When my two UK teammates dressed up as Maritimers for the rugby club's Halloween party they took the time to learn a couple of quintessentially Canadian phrases. Right after "Take off, eh" and "Large double-double" next on their list was "Are you ready for Christmas yet?".
Today is the last day of November but I have already been hearing Christmas carols in stores over the last few weeks. In the US it is a given that the holiday season kicks off at Thanksgiving. In Canada, it seems that retailers have decided that they can start their Christmas marketing campaigns after Rembembrance Day. It's a bit much if you ask me. I'm no grinch but I have found a very handy website to help you figure out if it is Christmas yet - check it out!
There should be a law passed that says no Christmas music should be played in public and Santa can't parade until Dec. 1st and office Christmas parties should not be allowed until the first weekend of December. I have adopted such rules for myself; due to it's effect on my girth I can't drink egg nog until the 15th, my tree does not go up until the 24th and doesn't come down until 12 days later. And Christmas doesn't start until my first friend comes home for the holidays. I can't wait for Christmas.
Make that There's a Tear in My Beer (Fridge) - check out this news. It would seem that the cottage and frat house staple, the beer fridge, is being blamed for unnecessary energy consumption in these conservation-concsious times. The fridges tend to be old and inefficient and are, typically (but not always) the secondary fridge in the house.Now you will not hear me discount the importance of keeping your beer cold but everyone knows the best beer is an ice cold beer so pull the cooler out and put the beer on ice. Besides, Canadians really shouldn't need beer fridges when they can just stick the bottles in the snow, right.
I had been to New York on three previous occasions; 1) in High School on a class trip 2) for this same tournament in 1999 and 3) to see Jimmy Buffett on Long Island in 2003 (The Big Grease). Each trip uncovered a little something different about the place: 1) that it's freakin' huge and not to give ticket scalpers money before they give you the ticket 2) that it's big but not bad and that a limo is really the best way for any large group of guys to travel and 3) that "the harvest moon brings with it a warm wind off the waters of the sound" and that everyone loves Buffett. This trip reminded me of all those things, somehow, and then some.
We arrived in the city via Bangor, Maine at dinner time on Friday night. We checked into our hotel in Queens across from Laguardia and then headed into Manhattan to the tournament meet and greet. As is the way with rugby tournaments, I immediately ran into two girls I knew from Ottawa and a guy from the Mirimachi. We moved on pretty quickly and went on a quick tour of Times Square. After a few tourist priced beers we packed it in and headed home for an early night.
Saturday morning came early with our first game at 9:20. I was disappointed to find out that our first opponent was the home club for an old Canadian 7's teammate of mine who had clearly prepared better than me. They won and we lost our second as well. That put us into the Bowl competition and we then ran the table and claimed the bowl as our prize. The legend of the New Brunswick Timberwolves is born...albeit modestly.
We took in the Premier games and drank just enough to think we probably could have beaten any of this freakin' teams on another day and then headed back to the hotel to clean (read: lube) up. We headed back into the city to the tournament party and made numerous false claims to anyone who would listen. Shoulda, coulda, woulda, and in some cases did. The party was at an Irish pub with a large black manager who didn't even have an Irish accent. We moved on to someplace more authentic and found another Irish pub where the workes all did have accents (put on or otherwise). We liked it there and stayed until sometime after 4 am. The owners made some cursory hints that they wanted to close down but the place was still hopping when we left. It is the city that never sleeps after all. My big night in New York City was spent in two Irish pubs. It was all worth it though because at the second stop I found Normy's old buddy hanging out front.The next morning we got up and hit the road for Boston, hoping to make it to the Pats game Sunday night. It wasn't in the cards so instead we hit the go-carts and then went and watched the game at the Cask and Flagon across from Fenway. We tried to find some fun in Boston but things appear to be pretty low key on a Sunday night.
We made it home on Monday afternoon and were most ecstatic that both border stops were wave-throughs. Just tell them you're playing rugby - idiots yes, but harmless idiots.
I've been singing the first line of this song for about a week now - Start spreading the news - the fact that I am shamelessly throwing my trip to the Big Apple in people's faces in made doubly grating because I warble like a dying yak. But what can I say, I'm excited about getting back to New York City.
I am heading down there, ostensibly, to play rugby. But the ragtag mob I am heading down there with won't really hold victory on the field at the New York 7's as the mark of a great trip. Most of them haven't been to the city before so seeing the sights and making it out without the city chewing us up will be the measure of a good trip. I am heading down with some old friends and foes from Saint John but we are playing under the name of the New Brunswick Timberwolves. If my voice would let me howl I would. Instead I'll just warble...
In Canada, (the real) Thanksgiving was 6 weeks ago and in the US Thanksgiving is tomorrow. In my world, however, the real (real personal) thanksgiving is today.
