Workin' in a World of Men – Buddy

“We tell you what's cool, then play it 'til you like it!”

So I work with Buddy. Buddy listens to the same shit radio station every goddam day. Modern Rock. Fucking garbage, blasting me in the face at full volume, 7 hours a day, five days a week. Thank god he comes in an hour later than I do. Thirty five hours a week I'm forced to listen to the same irredeemable audial waste over and over and over and over and over and over. It's like I'm living the movie 'A Clockwork Orange', only my ears are pried open and someone's pouring shit in them.

Man's Best Friend Part 2

People think I hate dogs. This may have something to do with the fact that I'm always bitching about dogs (See what I did there? I'm so proud.). But nothing could be further from the truth.

Well, actually, I guess there are probably quite a few things further from the truth than that. (Does the word 'further' seem like the deformed hillbilly brother of the word 'farther' to you?) The truth is, I'm not as big a fan of dogs as I used to be. When I was a kid, I had a succession of really great dogs, and they were my best friends in the world, to be sure. I would go so far as to say that I am a better person for having known them, and that my quality of life as a child and a young man was greatly enriched by their companionship. And I suppose if I had a place to live that I felt had enough room for a dog to live comfortably, I would have me a dog. So really, I don't hate dogs. Not by a long shot.

I just hate your dog.

It's What's Between The Buns That Counts!

I just got back from the local Dairy Queen. I like to take my kids there. They have an old jukebox that plays 45's and they change them up sometimes. There's a big display case full of memorabilia and movie props from the 50's. One wall of the place has blowups of pages from a local 1950's highschool yearbook and pictures of the owner of the place meeting the Beach Boys. Almost every time I go there I get served by the same old German woman who always gets my order wrong, even after we go over it three times. All in all, a pretty cool place for a fast food joint.

Project Garth

This post is basically just me stealing something from a friend of mine. I just felt the whole thing needed to be given new life, because when it was happening it was one of the strangest, most bewildering and hilarious things I have ever been privy to.

On The Road

On the road to Woss.

Lucky Lager, CCR's Green River, 300 metres above sea level, March, 12 inches of snow, three dudes, white truck, trailer full of random shit. Rock and roll is still alive here - the Kinks shout it out of the ipod loud and bratty, snotty fuckers blaze a trail down the graywhite highway heading north on Vancouver Island. Work trucks pass us at 140 km an hour, lucky loggers done for the day and heading for the good times down the road. Down the road the RCMP blaze by us at Sayward junction, heading for the donuts - they always get there, man.

Tiny Montgomery Clift

This is a story about a dog named Tiny Montgomery Clift. Tiny Montgomery Clift was the luckiest dog in the world. He was the luckiest dog in the world because he got to spend every day with all of his very best friends. His very best friends were all very weird dogs who walked around on their hind legs most of the time, and had a lot of weird hobbies. Tiny Montgomery Clift loved them just the same. His weird dog friends spent most of their days walking in the forest, chanting bizarre incantations and examining the trees very intently. Tiny Montgomery Clift loved to walk, and the forest was full of the most wonderful sticks. Tiny Montgomery Clift loved sticks very much. His weird very best friends also seemed to love sticks, as they had some sticks they carried with them everywhere they went through the forest. Strangely, though, they never asked him to throw the sticks for them to chase, nor did they offer to throw the sticks for him to chase. This struck Tiny Montgomery Clift as very odd. If he could walk on two legs, he thought, he would only stop throwing sticks long enough to chase them.