Eating it. Face first, safety second.

What, no rebellion? No revolution? I don't blog for weeks and no one gives a fuck? I'll show you fuckless givers. . .

Much has happened since that fateful trip to NY. . .I can't remember any of it.

Well Pieper won the election. HORRAY FOR PIPES! That means another year with this guy. Look at him (yes that's him). Pieper for CSA, that's what I think every time I look at this picture. God it's glorius. We'll get to where this is from in a minute. . .

So I've done a couple of brewery tours since the last time we talked. Sleeman and Wellington. Sleeman was fun. There were a few folks I went to highschool with washed up running the brewery tours there. . .strangely satisfying to see. At the end of that same week was a wellington brewery tour, which was a blast. There was a good crew there, most of which we brought back to our place for a St. Paddy's day bash. That was a hell of a party. . . from what I remember. But that's not even everything! This presentation I keep thinking I have keeps getting moved. Fuckfaces bumped me out because of that snowstorm. If someone gets bumped into your timeslot from a previous week, shouldn't that mean you get bumped into the next one? So far it seems I was deleted, but ask me if I care that I am not doing a presentaion on a topic I won't be reasearching for a program I'm switching out of. Nope!

Today was the last day of seminars in the undergrad class I TA, which is nice. Now it's smooth sailing marking papers until. . . until what? Well I'll get to that.

So the week went by, with some hot weather which I thoroughly enjoyed and then came the day of reckoning. I accompanied D-Rock on an adventure to a hot tub party for the ski team, which I have to say was the wildest time I've had outside of a camp party . . . Part way into the night (after a few rounds of keg beer and the shotski (shot-ski), we realised how drunk we were, so we thought "better get our PFD's on!" Safety first right? Well not exactly. As you can tell from the image above, it was safety second. That became the motto of the evening actually, people are still saying it. I was a little hung over the next day. . .I'm not really sure why. I think it might have been limbo at 3:15 AM. Not sure though. The PFD's were a hit though, so was us blowing our whistles and telling people to quit horsing around. It was touch and go for a minute when Derek did that and then jumped face first into the opponents' hot tub. . . he left his face in there for 10 unconmfortable seconds before Alasdair (lifeguard) pulled him out by the back of his PFD. . . that's why they're load bearing, so you can do that shit to people. Pieper was on fire in case you can't tell. Also you can't beat a party with tiki torches, hot tubs, kegs, stogies, and twister. Yeah that's right, twister in your

bathing suit. Believe that. You know what keeps happening? I keep going out and drinking beer. I think it's the change in weather and the lack of bullshit lab work .. . yeah that's definitely what it is. I think that's also drivng my overuse of the ellipsis.. . . . . . .. . . . . .. . .

Yep for sure.

Two nights ago I was convinced to go out for trivia at the Keg. It's always a good sign when you show up somewhere and you're welcomed with open arms by the students you spend your days marking. PS they're all drunk, PPS they want you to do shots with them because "hey, you're part of the toxicology team." I'd be lying if I said I didn't think that was fun. Also they won $10 cause their trivia team kicked ass, god love the little whipper snappers.

The fun never ends. So my birthday is coming up, as is the birthday of SO many other people I could name. Lots of april babies around these days. . . To commemorate this, and the close of another successful year It's THAT TIME AGAIN! April porchclimber motherfucker. This time my supervisor is NOT invited, although we're great friends now. Last time was a bit of an awkward manoeuvre on my part. Saturday, Apr 14. If you can read this, you are invited. If you did not get a personal invitation, complain and I will send you one. It's going to be a big ass blowout up in this humpty bumpty that day. I cannot wait.

Before I forget I also have to share the crowning achievement of the backstreet boys shirt that Colin stole from me. . .

This is colin (or should I say glamour shots) sporting the shirt in front of the infamous Machu Picchu. He hiked the Inca trail with Sarah, and I like to think he put that shirt on that morning just for this photo op. Modern pop meets ancient high altitude Incan city. Juxtaposition? Point Colin.

