Posts tagged with "TV shows"

A Weekend with Darren

I had Darren over from Toronto for the week­end. We were going to do a movie marathon at the the­atre — three in a day — but the movies all sucked. Disturbia? Georgia Rule? Please. Instead, I bought the first sea­son of Six Feet Under, and we fin­ished the roughly 11 hour sea­son over two days. Now I can re-watch it with Bronwen and lend it to Pat. To be hon­est, I’d seen up to the sec­ond sea­son before, but I was too stoned to remem­ber most of it.

Thumbnail: Air-tight tea container

Thumbnail: Chai tea

Darren also gave me a nice tea con­tainer. It’s rather large, since I buy my tea 50mg at a time, but bet­ter too big than too small. He also got me some chai tea, con­sid­ered a well­ness blend. When I asked him what for, he couldn’t give me a rea­son. I love gifts for no reason.

We shared our tat­too ideas, and his was the Chinese char­ac­ter for love on his back. Darren and Bronwen are the some of the few peo­ple I can talk openly with about love. We’re such hope­less roman­tics. We tell each other that we’ll never be mar­ried, not to be self-depracating, but to be hon­est with our­selves. We have our ideals, and we’ll never set­tle for any­thing less. It’s com­fort­ing to know that we’re not alone in our quixotic beliefs.

An Odd Mood Lately

I spend my time squar­ing away every­thing in my room so that I’m com­fort­able enough to write. The extra cables are gone, as well as the ran­dom receipts and bus trans­fers that some­how end up on the car­pet. My mir­rors are all in place, mak­ing the room seem twice as big, but I when I look I only see myself, slouched com­fort­ably in my chair, hood over my head. Even Dolly has won­dered in to lay her­self flat on the empty floor. By the time I’m done clean­ing, I’m at a loss for all the things I’ve been try­ing to get into well struc­tured paragraphs.

A new episode of Trailer Park Boys is play­ing on Showcase, and I’m watch­ing it with the sound off because too much infor­ma­tion would ruin the fourth sea­son, some­thing I’m deter­mined to see in order from the begin­ning. Ricky’s in a high school, com­pletely out of place as a thirty-something man in shop class try­ing to make some hash or grow some weed or har­vest some kind of nar­cotic, and this only adds to my amusement.

I’ve been let­ting my hair grow out, à la Matt Heafy in the video for Pull Harder On The Strings Of Your Martyr. Somehow, I’ve only now dis­cov­ered that my hair nat­u­rally grows towards the front, and by brush­ing it for­ward, it still looks respectable when I haven’t had it cut in a month and a half.

I’ve been in an odd mood lately. Thoughts branch off in my mind, but noth­ing seems solid enough to fol­low through. Inspiration always comes the day after today.

Trailer Park Awesome

I was plan­ning on writ­ing some­thing else, but had the sug­gen urge to con­fess that I was watch­ing Trailer Park Boys with four other guys yes­ter­day and it was the Christmas spe­cial where Jono is all preppy and Randy is giv­ing hand­jobs for cheese­burg­ers before he becomes assis­tant super­in­ten­dent, when Bubbles is sit­ting with his present in his lap given to him by his par­ents before they left him when he was young, and Ricky tells him to open it because they’re his fam­ily, so I started to cry but no one noticed, and I can’t stop think­ing about how fuck­ing stu­pid it is, and I won­der if any­one ever believes me or thinks I’m doing it for atten­tion or what­ever because it makes no fuck­ing sense to me.

The Day Has Been Bright And Warm

I spent the week­end at Trolley’s place and had a great time. We just hung out, played Gamecube, and watched some movies. I’m not sure if I over­stayed my wel­come, but I’m sure that any good host is able to blur that fine line. It’s good to have another friend that I can con­nect with. Wheaties and Ian went ski­ing at Tremblant, and although I was invited, I felt like I wasn’t pre­pared to spend over $100 on a lift ticket with rentals.

Trolley also intro­duced me to Crank Yankers, a hilar­i­ous show on Comedy Central. The con­cept of the show is that peo­ple make crank calls, and both the roles of caller and reciever are played out using pup­pets. The crank calls are usu­ally very orig­i­nal though, some­times involv­ing a third party (such as a mother pick­ing up the phone while her son is call­ing about a penis enlarger). Everything is very well done, and the actors are able to impro­vise their lines with per­fect pre­ci­sion depend­ing on what an unwit­ting par­tic­i­pant says. My favourite
series of crank calls are by Spoonie Love, the res­i­dent playa (played by SNL’s Tracey Morgan). Sometimes he’ll call a news­pa­per to place a clas­si­fied ad, and his mes­sage will involve bust­ing a dou­ble hor­i­zon­tal on someone’s ass.

Thom lent me his Pantera DVD, 3 Vulgar Videos from Hell. The music hasn’t been that great, but the behind-the-scenes and con­cert footage is good. It’s also mes­mer­iz­ing to see the con­fi­dence that Phil Anselmo exudes at the con­certs, the way Danko Jones or Kid Rock seem to in their music videos.

I was awak­ened by Dolly scratch­ing at my sheets this morn­ing. As soon as I lifted them up, she went under­neath and tried to sleep on my stom­ach. Unfortunately, my thin frame didn’t pro­vide much of a foun­da­tion, and she slid to one side, but even­tu­ally fell asleep there any­way. It’s the first time she has been com­fort­able enough to sleep under the sheets, instead of beside my head as usual.

I stum­bled across the site of an intel­li­gent girl who writes about things in rela­tion­ships not com­monly dis­cussed, and who hap­pens to inhabit the same city as I do. I enjoy the pol­ish and depth that her edi­to­ri­als have, but I think it’s her open­ness that I can appre­ci­ate most. It’s always fas­ci­nat­ing to find out a female opin­ion on some of the more taboo sex related sub­jects, instead of the opin­ion which other guys believe they know.

The entire Columbia Space Shuttle inci­dent has made me feel like we’re still very prim­i­tive in our explo­ration meth­ods, and that we should sim­ply leave well enough alone until we’re ready. It’s like we’re try­ing to break the sound bar­rier again, and peo­ple are sac­ri­fic­ing their lives in the pur­suit of knowl­edge. I sup­pose that if they’re will­ing to make that sac­ri­fice, then their deci­sion must be respected. Otto Lilienthal would be proud.