Click any picture to enlarge, biyotch

Finally here are the pictures from my trip to Algonquin. I wrote several witty and illuminating diary entries but can’t be bothered to post them.

The abridged version:

Departure time: 4:58 am Friday morning
Worst meal: breakfast in Huntsville at 7am was sick. (and not the cool ‘sick’ like the kids say either)
Biggest fight: Mark and I become ravenous creatures of the wild when paired in a canoe together
Worst Dressed: My sister, Tabitha had ‘poo ass’ for three days after accidentally sitting on a muddy rock mere hours into the excursion
Coolest effect: Cory can impersonate anyone’s fart tone for tone
Reigning Champs: Cory and I served Tabi and Mark their own asses in Euchrefest Algonquin Edition part Deux.
Best View: Sunset on Casey Lake
Best quote: “Monotheism is for those who have cut down all the trees” Mark

Oh yeah, and just so everyone knows, most of the rock formations in Algonquin Provincial Park are part of the Canadian shield. And don’t fucken say that they aren’t cuz the rest of the Canadians will jump on you like George W on an Arab.



mark sleeping on the way up


the hawk


tabi and cory at the launch spot


the campsite at eyelet lake


tabi and i at eyelet


i'm a lumberjack


casey lake


sitting on some canadian shield

i humped a rock

i'm hoping to have more time to post my camping diary/pictures once i get back from the waterpark on friday. until then, here's a sneak preview of what's to come.


fucking portage

duuude, for real this time...is that fucken poison ivy?

so i'm back from my wilderness weekend.

let me just say props to the original voyageurs who explored this country by way of paddle and portage cuz carrying a canoe on your shoulders isn't for the faint of heart.

otherwise- i had an amazing time.

i love the outdoors. i guess i'm a campaholic. the trees, the lakes, the nature, the soft ground, the campfire and even the shite unscented deoderant that doesn't fucking work; i dig it all.

mental note for next time: it would be rad if at least one person in our group knew what the hell poison ivy looked like because at least ten times a day someone could be heard exclaiming, "Fucking shit! I just walked through poison ivy!"

i took some lovely photos of my algonquin adventure that i will be posting when i'm not feeling so tired, sunburnt, and generally annoyed at the sounds of civilization by which i am currently surrounded.

part of me hopes i get lost in the wilderness and never return

i'm mere hours away from my departure.

bitchin.

i packed all my shit into my 40 litre pack today and it weighs a tonne, also, i'm burning a cd of travel music as we speak.

1. No Transitory - Alexisonfire
2. The Future is X-rated - Matthew Good
3. Crucial - K-os
4. Buckshot Blues - Alfie Smith
5. Romantic Rights - Death from Above 1979
6. The Red - Chevelle
7. The Widow - Mars Volta
8. We're so Heavy - Matthew Good
9. Rebellion (Lies) - The Arcade Fire
10. Taxi Ride - Tori Amos
11. Bohemian like you - The Dandy Warhols
12. Caring is Creepy - The Shins
13. Don't Panic - Coldplay

on a completely unrelated sidenote - i was clicking the 'next blog' button in between writing this post and burning the cd and i noticed that there are an awful lot of jebus lovers out there. That, and every third blog i clicked to was in spanish.

word.

p.s NICK, i included a direct link to a live recording of Taxi Ride. Listen to it lest you perish an unfulfilled man.

smile for the camera biyotch

i have a million and one things to do today because i've been such a lazy asshole about getting everything ready for my trip this weekend.

alas.

this is all you get today.

gag me with chainsaws

i was singing this to myself in the shower yesterday. i listened to blue skies over bad lands by Matt right before i got in and so it ended up in there, twisted around at the end.

i love the stuff that comes to mind in the shower. it's so money.

i'm wired
listening to this guy at the bar
sing his suburban death march
at least
he owns up one hundred per cent
to his affinity for pretense
me, i don't go for poetic guys
no i prefer the strong + violent type
but you
you would know better than i
about badlands under blue skies

i failed math in grade ten

Your IQ Is 115

Your Logical Intelligence is Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Above Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

my thighs have been involved in many accidents and now i can't get insured and i don't need to be lured by you...

human emotions.

what else can i add to that? when those two words are uttered, even without the context, all faces in the room become awash in general understanding.

sure, we're all fictional here in blogland. who we say we are, what we say we do, how we pretend to feel, the books we say we've read, the sex we claim to have had. whether it's true or not is irrelevant because these actions and words all exist on an alternate level. all that's real is the chemical reaction that occurs inside, behind the eyes that stare blankly at a computer screen. inside, human emotions react in real time to all of the fiction we experience.

