Going to a big Halloween party on Sat. It’s called Fest of Evil and put together by a buddy of mine, Harry. Have a feeling El Aguilla Del Norte might make an appearance or two. Just a hunch.
This dips back into the memories of Halloweens past, but here’s a fun little tale for you:
My brother’s buddy/landlord Paul dressed as “The Creep” for Halloween two years ago.
Fast forward to this year and ol Paul manages to buy himself a house in Victoria BC. A house with walls. A house with walls that paintings can hang from. Paintings paitned by Paul. Self portrait paintings by Paul.
Here’s Paul and his self-portrait adorned wall at his new house. I’m sure he’ll enjoy this come the 31st as much as he’s surely enjoyed it to date.
The painting is entitled “Summer Breeze / Jam “. The title pays homage to summer breezes and summer jams.
Paul’s phone number is 1-250-FUN-PLAY
Why not call him and compliment him on his artwork?! He loves to talk about fun and many other things. Tell him Kyle sent you. He’ll like that.
That’s my new favorite compliment. Hard Charger. As in, “Hey there hard charger, how’s she going?” I love it. Awesome. No, nobody’s said it to me yet, it’s just a third-hand compliment given to somebody else and told to me by another, but it still rules. Look for ‘hard charger’ to replace my current generic names of ‘chief’, ‘buddy’ and ‘guy’ over the next while. I’m certain that it could replace “legend’ as my favorite generic person-calling term. But it’ll be a showdown, for sure.
So anyhow, in other news, I’m currently not employed by Best Buy but it looks like I am. This marketing company got hired by Best Buy to find staff for Best Buy’s grand opening weekend and then they hired me. My job is to ‘handle’ the first 150 people that arrive at the Best Buy location in a Montreal suburb called Pointe Claire, on Mon, Tues, Wed, Thurs this week and force them to stand in the cold driving rain until noon. Yes, you could say that it’s hard charging rain – feel free. So, those lucky/stupid enough to be one of the first 150 in the line at noon get a free pair of tickets to the Black Eyed Peas concert at the Bell Centre this Sunday night. All seven Best Buy locations in Montreal are hooking up free tickets. Best Buy is paying for the entire concert and there’s no place to buy tickets.
Enter the scalpers. Surprising how easy it is to pick out scalpers from Black Eyed Peas fans.
Scalpers wear ripped Cannibal Corpse hoodies and say things like “So I got here at 11 last night and played dice with the security guard. I took him for thirty bucks. If you can score me an extra pair of floor seats, I’ll give you the cash. No wait, I’ll give you 25, I gotta buy smokes too bro. Hey, I’ll score you a grilled cheese sandwich too, my buddy’s got a George Foreman grill rigged up to his cigarette lighter in his Cavalier. It’s broke right now, but I think we can fix it before noon.”
Black Eyed Peas fans wear GAP track suits and drive a shiny Toyota Camry with a bumper sticker that reads ‘Philipino Crusaders for Christ’. Conversations usually consist of many ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ and their personal dilemma is always between “Should I see the show myself” or “Should I auction off my free tickets to raise money for my cousin’s Habitat for Humanity project in Cebu.
Both freeze their ass off.
Montreal is like the coldest city in North America but I’m continually amazed by the ability of Montrealers to put themselves in a near hypothermic state for free concert tickets. Funny how “I’ll be fine, cold doesn’t bother me” doesn’t pan out after 5 hours under windblown sleet wearing little more than a sweatshirt and a pair of Capri pants – especially when you’re 70 years old. People are stupid. I’m 100% certain that a mother is confronting her son with the following: “Sorry Dylan, I know that Grandpa wanted to see how Fergie got all that ass inside them jeans as much as you do, but you’ll have to find somebody to go to see the Black Eyes Peepers. Grandpa’s dead.”
But it’s not easy to stop a hard charger, especially when there’s free concert tickets on the line.
Much of the video footage at this site is pretty standard fare, but the commentary on these videos is EPIC. I have no idea if Allen Weiner knows how funny he is, but he has serious potential to build a MASSIVE inexplicable cult vlog following. Think internet-based Christopher Guest without knowing he’s Christopher Guest.
Okay, I’ve been lucky enough to see a lot of amazing things in my life, I admit it. But in all my 26 years on this planet, the following two video clips are the best things I’ve ever seen. Bar none. These are WAY too intense. I need to have a rest.
is what they’d call Best Buy if they were forced to translate the name Best Buy into French. But they don’t have to, so it’s Best Buy in Quebec. Pretty sweet, I’m way more down with representing “Best Buy” for a 10 day promo than “Le Meilleur Achat”. It’d be kinda like if they called Le Chateau “The Castle” outside of Quebec…..which would suck hardcore. “The Castle” is the name of one of the best movies ever made, and an Aussie one at that. Scope it out if you get the chance.
Oh, so yeah, I’m payin the bills this month by pumping up Best Buy out in these parts. Best Buy just opened 7 stores in Montreal and is going to bring the Black Eyed Peas to town for a “free” concert. All you have to do is line up for 5-7 hours at a Best Buy store and you’re in there! FREE.
Good times all around, I’ve fallen in love with ‘our’ mascot named Taggie and even found out ‘where my dog at’. It’s awesome. Even Dom is in on the action!
V.V. stands for Village des Valeurs in Quebec, which is Value Village in English, which is the best place on earth in any language. Dom had a tough time trying out her new fan because of the amazingness of the wolf sweater in front of her. I totally understand. Wolf sweaters are the best. As far as I’m concerned, the more wolf sweaters the better. Wolf sweaters would totally take jean shirts in a fight. So, I guess Dom is “in” the fan club then….maybe I should start a wolfpack.
