality, and each christmas eve i was fain to prepare a fake sleep so that when santa snuck into my room to leave my freshly stuffed stocking at the foot of my bed i could proceed with a a private practice round of present dewrapping with all the glee of a fat man eating a mars bar and chips before dinner. when i got a little older and was an awkwardly skinny teenager with a bad haircut, christmas was all about presents. one year i didn't get what i wanted (i got towels from santa - yeah) so i caused a general shit storm until i got a new double tape deck with recording capabilities/cd/radio sanyo stereo system on boxing day. okay. but slowly, as i matured into a fine young adult who leaned heavily on value village clothing, alcoholic slurpees and benson and packs of hedges special light king size, i still loved to open a sweet ass present. one year a got a barbecue and giggled like a school girl as i grilled-me-up a sweet ass t-bone in minus 30 weather. this year i didn't open a single present. and you know what? best christmas ever.

i just got back to montreal yesterday afternoon after spending two weeks frolicking in the snow. instead of a wrapped present, caroline (my girlfriend) and i spent four days in chalet in charlevoix, north of quebec city. we went snowboarding at a couple different hills, one of which was frigging awesome. le massif (no, not my wiener, the ski hill), which overlooks the st lawrence river, had just received a shit load of new snow the day before, the sun shone and the weather was perfect. i rode through the trees for only the second time and managed not to kill myself, which is a plus.

after snowboarding, we drove north a couple more hours to caroline's parents house in a little village called ferland-et-boilleau. it's actually more of a stretch of road than a village and only about 500 people live there, but it's only about a thirty minute drive from chicoutimi and less to la baie. there is not much there in terms of city life but what its urban lacking is more than made up for by its outdoorsy goodness. i spent my time there (aside from trying understand what people were saying half the time) outside doing some things in the snow i'd never done before: my second day there i was told to hop in the bobcat and move the snow off the driveway; i went snowshoeing for the first time; and i was given a snowmobile and general directions to find my home through the trees.

two things were a little crazier than the rest. the first is the 'trois-ski', which is a gt snowracer. a group of us broke into the local ski hill after it closed down for the night, climbed the hill, which was huge, and then proceeded to race to the bottom. the first time going down, i had caroline on the back of my trois-ski and couldn't turn. we almost hit a tree and now she thinks i'm a pussy cause i was using my feet to turn and brake the rest of the way down so that we didn't die. the second time i had my own gt and it was one of the funnest things i've done in a long time. i was going so fast that with each turn i drifted like i was vin diesel in a canadian version of the fast and the furious. it was super.

the other thing that was nuts was the snow tubing on new year's day. every year caroline's uncles build a huge snow tube track for the family. we went to his place a few days ahead of time to help with the construction and it was insane. they are all lumberjacks so they have crazy equipment at home. there were test runs where a train of people on tubes came down the track, which is kind of like a bobsled run, and at the final big turn hit the wall head on and basically exploded. pure hilarity. dangerous. but hilarious. i've included a video of us going down on the first. i don't know that it captures the sweetness of the run but it shows how long it was, and somebody flipped towards the end. at least it shows how long it was before we had to shorten it later in the day because it became too fast and dangerous with all the ice.

in conclusion, fun not presents. growing up is radical.

2010-12-17T08:39:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it isn't overly remarkable that a city renowned for its shiny new skycrapers, excessively large trucks and a 3-1 RV to family ratio should imagine its hockey club to be grandiose as well. And despite the Flames rather disheartening record this year (and last year, and the year before, and the year before ...), the club's fans have failed to recognize what every other hockey fan knew to be true since at least the start of the millennium: the Flames suck ass.

Forever grasping at the 'Flames run' in 2004, which will be seven years ago at the end of the current season, Flames fans (aka Flamers) have demonstrated the remarkable ability of self-delusion. This may be due to the fact that, aside from the approximately thirty-two true believers that stuck with the club during those truly abysmal years from the mid-nineties onwards, current Flamers were pre-occupied with the masculine exhibitions of bull mounting, calf roping and general yee-hawing until at

least the second round of 2004 post season. The lack of propensity for Canada's game could be felt on the 'Red Mile' (a name whose imperial measurement was not only inaccurate - its length spanned maybe a kilometer - but was an affront to our northern Peaceable Kingdom's metric system) when the majority of cheers which hung in the night air were for cups ('Shirts off for Kiprusoff') other than Stanley.