Birthdays are benchmarks and a natural time to reflect on where things stand. Usually that means coming to one stark realization - "Holy Crap I'm getting old!" - but also taking stock and realizing what you've got. As I look at my inventory I find an incredibly warm and giving family, the absolute best group of friends any person could ever hope for, another group of 100 rugby players that treat me like family, my own home, a real job, my health, and a gorgeous girl who seems to think I'm some sort of a catch. Adding it up, things are pretty good. Happy Birthday to me!
Disco Dave's second stint in Canada ended yesterday and things are no longer the same on Henry st. First off, the tv won't be stuck on the the Footy Show and Everybody Loves Raymond reruns non-stop but also in that it will be a much lonelier place for Normy's days at home. It took 2 months for Dave to start talking last year and two more for us to understand what the hell he was saying, at which point he left. So it was good to get to know him this year ;). Although quick witted and eloquent, he is a man of few words, which made his self-describing term "emotionally constipated" the funniest turn of phrase of 2007. It also makes the thank you note he sent to the club that much more poignant.
We'll miss you Dave. You will always have a place to stay in Fredericton, whether its on Henry St. or on Cityview ave. once we get the OK from Malcolm to build the Loyalist Condos/Retirement home. It could happen on Wednesday if I win the 6/49.All the best buddy!
I got a call yesterday from a strange area code so naturally I screened the call. The same number called back immediately so I figured if they wanted me that bad it can't be good news and they would leave a message. Solid logic, I know. After the second call I checked the messages and didn't recognize the voice but figured out who it was when he ended the first sentence with "mate". The next sentence was "It's your uncle Dan".
Dan was coming through town from Australia on his way to Carleton (Potato) County via Montreal and New Jersey. He was pretty worn out from the travelling but wanted to get together for a visit. We met up and caught up and it was great. There was a good portion of my childhood that Dan was my idol. Mostly because he looked kind of like the Fonz, taught me my first swear word, and could always come through with the exclamation point at the end of a "Pull my Finger" joke. But also because he made everyone around him laugh with off-color jokes that my mother couldn't help but laugh at and that his mother would gently scold him for - "Dan!". As I grew up I figured out that he got that directly from his father. We shared a few more laughs and then Dad showed up for a surprise visit:As you can see we had a few more laughs. I hadn't seen Dan in 4 years and Dad hadn't seen him in 10 so there was a lot of catching up to do. He is living well in Australia with his beautiful wife Helen and their son Shannon, whose sports fixation at age 9 sounds exactly the same as mine at the age. Of course the sports are all different, cricket and Aussie Rule Football, but that's good because I'm thinking I might make a trip down there so he can teach me how to kick. I think we kept him up longer then he wanted to be but it was well worth it. Great to see you Dan!
Si
PS - Dan actually taught me that first swear word in the context of a joke (which seemed to make it ok because everyone laughed at it) and thanks to the glory of the internet here it is: A rabbit, a lizard, and a turtle decided to go into business. They would manufacture and distribute fertilizer. The rabbit was in charge of production, the turtle in charge of delivery, and the lizard in charge of sales.
Business went well, and in no time they were living in the lap of luxury. However, while the rabbit continued his hard work in the production plant, the lizard and the turtle spent most of their time loafing around their estate.
One day the rabbit was delivering the latest batch of fertilizer to the estate, prior to distribution, and he was met at the gate by a new butler! "I want to see the lizard," said the rabbit. "Mr. li-ZARD is out in the yard," replied the butler. "Then let me see the turtle," said the rabbit. "Mr. tur-TELL is down by the well," said the butler. "Well," said the rabbit, "you tell Mr. li-ZARD, who is out in the yard, and Mr. tur-TELL, who is down by the well, that Mr. rab-BIT is here with the shit." I've been trying to remember that joke for years...
Here's a little something funny for hump day... I'm going to try and start this program at the office; it will definately make things more interesting.
The Saltwater Cowboy netted his best catch yet, marrying that keeper Peaches. They were wed in a beautiful ceremony at the STU chapel.Michelle looked radiant and the Bardsley boys were decked out in their kilts.
In the evening Mike hired the Hard Core Troubadours to kick the marriage into gear with some honkey tonk. In typical Beastor fashion he neglected to tell the party guests that the party would have a cowboy theme and he and the brothers were the only ones to show up with cowboy gear on. I was lucky enough to snag one of the 10 million Corona hats around to fit in. Once I had something to hide under I hit the dancefloor and did a weak impression of Slippy's big dance in the hopes of baiting him into showing us the real thing. It worked; it always works, and the world is a better place when the Moose is Loose on a dancefloor.
So, all in all a great day for everyone and a great start for one of my favourite couples.