DID spend yesterday afternoon ripping down the 401 from the 514 to the 416. DID pass rigs doing 140 klicks. DID get passed by Cavaliers doing 160 klicks. DIDN’T Keep Apart 2 Chevrons. DID check into hotel out by Pearson directly under approach paths for 747s coming in from the other side of the pond. DID watch Habs lose to the Leafs and the Flames shut out the Oil on HNIC. DIDN’T win the 6/49 jackpot. DID Spend today at tradeshow hawking Table Shox and FiFo bottles next to a bloke who sells ice sculptures. DID meet Louie W. Mele, President of McDonald’s Restaurants of Canada. DID get coupon/business card good for one free Big Mac (or any other ‘Entree’) from Louie W. Mele, President of McDonald’s Restaurants of Canada. DIDN’T eat free Big Mac yet. DID eat donuts from both Country Style and Timmy Hos.
DID enjoy first 24hrs in GTA this month.
Lots of updates today. Big fun. I’m currently in the process of pitching Message in a Barrel as a book to a bunch of publishing houses. I’ve fired together a couple of intro chapters and have submitted them to various places that buy book ideas.
I was hanging out with some friends last weekend, including one named Roxanne. It made me remember this story I wrote a while back….
I grew up in the house that wasn’t in the movie Roxanne.
Belcarra is 45 minutes from Vancouver by car, 15 minutes by boat. When I was seven years old, Steve Martin came to Belcarra to film “Roxanne”.
Five months prior to Steve Martin arriving in Belcarra, the producers of the movie scouted locations close to Vancouver to shoot the film and eventually stumbled upon our house. “We really like the balcony over the balcony, it’s vital for a very important scene in the movie.” said the hollywood film guy. Another nodded in agreement, “Yes, very important. “You will need to relocate for a few months. Everything inside the house will need to be refinished, but you will be compensated and left with a house better than when we start.” The deal hinged on a tiered-balcony. Clearly, these guys were about to take filmmaking to a whole other level.
Dad looked at Mom and smiled, “Who would’ve thought our balcony would be so famous?” Mom looked at my Dad and smiled. “Finally, we can get rid of those damn carpets. Brown, what we’re we thinking?” Plans were drawn up to move us into a temporary apartment. Our house was going to be in a film. Our house was going to be famous. Boxes were already packed in my parent’s minds. Steve Martin was going to be in our house. Steve Martin was going to be on our balcony. Steve Martin was going to get rid of our brown carpets.
In the end, they built a new house for the film. I guess pretty much anybody can say the house they grew up in wasn’t the house from the movie Roxanne, but how many houses got the red ribbon? The brown carpets held their ground for four more years. By the way, the girl our age who eventually lived in the house from Roxanne was named Erin Dirkatch. Her famous house situation never made her famous, even locally. Actually, the only thing she’s ever become famous for so far was getting the unfortunate schoolyard nickname of ‘Erin Dirt Snatch.’ I’m glad they never filmed Roxanne in our house.
So, anyhow, Steve Martin was staying next-door to us and we’d watch him come and go from the set everyday with that giant nose on his face. He’d wave to us as he drove by and occasionally talk to some neighbours, who were of course, all huge fans.
One morning my brother and I were waiting for our school bus to arrive when Steve Martin came out for a quick look around after getting his giant nose make-up put on. He stood on the corner, gave a friendly wave, and waited for his ride service to arrive. From the house next door lurched Rommie, our wooden-legged senile neighbour who was at least 50 years out of Martin’s comedy demographic. Actually, I’m pretty sure there’d never been a comedy demographic to ever apply to Rommie. In the five years since he’d moved in, I’d never once seen him laugh or smile, no matter how funny the situation. (including the time our dog, the appropriately named ‘Rascal’, sniffed at Rommie’s wooden legs, found his least favorite, then began to piss on it like a racehorse.) Rommie wasn’t much of a ‘walker’ either, so for exercise he’d ‘walk’ his Doberman pincher, Princess, by firing up his giant camperized Dodge van then proceed to enjoy nature aboard two tons of steel propelled by a V8 engine. Rommie, in all his faded glory, started up his van and began to drive off with Princess running eagerly behind inhaling blue fumes.
So here was arguably the funniest man on the planet, Steve Martin, equipped with a giant prosthetic nose, displaying jut how funny he was. Imagine being eight years old and seeing the funniest man on the planet with a giant nose. Now that’s funny. The funniest man alive stood captivated by an even-more uproarious happening instigated by arguably the least funny man on the planet, Rommie. Rommie drove towards Mr. Martin with dog-in-tow. Worlds were about to collide.
We stood there transfixed, wondering if the opposite energy of the two men would tear the space- time continuum in half, opening up a new dimension in comedic reality. Rommie approached Mr. Martin. Their eyes met. Mr. Martin stood proud displaying his nasal prowess. Rommie sat proud displaying his dog walking ingenuity. A smile broke across Mr. Martin’s amused and crowd-pleasing face as he raised his arm to wave at his new neighbour. Rommie stared back, shocked, disgusted. He made a gesture towards Steve Martin’s giant nose. Steve Martin pulled out a long index finger, thrust it into his adequate right nostril and gave a ‘thumbs up’ sign. Rommie was taken aback; he shuddered with disgust, scowled for good measure, and rolled up his passenger window to shield the nose.
As he drove past, ‘walking the dog’, we saw the unmistakable denture-sheen glint of the beginnings of a smile to creep across his craggy face. My brother and I touched each other’s arms to make sure we had not in fact been transported to a surreal twilight zone. Our arms were there. It was real.
Steve Martin watched Princess round the bend then looked the other direction to see his approaching ride service. The car arrived and he hopped in. As he drove past we looked up into the big black car to see Steve Martin. He looked down at us behind that giant nose, and winked.
This is not the house I grew up in.