To change it up and be silly, cause everyone knows that I'm Mr. Serious, here is a short collection of random stories that involve yours truly...
1. When I was in high school I took a independent study class where I went to a graphic design company and did whatever it was they wanted me to do, you know the bitch work. So anyways one day I get there and the owner who I'll refer to as....Turd Ferguson, says to me that there will be a blind kid from some other school coming in in the next few days to try his hand at this, so I said "Sounds good." I didn't actually say that, but anyways. So a few days go by and nothing, then one wintery day I show up and say in a loud voice "HEY, WHEN'S THAT BLIND KID GONNA SHOW UP?" Both Turd and his asshole associate stare at me, then come over and say in a sheepish voice "He's right over there." I look over and see him, then they stare at me and an awkward afternoon ensued.
2. Recently, like September 20 2010, recently, I came home from a workshop. My fiance's sister Megan aka El Diablo (jk) and her friend whose name is escaping me were there eating dinner. I pull out my ear buds since Pantera was drowning them out. Then Megan introduces us to each other, and I instantly say; "Hey your the one...with the forest right?" She's puzzled. "Yeah...you know in the woods." Same reaction. " Your the one who pooped in the woods right?" Megan laughs and her friend is embarrassed. Good times.
3. In 2004 some of my friends and I went to Minneapolis to see Slayer again. Some of my other friends were already there at the venue. We pull up to the venue and we see them standing in a sea of soon to be super sweaty nasty looking guys. We wave to them like the idiots that we were (we still are) and keep driving down the street to find a parking spot. No such luck so I turn down a street that later turned out to be a one way street and by later I mean about 10 seconds after I turned on to it. No sooner had that happened than I saw about 4 of the biggest city buses barreling down on us, because I kinda sorta turned on to a one way going...the wrong way. Oh yeah and everyone going to the concert saw this, so we lived (somehow) and made our way to the venue with about 900 people staring at us and making fun of us for being tards.
4. When I was in high school I worked at the old BK Lounge. Wasn't great but wasn't awful either. One day I'm standing there and see this guy with a Strawberry milk shake go into the bathroom. Also this older lady who worked there went into the womens bathroom. A few minutes later she comes out and then a few more minutes later the guy comes out. Instantly the whole place smells like shit, like some lit a shit flavored candle and then farted on top of it. So I go up to a group of my fellow workers and go "Hey you see that guy over there?" They said yes. "He went into the bathroom and took a nasty shit, that's what that smell is." I then get told no its not by that older lady I worked with. I debated that it was and there was no possible alternative. She left then about 30 seconds later one of the managers came over and said "You know it wasn't that guy right?" "It had to be there's no othe..." "Mary", the older lady's name, "has a Colostomy Bag. She just emptied it." Insert foot into mouth.
5. In college I worked at a sweet music store, which I've already covered in previous blog things. Anyways every summer we had this big reading clinic where the biggest sheet music companies would send all of their crap over to us and we would let teachers try it out and then they'd buy it and a bunch of instruments. Well one day this guy Jason and I had to return some stuff to UND where we had borrowed it. So I'm driving the van and it has a trailer on it. I don't know if you've ever tried to back that shit up before, but it's hard! So I pull around and we get the instruments unloaded and its time to leave. Well there's this house next to the art/music building that just so happens to belong to the president of the school. I see his wife leaving and after waiting a few minutes, we cut across the lawn; big ass van and trailer in tow. Well, she was at the stop sign still and we passed her and her facial expression (good times). Anyways we get back to the store and mum is the word. About 4 hours later I get called back to my boss's office and he says that the police had called about someone driving on the presidents lawn. I told him what happened and he thought it was funny. I said that there was no damage to the grass, and it was all good. Mostly because it made everyone laugh and because the police thought that the van and trailer belonged to our crosstown rivals.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
And So It Begins (Again)
So it's that time of the year. A new semester loaded with new challenges, more stress, and more debt (bangin). Also coming back are the jackasses who call themselves artists but in reality just look like jackasses. There are really only two things/types of people who make me ashamed of what I do, sometimes they are the same person. One is the super over intellectual/conceptual artist and the other is the person who thinks that because we go to an art school in a fairly progressive state, that they need to dress like the biggest douche bags in the history of douche bags. As I said sometimes these two people are really just one sad annoying person.
