Ass Hammers of the Week

Well kids the Dove is trying to get into the Christmas spirit but the skizz wad element in the Patch is really starting to make 'er old wings droop. On Saturday some fine upstanding citizen clipped the drivers side mirror on my car, don't worry they didn't leave a note or anything. I wouldn't want to have my faith in humanity restored so close to Christmas or anything.

In light of recent events around the ranch (namely having my purse and other property stolen from my home) I can safely say I lost my mind when I saw it. WTF?! The only thing that has started to calm me down is knowing that they're car was crappier than mine and they left a big piece of it behind. I'm going to have it bronzed and mounted on my hood, Mad Max style. The Dove has all scofflaws in it's sights and is ready to unleash a foul torrent of stink on command!

With the help of Jolene and some screws and Black Duck Tape (Yeah it's Duck Tape Glenda! WHUH!) I'm able to commute to work safely for now. This bitch needs her freakin' mirrors brahs!

Fortunately I found something in today's paper that, though it irked me to no end, made me laugh at the ignorance of those who chose to break the law.
Peterborough is home to Canada's canoe museum. It's housed in what use to be the Outboard Marine Factory Offices on Monaghan road. My dad worked in the factory at Outboard for many years until it closed down and went down Mexico way. Though the building is not much to look at from the outside it is a fantastic museum and I highly recommend that you check it out when you're in the hood.
Anyway....on Saturday night a couple of pranksters cut down a live coniferous tree on the property. That's a pretty shitty thing to do...I don't care if they thought it was just a prank, they killed a tree and a little Christmas spirit to boot.
Thankfully, unlike most of the petty crime in this town, there was a witness who called the police. They came and located the dastardly duo in the parking lot at a local Tim Horton's, about half a block from the museum. I apologize for the lack of clarity in the following picture...the canoe museum sign can be seen on the far left, in the background you can see a cluster of signs, if you look really hard you can see the yellow and white of the Tim Horton's sign. Yes folks it's that close to the scene of the crime.

Knowing that these two jackasses were caught red handed has perked the Dove up a little bit. Don't worry the Dove is always locked and loaded to squirt a shower of deuce on the wamblers of the universe. Fa la la la la, la la la splorch!

B-low on the cold northern front!

Under the N-toxicated!

Finally two of my favourite things are coming together right here in Peterborough. Bingo and Booze!

Imagine my delight as I scraped the sleep from my eyes to read the joyful news. I had to pinch myself to see if it was real. The local bingo hall (which use to house a roller rink) is now serving spirits! Yippee! And I thought nothing good was going to happen today.
No longer will this past time be associated with tea drinkers and church basements...bring on the kegs and the house wine cause, "its gonna get raw in here like sushi", so dabbers to the left!
Apparently Peterborough's bingo hall is the first one to obtain a liquor license, since the government brought in legislation making it legal to serve alcohol at these venues in 2007. Proving once again that Peterborough is a trail blazing community.

The owner says "It's an experiment. You try this, you try that; what works you keep, what doesn't you boot,"..."It's a learning thing." Now there's a business owner who knows the community and his clientele. He's definitely gonna have to keep his boots handy!

Later haters!
B-spot under the O for out! WHUH!

Did somebody say Amazing?

You bet your sweet bibby they did!

Finally after years of seeing him only on TV talk shows like Carson and Letterman, I got to see "The Amazing Kreskin" up close and personal right here in the Patch!
(If you have to ask who Kreskin is...you might want to climb out of your hole and check out the link).

Screamworks(a Halloween Spooktacular) was in town to frighten the locals (in a good way) over the weekend and the highlight was over 2 hours of face time with a living legend.

It's hard to believe that a livestock auction barn, that doubles as a flea market on the weekends, could play host to such a magnificent talent. Once Kreskin took the stage the faint smell of cow dung dissipated and was replaced with the sweet smell of awesomeness.

Sadly the acoustics were a bit crap...lets face it...unless you're auctioning off meat (that can walk home with you) this venue was not meant for microphones and loud speakers.
When Kreskin first graced the stage he sprung from behind the makeshift curtain in his sassy silk shirt to the wild applause of about 150 locals sitting on stackable chairs on the cement floor. Immediately the microphone started crapping out and at one point caused the speakers to feed back so violently that Kreskin temporarily lost his hearing in one ear. He was visibly shaken by the ordeal but in true showman style he continued on with his performance, despite the protestations of the audience members urging him to take a break.

His tireless wit and repartee was truly mesmerizing. I was absolutely delighted with his performance. He executed awesome card "tricks" and using the power of suggestion gained control over about 20 volunteers from the audience. He picked up thoughts from individuals in the audience, rhyming off their birthdays and names of loved ones, and performed the famous check trick, where audience members hide his check and if he can't find it he doesn't get paid. He never ceased to amaze the crowd.

To add effect, during the show, Mother Nature let loose with a severe thunderstorm. Rain and hail pounded down on the tin roof of the auction barn and thunder rolled ominously outside.

Everyone did their best to put this show on, under challenging circumstances and the crowd was not disappointed. I was surprised at the smallish size of the audience. I know it was a school night...but $17.00 to see a living legend! How could you pass that up?

Kreskin is a true showman void of pretension, full of energy and heart.
I can't wait to see him again!


B-Dawg on the Amazed front!

*I apologize for the quality of my pics...I was using Jolene's camera and I'm not use to the settings...normally I would use my own point and click but some douchebag stole it from my house.
(PS. you suck douchebag who stole my purse)

What's mine is yours? CFMF'ers!

Well bro's and ho's it's been another banner weekend in the Patch.

To start it all off some dirty, slippery, pissant broke into my house and stole my purse. Not just my wallet, my entire purse which contained my cell phone, camera (which I use to take awesome shots of local bullshite) and my crappy sports watch...that I just happen to love in a not so healthy way. I gotta say I'm not as upset as I should be. It's a little unnatural...

I've had my wallet stolen twice before back when I lived in Toronto and they were stolen off of my person while riding public transit. Maybe that's why "I don't do public transit."
Sure It made me feel violated and dirty but not like having some bottom feeder come into your house and take only one thing. Like they knew exactly what they were looking for...dirty douche(s).
I have to apologize to the criminal because I'm sure they were excited to get a cell phone, until they found out I'm a "pay as you go" customer...I only buy like 30 minutes at a time so I guess they couldn't reach those Malaysian hookers they were trying to get a rise out of.


