NOOO. Well yes, I guess you do actually.
They have clipped the wings of the Snowbirds! The fleet of airplanes, built in the 1960s, has been putting on aerial shows for ages, and it has come to light that they have faulty seat belts. So now they are grounded until they can be fixed (and even once they get better belts, they may be retired permanently because they are SO old).
Now what will we use for airplanes? National Defence may actually not have any other planes. The Air Force may be reduced to hitching together Canada geese and riding on their backs. Though the geese have already proven they're more than capable of bringing down planes, so this may in fact be an upgrade.
O hey, 99th post. Sveeeeet.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
wierdssss.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
United: Stanley and Sidney
O hey so Pittsburgh won the Cup. The Stanley Cup, in case you live under a rock that's not in Canada (incidentally, if you live under a Canadian rock, you still know what the Stanley Cup is).
Good job, it was nice to see 22 year old Sidney Crosby hoisting the Cup. It was the next best thing to a Canadian team actually winning. The best thing would have been if Montreal had won, since the last time they did, it was 1993, and while I was a miniature die hard Canadians fan, I can't remember it at all.
Didja know that Sid the Kid is the youngest captain to ever win the Stanley Cup?
He needs a new nickname. Don Cherry dubbed him Sid the Kid, but that can't last much longer, because our little prodigy is growing up. So I think his name should be "Sidney the Kidney." or "Sidney Bean the Kidney Bean." Though the latter might be a mouthful for the announcer to say whilst commentating the game.
Good job, it was nice to see 22 year old Sidney Crosby hoisting the Cup. It was the next best thing to a Canadian team actually winning. The best thing would have been if Montreal had won, since the last time they did, it was 1993, and while I was a miniature die hard Canadians fan, I can't remember it at all.
Didja know that Sid the Kid is the youngest captain to ever win the Stanley Cup?
He needs a new nickname. Don Cherry dubbed him Sid the Kid, but that can't last much longer, because our little prodigy is growing up. So I think his name should be "Sidney the Kidney." or "Sidney Bean the Kidney Bean." Though the latter might be a mouthful for the announcer to say whilst commentating the game.
Penguins....
...just became much more intriguing animals.
Gay penguins? Love it. In your face all you homophobes and definitely-not-homophobic-because-I-have-this-one-gay-friend-but-I-just-can't-approve-of-their-lifestyle (cough Sarah fucking Palin cough) people out there who, from their vast collection of anti-gay arguments, whip out the "human beings are the only species that choose to couple with members of the same sex" argument every so often.
Well, ha. Maybe you can look a high school kid who's struggling with their sexuality in the eyes and tell them what they are feeling is wrong. Maybe you can tell two women in love that they can't get married while simultaneously wearing a sandwich board proclaiming "God Abhors You" (and not subsequently feel like killing yourself because 1- you clearly don't value love, and that would indeed be a miserable existence and 2- you're wearing a fucking sandwich board, and not in a joking, purposefully self-deprecating way. Or for the cashmoney). Maybe you can go through life advocating for such drivel as Prop 8 (not just baring people from rights, but taking them away now) and not feel like you're committing a serious crime. Maybe you're totally cool with all that. Maybe it makes you feel righteous.
But could you live with yourself if you stood before the ridiculously cute, tuxedoed bird and gazed into those beady, little black eyes, so trusting and so innocent, and told him he was going to hell (and don't say anything about animals not having souls, that is sooooo beside the point) for shacking up with his boyfriend in his ice cave? Could you crush his little penguin heart like that?
No, you couldn't. Noone can resist the power of a flightless, tapdancing, ice-dwelling, gay bird.
Or maybs you could.
How could you be so heartless?
Gay penguins? Love it. In your face all you homophobes and definitely-not-homophobic-because-I-have-this-one-gay-friend-but-I-just-can't-approve-of-their-lifestyle (cough Sarah fucking Palin cough) people out there who, from their vast collection of anti-gay arguments, whip out the "human beings are the only species that choose to couple with members of the same sex" argument every so often.
