If I Was A Fish, I Wouldn't Be Flying Into Windows...

What happens in Woodstock... probably only happens there!

2010-03-26T19:07:00.000-04:00

"Hey, what if I looked behind that blade of grass?
Maybe it's there, just waiting for me to find it!
Oh, but what if it doesn't want me to find it?
What if it's trying to hide from all the sucking?"

Those are the recurring thoughts of our subject, a somewhat pretty girl looking for her lost cigar. Who knows how long she's been looking for that rich and tasty companion, for she is lost in her blurry thoughts populated by hairy and unwashed youngsters...

"Why do all those blades of grass look alike? If only there was a way to tell them apart... Oh, I wish I had my cigar!"

Janice (let's call her Janice... for lack of a better name) is a hippie. The night is still young, but she already has entered another realm. She's sitting cross-legged and hunched over the ground, her hands extended either sides of her body, vaguely following a search pattern, sometimes gently patting the ground, but mostly just hovering a few centimeters above it. Her eyes are lost in a haze, not focused on anything particular, and it takes her a while to notice the young man standing next to her.

"Hi! You seem to be looking for something... Maybe I can help?" he asked.

It takes Janice a few moments to find the source of that voice. When she does, all she notices about him are two white tube socks protruding from a pair of worn out Addidas running shoes. For a moment, she truly believes those outdated shoes just spoke to her. Then one of her eyes lazily makes its way up a denim-covered leg, a cheap imitation-leather jacket, and finally meets the owner of the said jacket. Far from being handsome, saying he was revolting would nevertheless be an exaggeration. In the maze of her inner ear she hears an eerily chant, and at that precise moment, he's beautiful to her. The words gently glide out of her mouth:

"Have you seen my cigar?"
"Well, let's look for it together while you tell me about yourself! Because you see, I'm actually a spiritual councilor and I'd like to help you find more than your cigar..."

Mmm... that's a strange approach, but why not? There are no rules when it comes to seducing women. If the sky had imagination, that would be the only limit...
Of course by now you probably gathered that this cheeky bastard isn't really a spiritual councilor, whatever that is anyway. He is a predator. His only purpose in life is pursuing a prey and then consume it. But he's not very good at it, he's only done it once, years ago, and the only reason why he “consumed” his prey was that she was a desperate, poor country girl who was so afraid of being alone that she wrapped herself around the first boy who smelled like something else than cow urine mixed with old hay.
But his Cologne is not that far from it... in fact calling it “Cologne” is an unforgivable insult to the city and its most popular product. What this slick jock is proudly pouring over himself every time he leaves his putrid one-room apartment is actually closer to what a three-week old pile of unwashed dishes – covered with some kind of lemon-scented spray – would smell like. But I digress.

“But I didn't lose anything else! I just want my cigar! I think I lost it here, or at least I think I lost it... or maybe I never had one in the first place... Oh, I'm so confused!”
“Well, there's only one way to make sure you actually had a cigar! I'll kiss you, and if you taste like an ashtray, then we'll know for sure!”

… and that's why he's alone. It's not his fault, his twice re-married mother probably dropped him on the head a few times while he was an infant... Some of his pick-up lines, well a lot in fact, are not generated by the same thought process than yours or mine.

But then again, not everyone thinks like you.

Janice stares at him in pure, genuine awe.

“Whoa, you must be the smartest man alive! This has to be the only way!”

(And this is what happens when you expect something out of one of my short stories. You're disappointed. Face it, you thought she was going to slap him, or mention something about feminine pride and all that yack-iddy-yack about women having rights... well, look at you now...)

After an awkward kiss, during which the boy unsuccessfully tried to unhook Janice's non-existant bra, she asks candidly:

“So, was I smoking a cigar earlier?”

To which an agitated Willy (no pun intended, that's actually his real name) responded with:

“I'm not sure about earlier, but you could do it now!”

…

…

You have a twisted mind. He was referring to the half-smoked cigar he found after tripping over a bra a few meters away, about ten minutes ago.

I hope you feel dirty now.

My kingdom for anything without sand in it!

2009-11-16T19:49:00.001-05:00

Burp!...

Pardon me... my manners are a bit rusty...

(misleading title, ain't it? yeah, I got nothing...)

Rejuvenating, isn't it?

2009-04-08T10:58:00.003-04:00

So anyway as I was saying earlier, Timmy was getting ready for his day at the spa.
What? What do you mean 'Who's Timmy?' Weren't you listening? You should really be more focused...
Timmy is in no way gay, nor is he particularly curious about anything; he's just an ordinary man with a somewhat childish name. As a matter of fact, the only noticeable thing about Timmy is that he doesn't feel the need to blink a lot (he says that blinking is a form of weakness and that most traffic accidents occur while the motorists are blinking...). Most of his friends, like him, enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like watching several cars race around an oval track for hours on end, cheering loudly when the occasional, but always brutal, crash occur. And in between those crashes, they talk about hockey, that lovely lady they saw at McDonald's last weekend, and the price of gas. Timmy doesn't like talking about his body, or any part of it except maybe his partial right pinky. He's proud of it and always willing to explain, in great and sometimes very gory details, what happened on that fateful Christmas eve of 1998. But we won't dwell on that story, so let's just say that operating a brand new snow blower while inebriated is not a very bright idea.
So on one of their Nascar nights, during a shampoo commercial, the subject of dry skin came up for some reason. Timmy didn't say much, except that his right pinky didn't feel dry at all... But after consuming several cases of beer the four of them decided it was time they joined the twenty first century and became aware of their subtle feminine side. They all decided that a day at the spa was the way to go. Needless to say the next morning Timmy felt like he was being pulled into this against his will, but decided to follow his friends because who wants to be alone on a Saturday afternoon?...
And that's about when you came in. So Timmy was getting ready for this endeavour, a little bit nervous but mostly apprehensive about the prospect of showing his partially naked body to strangers. But whatever he was feeling at that moment, he couldn't possibly have been prepared for what was going to happen next.
He got to the spa center, somewhere in the forest but still relatively close to the city, and the sheer size of the complex confused him. He was expecting a small cabin with a couple of massage rooms, a hot tub and a small pool, or something in that general idea, but what he had in front of him was more like a collection of mansions surrounded by trees, large rocks, a waterfall, and small concealed speakers playing a soothing melody. But that's not all; when he got the the front desk, there were so many people waiting in line that he thought he was at a Metallica concert. And not just middle-aged women, but teenagers, young men and women, couples, and even middle-aged men. 'Am I at the right place? Is that really a spa?' Timmy asked the corpulent 37-ish man standing before him. 'Yup! And if we're lucky, we won't wait more than an hour and a half! Today the spa seems not too packed...' So he had been here before. He wasn't being dragged here as a result of a drunken promise.
Fast forward two excruciating hours of standing in line and listening to conversations around him about how wonderful this place was, and how lucky they were to live in a society that allowed them to take such good care of their body and mind. By then his three friends had left. The lady at the front desk greets Timmy with a very exaggerated smile of total wellness and happiness, and asks him what his reservation number is.
'Reservation? Huh... Well I didn't know that.... What?????'
'I'm sorry sir but you need a reservation to have access to our facilities. Next!'
...
...
I could tell you everything that went through Timmy's mind at that moment, and I could tell you how much he wanted to jump over that counter and insert the clerk's head in the computer monitor. But violence is not welcomed in such a peaceful environment, and Timmy decided to calmly leave, keeping all the violent and ugly things bottled up in him.
But there is one thing about Timmy that I feel I should mention at this point. He doesn't give up easily, and takes any offence really seriously. There was no way that this stupid spa would win. He was going to spend that day at the spa even if it killed him. So when he got home he called and made a reservation for the next Saturday. That'll teach'em.
So after a week of furious anticipation, our rebellious Timmy is back and ready to feel rejuvenated. After once again a really long wait, he gets to the counter and proudly, even maybe a little too loudly, says his reservation number. The clerk asks him what package he wants, and the emptiness in Timmy's eyes tells her that he has no idea of what he's actually here for. So she explains all the options very quickly, and saves the bomb for last. Brace yourselves.
'But our best service is definitely this: Rectal Bliss.'
'I'm sorry, what?'
'Rectal Bliss. We pour warm coffee in your rectum, which liberates special hormones and pheromones and envelops you in a state of pure bliss. It's the new thing, and it's the best ever!'
'You pour what in my what now?'
'Coffee in you rectum. It's very relaxing!'
'...'
'You'll see, sir, everybody loves our Rectal Bliss.'
'WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE??? You're supposed to DRINK the coffee, not pour it in you arse!!!!!'
'But sir, don't you know that coffee is very bad for your body? You shouldn't ingest it, caffeine is bad for you.'
'So I guess that one morning you saw that on the news and told yourself "Then I guess I'll pour it in my rear end, that'll be better!"'
'...Sir there's no need to be vulgar! It is a genuine treatment for stress and I personally vouch for it! And by the way I never drank coffee, I always knew it would throw my body off-balance.'
'Off-balance?? Lady you have no idea how "off-balance" you sound right now. You people make me sick! You're all messed up! I'm outta here!'

