All Things Must Pass

After having a shitty day, there's only one thing to do. And that's talk shit. Literally. Today, I was referenced in Winnipeg's "leading newspaper" in an article by their pet columnist about the city's off-leash parks. It was a piece that pandered to both dog lovers and those suffering from cynophobia, perhaps written under deadline...or influence of Nyquil. I'm not sure. The part that stood out most to me was when the columnist wrote about a local dog blog (I'm not aware of any besides Winnipegdogs.com) that didn't know the difference between dog crap and goose crap, leading her to giggle at the obvious blunder and ineptitude of the authoring blogger (which, I'm assuming, is moi). Yes, my life has come to this. Defending my knowledge of the colour and texture of dog feces. Please put me to sleep. 

Here is the post I believe the columnist references (a rant about the amount of dog crap littering the sidewalks of Kilcona Park, Winnipeg's premiere off-leash spot). I may be wrong in my assumption but really, how many local blogs have mentioned jade-hued poo? Unless there's some weird fetish site that I am unaware of. In which case, the internet has officially gone too far (and said columnist is a bit of a freak). I don't feel the need to flash my credentials, but let me say this: my lab-x, Professor Reggie, tested me earlier this evening and I feel confident that I could pass, ahem, any exam on the subject matter with flying colours.   

In closing though, I thank the columnist for reading my blog...'cuz lord knows, with the newspaper's dwindling circulation numbers, I'm not sure anyone but me is reading her column. 

N.O.W.

I am currently reading 'No Opportunity Wasted', a guide to living life to the fullest by Phil Keoghan (best known as host of The Amazing Race). I bought it at a book signing several years ago but never got around to actually perusing it. As fate would have it though, a perfect storm has created a need in my life for change and I am now willing to embrace whatever pearls of wisdom are presented. Phil himself told me to "think now" - a canned comment that was surely whispered to thousands of others - but I plan on taking it to heart. This guy has uncovered a career niche wherein other people pay for him to travel the world. He's a god amongst men and his advice should be treated as gospel.  

The first chapter asks readers to recall their most immortal memories; moments that have transcended the ordinary to become legend. It got me thinking. What moments have provided temporary bliss whilst on this mortal coil? What moments best encapsulate my id? Most involve getting lost.

Lost in the moment. Lost in someone's eyes. Literally lost in a metropolis maze. 

Who needs a compass to navigate when primal instinct is so much more accurate? I look forward to finding myself again over the next few months. 

Vintage Advertisements

Words & Music Magazine:
(Rolling Stone issue 95, November 1971)

Tom Rush 'Merrimack County' album release:
(Rolling Stone issue 112, July 1972)

More cringe-worthy copy promoting some dude I've never heard of (but I'm willing to bet has an STD or two).

Fender series:
(Rolling Stone issue 126, January 1973)
(Rolling Stone issue 127, February 1973)
(Rolling Stone issue 130, March 1973) 

Obladaisms

This is amazing!

Took Reg to Assiniboine Park the other day to watch 'Dreams & Rumors' at The Lyric (Fleetwood Mac cover band). Their performance was great and they managed to draw the biggest crowd I've seen at the outdoor theatre in awhile. How awesome would it be to collect a paycheque for mimicking Stevie Nicks? I think I've found my new career path. I can move like a whirling dervish and I already own an abundance of scarves. 

Going to Grand Forks in a few weeks to *cough* catch the Britney Spears concert *cough*. Ahem...and was researching what else there is to do that weekend besides overspend at the Super Target. I got a chuckle out of this for more than a few reasons, but mostly because of the repeated warnings that Columbia Mall is a family-friendly environment and secondly, at their own suggestion to replicate the look from the "Get Naked" song. I bet bikini waxers in the area have already seen business increase ten-fold. 

Googled "affordable Vancouver homes" and came across www.affordablevancouverhomes.com. My delight soon turned to nausea when I read the first, most "affordable" listing: $578,000 for a 915 sq.ft. condo. Good thing my car is roomy...I have a feeling I will be living out of it if I relocate there. 

I want this sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo bad. I cringe that I'm on the verge of becoming one of those nerds that sits outside the Best Buy overnight just to get a videogame. 

I give a hug to thee, Verdana. Who knew a typeface could elicit such rancor?  

For Those About to Rock...