I'll really miss my wallet...it was unique and immature and I quite loved it. It was just your
standard wallet but it had the same cartoon picture as this mug has on the front of it. I'm not a vindictive ex-boyfriend hater...the sentiment just makes me laugh. That wallet made me giggle every time I saw it...and I got alot of compliments on it. Maybe the clerk at the Mac's milk complimented the robber on its cleverness as they completed a transaction for a carton of cigarettes with my Visa card....I hate to think of some pasty faced grease ball (male or female) touching the contents of my purse. The pictures of my nephew, my Happy Bunny dayplanner, my filthy old Timex sports watch....
My actual purse was not high end but I was fond of it too...but most of all I'll miss my LED dolphin light/keychain that made errant dolphin squeals when you pressed the button. I hope you dirty mf'ers enjoy my new watch battery...I hope it explodes in your eyes and burns your dirty little sole.

So suck it monkeys the Dove is loaded and ready for action and this time it's personal. I've got a douchebag seeking missile of slimy deuce action heading your way!

B-low on the burgled front!

P.S. I hope you choke on an altoid you CFMF'er(s)!

PT Loser

Alright the Dove has been on a brief hiatus, only coming out to drop some serious deuces on the knucklehead population. Hard to believe the Dove has slept through the Canadian election...yes the dirty ol' boys club did regain power...with a greater majority than last time ...yipes! That hurts my mind grapes.

Right now the weather in Canada is a little up and down. Last week we were sweating our baggage off and the leaves were changing colour. This week hurricane like winds are ripping the leaves from the trees and depositing them willy nilly. The temperature is dipping near the freezing mark and I'm forced to wear socks. It just ain't right!
But you gotta take the crunchy with the smooth so like all good Canadians I take it all in stride.

Most mornings when I get up my car is covered in a dewy film that is every so close to frost and I need to use the defroster and turn the heat on to keep a full body chatter from gripping me.
By the end of the work day It's a little stuffy and hot in the old mobile and I crank the fan and put down the window.
Today was no exception. As I drove into the blinding sun on one of our main streets (Lansdowne) I opened the windows in the front of the car to blow the stink off. The warmth of the sun accompanied by the gentle breeze was simply divine. Until I was assaulted by some dumb ass noise pollution.
Lansdowne Street is four lanes wide (two going east and two going west). I was stopped in a line of traffic waiting for a light when I heard the voices of a disgruntled, entitled, douchie youth spewing from a maroon PT Cruiser.
First I heard this nasty phlegmy cough and I was intrigued so I couldn't tune out the tirade of stupidity that followed. I figured this little douchewad was going to hack up a lung. When he finished spewing lung butter he started spewing bullshite! What follows is a reasonable facsimile of what he said to his friend who was driving;

Douchewad 1: Insert sounds of lung rattle and mung production...."Yeah, so I thought fuck that! I'm not going to class today. I had a fuckin' rough night and they can suck it!"

Douchewad #2: "Um, humh."

Douchewad#1: "Yeah, so I smoked a blunt and I went back to bed!"

Douchewad#2: "Yup."

That's pretty much all I got because the light changed and we all know that Pt Cruisers are super fast! And I thought I wasn't going to hear anything good today...well pickle my giblets and call me Nancy!

So I have packed the Dove full of rotting Thanksgiving leftovers (Yes we have Thanksgiving in October so cram it!) and sent it on a quest for a maroon PT Cruiser containing 2 lads wearing baseball hats backwards, spewing bullshit and smokin' blunt! After the Dove gets its share an unholy torrent of deuce will be unleashed on these posers! We'll see who skips class tomorrow! Whuh!

B-spot out!

For the love of lite syrup

Once again the people of Peterborough can rest easy knowing that justice has been served.

Early Thursday morning a local man wandered into a convenience store and nabbed a fruit cup. Without paying he macked that mf'er down and left the store without so much as a "bill me" or a, "this fruit cups on the man".

The clerk called police who later tracked this syrup junkie down. It sounds like they gave him the option of coughing up the $1.59 for the snack, you would think case closed.
Well apparently crime doesn't pay and neither does this guy.
All hepped up on lite syrup from his fruity snack he become belligerent and got all up in the officers grillz. His seemingly minor "snack attack" landed him with charges of resisting arrest.

Sadly this douche took valuable police presence away from the downtown after last call. No doubt a variety of ass hammers got away with jaywalking and punching road signs.

The moral of this story...never get between a man and his fruit cup.
It's a fact!
b-spot on the syrupy side

Hyberbole below the belt

From the title of this post you're probably assuming that Jolene (my gentleman friend) has been exaggerating about his manhood again...no it has to do with the following headline from the Peterborough Examiner:

Cash stolen while man in washroom.

If Jolene were to exaggerate it would most likely fall under this headline from last week:

Five-foot python found downtown.

Anyway back to 'bid-ness'. I was drawn to the first headline by the sheer audacity of any criminal who would rob a man when his pants were down. “By audacity, I mean huuuuuuuubris overweeeening pride.” - Principal Blackman .
Is there a time when we are more vulnerable to attack then when we're on the crapper donating to the waste stream? I don't think so my friends. To further add insult to injury the man who was robbed was disabled. What kind of "no class Bobby Bass" would rob a disabled person while they were popping a deuce?
This incident took place at the public washroom in Peterborough Square (a.k.a. Peterborough Scare) our original indoor mall in the downtown core. A cesspool for the knucklehead set in the Patch.

The first line of this news article reads as follows "A 59-year-old man with a disability had his fanny pack ransacked in a washroom at Peterborough Square."
I want you to take special note of the word "ransacked." I don't know about you guys but when I think of something being ransacked it's usually bigger than a "fanny pack", like a freakin' duffel bag or an...apartment! Sure he "pillaged" the fanny pack but can't we find a more appropriate descriptors for this particular event? How about "he thumbed through" or "savagely eyeballed the contents of" for a start.
I truly feel bad for the gentleman who was robbed after he "placed his pouch on the floor." (That had to hurt)
But a fanny pack? Are you kidding me? If there's one thing I can't stand the sight of it's a fanny pack. On a man or woman it's just plain wrong. I know "live and let live" but somethings are just not palatable...don't get me started, don't even get me started!
Too late...
I hate fanny packs!
Yeah dudes! I'm not looking at your bulge when we pass on the street...it's the wad above your rod that makes me stare in disbelief.
Yeah I know, all you lovers of the crotch pouch are saying how you love to be hands free. No straps or back pocket bulges to hinder you as you cruise the strip in your acid wash jeans...well I've got news it ain't a good look for anyone. Also the word "fanny" means something very different in Europe...It's slang for a part of the female anatomy.

Maybe I'll do a woman on the street expose...Men who wear fanny packs and the women who put up with it! WHUH!
Sorry haters...I'm just really angry!
So be on the look out for the following pouch ravaging maniac. He "is described as white (can't a brother get a break?), 18 to 30 years old with black hair, clean-shaven standing about 5’ 8” with a thin build wearing brown pants and a white shirt." Note he was not wearing a fanny pack.