Everyday, everyday that I go to class (which this semester is Monday,Wednesday, Friday) these people are all over New Montgomery Street; they have on super skinny pants, messed up haircuts, crazy tight v-neck shirts on, ridiculous bags, and stupid shoes on. It makes me cringe to see these people look like this, but every time I do a few thoughts go through my head: 1) Why? 2) That must take so much work 3) What is the point? 4) You know I can see you right? 5) You look retarded 6)Why? 7) Who are you trying to impress here? 8) Why? I also try to imagine them getting all ready, putting their guy liner on, getting the right look (you know the one that took about 3 hours but they want to make it look like it took only 10 minutes), plus what do their parents think? I mean people of my generation have parents who grew up between 1960-1969 (for the most part) which means that their parents grew up about 30 years earlier AND those people definitely wouldn't allow this. So I just try to imagine D-Bag artist guy coming home on winter break to like Idaho and everyone looking at him like the weirdo he is. This is a fun game to play when you are people watching. Oh and the guys and girls are on equal ground here; plus you throw in the international students who don't know any better and insanity ensues!
Now granted that AAU has both undergrad and graduate studies so is probably about 50-50 on which one looks stupider, BUT they should ask themselves a question: If I am a teacher listening to a half baked attempt at trying to explain your reasoning behind why you did something, how am I supposed to get past the fact that you have huge spacers in your ears, skinny jeans on, some fucked up hybrid faux hawk/mullet thing dyed orange, some stupid thrift store jacket shirt combo, and a preposterous beard AND take your argument seriously? Now I know that personally I don't dress to the 9's but I wear at least presentable clothes and take a shower.
It's sad to me that these people are more about the image of being an artist than actually just letting their work speak for them. They feel the need to look the part, because I guess it helps to validate them as the burgeoning artists that they hope to become. It bothers me because not only are my eyes being violated by them, but then I have to sit here and listen to the crock of shit that comes out of there mouths so that they feel intellectual enough about things also. One might go so far as to call these people hipsters, and you wouldn't be far off. So this me amigos, is why I despise these people and it makes me ashamed to call myself an artist/designer/cool guy/super hero.
Everyday, everyday that I go to class (which this semester is Monday,Wednesday, Friday) these people are all over New Montgomery Street; they have on super skinny pants, messed up haircuts, crazy tight v-neck shirts on, ridiculous bags, and stupid shoes on. It makes me cringe to see these people look like this, but every time I do a few thoughts go through my head: 1) Why? 2) That must take so much work 3) What is the point? 4) You know I can see you right? 5) You look retarded 6)Why? 7) Who are you trying to impress here? 8) Why? I also try to imagine them getting all ready, putting their guy liner on, getting the right look (you know the one that took about 3 hours but they want to make it look like it took only 10 minutes), plus what do their parents think? I mean people of my generation have parents who grew up between 1960-1969 (for the most part) which means that their parents grew up about 30 years earlier AND those people definitely wouldn't allow this. So I just try to imagine D-Bag artist guy coming home on winter break to like Idaho and everyone looking at him like the weirdo he is. This is a fun game to play when you are people watching. Oh and the guys and girls are on equal ground here; plus you throw in the international students who don't know any better and insanity ensues!
Now granted that AAU has both undergrad and graduate studies so is probably about 50-50 on which one looks stupider, BUT they should ask themselves a question: If I am a teacher listening to a half baked attempt at trying to explain your reasoning behind why you did something, how am I supposed to get past the fact that you have huge spacers in your ears, skinny jeans on, some fucked up hybrid faux hawk/mullet thing dyed orange, some stupid thrift store jacket shirt combo, and a preposterous beard AND take your argument seriously? Now I know that personally I don't dress to the 9's but I wear at least presentable clothes and take a shower.
It's sad to me that these people are more about the image of being an artist than actually just letting their work speak for them. They feel the need to look the part, because I guess it helps to validate them as the burgeoning artists that they hope to become. It bothers me because not only are my eyes being violated by them, but then I have to sit here and listen to the crock of shit that comes out of there mouths so that they feel intellectual enough about things also. One might go so far as to call these people hipsters, and you wouldn't be far off. So this me amigos, is why I despise these people and it makes me ashamed to call myself an artist/designer/cool guy/super hero.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Welcome Back!