There has always been something slightly wrong about Flamers, but it can be difficult to pin down where it stems from. Maybe its the suggestive

imagery of the club's wonder dog mascot, Harvey the Hound, hammering home a handjob on his website. Maybe its the result of the successive failures against divisional rivals (how many cups did Edmonton win? how often has Vancouver won the division in recent years?). Regardless of its origins, Flamers are out to prove something. One could argue that its perseverance or even loyalty to their club. More accurately, however, what they demonstrate is a stubborn delusion about their team that stands nearly unrivaled in professional sport today.

The next time your in Calgary and you want to see an impressive collection of over-priced Flames jerseys, sweatpants and cowboy hats, head over to Flames Central for the gathering. It is here where you can hear talk of how good the Flames were that one time, how great Kipper was and how if Iggy could only get it going ... But act fast because being a Flamer is a contract position and, like in the past, once they notice what every other hockey fan has already recognized they will once again become an endangered species.

a (mis?)adventure of tt and pp

2010-08-18T10:27:00.000-07:00

the sky was ajambled with pulsating electric light and i, procrastinating pete, felt my feet beneath me frozen from fright and future fancy. plumes of shrewd yet beautiful instruments of victory, hazardous and menacing as they be, hailed down upon me. hour after hour; day after day; mournful week after mournful week, i have felt the ground's flatulent rumble: a slow unceasing penetration; a suffocating death from below. to my left, consistent progress. to my right, progress (less consistent, but progress none the less). from all sides, i, procrastinating pete, was under attack.

- oh cruel, merciless master, i wailed, have patience with your poor procrastinator. i am but your procrastinating pete!

silence followed.

silence.

- but wait ... murmured i, is that something? is that a sign? is that! ....

PHHREWTTTploP. a mere fart in the wind.

- ALAS! must i pay for my neglect forever? must i suffer? must those around me suffer for my actions!?

- wahaha!

- who is that there? where is that voice coming from? it is from within! it is from without! it is everywhere at once!

- it is I! TYRANNICAL TESTI. you. shall. bow! wahaha

this was something new. this was something frightening (as most new things are). this was most definitely something. that much was sure.

the question was what to do with it. should i, procrastinating pete, jump at the demands of TYRANNICAL TESTI? should i heed the warnings? the first two signs of the coming apocalypse?

- of course i should! i cried to the heavens. rain down upon me your love and mercy. feed me with your warm sunshine, not your hail and fertilizer!

- sniffle

- what? what was that i hear?

- n-nothing

- your voice betrays you. i love you tt!

- i love you too pp! sniffle

The Imposition and Ramifications of Being a Jinx

2010-02-08T16:22:00.000-08:00

It happened again. For the fourth time in my life I was able to watch the Canucks get their asses handed to them by the home team. Last week the jerseys of my affection visited Ottawa only to lose badly. I would dismiss their poor performance on any number of factors – it being a road game, the Sens hot streak, the team being hung over from partying at the rippers in Montreal the night before – if only this had been an isolated incident. I have to come to realize, sadly, that this was not the case. Every time I’ve watched the Canucks play live, in a variety of arenas and cities, they manage to lose. And badly.

The first time I saw the Canucks play was years ago in Winnipeg. It was the first game that I ever saw and was cheering for the Jets to pull off a victory, which they did. Two things stand out from that experience. First, I have a very strong memory (much stronger then anything that happened on the ice) of an Asian man continuously yelling, “Vancouver! Go Back to your Island!” over and over and over again. Even as a child I was pretty sure that Vancouver wasn’t on an island. Subsequent research has proven this belief to be true. Second, and more importantly, the desire I had for Vancouver to lose that night has extended into a losing streak that only the Oilers would find familiar.

The next time I saw the Canucks was in Calgary during the Flames run to the Stanly Cup finals. The two teams met in an epic first rounder that was only decided in overtime of the seventh game. As I recall, at least three games went to overtime in that series. Not the one I went to though. My ugly ass golden V jersey was a silent shimmer in an incestuous Sea of Red. The game wasn’t even close. 3-0, I think. So I left as the drunkest guy at the Saddledome. The loss in the series may have been the result of the D-jinx: That was the year I got back into watching hockey after a multi-year sabbatical. That was also the year that Bertuzzi became a verb, effectively ending the Nucks chances at doing well in the play-offs.

Last year I saw the Canucks in Montreal. Despite a shitty centennial for the Habs, they received superb goaltending that night, winning 3-0. That was also the game that Kovalev came back after being sent to the corner to think over his attitude for a few games. My golden jersey was mocked relentlessly par les québécois douchbags. “Eh! Mon ostie. C’estais une bonne match tabernac, n’est pas!?” Dicks

I noticed after that moment that whenever I wear my Canucks jersey things go poorly, so I’ve stopped. Doesn’t seem to help anything. It wasn’t till late in the 3^rd that the Canucks managed to even score a goal, the first I’d seen live since I was about 9 years old. Watching the Canucks play last week was like witnessing old goat balls as they entered the frosty February air. It was like they were wearing equipment that was too tight and they couldn’t figure out how to move, let alone pass or shoot. They haven’t played that badly since the first week of the season.