So Timmy never experienced the Rectal Bliss, or any other wellness package for that matter.
He still enjoys beer, chicken wings, and Nascar.

Of rednecks and yokels....

2008-02-28T19:42:00.003-05:00

Sometimes the weirdest things happen. Take this blog for example; I'm probably the laziest blogger out there, but when whoever reads this thing thinks it's over for good (because of the lack of posts...) there I go again, some random thought makes me want to write some more nonsense.
Today I will tell you of a beautiful and magical country.
It all begins when, while going west towards Toronto, you see a glorious tower standing high above the tallest buildings in your wildest dreams (that is, if you're a yokel that never went further than the corner store to buy a pack of smokes... It's actually a grain silo and it's about 100 feet tall). 'What is that place?' you ask yourself, having never heard of it before.
'Have I been living under a rock for the past [insert your age here] years?
-Let's visit this wonderful place!' says whoever is in your car with you.
So you drive past the silo , come to a traffic light (so they have electricity, it's a good start), pass a garage, a funeral home, a corner store and a post office, and then you're done, you're on the country road again with nothing but empty fields around you. 'What? Is that it?'
No, it can't be... So you turn around and pull over on the side of the street (which has no sidewalk, only a narrow parking lane) in front of the post office to ask for directions. You walk in the post office, and that's when you meet Betty and Skeeter.
Betty is a slightly overweight late-middle-aged woman dressed with very fashionable and also very used matching sweat pants and sweater, the latter embellished by a washed out picture of a wolf in nature. A subtle scent of cigarettes and fries completes her charming features. She gives you a warm smile (which allows you to catch a glimpse of her five remaining teeth) and says "Hi there! What brings you in this part of paradise?', to which you answer:
'Well, I was driving by and...
-BAM! You saw our beaut'ful new sign! See! I told ya t'would bring tourists!!'
That was Skeeter. He proudly stands 5'1" tall, his blue jeans is gray and brown from all the oil stains, and the coarse leather jacket that covers the rest of his body has probably seen more winters than the three of you combined.
He presents his weathered hand and says:
'The name's Skeeter. I'm the town's plumber and mayor. Oh, and I also drive a snowplow during the winter.'
You think you've stumbled on a movie set, but instinctively you shake his hand and make a fake impressed face: 'Wow, quite the handy man! You must be very busy!
-Not really... I had a call on the telephone machine last week, some kind of salesman I think. And yesterday I went to the city dump to find me a hot water tank.
-The city dump? But isn't that where all the garbage goes? You can't find a working hot water tank there!!
-Who said it had to work? I just want to cut it in half and weld it to my pickup truck to use as a snowplow!
-Oh, I see! So anyway, it must be my lucky day! What an honor to meet the mayor! Can you tell me what should I visit and how to get there? All I saw was this street called "Main"...
-Well that's the Main Street! It has everything! A garage, a funeral home, a corner store and this post office!
-...Oh, ok! Well then, I guess I'll be on my way! It's been very nice meeting you and...
-Wait! You can't leave like that! I still have to show you my brand new snowplow!'

And that's when you have to make the following choice: fake a heart attack to get out of there as fast as possible, or buy a house in that incredibly charming country called Odessa.

Soap and suspenders

2007-06-21T20:37:00.000-04:00

Well, it seems that I am a homeless person as of today. I decided to throw away the shackles of home-ownership to run free of that burden and experiment the life that so many hippies have been living since the original Woodstock.
...
Ok for those who know me, this is fucked up right here. I would never, for any reason and under any circumstance abandon the pleasure, and necessity of soap. Nor would I ever renounce that love for luxury I am known for. "But then, what did you mean by "homeless" then?" are you asking yourself. Well let me tell you right now what I mean by "homeless". Pull up a chair, a log, or even the corpse of a dead monkey; whatever suits you.
I sold my house so now I live in a hotel for a couple of weeks, until I get my new house.
There. Are you sorry you killed that monkey so you could have a comfy seat, expecting a captivating story?? Well don't be, I strongly suspect that monkey of stealing my suspenders! I'm wearing my pants around my ankles, right now... It's a disgrace.
So due to an unforseen monkey-related disturbance, I have to conclude this post with this remark: don't ever befriend a monkey wearing loose pants.

Later dudes.

Mmmm... Beer.....

2007-04-26T13:28:00.000-04:00

To answer Yofed's question, no, I haven't found another beer fridge gnome. And it really has an impact on my stock... Lately, beer has been flying out of my fridge at a dizzying rate!!
But it's not only because Albert's gone; with summer just around the corner, and all those pretty ladies finally getting rid of all those unnecessary clothing items, one has to enjoy the best time of the year.
I plan on doing that on a daily basis.

An update on Albert, my beer fridge gnome

2007-04-14T09:50:00.000-04:00

I fired Albert.
He drank himself stupid the other night and started humping a couple of bottles in the fridge. It got so intense at one point that the fridge began to rock left and right, until it fell on its side. Every single bottle of beer that was inside broke. Albert got out, crawled to a tissue box nearby, dried himself with way too many pieces of tissue, then "marked" the whole living room. Gnome urine smells extremely foul, especially after drinking that much.
I'm a patient man, and I really respect Albert, so normally I would've just laughed and let him sleep it off. But what motivated me to fire him was the words he wrote with his urine on the wall: "Death to Guinness; Viva la Corona!"
How he learned our language so fast, I'll never understand. But the fact is that he is no longer sane and I can't have a wuss for a beer bodyguard.
His position's open, so send your applications and resumés.

On apprend de ses erreurs...