Dare I say that 1991's Decade of Aggression by Slayer is THE GREATEST live album ever? Yes. Yes I will. If you disagree, tough titties. It perfectly captures everything about seeing Slayer live. The chaos, the danger, the pain, the shear volume, the intensity. It's all there. It feels like a god damn freight train running you over, backing up and doing it all over again. Unlike most live albums that I have heard (and it's quite a few) this one does capture a concert in audio form. I've owned this album since 2001 and have probably listened both discs easily 100 times each. There is just so much shear power on them it's the next best thing to being there.
While it is dated only in the sense that the first Gulf War is mentioned and because all of the material is pulled from Show No Mercy through Seasons In The Abyss, only because well none of their other albums had come out yet. It's a little heavy on the Seasons material only because they were promoting it at the time, but still, it's a banging album. The track selection is also quite excellent, in that every album is represented, not equally but certain tracks are positioned strategically to give more power (the intro to Hell Awaits still gives me shivers!).
Also what sets this album apart is the fact that well, it's live. Hmm, a live album that's not live you say? Those exist? Yes, by the truck full it's more common than one would imagine. Frampton Comes Alive, Rising In The East, Alive, various Rolling Stones albums, the list goes on and on. But it is very apparent this album is the real deal for two reasons: a) it says so in the liner notes b) you can hear obvious guitar and drum slip ups. That kind of stuff happens during concerts and they were honest enough to acknowledge it.
Now for the songs. Holy shit balls, are they awesome/intense/bad ass/extremely evil! To quote Scott Ian "If you go to hell, that's what they would be playing down there." The lightning fast transitions between South of Heaven, Raining Blood, Altar of Sacrifice, and Jesus Saves are so damn fast that there is literally no time to catch your breath just like at one of their shows. By the time that the album finally closes with Chemical Warfare, your ears are totally shot, again just like at one of their concerts (by the by; Slayer was and still is the LOUDEST concert I've ever seen.)
The star of this album though is one Mr. Dave Lombardo. The guy totally goes nuts here. He walks the fine line of chaos and control, just as everyone has said for years. Of course the other guys are no slouches either, but Lombardo is simply put, one of the main reasons to listen to this album.
So in summary if your really a fan of music by/download/burn/steal this album. Get a hold of it somehow. I know that Slayer is not everyone's cup of tea, but this album totally captures a concert experience the way it should be.
Also what sets this album apart is the fact that well, it's live. Hmm, a live album that's not live you say? Those exist? Yes, by the truck full it's more common than one would imagine. Frampton Comes Alive, Rising In The East, Alive, various Rolling Stones albums, the list goes on and on. But it is very apparent this album is the real deal for two reasons: a) it says so in the liner notes b) you can hear obvious guitar and drum slip ups. That kind of stuff happens during concerts and they were honest enough to acknowledge it.
Now for the songs. Holy shit balls, are they awesome/intense/bad ass/extremely evil! To quote Scott Ian "If you go to hell, that's what they would be playing down there." The lightning fast transitions between South of Heaven, Raining Blood, Altar of Sacrifice, and Jesus Saves are so damn fast that there is literally no time to catch your breath just like at one of their shows. By the time that the album finally closes with Chemical Warfare, your ears are totally shot, again just like at one of their concerts (by the by; Slayer was and still is the LOUDEST concert I've ever seen.)
The star of this album though is one Mr. Dave Lombardo. The guy totally goes nuts here. He walks the fine line of chaos and control, just as everyone has said for years. Of course the other guys are no slouches either, but Lombardo is simply put, one of the main reasons to listen to this album.
So in summary if your really a fan of music by/download/burn/steal this album. Get a hold of it somehow. I know that Slayer is not everyone's cup of tea, but this album totally captures a concert experience the way it should be.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Grade A Turd.
Every interview with him he has to be loaded, has to unnecessarily swear, and call Ozzy and Sharon his "mom and dad" (for reals?). I actually read in Guitar Edge from a few years ago an interview with him and here is what he said with almost no paraphrasing
Guitar Edge: How do you come up with new ideas?