My evening was soaked in testosterone. First off, I went to see the movie 'The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard'. I'm not really a Jeremy Piven fan, but I can respect how he's elevated his douchebaggery into an artform. It takes a certain level of charm to turn sleaziness into an endearing character trait. This "charm" would be sorely missed during the second part of my evening however.  

Upon leaving the theatre, my friend and I decided to sneak into the AC/DC concert. As we made our way across Maroons Road, "Back In Black" providing the soundtrack to our extemporaneous decision, we noticed dozens of other people with similar thought in mind, each scouring for unmanned openings into the fortification and climbing various safe and (mostly) unsafe pillars, trees and other chassis in order to gain a better vantage point to watch Angus Young and crew. Instead of risking detainment or an overnight cell with an obese drunkard named Bubbles, we decided to perch ourselves against the southeast stadium wall and enjoy the unfettered view of the jumbotron at the side of the stage. A free show is always good. Doubly-so when you realize the person 10 feet away paid over a hundred bucks for it. 

I rocked out to all of my favorite tracks (was surprised Thunderstruck wasn't in the encore) and then came to realize that sometimes free comes with a price. An inebriated individual came over and stood directly in my line of sight. I shook my head and uttered some un-niceties to my friend that are better left unwritten. The man then turned around and muttered something to me. I assumed he was trying to sell me some illicit substance or other and shook my head even more aggressively. But then - oh, sweet Jesus! - then my friend pulled me away and I realized what exactly was going on. Inebriated man was urinating all over the place. On the wall. On the jeans of a fellow concertgoer. On someone's purse. A pouring rain, he took no prisoners. He spared no lives.

And I am now forever traumatized. 

Time for me to hit the sack. 

Vintage Advertisements

Waterbed advertisement copywritten by someone with issues:
(Rolling Stone issue 82, May 1971) 

"Bummers®":
(Rolling Stone issue 84, June 1971) 

Advertisement for recording label 'Good Records':
(Rolling Stone issue 84, June 1971) 


Vintage Advertisements

Himalaya brand "hairy" poncho:
(Rolling Stone issue 66, September 1970)

The Moody Blues 'Question of Balance' album release:
(Rolling Stone issue 66, September 1970)

Marijuana Plant Sale - 20" plant $1.50; 60" plant $22.00:
(Rolling Stone issue 66, September 1970)

 

The Magic Bullet

I only recently subscribed to the full cable television package through Shaw. Before this, my life was a miasma of bad reality programming and even more horrid 'Friends' reruns (I can't be the only one who dry heaves at the sight of David Schwimmer). Now I can't get enough OLN. Not only because it offers me a daily 'Amazing Race' fix, but because it is THE station for bad awesome infomercials! I guess physically active individuals in the 18-34 age bracket are the primary demographic for such innovative, time-saving devices like Slap Chop, Bumpits and this - the only product ever endorsed by swingers - the Magic Bullet.  

It begins not-so-innocently enough at a breakfast bar in a McMansion, which is curiously stocked like an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Berman", a used car salesman/alcoholic junkie, is one of the first overacted characters to arrive. He is offered a fruit smoothie to ail his woes, the previous night clearly having taken a toll on him. I suspect an anal probe was involved somehow, possibly as part of a Freemason ritual gone awry. As he chugs his pint of strawberry-banana deliciousness, more people enter the scene. The "bar" is filling with middle-aged spread faster than the Palomino club on a Friday night. Drinks are passed around. Omelettes served. The morning after is clearly time for post-coital celebration and product demonstration. 

They use this "Magic Bullet" to make a morning feast including freshly-ground coffee, muffins...did somebody say muffins? Holy shit! Who is THAT?! A muu-muu wearing, chain-smoking hag has entered the kitchen. It is never stated whether "Hazel" (said hag) is with Berman or was perhaps invited to the orgy in a blind date scenario with him in mind, but clearly they are OTP. Even though they are sitting on opposite ends of the room, I feel the unbridled passion - and shared lice infestation - between them. 

Now I don't know how to cook, but after watching this infomercial I have learned two things:

  • the Magic Bullet can do any job in the kitchen in 10 seconds or less, including stuffing a turkey and boiling an egg
  • every meal starts with chopped garlic

It appears you don't even have to wash this thing. For three easy payments of $33.33, I'm sold! You even get a second set free...I'd give it away, but I want the party to be at my house. Just bring your own strawberries...and bananas.