Well, ha. Maybe you can look a high school kid who's struggling with their sexuality in the eyes and tell them what they are feeling is wrong. Maybe you can tell two women in love that they can't get married while simultaneously wearing a sandwich board proclaiming "God Abhors You" (and not subsequently feel like killing yourself because 1- you clearly don't value love, and that would indeed be a miserable existence and 2- you're wearing a fucking sandwich board, and not in a joking, purposefully self-deprecating way. Or for the cashmoney). Maybe you can go through life advocating for such drivel as Prop 8 (not just baring people from rights, but taking them away now) and not feel like you're committing a serious crime. Maybe you're totally cool with all that. Maybe it makes you feel righteous.
But could you live with yourself if you stood before the ridiculously cute, tuxedoed bird and gazed into those beady, little black eyes, so trusting and so innocent, and told him he was going to hell (and don't say anything about animals not having souls, that is sooooo beside the point) for shacking up with his boyfriend in his ice cave? Could you crush his little penguin heart like that?
No, you couldn't. Noone can resist the power of a flightless, tapdancing, ice-dwelling, gay bird.
Or maybs you could.
How could you be so heartless?
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Reality's got Nothin' on Fiction.
You can tell it's summer by the fact that there is nothing to watch on le tele. (In fact that's the only way you can tell these days, since the weather is manic and seems to think it's fall.) So I'll be casting around for something to watch....you know, some dumb, mind-numbing show, because most of my regular shows are on hiatus, but all there is are reality shows.
Ok, I said something mind numbing not mind murdering so that I have to go on a respirator and so on. Sadly, that is what happens when I only find shows like The Whor - er, pardon me, The Bachelor (or The Bachelorette as the case may be), Canada's Next Top Model and Big Brother (is it on every night?).
What's with reality TV taking over the world? Did they have it back at the dawn of television in the umm...20s?.... or was that when the TV was invented and then it really started to catch on in the 50s? I dunno...whatevs.....shows you how much I paid attention in "History and Philosophy of Journalism*." No I think this reality TV bullocks is a new phenomenon. Except there was that one reality thing back in the day....I think it was call Gosh Darn It the TV is Broken, Now I have to Interact with my Family. That show is still running today actually.
Not all reality shows are bad I guess. I quite enjoy So You Think You Can Dance. Canada version or otherwise. I just can't stand Mary Murphy and the way she screams every 17 seconds. It is mildly amusing though, since her face doesn't really move because she eats Botox for breakfast.
Speaking of TV, the Much Music Video Awards (MMVAs) are coming up on the 21st. On the 13th, Much Music starts giving out wrists bands to get into the audience. Midday today, people (I'm guessing those who are members of the Cult of the Jonas Brothers. They are co-hosting. Ick-o-rama) began lining up in downtown Toronto to get them. Really hardcore people with couches and tents and games to pass the time.
I was debating going down to Toronto to get a wristband, because Lady Gaga is performing. That thought lasted about seven seconds, from the start of the MMVAs commercial until the point when they jubilantly announced that the Jonas Hoes would be there. Not even for Lady Gaga could I fathom subjecting myself to an evening of those purity ring wearing posers and their teeny-bopper fanatics. I'd puke. Or die.
I'd totally wait in line for a day and night if it weren't for those Jonas Hoes being there. It would be like camping out in the city. In downtown Toronto. Slightly scarier than camping in Ottawa, but much less scary than camping in say, New York City. Hey, you know what the difference between camping in the wild and camping in New York is? Well in the wild you need bear spray, and in NYC, you need a gun.