2007-03-27T22:02:00.000-04:00

"Une chaussette rugueuse, c'est comme un condom passé date! On n'en veut pas, pis en plus, ça pique!"
Ce fut l'une des dernières pensées de Fafouin avant sa visite chez le médecin.
Fafouin, voyez-vous, n'ayant comme revenu que la bonté de quelques vaillants passants qui osaient braver les rigueurs de l'hiver jamaïcain, n'avait que deux paires de chaussettes. La première, verte de sa couleur, n'était utilisée que lors de grandes occasions, comme la sortie d'un film concept, ou encore l'inauguration d'une manufacture de ponchos. Par contre sa deuxième paire de chaussettes, beaucoup plus banale, était sa seule protection pédestre depuis la perte de son emploi chez le cordonnier du coin. J'ai décidé de vous épargner les détails de sa démission, puisque le but de cette histoire est d'inciter votre charité, et non pas de ridiculiser le principal intéressé.
Sur ce, je continue.
Donc sa paire de chaussettes d'usage courant avait la caractéristique d'être la seule. Après quelques mois, qui devinrent rapidement quelques années, Fafouin dû se rendre à l'évidence: ses chaussettes étaient trouées. Toute personne qui apprécie un certain confort aurait sans doute eu le réflexe d'aller acheter une nouvelles paire de chaussettes. Mais, comme mentionné ci-haut, Fafouin devait se contenter de la bonté de braves passants. Or, cette année en Jamaïque l'hiver fait rage et rares sont les âmes généreuses.
Après avoir passé plusieurs soirées endiablées accompagné de ses compères, Fafouin en est venu à la conclusion logique que les chaussettes n'étaient qu'une façon sordide que le gouvernement avait trouvé pour contrôler la population... C'est alors qu'il décida de se joindre au mouvement que ses amis avaient formé quelques heures plus tôt. Dans un élan de créativité ils le nommèrent "Le Bloc Québécois".
Armés d'une confiance inébranlable et d'un dégoût des chaussettes trouées, ils enlevèrent tous leurs chaussettes d'un mouvement vif et décisif. "Mort à la dictature! Mort aux conformistes!".
Sans chaussettes et sans scrupules, ils démolirent ce qui les offensait: les barrières, les panneaux de signalisation routière, les voitures de police et les vitrines de boutiques de mode.
C'est alors qu'avec plusieurs éclats de verre logés dans les pieds, Fafouin prit rendez-vous chez le médecin.

Depuis, Fafouin a renoué avec la raison, et porte de belles chaussettes neuves avec ses bottes à cap d'acier.
Et il vote ADQ.

Manu

2007-03-08T23:29:00.000-05:00

Pourquoi notre sujet s'appelle-t-il Manu? Mais parcequ'il porte des lunettes, bien sûr! Quelle question... Enfin allons-y avec le récit.
J'ai souvent eu l'occasion de rencontrer des pingouins poètes. Ils ont tous la surprenante habitude de diluer leur champagne avec du jus de kiwi, et quand la temperature est bonne, on peut apercevoir les plus exhibitionnistes d'entre eux se pavaner en petite tenue sur les grands boulevards après une intense partie de quilles.
Les lapins guitarristes n'ont plus rien d'étonnant pour bien des gens, et rares sont les fois qu'on en entend parler. Leur technique plutôt bâclée n'incite plus l'achat de leur albums, et les nombreux concerts manqués après de longues soirées de copulation excessive ont tranquillement repoussé cette espèce de lapins au rang des oubliés.
Demandez aux gens de votre entourage, et je vous assure qu'au moins une de ces personnes a déja croisé un koala hyperactif. Banis de leur société à cause de leur constante turbulence, ils errent dans nos ruelles, toujours en quête de rencontres stimulantes. Il n'est pas rare non plus d'en voir un juché sur le toit d'un gratte-ciel, essayant d'attraper les avions qu'il croit à portée de main, tout comme son idole King Kong.
Si je vous parle de ces animaux quelque peu insolites, ce n'est que pour vous prouver que j'ai vu plusieurs choses étonantes dans ma vie. Mais rien qui puisse se mesurer à Manu.
Manu est un chimpanzé qui habite dans mon quartier. Il a une vie assez rangée, peu excentrique. Sa routine inclue deux à trois heures de détente au parc, où il jongle avec ses éléphants roses en caoutchouc tout en se balaçant. Jusqu'ici tout va bien. Là où ça se complique, c'est qu'aujourd'hui, il n'était pas au parc. Un peu inquiet, je suis allé voir chez lui pour savoir si tout allait bien. Sa sonnette étant hors d'usage, je frappai vigoureusement à sa porte. Aucune réponse, pas même un bruit. Un certain doute commençait à s'installer en moi. J'ai décidé d'aller voir derrière la maison, dans sa cour immense où une famille d'hippopotames boulimiques ne s'y sentiraient pas à l'étroit. Et c'est alors que j'ai découvert la vraie définition de "What the fuck????"
La drosera spatulata, cette plante carnivore, se nourrit habituellement de scarabées unijambistes et de restes de rôti de porc trop cuit. Mais le specimen que Manu garde chez lui est plutôt unique. Ses repas peuvent inclure une tondeuse à gazon, de l'écume produite par le frottement d'un cheval sur un poteau de téléphone, et occasionnellement un chimpanzé.
Je ne peux continuer, ma peine et ma surprise sont trop grandes. A la vue de ce pied secoué de spasmes qui sortait de la gueule verte, je fus pris d'une nausée et parti en courant.
Manu n'est plus.
Sa maison est à vendre.
Sa balançoire est libre.

Albert has a thing for Guinness

2007-03-07T12:38:00.000-05:00

Albert is my beer fridge gnome. I named it like that because I don't have much imagination.
Don't worry, I'm not going to insult your intelligence by explaining what a beer fridge gnome is. Almost everybody who wants to protect their valuable beer hires one of these pointy-eared blue critters. No, I'm here today to share with you my latest Guinness-related adventure.
I noticed recently that Albert was getting a little bit ill-tempered whenever I reached in the fridge. At first I thought that he was going through a difficult phase in his life, like puberty, but then I remembered that gnomes are immortal. Silly me... So why was he getting more aggressive every day? I decided to ask him, even though we don't speak the same language, which obviously looks like a considerable obstacle. I noticed over the years that I seemed to be more comfortable with other languages when I was slightly drunk. So I went to the fridge, pulled up a stool and opened the fridge to grab a Guinness. As soon as my hand approached the black can, Albert jumped out from behind another brand of beer and bit my thumb.
Now everyone knows that the only way to flush out the poison delivered by a gnome bite is to rub peanut butter on it while listening to Bob Marley. While I very much enjoy his music, I hate peanut butter, which means I don't have any in my house. So the poison made its way to my brain, which induced a momentary lapse of reason. I went for another brand of beer instead. Yes, I admit it, I do keep other brands, but they are FOR THE GUESTS!!!
And that's when I realized that Albert had a thing for Guinness.
Now I keep only one can of it in the beer fridge (so Albert can enjoy life), and the rest is in the kitchen fridge.
Experience, my friends. Learn from it.

Tata

It's a Crisis!!!!!

2007-03-07T10:41:00.000-05:00

I need your help.
I want to discover new music, so I need your suggestions.
And remember, I'll listen to anything, as long as it's not some whiny teenager bitching about being dumped by some other whiny teenager.

C'mon now, let it all rip!

Later on that day...

2007-02-15T14:18:00.000-05:00

Well I reckon I deserve a nice, refreshing Guinness® after that hard work!!

Yep, there it is!

Snow? What snow? Where?

2007-02-15T12:51:00.000-05:00

This used to be my patio...

And somewhere under the Himalayas, there is a BBQ, if I remember correctly...

Potty talk...

2007-01-26T16:42:00.000-05:00

Welcome to a new chapter in my VITTGDWYTK (Vital Information That The Government Doesn't Want You To Know) series.
Today's topic: sewer access traps.
Do you honestly believe that these metal covers lying in the streets are "sewer access traps"? Donkey poop! If you do you are gravely mistaken my friend, and someone has been messing with your gullible mind. Oh sure, they came up with a plausible explanation for these humanoid-sized holes in the streets pavement, they made everyone believe that there were big cement tunnels that ran under almost every city in the world to dispose of human-generated waste. I mean think about it, who in their right mind would want to verify that statement? Nobody wants to go for a swim in... well you get the idea. So that leaves the government completely free to put whatever they want down there. Secret weapons research labs, traffic-free highways for VIPs, city-sized golf courses, spaceship construction yards, bowling alleys. It's all there.
Ok I sense that most of you are still skeptical. Well I don't blame you, after all you've been misguided right from the start, ever since you first asked "what happens to it when I flush the toilet?"
I will finally answer that question, no lies, no cover-ups. Only the plain, naked truth.
It goes straight to the center of the Earth. What did you think was keeping that giant ball of liquid lava burning? Idiotic theories and Hollywood movie scripts? No! Natural fuel!
Of course there are other theories about the use of these traps, and one of them is that they are used to travel to another dimension. I've even heard once that they are very long tunnels dug by mexicans to enter any country they wish without going through customs. These myths are so ridiculous that I suspect the Government to have generated them in order to discourage people to believe any other story.
If you still don't believe me, ask one of your friends with a yellow hat what goes on below the streets. Oh that's right, you don't know anybody who works down there! How convenient...