Now what is this a segue into? Well the porchclimber is not later, because 2 days later I am flying in the direction of Colin, though not so far south. I was lying in bed one night, rolling over probably around 3 AM, and in a brief moment of serendipitous consciousness it hit me: There is a gap between the end of my responsibilities here as a TA, and the beginning as a student this summer. I researched it, yep: story checked out. The gap was a good 3 weeks or so. So I emailed Yank - yep: story shecked out, he had time to entertain me. Then I booked my flight, and now it's settled. I am going to Costa Rica April 18-May 2 to visit my old pal. It will be my third time in that country, but everything tells me this experience will be like no other I've had there, or anywhere. What exchanges I have had with Rob have given me enough info to get excited:

-He lives in the province of Limon, also known to him as "the place where dreams go go die" I've been to Limon, I hear that. Limon holds the component of Costa Ricans of carribean descent, that is Jamaica, Barbados, etc. They were brought over to build railroads, etc. when the country was expanding. There is a cool creole that is spoken there, and it's found on the atlantic side of the country. Despite all this cool background, it's what I remember to have some of the sketchier situations you might get into. . . after all I think that's where Rob got mugged during Carnival, did I get that right Yank? Let me know if I'm way off base.

-For those of you unfamilliar with the location of Costa Rica, it's a small country on just about the narrowest part of the isthmus that is central america. To the north lies Nicaragua, and to the south Panama, the last country in central america. After that is South America. Interestingly, however, Costa Rica is further south than a portion of South America. . .Case in point: Margarita Island (see February 2006 entries) where I was in Venezuela, was about 11 degrees north of the Equator, and CR is apparently 10. . . it's because central america does that funky little bend north before it connects to the southern continent. That's enough about that. Costa Rica is a spanish speaking country, which is known for it's biodiversity, jungles, coffee, and beautiful scenery. It's also a shining beacon of political stability in the central and south americans, having been war free for some 90 years (or 150, depending who you talk to). They abolished their army after their last civil war, which is pretty kick ass, and it seems to be working for them. Moving on ->

-There's going to be some pimped hiking. . . the highest peak is 12,500 ft high and we plan to make the ascent. . .

-Rob's parents are going to be there for the first part of my visit, which is very exciting, since it's been awhile! I think his dad and I are going fishing with him for some big ass fish. . .seriously, these fuckers are huge, I looked it up, but I won't get anyone's hopes up or spoil too many surprises. That will be saved for the pictures and blog entries upon my return.

-Rob says I'm going to get to meet the Natives he works with in CR. They speak a language only 10,000 people speak, and they're excited for us to come up. We're going to bring them food and they're going to teach us to make masks out of wood. I couldn't think of a better deal really. . . I want to bring some trinket from my corner of the world, any suggestions? Anybody?

So on that note, I'll close it off by saying that tomorrow night I'll be joining Britton at a boxed wine party, because I felt a little tired and run down lately, and I think it's because I haven't been drinking enough alcohol. You have to do your best impression of a Chicken to get in, and the best decorated box wins a prize. I know what you're thinking, "Decorate your box like a BOX!" yeah - that's taken. I have to think of something else.

So to Colin and Sarah I say "Mas Vino por favor!", if I could pull off the upside down exclamation mark at the beginning of that I would.

To you I say Adios!

to Yank I say: How do you say "I like my wine to come from a box." En Espanol?

Pieper for CSA

Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades

What if the horseshoes keep falling out of your ass?

So Friday night a bunch of us left for NY to go skiing. It was like we entered another fucking world. At the border, the local dialect made the language barrier almost unbearable. Francesco was driving his pimped out Jetta with a box of 10 inch subs in the back. For those of you sandwich artists, those are speakers. We pulled up.

"Where y'all headed?" (we're 1.5 fucking hours from guelph, y'all?)

Francesco, trying to say Canandaigua (pronounced canon-daga) "uuhhh. . . Can-an-daiiii-guaaa?"

The guy looks nonplussed "What y'all doin there?"

"skiing."

"Citizenship?"

"Canadian"

"ID please, hand them to the driver"

"Francisco?" (as in san fran)

"uhh - yeah"

"Where you born?" cocking one eye now, suspicious of the italian accent

"Montreal"

He lets it go, now he asks martin and I our names

"Umm - bree-anne?"

Bryan says "uhh, that's bryan".