So the major Dove dump here is for the douche who robbed the disabled man with the fanny pack...but I can't help it if a little deuce juice trickles onto fanny pack wearers everywhere...the dove does not discriminate!

So if you've learned anything today; let it be that you should never put your pouch on the floor of a public washroom! Besides being uncomfortable it's unsanitary and just plain wrong.

B-low up the creek without a pouch

Sitemeter Queries

Well brahs, it's been a slow news week in the Patch so I thought I would take this opportunity to share some of the searches people have used when they've stumbled upon the "Dove of Hate."
Most of the time it's nothing too alarming, I get alot of hits for "truly tasteless jokes" and "cj's country bar" (okay the cj's one does give me a chill but liquor calms my soul).

I recently found a search for "manly nipples" I'd like to thank my friends in Texas for putting that one out there. My personal favourite is from back in the winter "deuce chute"...that was ofcourse until recently.
The most awesome search words generally come from our friends in the United Kingdom. Now Peterborough Ontario is not the only Peterborough in the world. There is also one in the United Kingdom that I often come across when surfing the interwebs.

I think they spend alot of time googling weird shit in the U.K.. Personally, I can get behind that kind of pastime so mad props to the Brits!
I recently found "Peterborough song polish" and perhaps the most awesome recent search (pictured on the left) that originated in the U.K. "enema sins."*

I don't know about you kids but when did a warm gush of water up the poop chute (or deuce chute) become a sin? Sometimes you just need a little help to dislodge that stubborn chunk that's clogging up the whole works.
So keep the hits coming my friends across the pond and
have a warm sudsy one on me!

B-low unplugged

*photo jpg courtesy of the Chrisp cause I'm a mongo.

Random Musings

First of all I'd like to give mad props to my peeps down in the "T" to the "ON" with the "RENT" in the middle "Trentonkat" and the "BF&A" for their recognition through the Trenton Blogwatch Noblog Awards. What can I say...you guys complete me. Without you I couldn't go on...all alone north of the border...sigh. Kudos Brahs!
(For these blogs check my sidebar or feel my wrath!)

Now for something completely different...
Yesterday I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with some close friends and then walked down to a weekly Farmer's Market to fondle the produce. It was "firm and full" and well worth the walk.
Fortunately I had my camera with me and was able to capture this graffiti scrawled on the back of a broken bench, across from the methadone clinic, in the downtown core.
It reads "this isn't vandalism i went to art school."
If I were this particular graffiti artist I think I'd be asking for a refund. If my dad were here he'd say "don't quite your day job."
It's signed by Red Fox. Now it's conceivable that Red Fox may have relocated to Peterborough after his death and be haunting the downtown core. I often hear someone shouting "Lizbeth, I'm coming...this is the big one!" But he spells his name with two x's so it must be someone else. I plan on being extra vigilant with my camera, keeping an eye out for the next poignant missive from "red fox" the artist (I'm using that term loosely).
As I stated above this bench is across from our "methadone" clinic. The computer generated sign in the window is more discreet and refers to it as a pain management clinic. Addiction and pain suck so I'm glad there is means of support for people in recovery here in town.
Well except for the niblet who (allegedly) left his three 245 millilitre bottles of methadone on a city bus. He called the bus terminal but the methadone was not to be found. Yeah I think I've got an idea about where it might be...my mom rides the bus.

I was thinking about maybe spending a little more time in the downtown core until this headline further dissuaded me...

Five-foot python found downtown

Thankfully the manager of the local Humane Society has put my mind at ease with the following comment;
“It’s pretty unusual to have one that big running around,”... “This one definitely gets your attention.”

So are you saying that there are several pythons running around that are under 5 feet long that are not visible to the naked eye? I don't know about you bro but any snake, including Gardener snakes, gets my attention. (Insert gratuitous one eyed trouser snaked joke here...nudge, nudge, wink, wink)

He further went on to discuss the regulations around the ownership of exotic snakes.

Pythons are considered a restricted animal according to city bylaw, which requires a permit to own such a pet.

Several Peterborough pet stores sell about 40 to 60 snakes each month, but in his seven years with the humane society no permits have been issued.

“You can have the snakes as long as you have a permit,” he said.

I'm thinking that maybe you can have the snake with or without a permit. Considering none have been issued in the past seven years, yet 40 to 60 snakes are sold every month something doesn't gel.

So put on your deuce deflecting helmets and run for cover cause the Dove has been consuming a high fiber diet and can shoot on command.

B-low on the northern grind

Sweet Freedom!

Peterborough plays host to many things. Last call bar fights, a seedy underbelly and more notably the Festival of Lights. The Festival is a series of free outdoor concerts on Wednesday and Saturday nights during the summer months, capped by a fireworks display. The Festival organizers attract an eclectic mix of talent to appeal to a variety of audiences. Performers such as cover artist "Elton Joel", alternative singer "Ron Sexsmith" and opera singer "Michael Burgess". The also host local talent and more well known bands such as 80's pop band "Glass Tiger". I apologize to my American friends who may not know who some of these people are...many of them are Canadian eh.

Sadly...for some "Glass Tiger" is not welcome back to the concert venue. According to one of the local organizers "most of the artists who performed this summer were polite and gracious, but this was not the case for Glass Tiger. The '80s pop group from Newmarket swore at staff, swore onstage at the family event and graffitied autograph tables with permanent marker."
Wow, how can we "forget you when you're gone" when you've left a permanent mark on our town. Did somebody forget to tell the guys with the fake Scottish accents that this was strictly PG. You can drop innuendo all you want but none of that in your face stuff! I have never been a big fan of Glass Tiger so there is no love lost for me. I say replace them with someone like Rick Fines or maybe even Blue Rodeo, really anyone...I'd like to see more of "Jimmy's light show" one of the buskers who walks around with his dummy. Even better, how about an all ages Karaoke night? I know the festival staff will fill the void with an awesome act! So put that in your backpack "Glass Tiger".
I digress...
August 23rd was the grand finale of the Festival and the line up was truly great. A Toronto band called "Hello Operator" did an awesome set for the crowd before headliner...wait for it..."Sweet" also known as "The Sweet" took to the stage. Sadly, not all of the original band members were alive to be there but their bushy haired spirits live on in the mane 'n tail of their replacements.We waited anxiously for them to peel off such hits as "Love is like Oxygen" and "Little Willy". They made us wait for it and even threw in a couple of new numbers to throw us off their scent. They played "Fox on the run", still we waited for them to plant "Ballroom Blitz" on us, or as my friend "E" referred to it,"bar room bash". Finally, after leaving the stage without a trace of "Ballroom Blitz" they returned for their encore...the anticipation was palpable...they played yet another small hit as we waited for the barn burner closing...my friend "D" leaned over and whispered, with a sense of impatience...."play the fucking song!" At long last they dropped it on us....since Andy and Mick were no longer with them it went a little like this..."Are you ready Steve? Steve? Stuart? Well alright....!" Oh yeah it was a ballroom blitz. Number one fans b-lined for the mosh pit and free concert hogs began to close up their lawn chairs and head for their cars. As the final notes left the band the sky was lit up with the grand finale fireworks. It was truly awesome.
The Festival of Lights is one of the truly great things about Peterborough. We do have alot of culture, not all bacterial. There is an art gallery, university and college and a bit of the granola edge throughout the Patch. Many local venues like the Montreal House and Dobro's play host to local talent. Peterborough isn't all about bar fights after last call.

