Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor

Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.

Happiness Is A New Laptop.


in

I got my new Inspiron 6000 home last night, switched it on, and immediately found myself jacked in to someone’s wireless connection. And to top it all off – it’s one of the fastest wireless connections I’ve ever seen. Amazing. Is it the girls who live above me? Is it Seamus? Is it someone across the way? I don’t know – and I don’t care.

I was planning to spend the day on my roofdeck, getting some sun and setting up my new machine. But at the stroke of weekend, the weather went south and I’m stuck indoors like a veal. It was beautiful all week. And it’s supposed to be beautiful all next week. But the moment I got off of work, the locust descended.

So I suppose I’ll make a pot of Tim Horton’s and enjoy my new toy. Incidentally, today is Boss’s 8th birthday. My best little orange buddy is 56 in cat years. Time flies. Actually – time screams. Like this wireless connection.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Liquor In The Locker Room.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: Name something that helps you fall asleep.
Liquor. But seriously folks, liquor. I have a lot of trouble falling asleep usually, but recently hooked my bedroom computer up to cable. A Tivo’d episode of CSI or two – and I’m off to sleepy sleepy land. And if I’ve gone to the gym that day, I may not even make it to midnight. Even though I usually just masturbate in the locker room.

Soup: Who brings out the best in you?
Whenever I need some pep in my step, I think of friends who died young. That may sound a little morbid – but it works for me. I’ve staved off the reaper for 31 years and I really want to make the most of my life in memory of those who had to cash their chips in early for whatever reason.

Salad: What do you like to do on a rainy day?
I’m ridiculously productive on rainy days. As long as “rewire a plugged in toaster outside” appears nowhere on my proposed list of tasks.

Main Course: Complete this sentence: In our home, we never have enough:
Puerto Rican hookers, fireflies, liquor, chinchillas or Al Franken books. I was able to cross Trailer Park Boys Season 4 DVD and NHL2K5 off of the list only this morning as they both just arrived in the mail.

Dessert: Which shoe do you put on first?
The one without the scorpion. Not such a great quizzlet this week, folks. I apologize. Poor material and an extremely busy day at work. Help a brother out and take a stab at these questions yourselves.

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Sweden By Storm.


in Heartwarming

Janet has been in Sweden all week long visiting our old friends Mike and Joanna. I’ve just been sent a barrage of interesting photographs that look like outtakes from a Stockholm tourist pamphlet of questionable quality. But then that, undoubtedly, was the point.

I think this photo was taken on the ferry to Estonia. I love ferrys that have bars on them. The ferry to Martha’s Vineyard, the ferry to Prince Edward Island, etc. It’s like taking the booze boat to Liquorton. Whiskey on the waves. Cockys in the crow’s nest. Pabst on the poopdeck. I’ll stop.

Here Janet enjoys one of at least several non-alcoholic beverages which were imbibed on her trip. After he sent me the photo I asked Mike “Is that Janet’s new Swedish jacket?” To which he replied “One of them.” Now I know Sweden is insanely expensive – that coffee probably cost $11 USD. Janet, did we have a relative die and leave you money that I’m not aware of? Do I need to check in on Grandma?

I wanted to get the skyline in this photo, but became increasingly obsessed with the number of cobblestones making up the street. In fact, I’ve already counted all of them four times and am now going to move on to incessant hand-washing and lightswitch-flipping. Yes, the ‘C’ in OCD apparently stands for cobblestones.

I frequently annoy Joanna by applying Switzerland jokes to Sweden. Little does (did) she know – I do this in an attempt to drive her batty (battier). For example: “What did you do yesterday? Sit around and eat Toblerone while watching The Sound of Music three times?” Or “Does the fact that your country is neutral exclude you from buying rounds?” She loves it. And geese.

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The Fat Duck Is The Best Restaurant In The World!


in Reminiscent

The Fat Duck has just been voted the best restaurant in the whole entire world by London’s The Guardian. Now let me tell you why I care. In the years since I left England in 1999, owner Heston Blumenthal has made a serious name for himself, becoming a culinary celebrity across the pond. If Gordon Ramsay is the evil tempermental British chef, then Heston is his calm, measured nemesis. I was there when the Duck first opened, and served Heston and his staff many after-work pints as they were coming up and busting their balls to make a name for that strange, tiny eatery.

The Duck happens to be right beside the Hind’s Head which is the pub I worked at for the better part of two years. Those of you who have been to my apartment and seen the painting I like to show people of the Hind’s have seen the Duck depicted right beside it in watercolor. In fact, Heston bought the pub about a year ago and now owns 75% of the trade in the little village of Bray. Quite an impressive little empire he’s building.

Anyway – I know Heston, he came to my leaving party, and I couldn’t be happier for him. My girlfriend at the time loved his mashed potatoes, and he used to bring them over to the pub every night he knew she was in town. Heston used to be a collection agent, and how he went from cracking skulls to cracking eggs I never really got out of him. But he’s a genuine nice guy with an incredible talent that was evident even then.

If you ever stop in, tell him “Canadian Dave” said hello. And in case you missed it, I said the best restaurant in the fucking world! Way to go, duckies.

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Irony May Be Lost On Bikers.


in

Am I writing an article about biker gangs to give me an excuse to post another old Brando photo? It’s entirely possible. But I also read a most unfortunate story this morning, and wanted to point out a few things that may just end up saving a life one day. I’m no expert on the subject of motorcycle culture, but I do claim to be a big proponent of common sense – so I feel almost obliged to offer my $0.02.

You see – hipsters love cheeky little t-shirts. Not the “I’m With Stupid ->” or “Grandpa’s Little Fishing Buddy” variety, but rather the obscure pop culture reference sort. If you want to walk around in Arthur Fonzarelli or Mork From Ork gear, that’s perfectly fine. But if you plan on wearing one of these bad boys outside of your own home, slap yourself silly – because you’re no longer simply “with” stupid.

The story I’m referencing took place in New Jersey, but out there such gangs are greatly overshadowed by traditional goombas. Now in Canada, biker gangs eclipse even the mafia in terms of power and brutality. They’re an ultra-violent, ruthless faction who in the last 20 years have come to completely embody organized crime in the Great White North. Keeping an eye on alliances and squashing turf wars between Hell’s Angels, Satan’s Choice and the Rock Machine keep the RCMP far busier than any seal-clubber or escaped polar bear. And just try catching up to a Harley Fatboy on horseback.

Any Canuck with the street savvyness of a fruitfly, knows better than to even discuss the gangs in mixed company, much less fly their colors in an affiliated bar. That would be tantamount to strolling through Brooklyn with Sammy Gravano’s face on the front of your mock turtleneck – with the phrase “Squealers Kick Ass” emblazoned beneath. So be forewarned, skinny Allston emo boys and the like – stick to the Atari apparel.

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