He looks at us without a shred of trust, hands our passports back "have a good one"

We pull off the I-90 to find out that the Tim Horton's (chalk one for Canada)/Arby's combo place isn't open at 9:45 on a fucking friday night - OFF A MAJOR INTERSTATE. What country is this? They don't take debit, their payphones are antique, and all the arcade games are from the 80's. We are 10 years in the past. The building is new, but everything inside is old. We keep driving, pissed and confused. We pull into Canandaigua and walk into the Econo Lodge where they told us they'd accept are money at par. They did - twice. The lady was unfriendly. We paid for all the rooms, including those of the people we were waiting on (one more car was lost). We walked across the parking lot to the local Denny's and found ourselves in another world. I felt American. I was surrounded by over 200 high school kids, just hanging out, driving the waitstaff insane. At 11:00 at night I ate a big greasy burger with a side of fries. Onion rings were on it, drizzled in some kind of liquid mayonnaise. Ick. Martin sat across from me, beatin his head against the proverbial wall trying to down his fourth piece of french toast with his third shot of syrup. He ordered the french toast slam, and it absolutely spanked him. He was delirious, rationalizing how he could do it, but if he did he wouldn't ski the next day.

We finished what we could and hobbled back. As we went out the door we ran into the others. They said they'd just paid for their room. . .but - but. . .so did we. We all headed back to the Econo Lodge where the lady was as mean as ever. Francesco was as tactful as I've ever seen him in trying to explain that we just wanted to know if there was a discrepancy. He asked for a pen, paper and a calculator and went through all the numbers with her. The problem was that the lady couldn't do math, and she was getting more agitated by the minute. It was like reasoning with a violent drunk. It didn't matter what we said, it was the fact that we were talking that drove her bonkers. She got more and more defensive, until almost in tears "I don't know why y'all are blamin me for everything." Something we were definitely not doing. "All's I got is the money you gave me right here, it's all Canadian. I'll call the cops and then they can look at the security tape and sort it out." She kept advancing with the cop threat until Francesco calmly stated "I don't know why you want to call the police, but I'm sure they'd like to see some receipts." That shut her up. Finally it was sorted, she owed us 2 bucks. The next day the owners figured out she owed us about $400. Fucking lady. She didn't do it purposely, she just couldn't count. Not even a guy with a PhD could figure out how to reason with her and calm her down. A PhD in neuropsychology. Later that night we sat in our room threatening to call the police on each other. The 8 of us, drunk, laughed our asses off at the thought of her doing amphetamines in the back to take the edge off. That's funny to addictions researchers. . .

The skiing was great, the place was nice and tucked away. I survived off disgusting burgers and dogs, understanding the obesity problem more and more by the second. On the way home we picked up beer and beef jerky, (when in Rome) at the local convenience store. I had to laugh at the site of my research supervisor jamming it in next to his speaker system and covering it with a coat. He was so excited to drink Red Dog, which he referred to as "uncommonly smooth beer" all weekend, drunk or not. Priceless.

The drive home was unevenful, no issues at the border. I immediately got to working on my presentation for today, which I just finished. It went swimmingly I must say, so I am happy. I also got an email on the speaker for this Friday's Biomed seminar (I was under the impression it was me) saying that it was another dude. Remember when school was closed and ice covered everything? That set us back a week (sweet!) So that means instead of stressing from now till Friday, I will go have drinks at trivia tonight at the Keg.

See I was close to presenting this week, but close only counts when horseshoes fall out of your ass. Or hand grenades. . . I could only imagine how damaging that would be if you didn't move in time.

In the words of Derek and I "it appears something has toasted the mechanism."

Random pictures of things: Pieper is running for CSA Academic Commisioner, vote for him if you can, watch his video before it's removed here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=1jjFdQpe4Ww

the other is of spanky the bear out in front of the arts centre. . .like you didn't know that.

Anyway, things are looking up. Come to our party on Saturday. Yank, stay in Costa Rica, if this Red State scourge is bleeding northeast to Maine it may be worth it to get your parents the fuck out of there and set up shop in Canada, or in San Jose. You know I always support you when you take 'yank flak' but these muthafuckas was trippin'!

I'm going to call the police.