Zakk Wylde: I listen to music all the time. Like today, I was driving to the studio listening to "Whole Lotta Love" and I thought, "Man I'll just flip the riff around and poof! A new tune!" It's that simple.
Yes, it is that simple. That's how you go from being a good not great guitar player to a hack who plays eleventygillion notes of crap in a pentatonic scale. Oh yeah, and you have to make sure you criticize people who use wah wah when you yourself overuse said pedal.
Then there is the ego on this guy. I know that it's HIS band, but seriously he just let his bass player play on an album. Meanwhile the only time that the other guitar player (Nick Cantanese) has made an "official" appearance on an album was the unnecessary live album Alcohol Fueled Brewtality. That's it. How does that even resemble a band?
Anyways, going back to the image thing. Seriously now he thinks he's a biker...or a lesbian however you want to think about it; but anyways the only thing that more annoying than him sometimes are his fans, or brothers (See post from June regarding my feelings on that!). They also think that they are bikers because they wear stupid leather vests, disregard personal hygiene, overuse swear words, and drink too much. Nothing he does is stupid in their eyes, for real. Honestly, have these people ever read any of his "lyrics"? It's enough to want to punch yourself in the appendix to induce a rupture, so you will have to be sedated.
My last point to bitch about; his name. Zakk Wylde. Is there anymore of an 80s' glam name than that? Seriously, look at the spelling Zakk, has anyone ever spelt their name like that? Then theirs Wylde. Boy that's original. Do you know what his real name is? Jeffery Wielandt. Doesn't get much more bad ass than that eh? Well, now we know why he changed it to something a little less preposterous.
So yeah, I know that this was a bit on the rambling/bitching side but something had to be said. I think that his only appeal is to morons and 17 year olds (which may or may not be the same thing). Sadly he is one of the most influential guitar players of recent times, but is still influential. I don't know, maybe I would dislike him less if he didn't focus so heavily on his ridiculous image and play better. I mean I still own a good number of his older albums and play them from time to time, but he's not my favorite. That is all.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Self Righteousness 101
There are two types of people that I have grown to realize that I dislike ( I say dislike, because I don't think that I really "hate" anyone). 1) Jazz snobs 2) Hippie/Hipster douchers. I will try in some depth to describe why I loathe these people in the following paragraphs.
We'll start with the Jazz snobs. They are almost too easy that I should ignore them, but I won't, ney I can't. Oh and before I continue let me say: I enjoy Jazz. Just usually not the people who play it. Remember the scene in High Fidelity where Jack Black won't sell that guy the record he so badly wants? And their friend says that they were the under appreciated geeks in high school and now they can look down on people from their collective music perch? That's Jazz snobs in a quick blurb. If you can't get it, your dumb. If you listen to music that is simple, you have poor taste in music. If it's easily accessible, it's clearly terrible and you should revisit the previous two things mentioned. They also feel that because they have superior music knowledge (usually) they can look down their nose at you for a variety of reasons ranging from: playing in odd time signatures, overall music theory skills, flawlessly sight read, and improvise. It's kind of disgusting. I like listening to Jazz, mostly fusion or guitar based styles, but even those guys are kinda dicks. Some of my favorite players play Jazz and it's so obnoxious to listen to them talk, to the point if I heard them talk anymore than I do, I might not listen to them at all. Now this isn't to say that guys who play other styles of music should get free passes, but at least they don't carry a holier than thou attitude about everything. And you know what? It doesn't stop with just music; they need to be snobs about food, literature, wine/booze, film, and art. Seriously, who took a shit on these people when they were growing up?
