Silent Hill

I went to Yoga on the Hill yesterday.  That's Parliament Hill for the non-Ottawa* natives.

Now, I work on Wellington street... Parliament is on Wellington street...  You'd think this would be an easy enough journey between A and B.  You'd be wrong.

Evidently my Wellington turns into Somerset, for some godless reason.  Then somehow it continues again, several blocks north of Somerset (which also continues, and runs parallel).

Who built this crazy city?!

That said, yoga was pretty awesome.  Doing downward dog in the grass, the sun shining.  The ratio of beautiful girls to guys was, let's say, favourable. 

One thing I did not anticipate was the throng of tourists taking pictures of us.  My friend quoted Tony Horton "they're coming in to shoot the cover of downward dog magazine" (inside joke for the P90X'ers among you) and I just about died laughing.  I wouldn't be surprised if milk came out my nose, and I wasn't even drinking milk.

I am totally going to end up on a Japanese postcard.

*this one's a freebie for the stalkers.  Track me down and win a free restraining order!

My New Home

Here we are, stalkers Reader.  My new home.

Why yes.  That is a Panty Tree in the front yard.  Where did you think panties came from?  The Panty Fairies?  That's ridiculous.

Also, for the record, I did not take this picture.  This is the image on google streetview.

I still love you!

Reader, I have some bad/awesome news. I'm going to my brother's wedding this weekend. In Colorado. Then I'm driving to the Grand Canyon, then Vegas and finally Burning Man. Go on, BE jealous.

As you can imagine, posts will be sparse.

I just want you to know, I'll be thinking of naked women you.

Speaking of naked women, we DID in fact go to Zanzibar's. It was pretty much what I expected; movies have very much lied to me about what strip clubs are like. I was expecting the dancers to exhibit a Coyote Ugly level of enthusiasm. Instead, their faces looked more like they were playing checkers. And losing.

To close out the night we bought our friends (two five foot nothing asian girls) a double lap dance. And THAT stripper brought her A game! She was fondling her victims customers under their shirts, sucking on their nipples and encouraging the two of them to return the favour.

Best ten bucks I ever spent.

Ba-Dum-Sh

Guy* walks into a coffee shop, says to girl behind the counter: "Can I see your cup size?"

Returns her stare, completely oblivious to the taste of his own foot. Realizes his mistake. Drowns his shame with a chai latte.

*okay it was totally me

It's what she wants! Honest!

One of my best friends is visiting this week and as we were all together reconnecting, she told us she was determined to go to a strip club. Determined.

For the record, I have only been to one strip club, once, and that was more than enough.

Apparently she's never been, and she feels this hole in her experience needs to be rectified. Immediately. Alas, the heart wants what it wants!

So guess where we were last night?

All told, it was alright. They had a special on, you buy a drink and you get a free meal. It was a pretty bland, cafeteria-style affair, but the man serving us had a delightful surliness about him.

I feel here they missed out on an amazing opportunity: why wasn't there a scantily-clad lunch lady?

I mean, it's a strip club. It's not like there's a shortage of naked ladies to choose from. They're everywhere: serving drinks, dancing, soliciting dances, getting backrubs from the clientele... "You're really good with your hands, mister" (actual quote). Yeah, sure he is.

Evidently, my friend has not gotten the stripper bug out of her system yet. Tonight we're going to the famous(-ish) Zanibar's! You know, from that Tenacious D song? If you haven't heard it, you dear Reader, have missed out.

This time there's talk of lap dances. I may be forced to partake. You know, for science.

Like you've never googled yourself!

So I googled Brought to You by Pie (yes, I am that vain) and alas, didn't find our little crack den corner of the Internet.

What I did find though, made my century. Yes, sorry guys who cure cancer and create robot Jesus, the best thing ever has already been invented and it's only 2010.

For anyone who loves executions the inquisition pie, check out this link

You can thank me later. With sex.

The Monies!

Recently, I was the victim of bank fraud. I went to the ATM, as I tend to do, to deposit a sweet, delicious cheque when I was summarily informed that the operation "was not successful".