Well there you have it folks, once again I have enlightened you with a fact the Government doesn't want you to know.

Spread the truth, Dudes

Euh...

2006-12-29T18:42:00.000-05:00

Bonne Année!

Revelations...

2006-10-17T17:52:00.000-04:00

Did you know that turbans are actually very advanced blocking devices?
Now the logical question would be "Blocking what, Dr. Manbous?" Well I'll tell you if you get me a Guinness first.
...
Screw it, it's taking too long, I'll get my own. Gee, service really sucks here...
Ok, so here it is. After careful study and some ground work, I can honestly say that I have discovered the answer to the age-old question: "Why, in Buddha's name do Muslim men wear turbans?" There were many speculations as to why they would wrap a piece of fabric around their head, and most of them involved some kind of ritualistic belief. I've heard of some folks who truly believed that turbans were meant to keep the hair humid during times of high heat so it wouldn't burn... Others thought that it was purely a fashion statement... Without making any judgment on the IQ of these people, I can only say that they were way off.
The only logical (and true!) explanation is this: it is a highly sophisticated device designed to block mind-reading waves. I know, it seems a little strange, and even scary. But trust me, I know what I'm talking about.
And as a good scientist, I am obligated to provide proof if I want some credibility, right? Well I have that proof. As I mentioned earlier in the article, I did some ground work in addition to studying the matter. That ground work put me in direct contact with some of these men, and that's when I was able to prove my theory: never once did I successfully read their mind! I tried many times, using various techniques, and none of my mental probes broke through!
So there it is, ladies and gents, the absolute and irrevocable proof that turbans are not only fashionable items, but in fact very advanced brainwave-blocking technology.

Toucans are the best kind of birds

2006-10-13T23:47:00.000-04:00

Well, according to the lack of comments on my last entry, I guess my only reader finally gave up on me... Oh well, less pressure, which means I can finally say whatever I want!!
The title kind of gave away the subject I wanted to talk about... But I do seriously believe that toucans are very cool. Not only are they pretty rare, which means that if some sucker wants a toucan for a pet he (or she) better be stinkin' rich, but they ARE the proud emblem of the wonderful Guinness®. I've heard of people who own parrots and other kinds of birds, but all these flying pets are no match for a sturdy toucan.
You know what? I just realized I have some kind of obsession with animals... Nearly all my stories are about animals to some extent... and the weird thing is I never owned a pet! I owned a horse for a couple of years, but that hardly qualifies as a pet. It's much more than that. I would say it's more like a friend, a partner, and even (for some deeply disturbed people) a lover.
...
...
Yhar... you didn't expect that, did you? hehe...
I like to keep my audience on its toes. Speaking of which... What's up with that foot fetish? Can anybody tell me what's the big sexual pleasure in licking someone's toes? If they were covered with Guinness®, maybe... But the only reason some Guinness® should be on anybody's toes would be that some drunken Irish dude spilled some while being hit by an airplane... after a gargantuan earthquake of course.
So anyway, since I'm finally free to say whatever I want, here it is:
Patate Poil Gneugneugneu
AAAhh... sure feels good! Like a sunday morning with no one around, just walking around in my underwear, scratching my... head...

So there you go
Sweet dreams all you beautiful people... and you too

What? I just went for a quick nap! ......

2006-09-28T20:37:00.000-04:00

And since I'm awake, well, I might as well write down something... So I guess you (as in You, my only reader...) want something crunchy, witty, and not too smelly... Well here we go, and please let me remind you that it's been a while...
So here I was, standing in my living room, with some whitish powder on top of my head, just wondering how in Batman's name that huge crack in the ceiling appeared, as if some evil giant dwarf had stomped on the roof.
Then I remembered... My trip at the big beach without sea (Kandahar)... I've been gone for a while, and I guess such things happen. Ok, so I brushed the powder out of my hair, got myself a nice cool beer, started sipping the nice beverage and sat down in front of the TV. I have to get my old habits back, if I don't want do be a victim of that post dramatic stress thing....
So now after a month or so of working on my old habits, I'm pretty sure I don't have the syndrome, and on top of that I'm starting to get that nice beer belly I lost! Aaaah, sure feels good to be back home, I tell you what!
Anyway keep checking for updates, this was a... test run... yes that's it.
Until next time,
Keep swinging, ladies!

Kandahar, here I come!

2006-01-31T17:31:00.000-05:00

So, it's that time again... I'm leaving on a tour! I can't wait! Anyway I'll be gone for 6 months so there won't be any posts until I return...
Sorry and thanks for reading me from time to time!

Ciao

Howdy ya'll

2006-01-27T23:29:00.000-05:00

All right ladies, I guess you deserve a bed-time story. Well put on that sweet silk négligé, lie down on your bed, dim the lights and adjust your bunny ears.
Once upon a time....
Aaaaww crap my keyboard's out of ink... Hold on...
...
Ok sorry about that. Since I'm leaving for Afghanistan, I thought I'd tell you something about creepy, furry creatures that lie in the sand. No, I'm not talking about tourists on a beach resort. Those are not always furry. No, the ones I'm reffering to are more like your worst nightmare and mayonnaise-stuffed anchovies all mixed up together. They scream while running (yes, running!!) and when you squeeze them, ... well you get the point.
From what I gathered last time I was there, these beasts have two purposes: to scare the living shit out of people, and (this is probably their main purpose) to build a spaceship that will take them back to their home world (Texas, I think). Communication with them is apparently impossible, a fact that was made clear when we studied a corpse: their vocal cords are too damaged (probably from all that screaming).
So my story is actually about one of them. I call him Oscar (I say him because his voice seemed masculine when he screamed while running away from me). I was coming back from my shift at our local radio station after a long day, exhausted but happy of my performance, when I heard rocks shifting on the ground.
"Is that you, Batman?" I said, anxious to meet my all-time hero.
No answer. Instead a spider-like creature about the size of a vynil record jumped out of the shadows, waved its furry legs around as if trying to insult me, then ran away with great speed yelling in a bone-crunching voice...
And that was my encounter with Oscar.
Sweet dreams ladies.

Tata

Red Lobster chez Aupy

2005-12-22T01:44:00.000-05:00

Lobsters are tasty. It's been a while since I've had some (the last time being the 1st of July 2004 in Afghanistan...) and I thought that tonight would be a good time to have that luxury again.
Yes, I am aware that it IS a luxury. Those prices are completely outrageous, but the people I invited were very good friends and I honestly think that they enjoyed themselves tonight.
I know, my post is not a funny story, but it so happens that I sometimes have something "genuine" to say about my weird life... Deal with it!

Tata

Shake that red nose of yours, you dirty little reindeer!

2005-12-16T01:28:00.000-05:00

By now you must've gathered that pretty much anything can get me horny...
So imagine what I must have looked like tonight at a very popular bar in downtown Québec.... Well actually I'm not sure I want you to picture that... Let's just say I was the main attraction.

Sweet dreams, ladies!

Tata

Hyundai Rules!!!!!!