Up next, the Hippie/Hipster douchers. When I lived in North Dakota these people were rare, out in San Francisco they are almost EVERYWHERE! For the life of me I can't understand why someone would want to live a lifestyle like them. It's almost like the opposite of someone who needs to be up to date on the latest trends; they search for the next big obscure thing. Some crappy indie band that only 3 people have heard of, some crappy film that was made for $10,000, HORRIBLE clothes that looked to be in fashion 15 years ago. You name it they look for it, they take pride in it. It's as if they frown their stupid faces upon anything that might have money behind it. What makes them think that just because someone in a second hand t-shirt made a more honest song than a famous singer? Something that was made for $200 has just as much chance to suck as something that cost $200,000. I know a few people like this and it bothers me, more so because they are totally oblivious to the fact that they are like this. Now, I certainly don't hate these people, but I wouldn't shed a tear if they were suddenly arrested and the deported under mysterious circumstances or anything. My last point on these turds is this: they feel that because they appreciate things that no one gives a shit about they know everything there is to know about art. This offends me as a burgeoning artist. If it came down to everyone hating my stuff or having one person in the world like it and it was a lame ass Hipster; I would rather everyone hate it. To me it seems that the only reason they claim to like art is so that they can seem rounded and cultural and blah, blah, blah. Art is not for everyone and by just pretending to appreciate it is offensive to artists everywhere.*
One would think that these people should get together and be friends, hell they could become BFF's or something. They have enough in common. They are so bitter and contrived, they could hate everything together and it would make it easier for everyone else to dislike them.
*A lot of artists can fall in to this group. I might touch upon this at a later date.
We'll start with the Jazz snobs. They are almost too easy that I should ignore them, but I won't, ney I can't. Oh and before I continue let me say: I enjoy Jazz. Just usually not the people who play it. Remember the scene in High Fidelity where Jack Black won't sell that guy the record he so badly wants? And their friend says that they were the under appreciated geeks in high school and now they can look down on people from their collective music perch? That's Jazz snobs in a quick blurb. If you can't get it, your dumb. If you listen to music that is simple, you have poor taste in music. If it's easily accessible, it's clearly terrible and you should revisit the previous two things mentioned. They also feel that because they have superior music knowledge (usually) they can look down their nose at you for a variety of reasons ranging from: playing in odd time signatures, overall music theory skills, flawlessly sight read, and improvise. It's kind of disgusting. I like listening to Jazz, mostly fusion or guitar based styles, but even those guys are kinda dicks. Some of my favorite players play Jazz and it's so obnoxious to listen to them talk, to the point if I heard them talk anymore than I do, I might not listen to them at all. Now this isn't to say that guys who play other styles of music should get free passes, but at least they don't carry a holier than thou attitude about everything. And you know what? It doesn't stop with just music; they need to be snobs about food, literature, wine/booze, film, and art. Seriously, who took a shit on these people when they were growing up?
Up next, the Hippie/Hipster douchers. When I lived in North Dakota these people were rare, out in San Francisco they are almost EVERYWHERE! For the life of me I can't understand why someone would want to live a lifestyle like them. It's almost like the opposite of someone who needs to be up to date on the latest trends; they search for the next big obscure thing. Some crappy indie band that only 3 people have heard of, some crappy film that was made for $10,000, HORRIBLE clothes that looked to be in fashion 15 years ago. You name it they look for it, they take pride in it. It's as if they frown their stupid faces upon anything that might have money behind it. What makes them think that just because someone in a second hand t-shirt made a more honest song than a famous singer? Something that was made for $200 has just as much chance to suck as something that cost $200,000. I know a few people like this and it bothers me, more so because they are totally oblivious to the fact that they are like this. Now, I certainly don't hate these people, but I wouldn't shed a tear if they were suddenly arrested and the deported under mysterious circumstances or anything. My last point on these turds is this: they feel that because they appreciate things that no one gives a shit about they know everything there is to know about art. This offends me as a burgeoning artist. If it came down to everyone hating my stuff or having one person in the world like it and it was a lame ass Hipster; I would rather everyone hate it. To me it seems that the only reason they claim to like art is so that they can seem rounded and cultural and blah, blah, blah. Art is not for everyone and by just pretending to appreciate it is offensive to artists everywhere.*
One would think that these people should get together and be friends, hell they could become BFF's or something. They have enough in common. They are so bitter and contrived, they could hate everything together and it would make it easier for everyone else to dislike them.