we know it's not real, we know that by and large people are lying all the time. but at the same time, when we find out nothing is true- we feel betrayed. it's a cyclical madness that everyone has fallen prey to at one time or another.

i lied
you lied
he lied
she lied

these human emotions take no prisoners. and who can blame them?

every inch of your disregard is coming out of the woodwork now. for whatever reason, it hasn't changed you at all in my mind, i've never expected golden halos from anyone who writes a diary in plain sight (or i wouldn't be here doing it myself).

don't expect miracles
and you won't get fooled.

say that ten times fast, and despite your efforts you'll still be a victim one day.

let the countdown begin

in three days i leave for my trip to algonquin.

je suis very excited.

je suis adequately excited about this as well.

je suis an excitable person.

I burned your green guitar pick and the chemical smell of plastic reminded me of your heart

Here are the instructions:

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "Interview me." "Blow me" or "Eat me" are not acceptable substitutes.

2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different. I'll post the questions in the comments section of this post.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

The answers to my questions (courtesy of the delighfully demure Ubermilf)

1. Who is your arch-nemesis (real or fictional)?

I like to think of an arch-nemesis as being someone's opposite- the one person who can bring you down despite all other successes. In this case, my arch-nemesis is Donavan (my version of TEO, Uber). I'd go into detail, but I don't really need anymore hate-IM's from him. I'll just say this- despite all attempts at forgiveness and forgetting, this person will go down in my life as that one, single stain on a record of invulernability. He is masterful in the art of getting me to do/say/feel/think things that I never believed myself capable of, and not in a positive way.

2. Name 3 condiments in your refrigerator.

Pesto, Mustard and Mayo (just in case Nick/Mister Underhill ever come over for sandwiches, they LOVE mayo...luuuurve it)

3. Would you tell a complete stranger he/she had a stain on his/her ass?

I would say yes, except that when I was at the passport office last year, there was a woman in line in front of me who had a terribly embarassing stain on her white skirt and I wanted to say something because I felt really bad for her, but then I didn't. I can't explain it. I guess I'm a jerk. So I guess my answer to this question is, No, I would leave them to suffer complete and utter humiliation as hordes of passers-by pointed and laughed diabolically at them.

4. Describe your worst hair disaster.

My worst hair disaster is probably the time that I had dreads. They were cool at the time, but I quickly got tired of looking like a dirtbag, so I decided to try and brush them out. Let's just say that I ended up brushing out half of the hair on my head. In addition, it took weeks and weeks to shampoo that waxy dreadlock shit out of what was left of my hair. Word to the wise- dreads are a full-on lifetime commitment and the only way to get them out after they've set is to shave your head. Think before you back-comb.

5. Which would you eliminate if you only had one choice: poverty or pollution?

This is a tough question, but I would have to say poverty. I am a human rights activist first, and an enviro-hippie second. Crystal clear air would be enchanting, but it means nothing to the children who die of poverty related illness every day.

baby if I was in demand, you would be mine

I'm spinning and you're spinning
The world's spinning and we're laughing
And I'm charming, the devil's charming
And we're ruined but we're still building
And I'm selling and you're counting
The world's stopping but we keep going
And we're ruthless and we're cunning
And I'm heir to it all

moving pictures, music, heat and dreams...what else can a girl ask for?

this is my excited face

I have free passes to see The Wedding Crashers tonight. I hope it's funny. I think Vince Vaughn is hysterical, but Owen Wilson kind of bothers me. There's just something wrong with his face. He does seem to show up in a lot of awesome movies though; The Life Aquatic and Royal Tannenbaums to name a few.

The Matt Good concert is tomorrow and I've actually been dreaming about it for the past week or so. I don't know if it's the excessive heat right now or what- but I've been having some really crazy dreams lately. Cameo appearances by this person and that one last night. And no it wasn't a gang bang you filthy mongrols.

I have to drag my ass out of my apartment today and buy my camping shit. It's safe to say that I'm more than a little concerned about melting as soon as the sun touches my flesh.

Ah Well.

Peace out biyotches.

I heart lethargy

As a generally lazy person, I'm experiencing recurring bouts of panic over the business of the next couple of weeks. I'm going to Algonquin Provincial Park on a three-day portage to an island in Rain Lake a week from this Friday. As it turns out, surviving in the wild is expensive shit. I have to hit Canadian Tire sometime this week to get bear repellent, water purification tablets, biodegradable soap, camp pillows, atomic strength bug spray and a 40 litre backpack. I was going to get some of it today, but it's 42 degrees or some crazy bullshit like that and it's hampering my ability to move my ass from this spot.

