journey outside the biberous oil can

Indulge me for a few moments, kiddies, while we take a little trip.

This involves getting outside the characters characterized characteristically on this here blog -- the ones you have grown to laugh with (hopefully). Yes, let's leave the slightly Costanza-esque Herbiberous and the always cantankerous Oil Can behind for a just a few paragraphs and let us traverse into parts unknown.

It's presently November 14 and I can't think of a more depressing day of the year (other than the literal darkest day - Dec. 21). Winter has finally settled in, every day gets shorter and the mercury won't rise again for six more months.

Earlier this evening, over wings and a beer, I couldn't kick the restless feeling. It doesn't feel like I'm doing anything new or else I've just sunken into the predictable work-afterwork activity-home routine and can't break from it.

And I think it may be evident to you from this blog -- my life and the things I'm writing can't be as interesting as they used to be a couple months ago... I mean, Burton Cummings for fuck sakes. What is that all about?

In Iqaluit, I was encountering something new with every venture out the door, with every conversation at a coffee shop, with every bite of food. New thoughts and entertaining stories bursted out from nothing, from mundanity. A drive from the river to Apex filled me with excitement. That's why I started this thing, because I had so much to write about and many of the people I wanted to share it with in Yellowknife.

Now I'm back and the feeling of adventure is definitely not something I'm getting in Yellowknife right now. Call it fatigue from familiarity. But I find that even while I'm learning new and interesting things at work every day -- like how tuberculosis is more a social disease than medical, due to its higher rates of infection in poorer populations that tend to have overcrowded and poorly ventilated housing; or how this kooky thing we call government works -- I'm still finding myself at home at the end of the night and my days kind of just look like blah. I'm coming home tired with no funny stories to tell.

It feels like if someone I don't know comes up and starts talking to me, I don't have the patience to oblige in conversation and I kind of kindly just walk away. It's as if I don't need to know this person, because I already know enough persons here. But then I'll have nights at the Monkey Tree where I'll shake hands all night but not talk to anybody for more than 30 seconds.

Tonight at the Elks, this old guy walked over to me and the Lion and started telling a story about working for the city in Prince Rupert and how they made him work outside the liquor store landscaping and on hot days people would say "Hey, so-and-so, you're working hard. Here, have a drink." and he'd say "Okay." and so he'd punch in sober in the morning and clock out drunk at the end of the day, and when his superiors found out, they moved him to somewhere he wouldn't be able to get a drink: the graveyard. The story was great, and he laughed big time after the punch-line, and I laughed too. And it's not something I do enough here. I don't listen to peoples' stories. I get too cozy doing the same-old same-old because it's so easy and I gravitate toward laziness. But I've had way too many shitty walk homes from the Monkey Tree cursing myself for not being creative enough to find challenging or new ways to spend my Friday nights.

I do not have the attitude I have when I'm traveling when I'm home. If I meet someone from out of town, I say hey and tell them where to go and that's it. When I'm traveling, I have time for anyone.

I love this place but...

This attitude has to change.

Or I think it's time to leave.

celebrity look-a-likes (down on your luck version)

Just saw a commercial promoting Burton Cumming's new album. Kind of sad, looks like some ass kiss America, remember I was the guy who wrote American Woman crap.

Plus, buddy looks right out of it on the commercial. (This isn't from the commercial, but it's close. Just think more stubble.)

Guess who's probably not getting any groupie love after the show?

I was a little disturbed to see a Canadian icon looking this way, I won't lie. 

I have this weird thing I think I got from my mom where I compare things constantly, so I got to thinking, who does he look like here?

And here are our candidates:

A down-and-out Jake 'the Snake' Roberts...

Intercontinental Twinkie and crack champion... too soon? Eww, I feel bad about that one. I'm sorry. Cheap joke.

Or the hedgehog himself, Ron Jeremy...

This guy has handled more beaver than a 1800s Hudson Bay Company fur trader.

I'm torn... I can't decide. I need help. 

I will do my darnedest to attach a poll here. If I get enough response, maybe I'll start making this a running feature.

If I don't, well I'm sorry for wasting your time. You can get back to downloading adult videos...

hyperbole hilarity: the demonization of the plastic bag

I did a story a couple weeks ago about the GNWT preparing to give nearly every resident of the NWT a reusable shopping bag to try to curb plastic bag use.

Good idea, right? I don't think anyone would dispute that weaning ourselves away from plastic bag consumption is a good thing.

I did a little research while writing up the story, just to see what kind of opposition there is out there to the old plastic bag. I was overwhelmingly grateful to stumble upon www.reusablebags.com.