*A lot of artists can fall in to this group. I might touch upon this at a later date.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Oh Canada
Canada sucks. I'm sorry but that's the truth, it has nothing to do with racism or any other type of ism, the fact of the matter is that that nation is filled with the dumbest people per square mile. What makes me qualified to say that you may ask? Well, living in North Dakota for a little over a dozen years and taking a 4 day trip up to America's hat qualifies me. For the longest time, I thought that only people in my (former) neck of the woods understood what makes these people so dumb, then when I was in middle school a little show called South Park came along and hit the nail right on the head. Also upon my last two trips back home it really hit me how dumb these people are. So what I decided I would do is list some of my "favorite" run ins with the few, the proud, the Canadian; in no particular order also. These close encounters take place everywhere from my day to day life, at work, on the phone, and even a fireworks store!
*Christmas 2008: This Canadian lady calls my work, I answer the phone and she asks if we carry a specific guitar pedal (I worked at a music store). I said yes and that it was about $350. She then asks if I could sell it to her for only $300. My manager agrees since it was a dog (an older product that hasn't been selling and just sits on the shelf). She gives me her credit card information and I ring it up for her, she then asks if someone at the store would be able to deliver it to her at her hotel. I told her that I would be able to since I was leaving the store in a bit and headed in the direction of her hotel. I drop it off, end of story right? Nope. I get to work the next day and what do I see? Yep, the pedal. Instantly I ask "What the hell is that doing back here?" My manager tells me that the lady returned it because she got a better deal on it from our cross town rivals. How much of a better deal you might ask? $10.
*Summer 2005: My friend Ray and I are at this fireworks outlet mall called Generous Jerry's (rip off!). We are minding our own business looking at explosives to buy. Then all of a sudden some Canadian guy walks past me and calls me a fag. We were both perplexed and then I looked down and realized that I was wearing my t-shirt that said INVADE CANADA! Harsh reaction, no?
*Fall 2007: Again, I was working at the music store, when these shenanigans happen. A guy decked from head to toe in a Canadian Tuxedo comes in, he asks me if we carried a particular microphone. I say no and he says okay. He then went into the bathroom and I thought that was it. Two minutes later; a guy calls and asks me the same exact question in the same way. Again I say no, then a few seconds later Super Canuck rolls out of the bathroom and is putting his phone away. Coincidence, I think not.
*Spring 2008: This is a shorty but a goodie. Mandi and I were on the way home from a dinner at my moms house when we come up to a red light. The only other car belongs to a dirty Canadian and he stops before the railroad tracks when there is clearly another spot after that. So I did what any normal person would do and I cut him off and got that spot. Stupid Canadian.
*Fall 2006: This one is a little different. A friend of mine at UND was Canadian and he was cool enough to let us rip on Canada to his face (for the most part); well, we were in a figure drawing class and the jokes were flowing pretty good and he started to make some as well. Eventually this old bitch that most of didn't like chimed in and here was the conversation.
Brandon: It's exciting, we just got guns up in Canada.
Deb (old bitch): Really? You just got guns?
Brandon: Yep, it's pretty cool.
Deb: Well what's it like?
Brandon: I don't know, we haven't got the bullets yet.
Deb: Wow, really?
Normally I would say something about how dumb a Canadian is but, man that old bitch was dumb. I mean who falls for that shit? Jesus H man.
*Summer 2010: I'm at home hanging out with my mom and we had just come from Petco. We are driving down 32nd Avenue when something catches my eye. What is it you may ask? Well it was a Canadian PARKED in the middle of one of those little turn lanes to get into a restaurant. And what was he doing? Eating. That's right eating, essentially in the middle of a busy road.
These are just some my more notable run ins with the residents of America's hat aka America Jr. aka Canada. There are also all the incidents were they would just come down for the weekend and park their campers in some store's parking lot instead of checking into a hotel or camp ground or how they just sound boarder line retarded.
*Christmas 2008: This Canadian lady calls my work, I answer the phone and she asks if we carry a specific guitar pedal (I worked at a music store). I said yes and that it was about $350. She then asks if I could sell it to her for only $300. My manager agrees since it was a dog (an older product that hasn't been selling and just sits on the shelf). She gives me her credit card information and I ring it up for her, she then asks if someone at the store would be able to deliver it to her at her hotel. I told her that I would be able to since I was leaving the store in a bit and headed in the direction of her hotel. I drop it off, end of story right? Nope. I get to work the next day and what do I see? Yep, the pedal. Instantly I ask "What the hell is that doing back here?" My manager tells me that the lady returned it because she got a better deal on it from our cross town rivals. How much of a better deal you might ask? $10.
