update

Just got back from dancing.

It was disconcerting how naked I felt when Blogger was down most of today (Friday). I took the opportunity to update the me page. Check it out!

I love this e-mail I got from Matt, my ex. He’s a vet. Warning: it’s highly scatological, but it cracked me up.

“…Horse presented at 3 AM for chronic diarrhea (i.e. shit everywhere in the stable). Load’em up with 20 liters of activated carbon (personal note: activated carbon neutralizes the toxins (and beer) in your digestive tract (keep this in mind the next time you celebrate New Year’s at Gord’s International House of Vomit*)). Okay, in goes the carbon… mix mix stir stir… and voilà, the perfect shit-producing machine. I tell ya the stuff comes out like one of those fire retardant foams they use at the airport.

So, are you free sometime this weekend or friday night? I’ll shower…”

* this is a reference to New Year’s Eve 2000, when about a third of the people at Gord’s party went Vesuvius…

fool of a took

Is there a name for the perversion whereby one is attracted to hobbits?

I’m thinking about taking my vacation to Scotland in October. I’m trying to convince myself it’s not because of Pippin.

journel

T came up with this funny term as the French word for blog. It comes from journal électronique, or electronic journal. However, I’m now told the French (Canadian) word for blog that’s gaining in popularity is the very unfortunate blogue. I think that bites.

The fact that I like journel is an exception. I generally can’t stand the fact that, as French Canadians, we have to translate everything, when every other culture in the world is perfectly happy using the English word for stuff (or a variation thereof). In France, the stop signs read STOP. Here, they say ARRET. In Paris, you order a McChicken, or Nuggets. Here, a McPoulet, or Croquettes.

It really bugs my ass. I feel better now, thank you.

irony

This past weekend, Gord, Ced, T and I went canoe-camping on a nature reserve up north. The weather was amazing, there were lots of loons, mosquitoes, black flies and Tolkien references.

We had a great time, and even got to witness a Gord Story first hand.

(Gord Story: an anecdote about Gord doing something that lacks forethought, ending up damaging his body or property. Example: Gord once shot his VCR with a crossbow, out of boredom. Gord once blew up a big firecracker in his closed fist. And so on.)

The stillness and wild beauty of the place were awesome, and it was wonderful not logging on or hearing a single beep of anything electronic for three days. We were only disturbed by a loud bunch of scouts, which we dubbed The Orcs. However, we quickly overtook them on the first portage on Saturday and were rid of them for the rest of the day.

On Sunday, just past the far point of our loop, we came upon some rapids, in the middle of which was a large treetrunk. Ced and Gord went first, in Gord’s canoe. They weren’t in the rapids two seconds when Ced yells, “WE’RE HEADING RIGHT FOR IT!!!”. Not half a second later,

CRASH!

They smash into the trunk and both get catapulted out of the canoe with their gear (hilarious in retrospect, but quite unnerving at the time). I’m talking packs, tent, sleeping bags, my camp stove, everything. The canoe starts rolling between the rocks like a twig, with sick sounds of fiberglass smashing. Then they go around the bend and T and I can’t see them anymore.

Irony: the Orcs come out and save them, and give them a big roll of tape to fix Gord’s canoe.

Now I’m tanned, sore, covered in bugbites and incredibly refreshed.