Despite the rainy weather this summer the Festival organizers were able to plod on and deliver some great shows to their public.

As I sat watching "Sweet" I couldn't help but notice the crowd. There were young and old alike, some of which were just out for a free night of entertainment and had no clue what kind of an act they were there to see. Sweet was kind to the crowd but if you have any idea about 70's rock sensations in general...things are gonna get a little loud. Wawa pedals are going to be used. My recommendation is to sit well away from the speakers or stay home and watch "Matlock".
So today I'm oiling up the Dove of Hate to drop a steaming deuce on some people who took up prime real estate at the "Sweet" concert on August 23rd. (The following is from the Peterborough Examiner- note I copied it in a diarrhea colour to reflect my opinion of these individuals)

Sweet but loud

Most people in last Saturday night's Festival of Lights crowd enjoyed rocking out with Sweet, but two audience members sitting behind the VIP section weren't so impressed. They sat in their lawn chairs with their fingers in their ears for a couple songs, nearing the end of the set.

Yeah, performers love it when you do that. Thanks for coming out fans! I hope you hit some grey matter when you plugged your ears duffenheims!
So, haters, I advise you to get your fingers out of your ears and run for cover because the steaming deuce of justice is coming your way.

Later Haters!

B-low on the Sweet side!

Hoo Hoo's

Alright, I haven't got alot to say about this one. I think the photograph speaks for me in many ways. My friend "H" and I were having an expensive coffee drink at the "Silver Bean" in downtown Peterborough when I noticed this word all alone, scrawled on a support beam.

Just "Vagina's". Nothing else. Like all this odd ball graffiti artist sees is "Vagina's" everywhere he/she goes..."Vagina's" not Vagina. Vagina with an apostrophe "s" implying possession. Like "Hey aren't those Bills vagina's over there?" A vagina philanderer or collector if you will...anyway I thought it was a little f'ed up and a little freeing. So I'm taking back the word like I took back the night...So keep your hands off my Vagina's!
Get your own "Vagina's"!!
WHUH! So put that in your nut sac!

B-low on the coolie front

Pump it up

Alright deuces, I got something to say!
Today I had to take my car in for rustproofing (that's something we Canadians due because of the harsh winter conditions) to keep our rides from turning to dust by spring. I also had to shellac my igloo and get out my tire chains to prepare for the onslaught of winter...nuff said.

Since I was without my regular wheels I decided to ride my commuter bike to the YMCA to work on my pecs and my glutes. I prefer to take my commuter bike to public places where I will be locking it out of my view for long periods of time. My other bikes are never out of my sight in public places. Bike theft is quickly on the rise in Canada. Check out this CBC story about a dirty douche from Toronto who actually ran a bike store/bike theft ring. What an ass hammer!
Anywhore...
After I finished my intense workout I came outside to get my bike only to find that the front tire was completely flat. Fuckity, fuck, fuck!
In all fairness I do very little maintenance on this bike so I really do deserve to get a flat tire or have the chain crumble and turn to dust some day soon. I wasn't really pissed about the whole flat tire...I figured it was a slow leak and I could just get it pumped up at a local gas station and be on my merry way. First problem, finding an f'in gas station in this jerk water town. I swear to God there are like maybe 7 gas stations in Peterborough and they are not convenient unless your driving...which I guess is their perogative. I decided to head to the Petro Canada station at the corner of Lansdowne and Monaghan Road. It felt like it took me an eternity. I don't mind walking, but walking and pushing a dead weight kind of gets me down. I finally reached the Petro Can only to discover that those chiseling bastards wanted $1.00 for their freakin' air. Are you shittin' me? Who decided that one dollar was a fair price for one of the elements? I thought 50 cents maybe or hey it might even be free...like at the old Canadian Tire Gas Bar...but no Petro Canada wants to soak me for a dollar. Holy shit!
What could I do...I paid the $1.00 only to find that the front tube on the bike is totally screwed, chewed and barbecued. So put that in your back pack! Don't worry though I stood there and squeezed my total dollars worth of air...I want a receipt for that so I can claim it on my income tax under "BULLSHIT EXPENSES". So look out above you hairy, thieving bastards who put a monetary amount on air...the dove is locked and loaded and full of Taco Bell...Chalupa Poopa is flying your way now! WHUH!

My brolley G.. K-Why tells me that air only costs 75 cents in Jersey. That just might be enough incentive for me to relocate!
B-low on the northern grind!

Brown Disaster Aisle 5

Okay deuces...you'll be glad to know that I was not deterred by my last visit to No Frills...my local cut rate grocery store. During that visit I saw a dirt-wad of masterful proportions riding his freakin' bike through the produce section.
This morning I decided to venture to my favourite grocery store...they stock all the awesome President's Choice products, often at lower prices than their parent store Loblaws. It's a muggy Sunday morning...the store shouldn't be too busy, with people attending church and/or sleeping off Saturday nights sins.
I scored big this morning...the cart I got was broken so it was free - normally you have to pop a quarter into the cart to rent it for your shopping experience. This tactic is meant to deter people from stealing the carts to take their groceries home in...I gotta be honest, 25 cents does not appear to be a high enough price to keep the carts on the lot. What would Bubbles do?
Anyway, I began my sojourn through the produce aisle and proceeded with ease to work my way through the store. I spotted a till that was ready for me to make my purchases and headed that way. Little did I know what awaited me there. I was behind an older couple and as I started to unload my groceries one of the girls from another checkout told me I must have shit on my shoe. Yeah I'm pretty sure she said shit...she didn't soften the blow with poop or dung. At first I thought I must have tracked it in from somewhere...until I looked around and saw several small piles around a pillar in the middle of the store...apparently the trail went all the way down the health and beauty aisle, ending at till 8 where I had the misfortune to step in it.
Yes folks...it was 100% adult human feces. Someone felt the urge to purge and couldn't stem the tidal flow of pooh until they got home.
The checkout girl called for someone to clean it...I gotta say no one jumped at the opportunity. I was there for about 10 minutes and they were still standing around debating when I left.
I gotta say I feel for the person who couldn't hold it...that's the shits literally and figuratively. What a terrible feeling...I am personally thankful for my excellent sphincter control and don't blame the person who let her rip. Shit happens.
What gets the Dove all worked up was the reaction of the one little scrag at the till. She couldn't shut her mouth about it. She felt the need to tell everyone who came through her till about it and by the looks on their faces they were all thinking twice about their purchases. She also thought it was hilarious that I had stepped in some of the run off and also informed her clients of this...until she realized I was still their...she then tried to act concerned about whether or not I'd been able to get my shoes cleaned off...just how was I to do that? I told her I'd have to take care of it later...dumb bitch.
Fortunately I had another pair of shoes in my car and I was able to segregate my shoes for the ride home...where I hosed them off with the garden hose.
So the Dove of Hate is brewing a bristly browner for the Express Checkout girl and the slow reaction of the cleaning crew, who were probably playing "rock, paper, scissors" to figure out who would clean up the dung trail.
B-spot on the fecal front!