*Summer 2005: My friend Ray and I are at this fireworks outlet mall called Generous Jerry's (rip off!). We are minding our own business looking at explosives to buy. Then all of a sudden some Canadian guy walks past me and calls me a fag. We were both perplexed and then I looked down and realized that I was wearing my t-shirt that said INVADE CANADA! Harsh reaction, no?
*Fall 2007: Again, I was working at the music store, when these shenanigans happen. A guy decked from head to toe in a Canadian Tuxedo comes in, he asks me if we carried a particular microphone. I say no and he says okay. He then went into the bathroom and I thought that was it. Two minutes later; a guy calls and asks me the same exact question in the same way. Again I say no, then a few seconds later Super Canuck rolls out of the bathroom and is putting his phone away. Coincidence, I think not.
*Spring 2008: This is a shorty but a goodie. Mandi and I were on the way home from a dinner at my moms house when we come up to a red light. The only other car belongs to a dirty Canadian and he stops before the railroad tracks when there is clearly another spot after that. So I did what any normal person would do and I cut him off and got that spot. Stupid Canadian.
*Fall 2006: This one is a little different. A friend of mine at UND was Canadian and he was cool enough to let us rip on Canada to his face (for the most part); well, we were in a figure drawing class and the jokes were flowing pretty good and he started to make some as well. Eventually this old bitch that most of didn't like chimed in and here was the conversation.
Brandon: It's exciting, we just got guns up in Canada.
Deb (old bitch): Really? You just got guns?
Brandon: Yep, it's pretty cool.
Deb: Well what's it like?
Brandon: I don't know, we haven't got the bullets yet.
Deb: Wow, really?
Normally I would say something about how dumb a Canadian is but, man that old bitch was dumb. I mean who falls for that shit? Jesus H man.
*Summer 2010: I'm at home hanging out with my mom and we had just come from Petco. We are driving down 32nd Avenue when something catches my eye. What is it you may ask? Well it was a Canadian PARKED in the middle of one of those little turn lanes to get into a restaurant. And what was he doing? Eating. That's right eating, essentially in the middle of a busy road.
These are just some my more notable run ins with the residents of America's hat aka America Jr. aka Canada. There are also all the incidents were they would just come down for the weekend and park their campers in some store's parking lot instead of checking into a hotel or camp ground or how they just sound boarder line retarded.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
What's That Smell? Part Three: The Smelling
So, I thought that my interesting flying adventures were going to cool off for awhile, but I was wrong. Now I present the third installment of "What's That Smell?"
On the Thursday before I was to leave, I was enjoying a hamburger with my mom and our dogs. Then I got a call from a random ass phone number, I wasn't going to answer but for some reason I did; good thing too. It was an automated message telling me that my flight had been canceled and moved from Friday at 7a.m. to Friday at 5:15 a.m.; shitty but hey what could I do? So we changed plans to leave earlier and I just decided to stay up and hang out with one of my dogs, The Dude and watch The Godfather Part II since we were going to be leaving at like 2:30 a.m. Well, we left and arrived at the Fargo airport and discovered that the terminal doesn't open until 4 a.m. so we had to drive around for about 45 minutes with nothing but a few gas stations open. After we got in, I tried to check in and here's what happens. It says that my flight was at 5:15 p.m. I was totally pissed off because I knew that I hadn't heard wrong or written it down wrong, my flight was in the morning. So after standing around for like 15 minutes with no one coming to help me, I notice a piece of paper that was face down saying if you need help call this number. I did and the guy who I talked to sounded exactly like Matthew McConaughey.
So I'm talking to McConaughey and surprisingly he was helpful, he even said "alright, alright, alright" when he was trying to get me on an earlier flight. He even said that since it was their fault for the mix up I was going to get a voucher for a meal in the Chicago airport. Well, after that we left Fargo and went home. I slept for like three hours before we headed back so I could fly out at noon. It was awesome.