Then other times, when you have a horseshoe up your ass, you catch bullets in your mouth and spit them back

So - resolution. Let's start with the past and work our way to the present. Just like life. When did we talk last?Ah yes! Drunken idiots and posters. Well let's leave off from there! So my poster was pimped, I worked so hard on it! Wanna see it? I'll show you since no one else got to. . . Long story short, I got to the poster seminar and eveyrone's poster but mine printed out. I worked so hard on it. My supervisor didn't seem to much care, because unbeknownst to me that was not the day they were being marked on, but still! It was like I was underdressed for a party and my name wasn't on the guest list. But then I went into the party anyway, and it lasted from 8:30 in the morning till 4:45 in the afternoon. A gruelling day of seminars on air pollution. People barely looked at the posters anyway, but I was still bitter. I sent mine in as a jpg and a corel file IN CASE anyone had any issues printing it. I guess I dind't have a back up plan for when the village idiot down at environmental biology that runs the printer forgets to actually print a poster.

Okay now it works

I tried to write this entry a week ago and it didn't work. I'll try again now even though I have ZERO time. The longer I wait the less entertaining it will be for both of us. So last weekend (after posters) Graeme and I went to Jess' for a bathrobe party. The party was actually being held for George, one of my TOX students. Yes - what a tangled web we weave.

I figured if it was going to be at Jess' there was no conflict of interest. . . despite the fact that all night I had the authors of the papers I was marking coming up to me telling me how awesome their paper was going to be. . . then there was the part where I demanded that one of the students ditch his shirt. He was wearing it under a bathrobe, to be fair, and that just wansn't right. That is how I knew I was hammered though. There was also another part where I looked over and a girl I barely know was taking a picture in a direction more generally mine than anyone else's, and I can't help but think it was so she could go home and say "see, that's my TA, he's drunk." Or maybe she's going to blackmail me with it. I don't regret it though, we had some boat races, it was fun drinking with and against my students. The end of the night was classic though. Most of the TOX crew was gone, luckily, but word still got out apparently so it doesn't really matter. So there was this dude walking around with a couple of George's beers tucked in his arms alongside a poorly constructed funnel. Sarah, George's girlfriend, had but put George to bed a little earlier because this wise guy kept taking his beers against George's will, and there was going to be a fight. Apparently this guy has a history of making trouble wherever he goes. I can't see why Jess still invites him, but in the words of her "well he's our friend, we can't just break up with him right?" I guess that's the difference between us Jess.

So fuckface is walking around with these beers when Sarah comes up to me and asks "can you please get those away from him, they're George's and he won't let them go."

I politely approached him and asked whose beers they were. He lied and said his two friends gave them to him. 5 minutes of conversation made me more confident that he knew that I was aware of his lying and I gradually became more assertive until I had one of the beers in my hand, he was saying "do you got a fucking problem with me?" and I was saying "I think you should stop being such a douche bag and just put the beers back."

He was steaming mad now, he wanted to fight but couldn't bring himself to do it. Graeme was beside himself with glee watching this guy writhe in his own anger but not working up the courage to back his words up. He was on the sidelines swingin away, like he was about to kick some ass. Fuckface was busy walking off his rage around the house while we had some laughs on the couch. I realised he was going to pick the beer back up so I told Graeme to drink it, and he obliged. This is the best part. We're sitting on the couch, sprawled, I've traded graeme for Jess' bathrobe, which I am now wearing. I'm sitting there in my pink bathrobe, enjoying the last cold one of the evening, when happy clappy has finally worked himself into enough of a rage "I'm going to fucking say something to him, I'm going to fucking say something" that he walks over to me and points at me as I sit on the couch, listening attentively.

"Before I go, I just want you to know something. I don't care what the fuck you think."

This is when I start laughing. When the giggles subside enough I say "but you just proved yourself wrong by talking to me, if you don't care then why tell me?" Now he's seething, but he talks right over me "and - AND - you're a fucking homo."

Now I'm really laughing.

Jess is laughing.

Graeme is laughing.

I ask him if that's really even an insult any more, and what decade it is, and he stomps off, pissed. His friends are dragging him out the door, and right before he leaves he storms back in and bats the lampshade so hard the light goes out. We laugh some more and the front door slams. It was absolute gold. Graeme still brings it up almost every day. "Just OWNED with intimidation, do you know how hard it is to intimidate a drunk guy!?"