This leaves me with the feeling that I should not see anymore Canucks games if I want them to win again. Sigh. Good thing I’m not living in the Couv, it’d be game over for the Canucks and Team Canada. I couldn't handle the hate of a nation.

Nazi's in Winnipeg

2009-11-12T17:33:00.000-08:00

History nerd that I am... I came across this little episode in Canadian history a few days ago while I was doing some research for one of my classes. It is one of the strangest things I have ever heard about happening here and I thought it should be shared. This is the story as I remember reading it:

On a cold winter night in February 1942, during some of the most uncertain days for Canadians during WWII, something strange happened in Winnipeg. Nazi soldiers began amassing at various locations on the outskirts of town. At just after 3 am they began to converge on the sleeping city. They were well organized and prepared for the assault; in less then an hour they had taken control of the city. The were able to take over the local radio stations and the newspapers. Nazi soldiers high-stepped all over town. When people woke in the morning they heard their mayor announce to his citizens that the Nazis had full control of Winnipeg and that, for their own safety, they should cooperate. In the evening, the Nazi invaders published the evening post, in German, which outlined all the new restrictions that they were imposing in the name of the Führer. The Nazis had taken Winnipeg.

It turns out that the Nazis were not Nazis at all, they were young men wearing costumes borrowed from Hollywood and hired by the federal government . The mayor was in on the show but nobody else apparently knew about this, including the local police, other politicians or the public. The justification by the government for the staging of this takeover was that they wanted to demonstrate the dangers of losing WWII to the Germans for all Canadians. After this, Winnipegers quickly became the greatest purchasers per capita of the Victory War Bonds.

Am I the only person who hasn't ever heard about this before? This is fucked up.

Mono-Cankleitis

2009-09-08T19:34:00.000-07:00

It's a terrible affliction, this mono-cankleitis as my doctor calls it. I've seen it for some time now just hovering around above my foot. I had seen it before but not on myself. Not on my body. Normally this is a syndrome reserved for an older lady, and never have I heard of it arriving in singular form. I assumed that they always travelled in pairs, like scissors or testicles. But I got to get a handle on this thing. I keep walking around in circles and never get anywhere except lower in the ground. And it takes a long time to wear down a sidewalk. But this is where I am. I've been considering doing some exercises to the other ankle to bulk it up. Drink some protein shakes and maybe take a couple needles to speed things along, but that all seems like a lot of work to merely mask mono-cankleitis. Maybe it would be better if I shopped at American Apparel and bought some of those vintage-like 80's inspired striped white socks. Those socks are really long. I could get a tensor bandage and cankle up my other ankle, the lousy healthy one. But then those socks have become uncool, being last year's fad. You know how these things are. They aren't even so uncool they're cool. Not yet anyways. Maybe in four years time they'll be "in" again. But that doesn't help me now. Oh Mono-Cankleitis! Why have your vengeance upon me? Did I wrong you in a previous existence by giving you a muffin top? the human papillomavirus? male pattern baldness? If only we could see these things a true cure could be found for my affliction. But until then, alas.

Safe In the Eye of a Hurricane of Handjobs

2009-07-03T16:39:00.000-07:00

If procrastination was a pill, I think I might need to go to the hospital building for an anti-overdose procedure cause I've been putting this first post off for a while. Sure, I've moved cities during the official launch hoedown of Icebakes et al., but that isn't why it's taken so long to get 'er done. Truth is I've been shooting blanks from my manly-shaped-idea-making-super-soaker® machine and haven't much wanted to sit here and type random, directionless shiz. But here I be, doing just that. Maybe I should mention where on this earth I stand now, but menh. I'm here now, was over there until recently, will be somewhere in the middle of here and there later but well off before that, and of course, somewhere different towards the end of the warm weather. I could discuss the sandwich I would have made but who wants that stale story again? Seems to me that's been done, and pretty well no less. Perhaps words of wisdom would be welcome here, perhaps not. But regardless, I have none (which is the wisest thing of all to say - even you if you don't believe such dribble). A couple nights ago I fell asleep with gum in my mouth, which somehow found a path into my back pocket. Beyond suggesting not to allow your current or future gum to become so intwined with your daily existence, I gots nothing.