The flight from Fargo to Chicago was pretty good, except I was sitting next to a guy who had no real urge to get off the plane and the flight attendant said that my flight to Chicago would board in the wrong section of the airport. Once I got off the plane, I was first in search of my gate. Then I was in search of my meal voucher. I found the gate and then proceeded to talk to a guy named Darwood. He told me that there was no record of a voucher and couldn't figure out what I was talking about. So after about 10 minutes of this back and forth, he "finds" it. The total? $5. Wow, just enough to buy nothing in an airport. Plus he gives me a seat in the last row AGAIN, only this time in the aisle. A few hours later I was all set to board the plane and was stopped by the lady checking me in.
Lady: "Are you traveling alone?"
Me: "Yeah..."
Lady: "Well, lets get you a better seat than!"
Me: "Okay."
Lady: "Here you go. More leg room, have a nice flight!"
I was bumped up 16 rows and I got a window seat, only it was next to the emergency exit (For some reason, I felt the urge to just pull the leaver, just to see what happens, messed up I know). Now for the tie into the title. Some butch lesbo had some nasty smelling/looking veggie platter and then I smelt what could pass off as a used diaper, only it turned out to be BBQ that someone was eating two rows behind me. Yummy? Plus the in flight movie was The Bounty Hunter. It was so bad that I could notice the lady sitting next to me watching my movie on my Mac without sound, it was the rest of The Godfather Part II, so who could blame her?
Well, that's all for right now. My next travels won't be until around Christmas/New Years, so we'll see what happens then.
On the Thursday before I was to leave, I was enjoying a hamburger with my mom and our dogs. Then I got a call from a random ass phone number, I wasn't going to answer but for some reason I did; good thing too. It was an automated message telling me that my flight had been canceled and moved from Friday at 7a.m. to Friday at 5:15 a.m.; shitty but hey what could I do? So we changed plans to leave earlier and I just decided to stay up and hang out with one of my dogs, The Dude and watch The Godfather Part II since we were going to be leaving at like 2:30 a.m. Well, we left and arrived at the Fargo airport and discovered that the terminal doesn't open until 4 a.m. so we had to drive around for about 45 minutes with nothing but a few gas stations open. After we got in, I tried to check in and here's what happens. It says that my flight was at 5:15 p.m. I was totally pissed off because I knew that I hadn't heard wrong or written it down wrong, my flight was in the morning. So after standing around for like 15 minutes with no one coming to help me, I notice a piece of paper that was face down saying if you need help call this number. I did and the guy who I talked to sounded exactly like Matthew McConaughey.
So I'm talking to McConaughey and surprisingly he was helpful, he even said "alright, alright, alright" when he was trying to get me on an earlier flight. He even said that since it was their fault for the mix up I was going to get a voucher for a meal in the Chicago airport. Well, after that we left Fargo and went home. I slept for like three hours before we headed back so I could fly out at noon. It was awesome.
The flight from Fargo to Chicago was pretty good, except I was sitting next to a guy who had no real urge to get off the plane and the flight attendant said that my flight to Chicago would board in the wrong section of the airport. Once I got off the plane, I was first in search of my gate. Then I was in search of my meal voucher. I found the gate and then proceeded to talk to a guy named Darwood. He told me that there was no record of a voucher and couldn't figure out what I was talking about. So after about 10 minutes of this back and forth, he "finds" it. The total? $5. Wow, just enough to buy nothing in an airport. Plus he gives me a seat in the last row AGAIN, only this time in the aisle. A few hours later I was all set to board the plane and was stopped by the lady checking me in.
Lady: "Are you traveling alone?"
Me: "Yeah..."
Lady: "Well, lets get you a better seat than!"
Me: "Okay."
Lady: "Here you go. More leg room, have a nice flight!"
I was bumped up 16 rows and I got a window seat, only it was next to the emergency exit (For some reason, I felt the urge to just pull the leaver, just to see what happens, messed up I know). Now for the tie into the title. Some butch lesbo had some nasty smelling/looking veggie platter and then I smelt what could pass off as a used diaper, only it turned out to be BBQ that someone was eating two rows behind me. Yummy? Plus the in flight movie was The Bounty Hunter. It was so bad that I could notice the lady sitting next to me watching my movie on my Mac without sound, it was the rest of The Godfather Part II, so who could blame her?
Well, that's all for right now. My next travels won't be until around Christmas/New Years, so we'll see what happens then.
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