2005-12-07T20:51:00.000-05:00

Ok. Anyone who wants to can roll on the floor laughing their guts out (and possibly breaking a couple of ribs in the process). And the reason for this is as follows: I have once again been confronted with a rather anoying problem with my piece of shit car. Take that brocoli out of your ears so I can entertain you once again with one of my not-so-serious-yet-still-quite-true stories.
Mid-week. Early morning. Darkness all around me. Sexy iguanas having sex as would a couple of rabbits on viagra. Then that damnable alarm clock's ridiculously loud noise pulls me out of my wonderful dream, like every morning of the week. I've been doing this for a long time now, and still I can't adjust. How is it that the body can't get used to waking up early? Anyway back to the story...
After struggling with my slippers, fumbling with my bathrobe, and in a very zombie-like manner walked to the kitchen, I managed to fix myself some breakfast, get dressed and ready for work without any serious injury (which is a miracle considering that I do all this with my eyes closed and still half -asleep...). Then the not-so-funny part. I walk up to the so called "car" in the driveway, open a door, put my gear in, sit down, and shut the door. Or not. With a weird "thump" the door bounces back out. "Hum.... Ok, let's try that again." And the same thing occurs, even after checking for obstructions... So I figured that the locking mechanism was frozen.
Let's review the situation: I'm in my driveway in a busted-ass vehicule which door won't shut properly, it's 06:35 and I start work at 07:00... and it normally takes me about 30 minutes to get to work because of the traffic.
Don't panic, I was trained to handle much worse situations.
...
...
Ok so I kicked the door a couple of times while shouting quite rude words... Everybody looses patience in certain situations... I guess...
Anyway all this to tell you that if you want to have a good time, try wrapping yourself in foil and lying in the sun for a couple of hours... Oh no wait, that's not related to my story, is it?
Ok so here it is: I got to work just barely in time by some weird miracle, holding the door with my left hand all the way to the base... Not a particularly safe way to travel, I agree.
So next time you eat some chocolate, be sure to wash your hands before.
Think about it.

Tata

Bang bang... mmmmm....

2005-12-06T17:40:00.000-05:00

Is gun powder supposed to make you horny? 'Cause I've been shooting all day long (around 500 rounds), and all I can think about is naked women dancing around a giant blue mushroom upon which a winged crocodile with a top hat is singing "Dancing Queen"...
... Why, Oh! Why do I have those fantasies? They are very exciting, I know, and most people probably have the same, but I wonder how I could ever live one! Finding a crocrodile who can sing "Dancing Queen" is very difficult, trust me, I've tried!!! And I don't want any substitute: a penguin singing "I will Survive" is NOT acceptable... So very unsexy...
So anyway if you want to help me in my quest, please look for such a crocodile, and call me when you found one. Thank you, I appreciate it.

Ciao

Ding-Dong.... AAAAA! What the f....???

2005-12-04T01:47:00.000-05:00

... and you better get it right, you ignorant nose-picking yokel!!!!
Oh sorry, didn't notice you were reading... I was referring of course to those irritating salesperson who think it's appropriate to disturb an honest citizen so very early in the morning... Imagine that: it's saturday, noonish, and the doorbell rings. I'm still naked, in the warmth and comfort of my bed, the coffee's not even brewing yet, and my imaginary pet kangaroo is still sound asleep. At the very disturbing sound of the doorbell, I jump out of my cocoon, run for cover, then realize it's not a bomb drill, get up and run to the door (still naked), put my combat boots on, open the door, shut the door because it's so very very cold out, look through the glass to see a very traumatised young girl, who was probably selling chocolate to collect money for her sick grandma or something... Oh well, I guess I won't be crowned King of Decency today either...
Which brings me back to my original train of thought. Selling crap to neigbours by going door to door is NOT an appropriate way to spend a saturday for a kid. They should be stuffing bananas in cars exhaust pipes, throwing toilet paper rolls at their teachers houses, stealing candy and whatnot at nearby convenience stores... and possibly sneaking in an X-rated movie theater to catch a glimpse of hot action.
So there you go. That's what I think. Now my kangaroo can go back to sleep... He's had a very agitated day...

Bonne nuit

Is that my sanity? Did it finally come back?

2005-12-02T20:24:00.000-05:00

Is there a way to tell a dwarf giraf from a coconut flavored fish stick? I always get those two mixed up, and it can be embarrasing, especially when I'm picking wedding gifts...
Did you know that our beloved dwarf girafs are actively planning their takeover of the world? At first I was sceptic too, but I got the indeniable proof this morning when one of them told me she was running for mayor.
Oh well, I guess you'll have to check back later to witness the return of my sanity...

Until then,
Tata.

Home? Oh yeah, I do have one of those!

2005-10-28T01:33:00.000-04:00

Ok so here I am once again back from Alberta... So for those of you who checked back from time to time, thanks a lot and sorry for the lack of updates... But I should be home for a while now, that is if they don't come up with another reason to send us to Alberta... Not that I don't like the province, but I've been away a bit too much this year, and I'd like some time home before I leave again for my next mission....
Don't go away, I'm done complaining about that old subject.
I had sushi for the first time tonight. For a while now I've been hearing a lot people talking about it, I thought it was just a new fad, and it probably is too. Nevertheless it IS good! I'm glad I tried it and I will have some again.
So if I was a fish, I'd be pissed off about that new fad... But last time I tried to breathe under water, I choked... which reminded me quite abruptly that I'm not a fish.
Speaking of choking, I accidently swallowed a very smal gulp of Listerine this morning... What the hell do they put in that thing? I felt like puking for 3 hours! And some people actually drink that stuff to get drunk faster... People are fucked up. That's why I like fish. They don't drink Listerine to get drunk. They just swim, eat and reproduce. Wow, what a life.

Until next strange story,
Tata

The new New World

2005-09-11T17:03:00.000-04:00

Hey guess what! I found a place worse than Cold Lake... And it is called Suffield. If you are in any way depressive, or just don't appreciate perpetual loneliness, do not go to Suffield, Alberta. It is one of the most boring places in Canada, I'm sure, even if I haven't been to every town/village.
Anyway with that said, I can tell you once again how sweet it is to be back home after an exercise like that... But despite its intensely boring landscape, Alberta is the future of Canada. I've been in the two major cities, Calgary and Edmonton, and one of the many interesting facts I noticed is that pretty much anyone can find a job very easily. There are "Help wanted" signs in virtually every store and restaurants! And if you're willing to go out of town, well possibilities are endless!
Anyway I'll be here all week, and I'm back on the road next week!

Tata

The Destructive Power of Water

2005-08-11T21:08:00.000-04:00

You know that feeling when something completly insignificant happens but somehow you just can't help it and you still get extremely frustrated by it? Well this just happened to me.
Picture this: I was coming back from work in a very good mood (my boss let me leave quite early due to my superb work during the day, or maybe it was because I was anoying....) and all I could think about was that delicious Guinness that was waiting for me in my fridge.
I got out of my busted-ass piece of shit car, tripped on the pile of bricks my neighbor is using to "renovate" his house and landed safely on a patch of overgrown grass.
Ok, so my day is not ruined yet, I still have some Guinness in my fridge... or do I? I ran downstairs to make sure I didn't forget the most important item on my shopping list.
Of course I didn't forget. Who do you take me for? An amateur? So anyway, I ran upstairs to get a proper glass, hurried back downstairs, and poured myself a pure, delicious, refreshing Guinness.
Then the phone rang: some kind of telemarketing scheme to get me to buy a condo in Florida... While I was trying to kindly explain to the miss that I didn't give a flying f... squirrel about living half-time in a putrid dump somewhere south of the border, a drunken fly fell in my glass.
Darn. (I use that term 'cause I'm afraid my Mama will catch me swearing...)
Now someone "normal" would've just flicked it off the glass... not me. I decided to declare war on those puny, unworthy weaklings. Brace yourselves, this is gonna hurt: I drowned the bitch with about half a pint of water.
Yes, I know, I wasted a pint of black Pleasure in the process, but at least I made my statement: no puny flying troublemaker will ever ruin the pure genious of Guinness again!!

