- I dreamed I was cleaning out my ears with bobby pins. I’m sure it wasn’t the beer; it was the heat.
- I saw Rattlesnake Island, where Eddie Mansour came to grief, ultimately snapping and taking the staff of the Canadian Embassy in Lebanon hostage, because that is what you do when a clique of white good ol’ boys ruins your dream of a camel-shaped resort (with bonus pyramid!) on Okanagan Lake.
- Saw Eddie’s Castle (or Eddie’s Folly) the monstrously tacky, 70’s style, pink stucco B&B overlooking Rattlesnake Island, where Eddie slowly, and against all odds, recovered his wits and lost what remained of his fortune. If memory (of his autobiography, From Nuthouse to Castle) serves, several suites had circular beds, one was revolving, and of course there were heart-shaped jacuzzis. Available now for a round $1million, it looks as if it is haunted by the ghost of Robert Goulet: one balcony has fallen off entirely, sliding down the cliff face onto the highway. The once-beautiful view is marred by the semitransparent mist of organisms growing on the windows, and the land is slowly falling, piece by piece, into the lake. It would be a wonderful place to retire and slowly go insane. Perhaps I shall save up enough one day.
- I saw a double rainbow over Westbank and can now definitively state that the rainbow ends at Canadian Tire. Picture to follow.
- My only goals for this vacation were A) a sunburn and B) a hangover. A was accomplished the first day. And the second. I have high hopes that Winery Tour Day will allow me to tick off B as well.
- I can now identify, having towed it for several hours, a ’61 Nash Metropolitan.
Category Archives: Crime
Happy 4th of July!!!
We all celebrate in our own unique ways. Some of my friends to it by firing off fireworks, eating BBQ, and drinking pisswater. My family does it by making sure the cannons at Windsor are still pointed across the river. I do it by posting anti-Bush videos from YouTube.
My Neighborhood, for real
So, as you might already know by my blog irregularity, I am experiencing a power crisis. I am without electricity. In Canada, we call this “anhydrous” but you might call it any number of things, including inconvenient.
But among other things, it means that I only have electricity between midnight and five in the morning, when I can safely run a power cord to the outlet down the hall without anyone ratting me out to the building manager.
However.
There are those who could bust me. In my hallway, there is a youthful Chinese girl who is carrying on an affair with a man on one of the upper floors, but who doesn’t dare let her father, with whom she lives, know. So, every night about twelve-thirty, I hear her door open and the elevator going up. About three, it comes back down and she goes back to her room.
She’s not about to rat me out for using the power. It’s mutually assured destruction.
When I go out to unplug the apparatus, sometimes I see some unusual things.
It’s four-thirty in the morning. It’s the Downtown Eastside. Of COURSE I see some unusual things.
But among them I do not expect to see an actual scimitar. Apparently, instead of the tai chi ladies who practiced there last year, each dawn is welcomed by an actual, fucking, practicing fucking, samurai.
He’s out on the patio, practicing his moves. I am well aware it should be a katana instead of a scimitar, but what can I say, the man is versatile.
And armed.
Oh, who are the people in my neighborhood. In my neighborhood. In my neigh-bor-hood? Oh, who are the people in my neighborhood. The people that you meet each day?
The samurai has a big sword
Don’t mess with him or you’ll get gored.
He practices each day at dawn
Could skewer you just like a prawn.
‘Cause the Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
In my neighborhood.
He’s in my neigh-bor-hood!
A Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
A person that I meet each day.
Oh, trysting kids are scaredycats.
Their dad might find out, don’cha kno?
They sneak around, it takes real gumption
They can’t expose me: M. A. Destruction.
Oh, a Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
In my neighborhood.
In my neighbrhood.
And the trysting kid’s a person in my neighborhood.
They’re the people that I meet
When I’m walking down the street
They’re the people that I meet each day and, by silent mutual agreement, do not appear to recognize.
Mentos and Diet Coke 2.0
Well after all that, Revver allows embedding. Too bad WordPress doesn’t allow it, or I’d post the “approved by producers” version here. All I can do instead is link to it on Raj’s blog here.
For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a video by two mad scientist types (one is allegedly a mad lawyer/scientist!) of a frolicing fiesta of fountains of diet coke and mentos.
Enjoy. And if you figure out how to embed it in a wordpress blog, let me know.
Operation Global Media Domination: no more games
It seems nobody cares if Harry Potter is dead. Nobody but the BBC, that is, which commented on my post about the story in the Guardian. The BBC is trawling my blog for readers: while I am somewhat stunned at this micro-, nay, nanomanagement, I’m okay with it if they’ll only give me the linkie luv. Translation: they don’t allow you to leave the URL of your blog your signature, ie like this: raincoaster. Frightfully Web 1.0 of them.
In other OGMD news, the Mento and Diet Coke Fountain Madness is dying out as those mad scientists lay the smackdown on YouTube and the video has been kaput for a week now, after nicely threatening the existence of my blog. I wonder how long you have to respond to those threats before the powers that be nuke the blog. Could be tricky, as I do not actually have electricity at home at the moment.
And although for the past several days it’s been beating the coprophilia out of the Beautiful Agony post, today nobody is interested in Watching the World Cup For Free. Is it over or something?
I only care about the Stanley Cup, yo. Do they even have ice in Carolina?
raincoaster 