If I've heard this story once I've heard it a thousand times. Guy moves to BC interior to take advantage of the construction boom, ends up as a site foreman for a project in Tofino, makes a drunken deal to move to Nicaragua to do a job, takes said drunken deal, which, in turn, leads to another drunken (I assume) deal to move to Dubai to build waterslides, takes said deal and now resides in Dubai. It's like a broken record.
Some time ago I put a sitemeter on this thing just to check if I was talking to myself. Last week I noticed a visit from Dubai, which confirmed to me that Doherty was actually there. I'm not sure when he will come back but when he does I hope he realizes that he is in fact the first person I know to follow that life path. Normy just advised me that he was also the first person ever to utter the words "Is that a one-armed midget in a cape?" so breaking ground is not new to him. Will a steady stream of NB tradesmen end up following in his footsteps? Only time will tell but I certainly hope so.
So the UNB Hockey team won itself a National Championship last night in a thrilling overtime victory against Moncton in Moncton. I watched the game on TSN and spent the whole time alternately cheering and sneering at the team. You see, I am always torn in regards to UNB hockey. Sure, I go to school there (currently enrolled in a marketing class) and should therefore root, root, root for the home team but there are a number of factors at play here. First and foremost, it is difficult to paint UNB as an underdog. It's a big school with a little school right next door. No matter what kind of run the V-Reds are having STU will always be painted as the underdog purely due to size. I love an underdog. I also love the LBR and that crazy band of drunks that line "rum row" (one in particular). Not to mention the fact that Dad used to motivate them from behind the bench and I used to coach their rugby team; they will always be my team of choice.
On top of that, UNB has a tendency to strike slightly farther afield then STU does when it comes to recruiting talent. Typically there are very few local boys made good on the UNB roster. This makes it a bit tougher to cheer for them.
Finally, and this is in the spirit of full disclosure, there is the matter of the puck bunnies. Hockey is Canada's favourite game and these guys are the biggest game in town. With that comes the attention of the pretty young co-eds. When I was younger I hated these fucks because they got all the good skin. Now we don't fish from the same pond so much (stop laughing assholes) so I can look past this for the most part. But still...
Having said all that here are the facts. I am enrolled, hopefully for the last time, at UNB and they just won a National Title. I am going to enjoy this one...probably as much as I am going to enjoy Last Class Bash.
She's pretty much the greatest thing ever. If I look back on the last year I can say that I had a lot of good times across the board but absolutely nothing made me happier then seeing Sophie smile at me just for walking into the room. It may just be because I look like a big goofball but, nevertheless, it is absolutely genuine.
I wanted to sing you a song for your birthday Soph, but instead I'll leave it to the pros; they said it better in the first place. Couldn't have said it better myself...seriously.
And with that in mind we ended up making a St. Paddy's Day road trip after all. A shorter road trip, but my criteria for that term only involves an hours drive. So Saint John fit the bill and that's where we ended up. It also worked because there is a large population of Irish in Saint John, not to mention the drunks of countless other nationalities as well; it's a melting pot really.
So Gooch, Wheat and I made the trip down and were thankful to make it through the perils of Highway 7 without leaving the road, or spilling a drink. We decided that, in this fog, it is wisest to let the blindest man drive, particularly seeing as he was the only Irish Catholic with us on St. Patrick's day and let faith lead us home. It did...barely.
We made it to Craiger's to say one last goodbye to his apartment that has been the site of so much fun it's really hard to remember all of it...or much of it. We watched the Habs beat the Leafs in a shootout and couldn't help but think it would have been ok to be at that game. Feck! Oh well, we make due.
And we did...after the game we headed up to an church which is used a few times a year as a music venue called the Gothic Arches. I was there for Halloween a couple of years ago and jumped at the chance to see a show there again. The band was a bonus. It was the Wasabi Collective, a jam band who I used to go see at Steamer's in Victoria in my time out there. They have polished their act and put on a great show. Good times, good times....