It is noble in hyperbole. Beautifully ridiculous in symbolism. Unintentional in comedy.

Each time you refresh the homepage, a different picture from the gallery pops up. And the pictures with their cutlines are some of my favourite things ever in the whole wide world.

The cutline on the photo below goes something like: Plastic bag blots out the sun.

Kind of dramatic, don't you think?

The cutline for the following picture is something like: Plastic bag spoils view of San Fransisco's Golden Gate Bridge.

Ah... the perfect picture. Now, I'll just click the button and... Oh, you little fucking plastic bag. Get out of here! Get on! Shoo! You ruined everything!

I love it! The website is so great. They completely demonize these troublemaking inanimate objects, like they are the scourge of the Earth, like some kind of evil footsoldier army sent out by plastic Hitler to wreak havoc on crappy photographers around the globe. They'd make you think the minute you left your home, a handful of plastic bags would sneak in and strangle and suffocate everyone you've ever loved.

These photos actually do the opposite for me. I kind of actually sympathize for the poor down-and-out bag, criticized and decried by all. These sad, aimless, anywhere-the-wind-blows vagabonds, that don't have a place on this planet.

They're called litter. Garbage. Trash. They're empty. They are stepped on. They are used by society and then tossed away.

A beach bum... What's a sad sack to do in this mixed-up world?

Next time you see a bag on the ground, give it a hand. Pick it up, ask how it's doing, and maybe buy it a coffee...

i'm on youtube!!!

I don't know what to say (tear rolling down face).

Dizzle stops at 39... can't beat Patch's 39...

My buddy Neilio told me about a video he posted of my friend Dizzle doing push-ups at a slo-pitch tourney earlier this summer. I looked it up and there it was. 

It's so bizarre. I'm so honoured just to share the same (cyber)space as the dramatic chipmunk and Star Wars kid and two girls, one cup reactions.

I love that I can now be found on my favourite time-waster. 

congrats Mr. Obama

I have to say, I've never enjoyed watching an elderly person get so ferociously beat up and pummeled.

Apparently, Barack Obama also enjoys watching 62 million-plus beat a 72-year old man to a pulp.

Congratulations, Mr. Obama.

With the masses of people crowded in parks and streets around the States and the world, with tears running down faces, I believe he's filled a great many with genuine hope. And there's really nothing a white guy sitting in front of a laptop in snowy Yellowknife, NWT can add about the significance of a black man being elected President that hasn't been said already by the media or pundits or jubilant Americans. I agree with Jon Stewart, that this was the first true "show don't tell" moment of equal opportunity in American history.

Thumbs up, America. Hey, you're not so bad after all.

Although, I don't know if we all should be celebrating so quickly.  If we are to believe everything we are being told, these are pretty hopeless times. The man has quite a task in front of him, but meh... the hell with worrying, I'm sure he knows more about what lies ahead for this world than anybody else. I'm gonna go play some X-Box...

Ooh, before that - five quick things:

The best headline to come from the election (as a co-worker pointed out earlier today)

From Ultimas Noticias in Caracas, Venezuela: Un negro en la Casa Blanca

I want to start a band now, only so that our first album can be called: Un negro en la Casa Blanca

Second: Hopefully this is the last we hear from 'The Sarah Palin' in a long while. The doomsday device needs to go back into the shop for a while for some retooling.

Third: Canada looks awfully backwards now beside the 'progressively liberal' US. Whodathunkit?

Fourth: If they would hurry up with that recount in North Carolina and give it to Obama, I win 20 clams.

Fifth: I want to preemptively trademark this headline for when Obama finds himself in a tough situation.

Barack and a hard place

No?

bad habits

I've been told by many that I need to stop spitting. Apparently, it's a disgusting habit and very unbecoming. I counter that I have to -- subconsciously basing that on a perceived genetical predisposition to loogie-ing due to the rather large nasal protrusion that calls my face home.

However, I've lately been forced to re-evaluate this quick-to-spit attitude. On more occasions than I can count on one hand in the last three months, I've walked outside whilst horking loudly, and let loose with a big nasty goober just as a pretty girl walks by. It's not cool. It's happened too many times not to be some kind of divine sign. And, I mean, that's got to be the worst first impression a guy can make.

My spitting image?

glitches, bitches

This probably goes on a little too long, but I can't help but laugh when I watch this.

EA glitch

Bob Saget?

I wonder what these guys do for a living? Also, I think I want them as friends, because they would most likely make me feel a lot funnier than I probably am.