We came up with a bunch of other great responses to "you're a homo" like "sorry I don't date fat guys." But I think that would've started a fight for sure, no?

Here is where the horseshoe is up my ass. I walked into the office of the dept head of biomed here. We'd scheduled this meeting over three times due to schedule conflicts and him missing the meeting completely. I walked in thinking "today my life will change." I didn't know if it was for the better or not, or by how much. After all, chances were I'd be in school longer than expected now. Probably I'd get funnelled into another lab and might not like the work there either right?

Enter horseshoe.

I sat down, and for the first 15 minutes the head went on a tirade about how the way the MSc is organized is rediculous and not conducive to sending people onward from there, and that he sympathizes with my position and something needs to be done. Then he talked about how things work in europe. I was happy he sympathized but what does this mean to me? He then let me in on a little top secret secret. Yeah that's right. They are starting a new program up here this summer. 1 year master's, mostly course based, with 4 months of lab work in it. You get flexibility for your courses and your lab, and you're out in a year. Some of the course I took would already count. I am not behind, in fact I will finish on or ahead of schedule, and will likely be the first person ever to be enrolled in the program. WTF!? I could not have fucked up more conveniently. I walked out of that meeting laughing my ass off. How did this happen? Apparently I had an ace up my sleeve. Or a horseshoe up my ace. Ass.

Lucky?

In other news, the above picture is of a snow shelter we've been periodically working on just off the cow path. It's therapeutic, and pretty soon we'll be able to crawl right inside it. . . The bottom pic is of Couse and I deeply in love. I think this was about 1 hour or less after I got off the van from the attawapiskat. Hence I looke like cooked leather from 16 hours a day of direct fucking sunlight. Also i'm drunk. We had a nice exchange of 3 or 4 emails yesterday, and we are happy neither of us is going to camp. See you don't want eras to continue without you in them, and so now we are ending our eras together. This is facilitate any independent canoe tripping that will happen this summer. Word on the street from Deb is we might be doing one in early June. Alanna is apparently in? (that's the girl in this picture). Hey Deb, why don't you send me a funny one of you. . . You need more exposure on here. Couse, I hope you are in too.

That is all.

Wait no it isn't

Let me append this now, since this entry is constantly under construction. Alanna, you are not just the girl in this picture, you are so much more than that. You have lit so many moments in my life, like the time Deb and I were canoeing and you almost decapitated us with a water ski rope by navigating the 3 feet between our cedar canvas canoes. Here is a picture of you paddling gracefully into the fading dusk light of lake Kabakwa.. .

On that note, let me introduce Alanna. Alanna and I have been going to camp together for quite some time, but have never really gotten to know each other until the last little while (summer). We were both trippers, and even lived in the same cabin. When things got lonely around camp and I was the only guy left in my cabin I moved in with all the girls. Why you ask? Why would you ask that question? Anyway so we had a blast making fun of children, fixing boats, exchanging stories, getting hammered, and doing other various things that trippers and camp friends do on a regular basis. Alanna always says she reads my blog, but I guess you gotta piss her off before she actually writes something. Well Alanna, let me take this opportunity and show everyone what a big deal you are by inviting you with this permanent, digitally immortalized invitation to our place this saturday. . . We are going to have people over around 9:30 Saturday night, want to come? C'MOOOON. Bring Mackie, I'll tell Kilmer, he's in St. Catharines, maybe something can be worked out. You haven't been here yet this semester. Now I know I said I'd come to Hamilton some time, and I know I didn't last semester, and I know I said I probably never could because of school, but I just told you what changed with school, and so after this week all the craziness of presentations is over, and a trip to Hamilton is not out of the question. . .like that will bribe you to come to Guelph! Seriously though, do it. I'm going to invite the camp crew here.

Bob and Willsy, you're invited too - so is Mack. Sorry I have to make it an afterthought like that, Alanna is kind of a big deal.

Bullets: to dodge or to bite?

Sometimes probability works out of your favour, like when this human got hit with a torpedo. . . actually this was taken in france when we shot torpedos at our campers. Actually this was taken in france when we sent the kids screaming down a gravel bank to a fast, watery fate. This kid got owned in the face with water. When the smoke cleared all that was left was actually those legs, from the knees down, with the sandals still on them. Strange things happen at 500 kph.