I was a little apprehensive about drinking in a church but then I remembered that it was a Catholic church and it was St. Patrick's Day so all was good. I was also happy to note that by the time I left the church it was actually Sunday morning and I was at a church thereby breaking my streak of missing church for 643 consecutive Sundays. Something good did come out of all this...
Happy St. Patrick's Day! I wonder why we don't see more green contact lenses on St. Paddy's Day. I know the products exists so it seems to me like a market that's waiting to be tapped. Someone get on this please; I would much rather have green eyes in drunken St. Pat's pictures then my usual demon eyes.
For the past few years, no matter where I spend my St. Patrick's Day, I have Ween's The Blarney Stone going through my head. It shoud be a required cover on any St. Pat's setlist. My buddy Joey O told me that his dream would be to hear Dad's rendition. We might be able to convince him to do it for Curnew's stag. Dad, you can do your research here: This video reminds me how much I miss my Ween Live in Chicago DVD. If anyone knows where it is please to be returning it.
So it's noon on St. Patrick's Day and I haven't had a drink yet. Something's gotta give.
Stay safe out there, it's amateur hour at the pub.
This post was supposed to be a gloating and triumphant post announcing Limo Trip (remix). I should have know better than to plan a trip departing on the Ides of March. I'm playing the role of Caesar. We were supposed to be in Montreal for St.Paddy's Day but the importance of the Leafs v Habs game made them too hard to get so we bailed. I thought it would have been fun to go one of the friendly pubs in Montreal and watch the game from the "box seats". It's a sad day....
Nonetheless, I an enjoying my couple days of local vacation doing a whole lot of nothing and a little schoolwork. More importantly I've still got a long weekend to look forward to. Among the numerous good things about St. Paddy's Day is that it's a good time wherever you are. I have no doubt that that fact will hold true.
I was so excited to rub this trip in your face North...
I would have posted with an update about Truro earlier but I needed some people to send me some pictures, and tell me some stories, so I could remember what the hell happened. Some parts I was glad to remember and some parts I would rather they forgot. What can you expect though; the Truro International 7's Tournament can be best described as a shit show. A great time, but a shit show. This year held true.
It's also completely random. We have taken stacked teams to Truro with the intent of winning the one title that has escaped us in these parts. This year we took a team made up mostly of guys how had limited Premier experience, young guys, and some pickups from other clubs. Our first game was against Mt.A so we figured anything could happen. Our ragtag mob played with a lot of hunger and it paid off. We won game won and faced the home team in Game 2 on Day 2 at 4pm. 4pm is a wonderfully late first game on Saturday and that helped because we did not take it easy on Friday night (which the Gods of Rugby appreciate). We again played with hunger, maybe literally, and came out on top and were, with that, into the semi-finals vs Moncton on Sunday at 1. Saturday night was typical Turbo insanity. I may or may not have started a no-shirt party on the dancefloor. I may or may not have also revived the old lasso-shirt dance which had been hidden in the depths of my mind, apprently until the year's first rugby head trauma shook it out. It was a hit; at least in my mind and as the saying goes in Truro; if you win the party, you win the tournament, regardless of who wins the final game.
Speaking of which, we beat a drunk Moncton team in the semis and were matched up against Cole Harbour, who had beaten UNB in their semi. Unfortunately, our hunger was gone by game 4 and we fell in what was not a memorable final. Except for all of us because it was our first time in the final.Good times, turbo-good times.
Figuratively no, but literally, sure. In fact, they ask us to play with the hands of time every spring and fall. As much as I dread "falling back" I love "springing ahead". For me, the changing of the clocks is really the beginning and the end of winter. That's why I was ecstatic that they decided to change the dates of both. In fall they have decided to align it with the end of our rugby season, waiting until the first weeekend in November. And in March they pretty much just said "Up Yours Old Man Winter" and moved it up 3 weeks. Of course these things aren't just decided on a whim, but instead after careful deliberations by people much more important then you and I, and likely wearing Cosby sweaters. Not surprisingly the backstory of the major players in Socio-chronology have documented the backstory. You can check it out here. As for me, well, I'm going to enjoy the extra hour of sun and wallow in the shame knowing that the time change made me miss church for the 643 consecutive Sunday.