Ya'll be warned...

Tata

I Feel Like A Cannibal...

2005-08-01T15:16:00.000-04:00

Yes, I'm going to eat one of my own. And I'm going to enjoy it. One of those little guilty pleasure that makes some people think they don't deserve to go to heaven... Oh well, I was doomed a long time ago anyway, so I might as well enjoy life! :)
Mmmm... That raw fish salad sure is going to be good...

Time to prepare the veggies!!

Tata

Manbous in Action!!

2005-07-26T11:48:00.000-04:00

I found a picture of me in Afghanistan last year, it reminds me the good times I had over there :)

Oy! Get your dirty fingers out of my soup!

2005-07-15T17:08:00.000-04:00

Here I was, mowing the lawn with my resurected lawnmower, minding my own business and not being intrusive in any way in anybody's life, when an ice cream truck drove by my house and stopped in front. I didn't notice at first because I was too busy trying to chop that rebellious twig that just wouldn't cooperate, but after a while, I heard a voice...
"Hey, kiddo! Come over here, would'ya!"
I look around___ no kids. I look at the truck driver, and he's staring at me, waving me to come closer. What the f.... kiddo?? I almost yelled back "What? You need help changing your diaper, old fart?" But somebody way smarter than me once told me that I should control my reactions... So I approached the vehicule calmly.
"You really should use an electric lawnmower, with gas prices gone up and all"
To which I replied:
"Have you considered using an ice cream bicycle, with gas prices gone up and all?"
He looked at me with an empty stare, trying to figure out what just happened, as I walked back to my lawn. I heard a faint "Tabarnac!", then an engine roar, and he was gone.
Just thought I'd share that with you...

Tata!

Surprise!!!!

2005-06-29T00:50:00.000-04:00

Yeah... I'm back. So for all of you who actually checked back from time to time, congrats!!
I won't be saying much tonight, 'cause I'm probably too wasted to say anythying entertaining, but you must know that I am not dead. I noticed that when some kind of salty liquid was oozing out of every pore of my body today...
For those who aren't sure of what I'm actually doing for a living, I can tell you this (but nothing more, 'cause then I'd have to kill you...) : I am in charge of all maintenance involved in the UAV system...
Enough said, just enjoy the fact that I'll be back soon.
Anyway the night is getting old, my beer is almost empty and my guests are gone... So I should probably go to bed... Right?
Well you know me...

Tata!

manbous

Busted lawnmower...

2005-06-08T18:26:00.000-04:00

"Yahrrr... Ye shall not be unsatisfied with this fine product, me lad..."
Well that's bullcrap. And it's the last time I buy anything at Canadian Tire, except the next time, when I'll be spending my hard earned Canadian Tire dollars....
So my lawnmower broke the second time I used it. And I have no idea what's wrong with it, 'cause you see I know as much about mecanics as a penguin knows about soldering a new transistor on a PCB...
So I'll go over there, ask for service, get told to take a number (#7813), look up and see that they are currently "serving" #12, curse, look around to see if anyone is actually standing in line, then quickly tear off the first two digits on my ticket. At this point they usually close the counter for lunch break (it's 15:42!!!!!!), or the only person behind the counter is a teenaged girl who doesn't know shit about anything other than what's cool these days...
So I guess I'll ask a friend to come look at it instead. He'll say "Yep, it's busted, man. You should, like, return it, or somethin'..."
...*sigh*...
One day, I'll be a fish. Then we'll see who's the boss!

In the mean time, I'll keep my guard up, to fend off all those flower-throwing tree-huggers.
So should you.

Tata

Happy fish, sad fish... Who knows? Those bastards are always smiling....

2005-06-02T22:44:00.000-04:00

Today my donkey had its first egg.
Yes, I said donkey. I had to let my rhino go... He was getting too independent and stuff... I guess when they get to a certain age, you just can't reason with them. He thought he had a shot at Hollywood, the poor thing. I tried to convince him that the world out there wasn't really meant to accomodate a fully grown rhinoceros, but all I got for an answer was a kind of savage roar that made me wish I was born deaf... So Alfonso is gone, and in my grief I ran to the nearest pet store and bought a donkey. Now since I really don't have that much imagination, I call him Alfonso... But you should see him! He's a non-stop sex-machine! His sole purpose in life is to mate: and he's really not picky.
Just yesterday, for example, he tried to hump my subwoofer... but I guess the vibrations scared him, because he ran away, squealing like a pig when I turned on "The Bed's Too Big Without You" from The Police...
After all that excitment, I figured he would be hungry. I didn't really know what donkeys ate, so I gave him a bowl of maple ice cream with chocolate chips....
... And today he had his first egg. I watched it hatch, and I was really anoyed at the fact that the fish that came out of the egg didn't even look like a normal fish: it was circumcised.
So that brings me back to the title: is that fish smiling because he's happy, or because the pain of not being in the water is so horrible that his lips are jammed there?
In conclusion, here is my theory about life: if you scare a donkey into producing an egg, a smiling circumcised fish will be brought to life. Now how hard was that? And while I'm at it, you want to know our purpose in life? We're here to find out why the answer is 42.

Think about it.

Tata

Oh well... I guess I'll sell the house right away then...

2005-06-01T17:05:00.000-04:00

Yep. I just learned that my summer, which was supposed to be all about the three B's (BBQ, Booze and Babes), is going to be cut short. I am leaving for Suffield (about 200 km south east of Calgary, Alberta) on August 3rd, and I really don't know when I'll be back.
I've heard something like mid-september, but I also know we're suposed to go to Cold Lake (once again) until end of October. Will we be back in between, or will we just take a bus ride straight to Cold Lake from Suffield? Who knows....
And that's not the end. We still have to train with the rest of the brigade in November, who-knows-where (one thing's for sure, it won't be in Quebec)
I must admit I'm starting to find it a bit heavy... I knew that going to Afghanistan in January 2006 meant we had a lot of training ahead, but I wasn't prepared for this... I guess I'll adapt once more, and in the end I'll be glad I did.

On a lighter note, I just received my medal for Afghanistan 2004!

I have 2 months left before all hell breaks loose, and I'd like to fully take advantage of that time. So for those who don't know me, that means parties at my place. Lots of them. And bring as many meople as you can.

See you soon, my dearest friends and acquaintances... :)

Tata

I am a Freak.

2005-05-29T05:14:00.000-04:00

Why am I such a weirdo? Seriously, it's been 2 weekends in a row where I decide not to sleep at all. Last weekend I was at my brother's place, we went to see Star Wars Ep 3, then we had a few beers, and the next thing I know it's morning and we're going for breakfast. We didn't sleep at all (I guess we had a lot to say to each other). I love these "family reunions"... since I live quite far away from my brother and parents, it doesn't happen as often as I'd like...
This weekend, I thought I would be alone and quiet.... until I received that email about my long-lost friend from Vanuatu. So of course I welcomed him, we went out in a very enjoyable establishment, and now it is 05:23 sunday morning, I haven't slept since friday morning, but hey, I'm young, I can handle it... I hope!
And that is where I start to lose any sense of logic and start saying all those weird things that not many people enjoy...
Once upon a time there was a little boy who didn't enjoy the company of his family. They always treated him badly, so one day he decided to walk away, to travel to another place. His luggage was light, and swift was his pace. Then he realized he forgot his handkerchief, which was usually hidden in his right jacket pocket... (he was quite ashamed of his most natural bodily functions...)But since he was already so far away from home, he decided to use his left sock (which wasn't as smelly as the other one) to wipe his nose. And this is where it gets very disturbing.
That left sock actually belonged to the right foot. I know, it is a very difficult concept to grasp, but this sock actually managed to fit BOTH feet... wow, what are they going to invent next...
So here I am, contemplating that bizarre sock, when a hairless baboon barged in and told me I couldn't sing if my life depended on it.
And that's when I woke up. I knew I was awake when I saw that yellow goblin spanking this tiny horse with a cute wooden staff... (it had butterflies engraved on the handle)
But the little boy was still waiting for me to finish his story, because since I'm inventing it from scratch, he doesn't have a clue on what he's supposed to do next.
It is a weird feeling to have so much power. So I'll type what he probably wants anyway: he found a nice mango tree, took off his dirty socks and climbed to the highest branch where he found true happiness: a bottomless keg of Guinness.