I tried to go see War of the Worlds on Saturday, but things went awry. The plan was that Mark and I would meet his friends Dan and Lindsay at Ceildh House (which is in Hess Village, a.k.a Barville) for a drink before heading to the theatre. Well, one drink led to six plus two shots. Bottom line- I passed out face down on my bed and don't really remember walking home. I am so lame, excuse me.

On Thursday I'm going to see Matthew Good play at Arizona's in St. Catharine's. All are welcome to come and bask in his gloriousness along with me. I promise it will be magical, plus I promise to look as hot as possible.

Oh yeah, The All American Rejects' new video premiers on TRL today. The video is called "Dirty Little Secret" and contains images of the postcards that can be found at the Postsecret website. The band is a pretty average emo group, but Postsecret is quite possibly the most unique thing on the internet and as thus the video is most certainly worth a gander.

watching you

Neil Young rocked my world

So I haven't blogged in about a hundred years because I've actually been out living my life for the past few days (not really).

Canada Day was a blast (I worked a double, yeehaw!) and of course all of the drunken mofo's from Hess Village kept me up all night lighting off firecrackers in their hands and shouting "PUSSY!" at all of the passing women (cuz that guarantees you a lay, for sure). I hoped and prayed that I would hear the glorious sounds of an ambulance indicating one of them had blown off a limb, but no luck. On Saturday I was pleased to see that Pete Townshend is still rockin the windmill and Neil Young is still rockin the free world.

In other news, since I've been tagged by Pork Chop, I've decided to fulfill my blogger duty and post my response to the meme.

1. More Than My Luggage
2. Modigli
3. Babbling Brooke
4. Anthony Pereira
5. Diadima

I tag Kallun, Loz and Louise Nillon

So here are five things that I miss about my childhood.

1. My Grandfather. I lived with him for most of my life. He died when I was sixteen, but really he was dying for years before then. My best memories of him are from birth - age ten. Whether it was feeding the chickens in the barn, watching him cook Italian food, learning to speak the language, learning to draw a map of Africa freehand, or sitting on top of the tractor as he changed the break pads while belting out La Traviata- my best childhood moments were with him and I sincerely believe that he might have been my soul mate.

2. Treehouse Projects. My sister is a Paramedic by trade, but in her heart I think she's really a zealous engineer. My grandparents had a fifty acre (with 20 acres of forest) farm that we lived on together and so there were hundreds of potential treehouse sites. We always started off with reasonable plans: get some spare lumber, nails and paint from the garage, pick a tree, and build a little tree fort. From that, my sister would slowly snowball things until they bordered on ridiculous. She'd say, "I know! We could build it on the ground....oh! I know! we can have different rooms....oh! I know! we could add on an attic....oh! I know! we could wire it for electricity!!!"
Usually these projects ended with me throwing my hammer into the creek and going back into the house to watch The Price is Right. But looking back now, it was pretty entertaining to be a part of her grand master plans.

3. Not knowing a whole hell of a lot. There's that saying, "Ignorance is bliss" and I don't care who you are, it's fucking true. I desperately miss not knowing the burden of financial stress or that sheer desperation that you feel when you can't make ends meet. As a child I had no idea whatsoever of what my mom was going through as a single parent trying to hold down two jobs to support my sister and I. Now that I'm older, I still can't say that I know what she went through- but I can say that I miss not having to worry about anything, ever.

4. Summer/Winter vacations in Quebec. When I was little, my parents owned a house in Temisqueming, Quebec. It's an eight hour drive from my parents' home and it was like paradise to me when I was a kid. The house was right on Baie Dorval (or Dorval Bay for you anglos) and my sister and I would get up at 6 in the morning, eat, and go jump off our docks into the water until dinner time. For the most part, we were completely unsupervised and we'd go on sailing adventures in the canoe or paddleboat. In the winter, we'd have snowmobile races and build incredible snowforts on the frozen bay. Growing up in Canada, the winter time is when you have the most amazing fun because there are hundreds of things to do from snowshoeing to making maple sugar candy at the sugar shack. I had an awesome time there as a kid and I still have dreams that I'm back there despite the fact that my parents sold it when I was 13.

5. School Pictures. I loved picture day. LOVED it. Every year, right before picture day, I would magically get something stuck in my hair (burrs, gum, rubber sticky hands, etc) and of course I thought it was completely logical that if I cut it out with scissors, then my mom wouldn't notice. So in pretty much every picture from elementary school, I have this ridiculous mullet type hair cut because I was always cutting my own stupid hair. The thing is that I was never embarrassed either, I totally thought that the pictures were awesome. Now that I think of it, this could explain why there are no pictures of me at my mom's house. Kooky.