Tuesday, February 23, 2010

rainydayfun.ca

incrediblylongblogname.blogspot.com has shed a few pounds - now just rainydayfun.ca will get you here.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Worlds Collide: Valentine's/Olympics/Chinese New Year

I'm gonna cop out and remind you all about a picture being worth a thousand words.



Tinseltown is a multiplex/failing mall by Stadium Station. The far entrance opens onto Pender, right in Chinatown, so the Chinese New Year parade always starts from inside the mall, then up Pender. Unfortunately, I missed the parade due to scheduling conflict [i.e. sleeping in and avoiding crowds]. There's vendors and [above] troupe after troupe of girls dipped in glitter and lip-synching to Lady Gaga. SO. CUTE.



Tinseltown's theatre peeps were nice enough to let me have five 11" x 17" Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassuss posters. Sweet. Curtis and I saw it at VIFF in October, and I've been looking for a cool souvenir ever since. See what you get when you say "please"?


T&T Supermarket for lunch to go and...Year of the Snoopy?



Geoduck: (pronounced gooey-duck )a giant mud-burrowing bivalve mollusk occurring on the west coast of North America, where it is collected for food [NOT A SEX TOY]. Its shell valves are not large enough to enclose its body and very long siphon
I wish I had a ruler for scale. These things are massive; I'm talking horse cock. And I'm guessing "geoduck" means "cock and balls" in Latin :::cradle the shell valves, work the siphon:::
This was the closest I got to peen on V-Day. Sads.



I take it back, THIS was the closest I got to peen on V-Day. So many people were wearing red on Sunday [red for Canada, red for Valentine's] that I almost didn't notice Team Russia on the train. And no, it's not a trick of perspective, they were frigging HUGE.

2/09: Olympic torch relay

Despite all the ill will the IOC and VANOC have caused, I was in a state of woo for a couple days...I mean, all the tiny Canadian flags and schoolkids in red and RCMP cars with GO CANADA flags...*snif*

Above: Olympic torch coming through New Westminster, right up 6th St, a BASTARD of a hill; might technically qualify as small mountain.

Above: And there she goes.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Sunday, January 31, 2010

sheer unadulterated WTF


Is Coors simply a beer supplier to the Olympics, or the official beer? I mean, it's cute that the little mountain on the can turns blue and all, but American beer? Seriously? In Canada? I mean, I could make my goldfish swim in that watery piss, if I wanted to be mean to them.


No, the signage did not explain what a "sustainable dance floor" is.
I don't know. Maybe it's made out of hemp. Or yoga pants and Uggs.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

just who do I hafta bang at Tourism BC to get some Super, Natural swag?

Seen on the train home tonight:

"Super, Natural British Columbia" has been our tourism slogan/jingle since at least the seventies, [way before Winchesters were fighting evil] but unfortunately it's fallen by the wayside lately, replaced by the pretty much justified, yet smug "Best Place On Earth".

(Geddit? SuperNatural? OK.)

Saturday, January 23, 2010

WANT vs. DO NOT WANT


Arm porn: pretty much the most flesh on display in Supernatural. I feel like a Victorian-era horndog who has just gotten a glimpse of raw, hot, SEXAY ankle.
Dlisted.com reports some other piece won the role of Conan the Barbarian in a franchise reboot over Jared. Fuck my life. Seriously. Jared Padalecki in fur undies on a 3-story multiplex screen would SO have made up for the straight-to-DVD Christmas movie, Thomas Kinkade’s Home for Christmas, that I misspent an hour of my life watching online during the Christmas holidays. My only excuse is Supernatural was on hiatus and I was jonesing badly.
Even so, I still bailed at the movie's halfway point.
It's not that Jared's bad in it [although I will never watch it again], it's the character he plays, Thomas Fucking Kinkade, hack painter extraordinaire. I hate the unbearable tweeness that is Kinkade and I'm talking HAAAAATE with the burning intensity of a thousand fiery suns kind of hate. The man churns out sugary sweet cottages with warm light glowing from every window, OVER AND FUCKING OVER AND O.V.E.R. In point of fact, for that much orange glow to come from any window would actually mean the inside of the house was on fire [Jesus, do I wish. Maybe with the unbearably twee occupants trapped inside as well.]

Below, a video review from pajiba.com (worth it for the payoff of the reviewer totally losing his shit laughing at the 1:30 mark and dropping the camera)

Jared in a Kinkade biopic instead of a loincloth? Oh HELL NO. There is no God.