Tour de Produce

Alright folks it's time to get the Dove of Hate primed to drop a bristly browner on a total wankfest I encountered at my local grocery store.
I like to go the local "No Frills" in downtown Peterborough. You can get the goods for lower prices, you just have to bring your own bags and bag your own groceries. I like to slum it with the locals and save on luncheon meat so I gets jiggy wit it.
So this lovely Monday evening there I was minding my own business, pushing a shopping cart around the produce department when low and behold this ass-hammer comes riding his bike over to the potato display. Are you F*%kin' serious dude? It's a freakin' store...I don't want your shit-caked shoes let alone your mung infested bike rolling around on the floors. I'm not a psycho...but what the deuce? I couldn't frickin' believe it! You know what bugged me more...people were getting out of this assholes way so he could get through. Had I been closer I would've clotheslined him with some Polish Coil!
So look out above pale rider 'cause there's a brown cloud heading your way.
PS - Get a lock for your Supercycle and park it in the rack! WHUH!
B-spot on the edge

Picture This!

Hey Brahs, I'm just calming my nerves after a battle with "the man". Actually it was a woman...but really it's all about the establishment and I get a little irate when people who are bestowed a nano-smidgen of authority treat the general public like they're total morons.

Our story starts with a 77 year old woman attempting to pick up a registered letter from the post office. This particular 77 year old woman is my mother and she has never possessed a piece of photo identification. She has never had a drivers license and she does not own a new healthcard. Here in Canada we have universal health care and our old health cards do not require a picture...if you lose your card or it is damaged you have to replace it with one of the newer cards that does have a photo.
My mother had difficulty voting in the fall due to this lack of photo ID as well and was nearly denied the right to vote. I digress...
Anyway having missed the postal persons knock yesterday my mother had to go to a local postal outlet to retrieve her letter. This letter contained my mothers new passport...which is photo ID. Taste that irony!
At the outlet my mother presented her notice for the registered letter and the woman behind the counter immediately asked her for a piece of photo ID. My mother replied that she didn't have any ID with a photo on it, but did posses several other pieces of ID to verify who she was.
The woman heaved a tired sigh and told her she could not have her registered letter...which contained her passport...which was photo ID.
She did offer a solution though...did my mother know anyone at staff at this particular store who could verify who she was? Or had she ever had any prescriptions filled at their drug counter? If so she could then release the letter to her.
Odd?
My mother answered no to both options and I piped up that I was her daughter and I possessed photo ID and I could verify who she was...I was flatly refused. To which I replied, "That's a bit ridiculous." I gotta say at this point I was getting really pissed off.
I found it hard to believe that someone who had filled lets say my moms medical marijuana prescription or checked her out when she was purchasing an enema could verify her identity, but not a family member with copious amounts of ID.

And then some other broad who was mailing things piped in with..."That's the way it is all over the world."
Number one mind your own business, number the deuce...if you're not going to help the situation cram it with walnuts douche-tard.
Then the female warlock behind the counter started going off on a rant directed at me stating that,"I wouldn't think it was ridiculous if someone stole my identity and then sold my house."
Okay, number one I don't have a house, number the deuce if a criminal is bent on doing something they're gonna do it...number the thrice if you don't know what I look like before you hand over something to me how do you know that picture coincides with that persons information?...How do you know that my identity hasn't already been stolen by someone who has made a fake picture ID? How do you sleep on your pointy hair?

The helpful mouth piece who informed me that photo Id was a world wide phenomenon said to take my mother to get a new health card, because she did that for her 90 year old mother.
Yeah you're right we should get a new health card, since the old one still works, that sounds like a great waste of government resources. Wow you're awesome.

After a few more rude and unapologetic comments from the postal representative (shocking I know!) we left empty handed.
When we got home my mother called Passport Canada and then Canada Post.
They both offered her a list of Id that would suffice (without pictures) in order for her to claim her letter.
She then called the postal outlet and informed the woman she had just dealt with of what she had learned from Canada Post. The woman then claimed that my mother had said she didn't have any ID at all and that she would have happily turned the letter over to her had she produced any other identification.
LIAR!
I was standing right there. The minute my mother said she did not have photo ID that was all she wrote, she presented no options and merely went on to extole the virtues of this requirement for avoiding fraudulent mail pick up.
They argued back and forth for awhile and then I took my mother for round two.
When we got to the counter my mother produced some address Id and went digging for her healthcard...the woman then informed my mother that she was to produce her birth certificate as she indicated on the phone...
LIAR!
My mothers birth certificate was in the envelope with her passport...she had to send the original to get her passport and had made that very clear. Finally after much eye-rolling and soul searching the lady finally relented and settled for a signature. She professed she was very worried about this affecting her job if she was doing something wrong...lady get off your high horse enough already. Finally she asked if she could open the passport to verify that my mother was who she claimed to be. The minute she saw the picture she breathed a sigh of relief that could have been heard round the county.
She then gave us a pamphlet outlining ID requirements and informed me that if eventually I would have to fill out some forms to complete my mothers postal transactions when she was incapacitated. Okay she didn't use the word incapacitated but it was implied and thoroughly inappropriate.

(It reminded me of the little douche at a local funeral home who took me aside after my dad died and told me I should start planning for my mothers funeral...
but that's another story.)