*without a doubt the most useless, required waste of my life, EVER. I think the goal of the prof was to prepare us should we ever in our future journalism careers find ourselves transported through time and space back to ANY other era....we'd know the hot methode of communication of the day and would be able to seamlessly continue our jobs despite being in the middle of Renaissance Italy [printing press WOOT] or Prehistoric Anywhere [grunts and clubs YAY] or 14th century North America [smoke signals and "the oral tradition"]
Ok, I said something mind numbing not mind murdering so that I have to go on a respirator and so on. Sadly, that is what happens when I only find shows like The Whor - er, pardon me, The Bachelor (or The Bachelorette as the case may be), Canada's Next Top Model and Big Brother (is it on every night?).
What's with reality TV taking over the world? Did they have it back at the dawn of television in the umm...20s?.... or was that when the TV was invented and then it really started to catch on in the 50s? I dunno...whatevs.....shows you how much I paid attention in "History and Philosophy of Journalism*." No I think this reality TV bullocks is a new phenomenon. Except there was that one reality thing back in the day....I think it was call Gosh Darn It the TV is Broken, Now I have to Interact with my Family. That show is still running today actually.
Not all reality shows are bad I guess. I quite enjoy So You Think You Can Dance. Canada version or otherwise. I just can't stand Mary Murphy and the way she screams every 17 seconds. It is mildly amusing though, since her face doesn't really move because she eats Botox for breakfast.
Speaking of TV, the Much Music Video Awards (MMVAs) are coming up on the 21st. On the 13th, Much Music starts giving out wrists bands to get into the audience. Midday today, people (I'm guessing those who are members of the Cult of the Jonas Brothers. They are co-hosting. Ick-o-rama) began lining up in downtown Toronto to get them. Really hardcore people with couches and tents and games to pass the time.
I was debating going down to Toronto to get a wristband, because Lady Gaga is performing. That thought lasted about seven seconds, from the start of the MMVAs commercial until the point when they jubilantly announced that the Jonas Hoes would be there. Not even for Lady Gaga could I fathom subjecting myself to an evening of those purity ring wearing posers and their teeny-bopper fanatics. I'd puke. Or die.
I'd totally wait in line for a day and night if it weren't for those Jonas Hoes being there. It would be like camping out in the city. In downtown Toronto. Slightly scarier than camping in Ottawa, but much less scary than camping in say, New York City. Hey, you know what the difference between camping in the wild and camping in New York is? Well in the wild you need bear spray, and in NYC, you need a gun.
*without a doubt the most useless, required waste of my life, EVER. I think the goal of the prof was to prepare us should we ever in our future journalism careers find ourselves transported through time and space back to ANY other era....we'd know the hot methode of communication of the day and would be able to seamlessly continue our jobs despite being in the middle of Renaissance Italy [printing press WOOT] or Prehistoric Anywhere [grunts and clubs YAY] or 14th century North America [smoke signals and "the oral tradition"]
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Head Butt.
I have this thing, it's called Dunnowheremyheadends Syndrome. It's hereditary. Its symptoms include large bruises on my forehead, swollen bumps under my hair, and loud thunks followed by a string of obscenities. And also embarrassing moments when I get out of my car at work and plow head first into the door frame. People are always around when this happens.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Can I get a What What up in here?
One bridge down. Or I mean up. Or you know, s'all good, yo.
Afterward, I came home to find a pile of colourful little rubber bits in the living room and was informed it was my brother's "parsley" he made by shredding about a hundred water balloons with his safety scissors.
My question is, who does he want to choke to death with his rubber spices?
June 9 Update: His plan was actually to hold the rubber bits over his older brother's head and threaten to drop them if he didn't let him use the computer in three....two....one....
Afterward, I came home to find a pile of colourful little rubber bits in the living room and was informed it was my brother's "parsley" he made by shredding about a hundred water balloons with his safety scissors.
My question is, who does he want to choke to death with his rubber spices?
June 9 Update: His plan was actually to hold the rubber bits over his older brother's head and threaten to drop them if he didn't let him use the computer in three....two....one....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
