Sunday, November 30, 2008

What The... ?!?

Lunettes Toques...

     I found these "Goofy Glasses"at the Dollar Store...


     I think the goofiest thing about them is the package they came in. Poor kid, I somehow think he didn't need these glasses to look goofy...


     But you could probably say the same thing about me.

Friday, November 28, 2008

It's My Blog, I'll Bore You With My Photos If I Want...






     Woke up on the couch--my camera was on the table...









Smoking Is Nothin' But Good Times...

    Such a jaunty little jingle for the cancer stick...

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Here's What Happens...

   ...when you've had a couple of drinks and remember the make up you bought at the Dollar Store...    

  video video

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Memory Lane...

       I was out for a walk the other day when I caught something out of the corner of my eye I (aye aye) hadn't seen in along time...a lane...


      It must have  something to do with property values now but neighbourhoods just aren't designed with lanes anymore.  Growing up in North Burnaby lanes were a major part of life, the  virtual social hub of each and every block. As a kid I met all of my friends in the alley ways of 4100/4200 blocks of Union St.-- nobody ever went out the front door to play, we always met in the lane and called on kids at their back doors and usually ended up in our backyard. We never had a lawn.





     There were sheds and carports to hang out (and play "doctor"in) if it was raining, in the summertime there were plenty of gardens and fruit trees to raid and lots of rocks to throw. On more than one occasion I came home with a bleeding head (you should have seen the look on Mom's face) from a rotten apple fight that had turned into a rock fight. We used to fabricate swords out of scrap wood we found and use those galvanized garbage can lids as shields. It was a real score if you got the lid with the handle in the centre instead of on the side...better balance. There were bow and arrows to be made, sword fights with discarded venetian blinds (can you say stitches?) to be had and who can forget whipping the shit out of each other with willow branches. Most of us learned how to ride our bikes in the lane.

    Eventually they paved the alleyways (no more rock fights-- great for ball hockey though) but before they did in the summer the city would drive up and down each lane and spray this disgusting, sludgy oil on it to keep the dust down. "Shoes off, they oiled the lane today!" I can still hear Mom calling us from the back porch for lunch or dinner as most parents did while we were busy playing out in "the lane." It was weird to see kids from other lanes on our turf-- I remember us feeling a sense of protection about it, almost a gang thing. I'm amazed now at what an important part of our lives it was.

    The lane made me think of the ditch. Walking all the way home from school in them in a downpour, filling up my gumboots and catching shit for it. Building dams and throwing GI Joe in the pool, "Help me ! I'm drowning and being attacked by a giant crocodile!" And the mudfights, aah the mudfights...



    

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Up On The Roof And KFC...

      I saw these "yewts" up on the roof of the townhouse behind me the other day. I think they were partaking in a mara-joo-wanna cigarette...notice how I blurred the faces to protect their identities. That's some pretty good photography right there...not.



      Aaand, there's this KFC by my place and it always amazes me that it's lined up out the door almost every night. Maybe it's like Mike Myers said in So I Married An Axe Murderer, "The Colonel puts an addictive chemical in his chicken that makes you crave it fortnightly, smart ass." I haven't had any in years but I will say I like it better cold when all the grease is nicely congealed... 




Monday, November 24, 2008

Reality Is The Leading Cause Of Stress Amongst Those In Touch With It...

     I have an infinite  sadness and heartache that stirs every time I see a little old lady shuffling along with her walker and buying the $1.00 bags of over-ripe fruits and vegetables--with what may be the last of her money. Or when a five year old girl is crying her eyes out on McDonalds patio because she had cut her finger-- her older sisters hand on her little shoulder for comfort. I feel it when a bank teller or cashier is suffering abuse from some jackass and working for not much more than minimum wage. 

     If I reflect on my Granparents spending their last days deteriorating in a home and the guilt and shame I felt of not being able to summon the courage to visit them more often...


       It gets to me when I think of my own parents aging and the fact that some day they won't be here anymore...

     Or how quickly my nieces have grown up...



    And when I look at old family photos...



      I have a deep dread of my own demise a fear of death and disillusionment and dissatisfaction with my vain attempts at seeking God, securing love and sustaining emotional sobriety.

     When I start to dwell on these things too long and start contemplating the seeming and utter fragility and futility of life I take comfort in the fact that somewhere people are doing this and it eases the pain...



The Wind And The Rain...

  It was really windy Friday night (thank God the power never went out) and when I went for a walk Saturday morning, I kept coming across all these discarded umbrellas. There were others but I didn't think to photograph them sooner... 