Hasta la vista,

Tata.

The Miracle of modern communications...

2005-05-28T12:21:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I found yet another person who has seen the Light: one of my old friends is a devoted Guinness worshiper! I feel like we're in a cult that reaches in the farthest parts of the world... We have the secret handshake and all, it's great... :)
No but seriously, I'm amazed at what can happen nowadays with the incredible means of communication that are available to us. Eight years ago, I was in Vanuatu (you don't know what that is? Look it up...) and I had some very good friends. But being lazy, and also so far away from each other, it wasn't easy to keep in touch after we got separated. So basically I lost all contact with my friends about eight years ago.
Last week, I received an email at work from one of those friends! He lives in France, but is currently working in the United States for the summer. We exchanged a couple of emails and decided that he should definitely come see me. So now here he is, and after all these years, we still say the same dumb things and laugh at the same dumb jokes... It's great! Although life has taken us in very different directions, we still manage to have fun.
But the best thing is he loves Guinness. So I have to go buy some more, a lot more.

Cheers,

Tata

I Have A Theory

2005-05-25T16:30:00.000-04:00

Brace yourselves for impact, this one is going to change forever the way we look at migrating koalas. So you thought you knew everything about those furry creatures, didn't you? You thought they were migrating once a year to a better, more suitable environment. And you thought that only the sexiest ones got laid. Well switch your grey sponge to learning mode. I am your discovery channel. Without the lies.
Ah, I see some of you scratching your bald heads... But it is true: Discovery channel is actually a huge government conspiracy to undermine the animal kingdom's credibility. They only show half-witted monkeys masturbating frantically, or even worse elephants stomping on red mushrooms. How would you react if we went into an asylum, filmed a bunch of mentally-challenged people and sent the tape to our nearest alien neighbors? You'd be pissed off! Well that's exactly what the Discovery Channel is doing. They don't want you to know that most animals are actually way smarter than all of us combined, and they certainly don't want us to know that ugly koalas are migrating to Canada each year to get laid. Because everybody knows that Canada has the most beautiful ladies in the world, human and animal.
Now please excuse me, I have to go..... study. (Yes, that should convince them... What? they can read between parenthesis? Oops....)

Well until next time,

Tata

Well, too bad for that good idea...

2005-05-24T15:39:00.000-04:00

I was just reading Any Flower's blog when I realised I completely forgot about that short story contest... I really won't have time to write something in a week, especially this week... One of my friend is visiting me from USA... He's French, I met him in Vanuatu and we lost contact 8 years ago... Weird huh?
So there it is, sorry I can't participate in the contest, and I will try and make up for it in more and more bizarre blogs!

Tata

Yay me!

2005-05-20T00:11:00.000-04:00

For those who were actually worried (I know I wasn't...), my recovery is going very well. I don't need crutches anymore, and I expect to be walking normally again by monday. I guess the care of those three lovely ladies did me a lot more good than I thought!
Ok, now that this is out of the way, allow me to ramble on about something that has been bothering me for a while now. Think about the last conversation you had with someone you know, someone you're used to. What did it feel like? Was it a two-way discussion, or two monologues? Am I being paranoid? Am I the only one people cut off in the middle of a sentence? And most important, am I the only one who can't stand it? Anyway I probably shouldn't get into this subject, it's boring and it's not going to help me with my short temper... So I'll go back to my music, its soothing effect works miracles!
And by the way for you weirdos who are anxious to read my usual nonsense, don't worry, a big one is coming! And I'm also working on that short story you wanted, Yofed. So y'all keep your panties on. Except you, Angelina Jolie. You can take them off, I won't mind.

Cheers mates,

Tata

My dearest condoleances to my hopes and dreams...

2005-05-17T22:58:00.000-04:00

Today I twisted my ankle, once again. It's been 4 times now, and I'm getting sick of it. Why can't that stupid bone just break, like any other person's bones? The doctor clearly told me that if it had broken, maybe the recovery would have been a bit longer, but at least my ankle would be strong and steady again. But every time that stupid thing twists, it gets worse. I should definitely stop drinking milk.
Speaking of which, babies have it good... They are cared for all day long, AND they get to see nice big breasts. Well tonight I almost felt like a baby; I got cared for by three beautiful women (yes, three!), but unfortunately I didn't get to see breasts... Hence the title of this post. But I have to admit I didn't try that hard... I mostly enjoyed having my meal cooked and served while I was sipping on a rather nice Australian wine!
Now since women can't keep this kind of information to themselves, I'm quite sure one of the lovely ladies who kindly changed her plans and came to my place tonight will hear about this post and then I will get into some kind of trouble, but hey, it was worth it :)

Until next time,

Tata

Y'a des coups de pied au cul qui s'perdent...

2005-05-13T19:31:00.000-04:00

Je suis intrigué.
Certaines personnes ne semblent pas s'apercevoir que le manque de respect est une offense grave, et qu'elle devrait être sévèrement punie. Encore aujourd'hui, par exemple: je descend joyeusement au sous-sol pour me réjouir le palais d'une bonne Guinness bien froide, j'ouvre la porte du frigo, tend la main vers la tablette ou se trouve normalement ma provision d'or noir, et que vois-je au lieu? Deux ou trois malheureuses bouteilles de Molson Dry. J'ai d'abord cru à une blague du style "caméra cachée", mais, après m'être assuré qu'aucune caméra ne filmait la scène, j'ai dû me rendre à l'évidence: un de mes invités d'hier soir s'est permis de sortir mon élixir afin de faire de la place pour sa pis... boisson. Dans certains pays, je suis certain que cela mérite une punition assez douloureuse...
Voici une autre anecdote, probablement plus pénible à lire, alors les personnes agées et ceux qui sont porté aux malaises cardiaques, je vous prierais d'arrêter de lire...
Me voici donc dans ce que je croyais être un pub respectable, assis au bar en bonne compagnie et dégustant une Guinness avec un verre de Bushmill's. L'ambiance était plutôt calme, la musique jouait en arrière-plan, et le service était bon. A ce point je doit mentionner que je n'avais bu qu'une seule Guinness. Je demande donc au serveur de m'en apporter une autre, quand il m'annonce avec un air à peine gêné qu'il n'y en a plus, qu'ils ont vidé le tonneau et qu'il n'y en a pas d'autre. Grâce à mon sang-froid légendaire j'ai réussi à ne pas m'évanouir: je suis resté calme, et malgré un léger trépignement dans mes poings, je suis sagement sorti de cet établissement maudit.
Je ne demande à personne de vouer un culte à la Guinness. Je ne demande à personne de sacrifier des animaux pour avoir un verre de Guinness. Je n'exigerais à personne de se prosterner devant moi après leur avoir offert une Guinness.
Non, tout ce que je demande est de respecter ce qui n'est plus seulement une bière, ce qui a dépassé le simple statut de boisson enivrante. La Guinness est une institution partout au monde. Nul autre liquide ne jouit d'une réputation aussi impressionnante.
Live long and prosper.

Tata

You call that a storm?