I'm sorry, you don't want my money?

I went inside to ask the bank teller, "What up?"

Evidently, someone had copied my debit card and used it to withdraw all the money from my chequing account. Jokes on them, though; wasn't much! Happy face. Sad Face. Face.

The helpful teller informed me that this in fact happens all the time (oh, I feel MUCH better now...) and that my money would be returned to me pending a short investigation. "Merely a formality."

Alright, I'll play ball.

So a couple weeks later, having survived by turning tricks on the generosity of my parents, I return to the bank to discover that yes, my money is back, but no, I can't have it.

Although the investigators deemed I was not in fact the one stealing my own money, they didn't go through the trouble of unlocking my debit card.

I felt like a fully grown adult kid in a pet store: I could see all the cute little puppies through the glass, but I wasn't allowed to have them.

See banks, this is why no one likes you. Give me my puppy already.

For Real Real, Not For Play Play

Dear Reader, I apologize. Life has been moving fast. Ridgemont High fast.

To keep you all updated, my computer died, then my house lost power, then I was on a bike for three days and quite (wonderfully) disconnected from the world. Then I moved. Yes, all that happened in the same week.

It was a perfect storm, like the Universe is trying to keep us apart. But our love is stronger than that!

In other news, my brother is getting married in two weeks. When (one of) my (many) other brother(s) got married, I wrote the happy couple a funny little song and performed it at their wedding.

I know what you're thinking perverts. What a lovely gesture. And it was. Only I didn't think it through. You see, this was only the first wedding. The first of many. I have many, many siblings and I set the bar very high for myself.

That leads us to now, where I have to write another song, even though I don't know my brother's fiancee very well. As we're all entering that age when marrying girls is no longer school yard punishment but actually an official pronouncement of your love, I will be very busy indeed.

I should totally charge for this.

I survived!

So my epic two-wheeled journey is finished! I've returned, more or less, in one piece. One very, very tired piece.

More blogging tomorrow, promise. For now, I'll just let the suspense build...

You forgive because you love.

So for those you keeping score, you may have noticed there was no post yesterday. That's because there was a sexy party power outage.

It Burns So Good!

My body had almost forgiven me, almost. Then I decided to pick up one of those SMR foam rollers. And use it.

For those not in the know, SMR stands for Self-Myofascial Release, or for those in the know, it stands for Sado-Masochistic Ritual. It's designed to smooth out trigger points in your muscles the same way getting kicked in the gut gives you abs. Which it does.

This ain't your grandma's muscle roller.

Anyways, given that I intend to full out destroy myself over the fall season, I figured I'd learn as many injury prevention techniques as possible.

Sorry, body. It's gonna be a rough ride.

If I were a horse, they would shoot me.

After a weekend of what felt like hard labour mixed with a dash of death march, my body is thoroughly destroyed.

Every excursion up or down the stairs is preceded by a debate weighing the pros and cons, ie "How badly do I really have to pee?"

I've spent the day going to physio, napping* and living attached to no less than three ice packs.

*Trailer trash bingo was AWESOME. Crass, but and awesome. I couldn't tear myself away, even for much needed sleep.

Also, I'm fairly certain my knee can now gauge the weather. This must be what being old feels like.

Mixed Up - Part 2

Wow! What a weekend.

For my part, I kicked ass and took names (although only once literally). I mean, when you clobber a guy, it's common courtesy to, you know, introduce yourself.

After our last game, I picked up with another team (one that had beaten us soundly the day before) and got to play another (4th) game (in a row). Again, asses were kicked. Names were taken.

Tonight I'm headed to Buskerfest (no idea what to expect) and then white trash bingo (some idea what to expect). I mean, it sounds fairly self-explanatory. And trashy. And so me!

Last night after our games we went to a teammate's house for a barbecue. And when I say "house", I mean "villa". This place was the BOMB. There was a pool, hot tub, tons of outdoor couches. Bob Dylan quotes on the wall of the bathroom.

When the sun set, we all gathered around the fire pit and roasted marshmallows. I felt like I was 12 again! But more drunk.

Like I said, what a weekend!