Let's hope the old adage for March weather holds true and it really does go out like a lamb; because it certainly has come in like a lion. A really effin' cold lion. After a late February temperature spike March arrived with a Arctic Cold Front which, sadly, was not accompanied by flurries of passion. This cold front was actually one of those viscious snaps where the poor weatherperson has to tell us to expect a HIGH of -15 and a low, with windchill, of -35. Why do we live here again? Oh that's right, no poisonous snakes. Small consolation; I frankly wouldn't mind recovering from a snakebite in a temperate, and oceanfront, hospital. In these situations some people head south to warmer climes to drink until they forget that they have to go back to the Great White North. As for me, well, I fall into another category of people altogether. I will be travelling south but only as far as Turbo Nova Scotia to gather in a freezing cold horse barn to smash myself around playing something distantly related to rugby. It's not the Caribbean but that is where the rum will come from. That's something right?
Amazingly it was 25 years ago that John Belushi died. I was too young to appreciate Belushi in his prime but anything you get a chance to see now is still classic, timeless. Animal House and the Blues Brothers are two of the greatest comedies of all time and his work on SNL speaks for itself. Comedians tend to have the shortest career lifespan of entertainers and Belushi took Neil Young's advice. His rise and fall became a sad template for other alumni but I'm kind of happy we didn't have to see him doing Dr. Doolittle...although he probably could have made it funny. Anyways, I really just wanted to show this clip:
It's pretty safe to say that probably wasn't far from a typical breakfast.
In other comedy news Borat comes out on DVD today. I'm sad to say that I didn't see it in the theaters (which is particularly painful knowing that mom did - and enjoyed it) so I'm excited to see it now.
Why? Why the hell not. It's Friday, it's storming out, and let's not forget that we all made it through February without freezing our nuts off. So let's celebrate, shall we? What better way to start then by giggling at a truly fantastic movie. Easily Val Kilmer's best role (Distant second - Iceman). The only thing that is sad about this clip is that they didn't let it run for another ten seconds so we could hear the following dialogue:
Nick Rivers: Is this the potato farm? Resistance Member: Yes, I'm Albert Potato.
That's really too bad...regardless...tear into the weekend.
Here is a sample of my inbox this morning at work. As you can see I received a notification from the good people at the Atlantic Lottery Corporation. To give you a little context, last night was the draw for their Millionaire for Life lottery. I knew this and told Normy that I expected to get an email from the ALC in the AM. Sure enough, I got that email. My heart actually jumped into my throat and I may or may not have sent a spate of invites to my hastily planned world tour(please disregard those invites; they will not be honoured at this time). During the time it took for the reading pane to open up with the good news I actually had the time to consider where I would begin my tour (Fiji - Bula!) and whether or not I would look good with dreads (the answer is no). Alas, when the email did open this is what it said:
"Simon, Congratulations! You've won playing Millionaire Life! Your win includes the following prize(s): $20.00"
Shit...and it started so promising too! Well, wtf, I suppose I should be happy all things considered. 20$ is the most I've ever won and I, of course, made the wise choice of reinvesting it in further government sanctioned gambling. I am more then willing to pay 20$ to dream. I know dreamin' is free but really good dreaming costs $$. My only real concern is that I have used up my good luck. Then I remembered that I have been living with a horseshoe up my ass for some time now. So let's just hope that keeps up; I really want to go to Fiji with enough money to buy my island...Bula!
If I've heard this story once I've heard it a thousand times. Guy moves to BC interior to take advantage of the construction boom, ends up as a site foreman for a project in Tofino, makes a drunken deal to move to Nicaragua to do a job, takes said drunken deal, which, in turn, leads to another drunken (I assume) deal to move to Dubai to build waterslides, takes said deal and now resides in Dubai. It's like a broken record. 
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