So the school is closed for the second day in a row. I don't know if this has ever happened! I wasn't that excited about the snow day though. Yesterday Pieper bit the bullet. He was sitting in his office, bored, wanting to leave (especially since the school was closed). He was so excited to leave when he saw the bus pull in, thinking "I won't have to walk in this perma-white out!" that he ran out, leaving his keys in the office. Nice. See normally that's not a big deal, but since the school was closed there was no one around to actually get him back in. So he had to run to catch the bus in lieu of looking like a moron walking home in the cold with no keys. Owned.

I have been working on a poster for a symposium at 8:30 tomorrow morning (yikes). It was finally done today. The deal was that I had to get it printed in OVC here at the school, since my prof would foot the bill there at a discount price. If I got it anywhere else my supervisor had to pay. Okay. . . So when I woke up today, just as I suspected, school was closed. I quickly realised that I would be the only grad student paying for his own poster just to get marks, since closed school means no staff, which means no poster printing. Also, if you read the previous entry, you know that I am in the unique situation of not having a supervisor. Anyway, I got to dodge the bullet. My prof bonked some heads and got the printing eggheads to come into work today and take care of that shit. So I emailed my files, let's hope they print okay and that there are no glaring discrepancies. This morning when I woke up everything was covered with about 2 cm of ice, so that's why the school was closed. . .again. After that melted it started snowing, and now we're back to the old once a day heavy snow fall. Can't complain, at least it's being winter right. Cold without snow is vain. Also the day of reckoning (meeting with the dept. head) has been moved to monday 4:30, so that is when I will find out what the F I am doing with the next year and a half of life. In the interim of being locked up in this house, snow outside, the gym closed and up to my ankles in ennui (look that one up) I have taken to living vicariously through others. Colin has a fantastic story on his blog about ambushing the ecuadorian army with waterballoons - I shit you not (his blog is linked from mine, top right) Scroll down two or so entries to "Ecuador Declares War on Canada!". Also my friend Katie who is in Africa right now working in a remote Maasai village has just written an invigorating entry on having your life views turned upside down. What a fulfilling experience. . . Africa is on the list. Check the entry out here, even if you don't know Katie it's worth it. http://www.planetranger.com/andreaktq/

Thanks for the splash of colour KTQ.

So while I upload the last pic which may or may not appear due to funky dimensions I will tell you this tidbit of annoyance. Yesterday pieper and I were in here playing our guitars, helping each other procrastinate before our various responsibilities, and we look out the window to see some dude just pissing on the side of my car. Wow huh? One hand out, just leaning on it, pissing away. I stared in disbelief. "Is that guy pissing on my car?"

"looks like it?"

"fuckin cocksucker. . ."

I watched some more. He turned and noticed us and just saluted. If you have seen the movie Christmas Vacation you know what Randy Quaid looks like as he nonchalantly empties the content's of his RV's septic tank into a storm drain out on the street. Jovial, uncaring, oblivious to social etiquette in his long underwear with trapdoor and leather hat with earflaps. When the neighbour looks at him in disgust he lifts his can of beer in greeting and announces, "Shitter's full!"

That's what this guy looked like. All I could do was give him a thumbs up, when I wanted to give the finger. Several other scenarios played out in my head. I thought of going out there and pretending to piss on the other side of it, making fun of Golfs and VWs while I was at it. Then ending with a fake handshake turned suckerpunch. I also thought of less creative things like sticking my head out the door and saying "Hey pencildick! Go piss on someone else's car!"

Then there was the idea of shooting him with a fucking potato. The shock of that is enough to teach you a lesson if you don't expect it I think. . . So I bit the bullet, and none of these things happened, and the ultimate reason is that he was a drunk idiot who now knows where I live. Making enemies outside your front door = bad idea. He could throw a brick through my window every night for the rest of the year and I don't even know his name. Anyway the freezing rain got it so I'm not too worried, and being drunk as he was there is no trace of yellow snow. Yep, story checks out, it was a sugar piss. Fucking bastard.

Willsy, why do I feel like you will be laughing your ass off reading this? That's not very nice. . .

So remember folks, whether you're taking bullets or biting them, don't forget to save your game like Jesus would. Jesus saves! Everybody else takes damage.