My point is that sure rules are rules but my mother is not the only one to fall into this category of not possessing a photo ID. She is not a criminal. Sure there are white haired fraud artists everywhere but merely asking for photo ID is not going to thwart the cunning of the criminal mind. I'm all about people doing their jobs and doing them well. But if you're working with the public you need to at least try and play nice.
That said I'm lockin' and loadin' the Dove of Hate to drop a curdled deuce of justice on people who let a crumb of power and control go to their pea brains! So watch the skies all of you power hungry fast food restaurant managers, government peons and middle managers...who have let a taste of power taint your environment the Dove has been holding it for a long time and it ain't gonna be pretty!
B-spot on the semi-anti-establishment front!
WHUH!

Truly Tasteless Jokes

Every Monday night I take an endurance cyclefit class. It lasts for 90 minutes and our instructor often calls upon us to tell jokes to help pass the time between intervals. There have been a few drunken Irish/Scottish jokes and husband/wife jokes and I came out with this gem I'd recently heard to share with the group....
"What has 50 legs and 5 teeth?"

"The front row at a Willie Nelson concert"



Yeah it's a groaner, I didn't say I was some kind of superior joke teller, but if they really knew about the first thoughts that popped into my head in the joke arena they would probably have me psycho-analyzed and heartily beaten with a sock full of dung.

Whenever someone says..."Do you know any good jokes?" My mind immediately jumps to my youth and the truly tasteless jokes that we're burned into my brain during the 1970's and 80's.
For Example:
"Why did they cancel the lepers hockey game?"
Punchline "There were too many face-offs in the corners!"

Yeah it's not nice..but don't blame me, I didn't make it up.

Some people are able to rattle off topical jokes at the drop off a hat. Maybe they belong to a water cooler culture? Maybe they practice at home in front of a mirror just in case they are called on to perform.

I can't help it life is cruel and bad jokes are a right of passage so put that in your back pack.
So excuse me if when I'm asked to come up with a joke I immediately think of Helen Keller, Dead Babies and Lepers. I know that giggling at and repeating these jokes will earn me a special place in hell; where I will suffer from horrible facial and physical disfigurements, as well as reduced mental capacity. Don't blame me if life is cruel and bad jokes are a right of passage!
So put that in your backpack haters! WHUH!
And please...if you can remember any other truly tasteless jokes of your generation...be a dear and share them with the other souls of the damned!
B-spot...on the politically incorrect northern front!

The Old Man

Excuse me while I get a little sentimental for a moment haters. It happens from time to time and it proves that despite what my mother told me, I do have a heart.
Two years ago on March 4, 2006 my dad died. He was only 73 years old. That's him on the left delivering the Peterborough Examiner in the 1940's. Did somebody say cuffs?
He was not an educated man or a wealthy man. He was a man of few words. The words he did chose were generally pretty fantastic.
Instead of saying anything to vulgar in times of unbridled rage he liked to blurt out the word "Balls!" Like if he dropped a nail through the boards in the deck he might scream out "Balls!" instead of the more common "Shit" or "Mofo" common to fathers of more recent generations. I gotta say the only person I ever heard use balls as a cuss word was my dad.
It's part of his legacy and I won't let it die.
He also had some dandy insults. My personal favourite was the term "Sickening puke." As in, " That little brat over there is one sickening puke." I'm sure you all know a few little turds who deserve to be referred to in this manner; so don't hold back let those little "S.P.'s" know how you feel.
My dad also loved to watch shows where amateurs would share their talents in hope of hitting it big. Particularly comedy shows, but he saw the odd American/Canadian Idol type show too.
We would frequently hear the phrase "Don't quit your day job" being hurled at the screen as the latest victim stumbled through their performance. I never got tired of this phrase, I couldn't help but giggle when I heard it. Sometimes he couldn't control himself and he'd toss that phrase at news anchors and weather men too. My old man had some "A" material.
I drove around Ireland with my parents in 1999. My parents would reminisce about an old comedy album (you know the really thick vinyl ones) that they use to listen to "down home" at my moms parents farm near Kingston. Just in case you weren't aware, it rains alot in Ireland. Every day we would see rain clouds - almost on cue one of my parents would slyly say
"Looks like rain up ahead."
To which the other would respond with one of the following lines:
"We're driving right into it." or the even more popular, "But it tastes like carbolic acid!"
Oh the hilarity. We did that routine for years after!
My dad wasn't a touchy feely senso-dad (not that there's anything wrong with that) but he tried to show his affection in his own way. One of my fondest memories is one of my older sisters and I would get into our pj's and our parents would take us to Mister Donut in our old Dodge Monaco station wagon. We would go in and get hot chocolate and a bowtie. A bowtie was a specialty at Mister Donut (that was the ultimate donut shop, best sign ever! Apparently it's still "Big in Japan") it was a donut pastry about the size of a honey bun, but with chocolate icing and whipped cream on it. So decadent. It looked like a really big bowtie so we would pretend it was one before we devoured them in the backseat of the wagon! Oh the 70's, nothing like filling the kids with sugar then sending them off to bed! Boo Yeah!
The picture on the left was taken in Ireland in county Cork.
Things I'm glad I got to do with my dad:
1. Walk along the River Corrib in Galway Ireland
2. Have a pint at the Guiness factory in Dublin
3. Climb Blarney Castle (it's not the climbing that'll get you it's trying to get back down!)
4. Change the oil in my old car
5. Watch any show where unknowns were trying to make it big - "Don't quit your day job!" (see above)
So here's to you Dad.
B-spot on the touchy feely side.

Charge it up!