A few years ago I was preparing for a rugby game in Ottawa. The game was a Canada East game vs the NZ Maoris and the coach had some team building planned. One of these exercises was a trip to the Canadian War Memorial (which is a wonderful monument). The coaching staff had us walk around and take all the info in and then picked out a figure in the memorial to relate to our rugby team. All the guys did their best to equate these soldiers to positions on a rugby field thus equating our game to a battle. When to coach called on me I had a couple of things on my mind: 1) My great-grandfather died in the war that this monument was erected for and 2) He died fighting under the flag of the country we were about to play against. I mentioned those two things first and that we should not make the mistake of compairing sport to war. War is hell and sport is fun and the memorial we were sitting under was to honour the people that fought for our freedom to do things like run around smashing into each other. They appreciated my point. Excuse me while I descend from my high horse.... So, this morning, we gathered once again to honour all those soldiers, past and present, that have fought for Canada. There is now only one First World War veteran with us and the numbers of WWII vets dwindles from year to year. But those men and women that march on Rememberence Day still do so with chins held high with pride. That makes everyone applauding them along the parade route, current soldiers included, mirror that pride.
This afternoon, after the ceremonies ended, there was some rugby to be played. UNB was hosting the Maritime University Championships. Both teams were at the Cenotaph before the game in a good show. The Ironmen then squeeked by Dalhousie in an epic rugby battle. It ended 14-13 and after the game they shook hands and went for a beer. Most importantly no one died in this battle.
Last night the Club had big plans to celebrate Guy Fawkes' night by burning a year's worth of wood refuse that piles up at the clubhouse. Malcolm spent the afternoon piling the wood into a huge pile, only to arrive home for a pre-fire dinner to the news that the fire department called and said "Fire Bad!". Apparently they changed the by-laws and open fires within the city limits are no longer legal. So that was that...Too bad, It's a great night for it and we expected a crowd. What can you do...
So, in order to find my own way to celebrate the 5th, I am going to rent V for Vendetta and listen intently for themes. Based on this clip it looks like the theme is pretty blatant: I wonder if anyone is listening...
I looks pretty interesting but it's not quite the same spectacle as 30 feet flames. Burn baby burn...
Draw the curtains, kill the music, and avant tu take off, please close the lights; another season is in the books. It's always a little bittersweet to come to the realization that rugby season is over for another year. I will relish the extra time I will find in my week, particularly on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays. My weekends will free up for other pursuits like not doing anything for 60 straight hours. And then slowly, I will start to soften up (more), my nerves will be a little frayed, and I'll get increasingly cranky over the course of the season I call Not-Rugby. I will think it's the weather or the lack of light, but then in April, when we get back on the field, I'll remember that it's the boys and their boob jokes and the chance to hit someone when you've had a bad day that I really missed.
We had anohter good year; undefeated season, Provincial, Maritime, and Atlantic Champions. Most importantly we had a great time doing it all.Thanks for everything fellas.
So since I was kid I have wanted to play and win the Caledonia Cup; just like Dad, right. And since I turned 13 I was a fan of The Band. So when I went searching for Caledonia Cup songs I found The Band's Caledonia Mission and it blew my mind that I never made the connection. I knew the song, just not the title. It's too bad too because that song would have helped explain the fixation I've had with the Cup, and keeping it close, since I started playing rugby.
Fortunately, there is no need to roll out a new theme song for Lady Caledonia; she's had one almost since the Cup was forged. It's been covered by everyone from Matt Minglewood to BB King but I found a couple of good ones on the tube and here is the best:
We've had the Minglewood version at the club forever and I hope to hear it tomorrow if all goes well. The weather doesn't look like it's going to cooperate as Hurricane Noel's front end will be appearing sometime around kickoff. One of the girls at work asked me today if you can play rugby in a hurricane. I said I guess we'll find out. If that's what it takes...
"Shes my baby and I love her just the same Crazy bout that woman cause Caledonia is her name"
My second Halloween in Devon was great success. We had a couple of dozen kids show up to enjoy our offerings of free beer and cigarettes. Most impressive, none of them came back later and egged the house or smashed the pumpkins. What else can you ask for?After the trick or treating was done I put on my lazy transvestite costume (a wig) and headed up to the Cellar to watch the Tallest Band on Earth (TBonE) with Zombie Will Pacey on the bass. Halloween shows always make me laugh for the oddball chance that you just might see Venkman from Ghostbusters dancing with Pacman.The band pulled out Thriller for the Halloween show which was a highlight. I think next year they should plan on hiring some Asian prisoners to do the dance routine though. They also played a kick ass James Brown medley and my new favourite cover Bus Stop!. They get better each time I see them and hopefully they'll keep this party going for a little while as they tighten up. Someone has to play at my graduation party...
When my two UK teammates dressed up as Maritimers for the rugby club's Halloween party they took the time to learn a couple of quintessentially Canadian phrases. Right after "Take off, eh" and "Large double-double" next on their list was "Are you ready for Christmas yet?". 
