Where you can read the relatively rational ramblings of a silly half-monkey, half-boy. This freak of nature is named Joel. He also responds to the name 'Bart Wang'.

Monday, March 07, 2005

I cannot allow this to continue. Dave Blondel will push me to update my blog regularly. That dude's a writing machine lately! Do I really need more motivation than trying to keep up with the likes of him? Yes. Yes, I do. And it comes in the form of Jonathan Anderson. He actually reads the garbage we write. Jon is a wise man. He recognizes brilliance when he sees it. He took a picture of me so he can see brilliance all day, every day. Ok, that's a lie. He can see incompetence all day, every day. And maybe even some incontinence. Oh, wait, no, that's not me, that's the Professor.
This is how my weekend went down. Friday night found me doing stuff. Things and stuff. I honestly don't remember what I did on Friday night. Oh, wait, yes, that's it. I was out on a case in the early evening with my colleague (she apprehended a newborn baby) and that kiboshed my normal Friday night routine of working out with the Taxman (a.k.a. Eric Tomlinson). Shoot... I don't remember what I did on Friday night. I must have spent it with Melanie. Crap. Oh well, on to Saturday!
Saturday morning allowed me to return to my routine of getting buff with Taxman and Chad. Maybe not buff. Ok, it's probably more that I'm preventing myself from getting really fat. I need to work out a fair bit more before I can concern myself with being buff. After pumping iron, I came home and kicked it for a while. I set up the house with enough beds for a small rock band because, well, a small rock band was sleeping over that night. Melanie went to Toronto to celebrate her friend's birthday (happy birthday, Karen!) and I went in the evening to hang with one Mr. Michael Vandermark.
We were checking out Jonathan Inc., indie rock heroes of Vancouver, B.C. who were in southern Ontario for Canadian Music Week. They were playing at this little hole-in-the-wall in Brantford, where Mike is living now. Before we went to see the J.I. crew, we hit up Admiral Submarine. I went there once years and years ago when I used to hang with the Dave Lapsley-Jed & Nate Benoit-Jeff Bradley-Darren Conley crew. I know, that's a really lame name for a gang. Anyhow, I remembered this place made food for large stomaches, though the decor left much (if not everything) to be desired. It was as I remembered. Holy crap. The large fries were more than both Mike and I could eat so I think we threw out half of them (I hate myself for that). The hamburgers consisted of two large patties on a bun about the size of your face. Unless your face is the like Laurie Castellani's, in which case it would be twice as big as your face. I kid you not. It was glorious and disgusting at the same time. Mike has already stated he will never go there again but I think (and hope) I might be able to convince him.
We made our way over to the Ford Plant, which turned out to be a cool place for a show. It was a fond reunion with Mr. Anderson and Michelle Grunert and I finally got to meet the infamous Jonathan Brotherton and Glenn D'Cruze. They kicked ass at the show, took names and then provided some more beatdowns. I feel like a weirdo because they're my friends and yet I love their band as if I had never met them. I could listen to the last two records on repeat for days. The bands that followed were, surprisingly, really good. Brian Borcherdt
played a killer set that had us all enthralled. Jon A. pointed out that Brian's drummer also plays for Blue Rodeo. The other band we stayed for was Kepler, who also were very good. This was an unusually good night of music. I never anticipate the majority of bands on a bill to be good. I was pleased. Mike was pleased. The J.I. crew enjoyed it as well.
I dropped Mike off and headed back home. Melanie was asleep when I arrived so I read a bit of Kalle Lasn's book, Culture Jam, sent to me by my good friend, Bill Power. It seems like it's going to be a really good book. I was dead-tired so I laid down on the couch until the small rock band arrived. They unloaded everything into the front room before hitting the sack for one last night in Ontario.
On Sunday, Melanie was up bright and early to hit up church and I got up soon thereafter. Jon B. was first conscious and we shot the breeze a bit. He was trying to convince me that having kids doesn't suck but I wasn't buying it . Then it was Michelle's turn to regain consciousness. Finally, Jon A. and Glenn D. got their lazy asses up. Both times Jon has slept at my house, he's awakened with a shirt over his face. That must get crazy hot and uncomfortable. Plus it looks like he has a shirt for a face. That's just crazy! Glenn slept in a chair while the rest of us watched the wedding video. I also showed them Doug Nagy's performace in the late morning. Everyone loves Doug! Around noon, it was time for the sad farewells and they drove off in the rental to return to the airport for the flight back to B.C. It's always a pleasure seeing them and I hope to spend more time with them next time.
Sunday afternoon had Melanie and I tasting the delicious brunch buffet at the Olde Powerhouse in Stoney Creek We went shopping and got a pile of stuff. During the week, Melanie and her dad has stained and assembled our new kitchen island, which is kick-asser. It looks awesome. The weekend went by far too quickly.
I did our taxes today and can't wait to get that nice, juicy return. It will all go to pay down debts! Woo hoo! Got to talk to Ben Gosling, who is visiting from Japan. He's been having a crazy year while working over there. It's late and I have to sleep in a bad way. Didn't get enough this weekend. I did, however, get enough baked Cheetos Crunchits. Those things are damn good. Well, you have a good day. I'm outta here.
If you're dead-bored, check out my other site here. It's got some of my humourous ramblings but, most importantly, pictures of my fine ass. You can use them as your desktop, if you want. PEACE!


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