2005-05-11T23:18:00.000-04:00

Today was The Day.
I told everyone I know (at least those who live within a 50 km radius...) that whatever plans they had could be forgotten, because I was hosting a BBQ frenzy at my house tonight. So of course, being single and all, I kinda forgot that people actually have something else to do besides waiting for me to ask them over for supper... so I got turned down by most. But a few very considerate friends agreed to bless me with their presence, and so I went to the nearest meat pick-up facility, happy as a gecko who just got his recently severed tail sewn back on.
But as I emerged from this temple of Meat, a drop of some strange substance that vaguely felt like beer, but much weaker, much lighter, fell on my scalp. I guess a trendy way to call that stuff would be "water" (avec le foulard d'un bord pis le toupet de l'autre...) ... Can you believe that some people actually ingest it? Really! I'm not horsing around! And there I was thinking that the japanese were really f... messed up with their crazy game shows... But let's get back on track, shall we?
So that drop of "water" (that's what the government wants you to think it is, they don't want you to know it's actually a new secret weapon to exterminate the Irish...) made me remember that weather forecast I saw this morning... So for once they guessed it right. Bravo. Give MeteoMedia another Oscar, or somethin'.
Wow, do I have bitterness in me or what? Where did that come from? Seriously, I have no idea. And to be perfectly honest, I don't think I like it...
Once again I stumbled off topic... It was raining. And I mean hard. I was afraid for my poor little trees that just got out of hibernation! And what about that kick-ass BBQ-on-the-patio-with-girls-and-sunshine I promised? Well, let me tell you I was a bit concerned. But that's when the Aupy gene kicked in: No Son of My Dad will let wimpy rain ruin a perfectly good occasion to put the heat on the meat! And that's when it stopped raining... My friends showed up almost on time, the food was awesome, and the grass on my lawn is greener than my neighbor's.
Wow, talk about an Hollywood ending! It's almost like the plot for Shrek, without the talking Donkey, the bitch... I mean bride-to-be, and you know, pretty much everyhing else....
Did I lose you there? No? Damn, 'cause I'm lost... Would you happen to have a map to my Sanity?
Picture this: I'm listening to Infected Mushroom right now, I'm wearing a Guinness T-Shirt, and I'm drinking Grand Marnier Cuvée Louis-Alexandre. And the Thai dragon on my left shoulder is smiling at me in a strange, perveted way (I think he has a crush on me, but don't tell him I said that, he'll turn red, and for some reason my skin can't handle red ink that well...)
I wish I could've helped you figure out your place in the Universe today, but I can't even figure out where I'm parked right now, even though I'm home and I have a private parking...
I'll work on that for the next few hours, and I'll come back to you with the answer to the oldest question of them all: Dude, where's my car?

So until then,

Tata

Today's a good day to... fire up the BBQ!

2005-05-10T18:10:00.000-04:00

As usual, I emerged quite rapidly from that "depression" I talked about in my last post. It is very nice outside today, the sun is shining, the skirts are short and somewhere in the world there is a couple of kangaroos who are going at it like rabbits.
You know what, the more I think about it, the more I notice that the catfish is pretty lame... There should be a rabbitfish. Yep. A fish that copulates like a rabbit. What more could you ask for? You are underwater all the time, which means no mosquito bites, AND you can get busy with the ladies the only way it was meant to be: bodies pressed against each other and none of that "laying eggs and spray them with your man-juice" nonsense...
And that, as they say, is that. One day, I'll be Ruler of the Underworld (you know, the one below ours... China)

So until then,

Tata

Shine on, you crazy House Key!

2005-05-10T02:22:00.000-04:00

Oh, how sweet it is to be home after being away for almost a month! I've been away before, but never have I felt so lonely and depressed. I used to be proud to be military, to wear that uniform. Up to a couple of weeks ago, I would've never talked behind anyone's back, I would've never complained about the little "problems" in my life. But something changed. I think I lost that "boyish" innocence and I realized how stupid some people became whenever they were away from home.
Why is it that when I try to merge with them, be part of "the gang", all I see is monkey-like creatures drinking themselves stupid and ending up either fighting for something even they can't remember, or puking their guts out in a dark alley...
Now I really wish I was a fish...!

I'm sorry for being so dark, but I needed to vent out my frustration. My next post should be as weird and wonderfully twisted as my earlier attempts at solving the mystery that is the strange sponge stuck between my three ears...

Until then,

Tata!

An unforeseen interruption...

2005-04-12T09:37:00.000-04:00

For the few of you who were actually eager to read my next post, I must apologize. I haven't been able to get my mind off work recently (poor excuse, I know, but it really is the truth!), and to top it off, I must leave for three weeks... But I will be back in May with, I'm certain of it, a lot of absurd anecdotes that I will gladly share with you! I'll be staying in Cold Lake, Alberta. Enough said.

So until then,

Tata

Did you know that most Kleenex tissue boxes didn't know they even existed?

2005-04-06T22:58:00.000-04:00

Wow, did I catch your attention there!
I actually wanted to talk about my pet rhino... His name's Alfonso. But as most of you must know, rhinos are very sensitive about their name, so mine doesn't really talk to me right now. He's not too crazy about the name I chose for him.
...
...
...
Ok, I can imagine that by now you must be asking yourself: "Why the hell am I still wasting my time reading this putrid nonsense?" Well I'll tell you why. Later.

Tata

A Tale of Valour

2005-04-06T20:35:00.000-04:00

I finally have it figured out. The reason why fish never close their eyes, besides not having eyelids, is that they need to see where they're going at all times so they won't bump into submarine windows. Because if they did, you can be sure some idiot would roll down that window to see if the fish was alright...
So anyway, besides deserving a Nobel prize in Understanding The Little Useless Things in the Universe, I also took the garbage out today.
Gather 'round and I shall tell ye a tale, me lads.
It all begun when I noticed a strange, unwelcomed stench in the general area surrounding the top left part of the trash can's cover. "A dying ant colony", I thought. Never have I been more wrong. It was more like a mixture of roting pieces of semi-digested koala meat that my pet rhino had unfortunately misplaced after a rather vigorous encounter with the kitchen's counter-top. "Poor koala" you say? How could you pity such a vile creature? Not only does it sleep all day and doesn't perform any entertaining tricks, it couldn't even manage to stay in my lovely rhino's stomach for more than thirty-two minutes!
So there I was, struggling between the urge to grab the nearest best cheapest used WWII armored tank which I would use to wipe out the entire population of koalas in Val-Bélair, and the feeling of vague nausea caused by that stench. Since I'm still here to delight you with my most intriguing tale, and not hung by my testicules by an angry mob of Tree-Huggers-Animal-Lovers-Nature-Smokers, you might have gathered that I opted for the nausea, and quietly went to relieve myself in the sink.
After that unfortunate weakness, I stood up straight, brushed away any remains, and marched fearlessly towards that dreaded trash bin. Then I tripped on my shoelace that quite viciously became undone while I was... conversing with the sink. With a show of surprising flexibility and agility, I leapt forward to avoid the most disgusting part of the carcass and landed on the very hard and very unforgiving ceramic tiles of my kitchen. But at least my honor was safe (mostly), and the bruise on my face is a reminder of the dangers that lie in a regurlar home...
I got up, looked around in the hope that nobody got a glimpse of my misfortune, and after I was completely satisfied that no one had witnessed this event, I charged towards the soiled waste recipient once more. I grabbed it by the edges, swung it across my shoulders and ran like the wind through the door, which I had previously opened to get rid of the foul smell. Quickly reajusting my pace so that innocent bystanders woudn't get tipped over by such a "rafale", I quietly strolled down the driveway and gently put down the revolting object.
And I am pround to announce that my elbows didn't get dirty, and that they are still one of the prettiest things in the Universe.
Until next time,

Tata

Is this the drug store?

2005-04-06T18:01:00.000-04:00

I was on my way to the drug store to get some pills for my Guinness addiction, and I ended up in here... So what the hell, I might as well say something deep and impressive:
...
Fish and Guinness. Nothing but fish and Guinness on my mind. It's a curse, you know...

Wow, not bad at all for my first post. Now I think I will meditate on this for the next week or so, and I will return wiser and more prepared for my next post...

Tata