This post originally started out as a tribute to one of the sweetest rides in town but got side tracked by the shabby batteries I purchased at a local dollar store.
I know what you're thinking haters..."What'd you expect from dollar store batteries B-spot?" Well, I can tell you that I expect those freakin' batteries to last long enough for me to squeeze off one shot of Peterborough culture before reading "battery exhausted" in my camera window. You can't tell me that the batteries were worn out by their trip from the dollar store into my camera. Hey Zeus! I carried them, they didn't even have to walk!
I digress... I know I'm a dingleberry for not being properly prepared for any photo op that presents itself. But I'm a little peeved about the fact these batteries will be going straight from the shelf to the hazardous waste depot. I'm not even sure if there are any hazardous chemicals in the damn things?
Anyway, I'll move on.
Peterborough is always seeing it's fair share of businesses coming and going. I'm always blown away by the loss of a long standing business in the Patch. I know my neighbours to the south in "the hood" think we only have one altruistic coffee shop up in Canada but we actually have a few major coffee shops. There's Country Style, Coffee Time and of course Tim Horton's.
Tim Horton's seems to be the front runner in the market but in some areas the other two competitors seem to hold their own. Peterborough has a few Country Style's left around. The best one ever was turned into a laundromat. A few years ago a Country Style took over an older building in Peterborough's downtown core. It was close to the marina and the Holiday Inn. It also hosted cruise nights for cars and motorcycles. On a warm summers eve you could breeze past it on the main street and see various cars with the engines spewing forth from their hoods or a sea of chrome Harleys...a feast for the motorheads eyes.
I was absolutely shocked when I noticed that this particular location was now closed. How could this be? It had such a loyal customer base! But then I realized...how could they compete in a town with roughly a dirty dozen Tim's?
In the photo above the former Country Style location is on the right hand side; the brown A-frame building with the red accents. It's hard to see in this picture but to the far left of this photo just down the street (about 100 metres) what's that looming on the horizon?
Yeah, you guessed it; Tim Horton's. These two coffee shops have co-existed on this strip for a few years, but I guess it just wasn't working out anymore. Tim Horton's has a few advantages: It is located right next door to the beer store. Why walk 100metres for your coffee after cashing in your empties of Lakeport when you can stumble a mere 12 metres to Timmy's for some sustenance?
Better yet head over to 2 for 1 pizza and get a slice to fill the whole that beer has left in your gutt. There is also this awesome dancing clown that hangs around outside the flower shop (also in the strip mall) enticing would be flower buyers to come peruse the foliage. Maybe if I buy some carnations she'll let me take her picture!
The above shot of the Tim Horton's next to The Beer Store was taking with the last dying breath of my AA rechargeable batteries. The red bike pictured here use to be a regular down the street at Country Style. Unfortunately this picture does not accurately capture the true beauty of this sweet ride. Don't worry haters, I can guarantee that there will soon be another opportunity to squeeze of some shots of this beast soon. This time I'll be prepared!
For the record, Country Style does have excellent coffee and some killer donuts. They have also been updating some of their locations as "bistros" where you can get some very delicious soups and sandwiches! So if you're cruising through the North don't be afraid to give them a try.
BOO YEAH!
B-spot in the frozen tundra!

Fast Forward!

I've figured it out kids, the reason for all of my problems. When I receive a "time-sensitive chain email" to forward to other people in my address book - I delete it. What I should be doing is sending it on to as many people as I can! Internet courtesy be damned! I want to be showered with good fortune and prosperity, like all these forwards promise. I'm the one who has been wrong all along! Foolish me! If only I had forwarded all of those emails to my friends think of all the greatness I would be wallowing in.
The most recent one simply said "Mental Feng Shui Lotus Touts". The Email - sent on my work account- was partially blocked but I looked it up on the "intraweb" to see what it was all about.
I was encouraged to send this to at least 6 people in 6 minutes. The numbered comments are those attached to this email mine are below in red...

Mental Feng Shui Lotus Touts:


ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
(work you ass off and, bend over and take it with a smile)
TWO. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.
(remember paper bags aren't just for groceries-think of the unknown comic)
THREE. Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.
(your not the boss of me)
FOUR. When you say, 'I love you,' mean it.
("freaky deakys need love too")
FIVE. When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.
(and cross your fingers behind your back)
SIX. Be engaged at least six months before you get married.
(it takes time for a good Private Investigator to dig up dirt)
SEVEN. Believe in love at first sight.
(believe in love at last call - keep your beer goggles close and beware of 12:30 princesses/princes)
EIGHT. Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.
(lets face it some dreams are funny know your audience, laugh when appropriate)
NINE. Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.
(If you're getting hurt you need to decide on a "safe" word and use it early and often)
TEN.. In disagreements, fight fairly.. No name calling.
(Make sure you name your fists - call them "the justice twins" or the "mighty twosome")
ELEVEN. Don't judge people by their relatives.
(but do judge them..)
TWELVE. Talk slowly but think quickly.
(O................................................................................................................................kay)
THIRTEEN! .. When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'
(then proceed to soil yourself - that'll make them forget the question)
FOURTEEN. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
(stuff some money in a mattress and don't ride bareback!)
FIFTEEN. Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze.
(I prefer to look at them like they are spreading disease and walk away disgusted)
SIXTEEN.. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
(do blame everyone else)
SEVENTEEN. Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.
(Remember the 3 F's Felch, Farmhand and Finger puppets)
EIGHTEEN. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
(make sure it's a real drop down drag out!)
NINETEEN. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
(...fake a seizure...wet your pants to make it believable)
TWENTY. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.
(they can't see you rubbing the receiver on your bum so go to town - then you'll have a reason to smile.)
TWENTY- ONE. Spend some time alone.
(that shouldn't be a problem if you follow the steps below!)

Now, here's the FUN part!
(What that wasn't the fun part?)

Send this to at least 5 people and your life will improve.

-are we talking regularity and fewer cold sores improve or something more substantial like the mongos at Tim Horton's always get my order right?

1-4 people: Your life will improve slightly.

-so regularity but cold sores still?

5-9 people: Your life will improve to your liking.

okay so regularity, no cold sores and no bunions?

9-14 people: You will have at least 5 surprises in the next 3 weeks

Are these good surprises like fame, happiness and wealth or bad surprises like gum disease, incontinence and Hermaphrodism?

15 and above: Your life will improve drastically and everything you ever dreamed of will begin to take shape.
(ofcourse you won't have anyone to share your new found glory with because you will have alienated them with all of your insane time sensitive forwarded messages!
A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart. (don't be touching my heart unless your a heart surgeon and I'm in for a procedure)

So here's a big juicy dove of hate for the concept that not forwarding a message within a 6 minute time frame could impact my life negatively. There's enough bullshit out there for us to slog through on a day to day basis without the threat that I may be going down the trail of doom due to my lack of faith in this kind of "voodoo email message."
If you're my friend send me an actual email or pick up the phone and call.
You're on the clock haters so start working those digits!
B-spot on the crusty northern tundra

Signs Of Peterborough Volume III

Well I wouldn't have thought it freakin' possible if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. The Colonel is trying to pull another serious rip job on the people of Peterborough. Jolene and I were cruising by the combo KFC and Taco Bell the other night when we were visually assaulted by this unbelievable price gauge by that uppity, gabardine wearing, soul patch sportin' chicken hawkin' bastard! Yeah you heard me! That crazy white haired goon is trying to charge the masses $125 for an extra piece of his greasy, 11 spiced chicken to wash down their gullets! The proof is in the signage amigos! The sign mavens at "Kentucky Fried Tacos" didn't even have a 5 to throw up on the board so they tossed an upside down deuce up for public viewing, makes me wonder, are they using the same guy who does the signs at the Trentwinds? What the deuce?
Speaking of the Trentwinds it seems to be all about sign placement. It's hard to see but in the background that's the half-lit sign for Thursdays (the peeler palace). What exactly are these wamblers advertising?
To the untrained eye it looks like a sign enticing you in to slurp back some hot soup on a cold winters day. What they're really advertising is a steaming cauldron of sin. It says "Come on in and dip your bones (if they could get away wit it they would have written boners) in the scorching loins of debauchery boys." Yeah, we know where that arrow is pointing - straight to the lust pot at the rear. Beware of "oral germ whores." When you're done getting infected sinners you can just take a quick jaunt down the street to get a hot cup 'o joe at the new and improved Tim Hor...where the term "donut hole" takes on a whole new meaning. Fritters and fluffers 24/7. So put that in your fudgepack!
B-spot on the crueller side of life!
WHUH!