       They just seemed so lonely and abandoned...

Saturday, November 22, 2008

This Is Awesome...

    ...but I guess my question would be... Other than having something to attach a camera too, why even bother with a helmet?

 

Friday, November 21, 2008

One Mans Trash...


     At work today the contractor was loading up his truck to make a trip to the dump when it triggered an old memory-- the times Dad would come up to me and utter those eleven magical words, "I'm heading to the dump, do you want to come with?" Are you kidding me?? Do my feet smell?? The only thing for me better than going to the dump when I was a kid was Christmas morning and even that's debatable...and coincidentally the two of them came around with about the same frequency every year.

     I guess it was called the dump first before it became land fill and now the transfer station but it will always be the dump to me. We had a '66 stepside Chevy pick-up and Dad would have it loaded with garbage from a construction site he was working on and crap from around the house. It was kind of a bonding thing because it gave me an opportunity to spend some quality time with the old man--almost as good as the fishing trip but that's another blog.



      We lived in North Burnaby and the dump used to be on Kerr Rd. just off of Marine Drive. It was probably about a twenty minute drive from where we lived but when you're a kid that seems like forever...are we there yet? You would have to make a short drive down a gravel road off Kerr and pull up to the to a glass pay booth, I'm not sure how much it was but Dad would pay and we'd head inside to the promised land, awesome. 

      Everything about the dump was cool. The hundreds crows and the seagulls I never got to see very often--there weren't nearly as many crows then as there are now and seagulls pretty much stuck to the ocean. The smell of  garbage mixed with the smoke from all of the burning fires, watching the garbage trucks arriving and dumping their loads and the bulldozers pushing it around. And there was still the anticipation of finding some hidden treasure-- a total assault on the senses.

     Dad would have to back the truck up to what seemed like a cliff, it literally was a "land fill" and you had to get as close as you could to make it easier to get your load in the hole...I said,"Pardon?!?" After he did I would jump in the back of the truck and help shovel the trash out, knowing that the sooner I did the sooner I could treasure hunt. Sometimes there would literally be boxes of stuff you could go through, there wasn't Craigslist or estate sales so people simply took their stuff to the dump after spring cleaning or a death in the family.

    Comic books, magazines (Playboys), old toys, fridges and stoves, small appliances, giant rats- the dump had it all. One time I came home with a whole bag of  strange marbles, many I'd never seen before... date cobs, steelies and these pure black and yellow ones --it really was like finding buried treasure. Another time I found this box of miniature steel army men, the hand painted kind, including horses, cannons, drummers etc. Dad figured they were probably worth something so he said I could take them as long as I didn't leave them out in the backyard but you know exactly where they ended up.

    Anyhoo, the dump made me think of the top ten things I dreaded hearing when I was a kid...

  10. "It's about time I trimmed those toenails."

  9. "Let me change that bandage."

  8. "It's time for bed."

  7. "This won't hurt a bit."

  6. "You're lying."

  5. "I'm disappointed in you."

  4. "No Coke, you'll rot your teeth right out of your head."

  3. "Stay in the yard 'til 9 'o' clock." (AM on the weekend)

  2. "We're going to Nana's house."

  1. "We're having a boiled dinner." (Mom didn't have to tell me, I could smell it when I came in the back door. A "boiled dinner" consisted of one of those gawdawful cottage roll hams, the kind wrapped in that mesh rope, boiled in a Corning Ware pot with side dishes boiled cabbage and potatoes... the only saving grace was the potatoes.


Thursday, November 20, 2008

I Didn't Know That And I Didn't Want To Know That...


      I wouldn't consider myself materialistic (money is still better than broke, however) but after crawling around on my proverbial hands and knees for two days, dapping, filling, sanding and finally painting baseboards I hear this perturbing piece on the radio...

     Sting makes an average of $2000.00 per day in royalties for his now 20 year old song, Every Breath You Take. The song is officially the most requested song of all time.


      Good for him I guess, well not I guess... just plain good for him. I know we pay athletes millions of dollars to play a game but somehow $2000.00 a day for one song puts it a little more in perspective--or not. Anyway, please refer to post title...


Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Sea Bus Trip To The Art Gallery (No Cameras Allowed)...


      Vancouver Rail Yard...


    Interior of the CN Building...


      Vancouver Hotel...

      Art Gallery...







      Bathroom at Steamworks... 


     Marine Building...


     It's pretty dang exciting, uh ?
Related Posts Widget for Blogs by LinkWithin