It's not contagious...

I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce everyone to a close friend of mine. We've been together my whole life and unless things start to get a little ragged around the edges we're going be together forever. When I was a little girl I was often embarrassed by our close relationship and would go to great lengths to hide it from others. As I have matured slightly over the years, I have come to a deep and personal understanding of our ties to one another and I want everyone to be able to accept it with open arms.
This my friends is my mole. Also referred to as a birthmark or beauty mark.
When I was a child I was ashamed of my big brown birthmark. It is on the outside of my right thigh half way between my hip and my knee. Wearing shorts or skirts of average length as a child would always expose it to the outside world, where it would be judged and mocked by others.
I haven't really thought too much about my mole and how it appears to "outsiders" until this week. With the new year there has been an influx of new meat at the YMCA. I couldn't help but notice that numerous young women kept doing a double take at my leg-ular region. I thought maybe they wanted to know some of my fitness secrets or even worse - was there a foreign body hanging out of my shorts or stuck to my person?
I'm no supermodel but my legs are alright, if fuzzy and stumpy is your thing, but all this attention was starting to make me a little self-conscious about all the attention my gams were getting. Oddly enough it took me awhile to realize what had caught their attention. It was my furry brown mole. I guess some people can't handle such a brazen display of epidermal fortitude because it had truly gobsmacked these delicate flowers.
If I may paraphrase a line from Mary Catherine Gallagher in the movie Superstar - I am fully aware that "...my birthmark looks like shit." Don't worry haters you can't catch what I've got...you've gotta be one of the chosen ones. So I'm gonna release the dove of hate on people who don't know enough not to stare at what they feel are physical oddities or deformities...you will soon feel the oppressive stench of dove deuce trickling down your simpleton faces leaving a rash for all the world to see. You will run through the streets branded by the dove screaming..."I am not an animal!"
So the next time you see my wicked ass birthmark say "Hi!" to my little friend, feel the awe its presence inspires, buy it candy and flowers (it likes daisies) caress it, be at one with it! (Ask before caressing)
"Put that in your back pack."
B-spot on the epidermal front!

Happy Hood Year (Part the Deuce)

Hey brolleys, I'm fresh from my nap ready to tap that New Year's story anew. New Year's day saw us waking up late to inspect the damage from the night before. Shell casings littered the sidewalk and Southern comfort bottles were smashed up and down the street indicating that Jolene had snuck out after curfew to get his freak on! Corn liquor and shotguns are his "Achilles Heels".
The day brought a festival of eating delicious chicken fingers and watching the outdoor hockey game. We brought slothdom to a whole new level and I love it!
On Wednesday we started our adventures in shopping. I won't bore you with all the gory details I'll just throw out some of the highlights...
After a yummy lunch at Pete's, we thrifted our way through red white and blue, village thrift and goodwill. We did not hit these stores in succession but interspersed them throughout the day. I scored a couple of awesome board games for a couple of bucks a piece and some kick ass pineapple bookends. Y'all know the pineapple is the international symbol of welcome - so these bookends say, "you are welcome to look at my books, but don't touchee!"
Though I love second hand stores in the States I've also formed a deep love affair with the department store chain Kohl's. They have awesome sales year round. Items are usually discounted 60 to 99% off. Okay, maybe 99% is a slight exaggeration but you git ma point boyz! They are also purveyors of Happy Bunny merchandise, that angry bunny that says "let's focus on me!" etc. I also scored a new jog bra...I like to keep the ladies strapped in for the ride! No black eyes in 2008! Kohl's also had some great household items on sale after Christmas, including decorations and candles etc. I love buying Christmas decorations, particularly when they've hit the 80% off range. I really needed a few days to molest Kohl's bargain racks, but you've got to stop yourself for sustenance and hydration. The key is to know your limits. Besides, Jolene and I hit the Kohl's in Watertown on the way home where we got some more Christmas stuff and the Target where we found even more Happy Bunny merchandise, wicked awesome! We finished our shopping extravaganza Wednesday at Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's is an awesome grocery store with some unique food and household products. I stocked up on some appetizers and picked up a few new dips and spreads to try. Thank the sweet baby Jesus for my travel cooler so I can keep things chillin' on the road. Alright the sweet baby Jesus did not buy my cooler it was my parents at an evil timed special sale at Canadian Tire a few years ago just before Christmas - it was a mad house but it was worth the effort!
Back to the tales....
After we packed the wagon up to the eyeballs with our booty we headed to our favourite Chinese restaurant. Chrispy knows which one. The food is reasonable and everything is mighty tasty. We gorged, hungry from the days escapades and still had leftovers! No visit to the Chinese restaurant would be complete without tapping the dollar store next door. That's where I found my new fav toque. It says "No Stress" and I plan on living the words for 2008! We ended up closing that place down! We headed home full of food, the car weighted down with goods and the knowledge that two bathrooms were waiting for us should we have any gastrointestinal issues. It was wickedly cold in the hood. I wasn't mentally ready for that, I'm use to the frozen tundra but there was a bitter cold wind blowing through the streets that chilled me to the bone. I couldn't wait to curl up on the couch with a cat of my choosing and settle in for a night of TV viewing.
On Thursday Glenda had to return to work for a day so the Chrisp and I went to the Jackson Outlets to hit a couple of stores. I was in dire need of some underoos so we tapped the Jockey outlet for some butt covers. We also found Abominable snow monster bracelets at Claires...watch my wrist for that one next Christmas. It was great to have some one on one with the Chrisp. Having boys around can be so limiting when you just want to be chics. They're so sensitive and demanding....geesh! Sadly our "alone time" had to end and we headed home to make sure that Jolene was fed and watered.
Thursday evening we headed out to see Chrisps sister Jenny and her family so that we could check out Sam's Club, the box store associated with Wal-Mart. Along the way we had to get some grub so we could maintain our stamina, we stopped at that mecca of grease and goodness White Castle. We macked down on sliders and fries, washing it all down with a regular sized pop. They call them sliders because there is no chewing involved...they just slide down your throat...mmm slippery, like an eel on a bun! We arrived at Jenny's after our feast and piled into the family truckster. Jenny has 5 kids so a compact car is out of the question. We were riding in style, the airport extend-a-van whisked us to Sam's Club which is a Costco style operation...this particular one actually sold BOOZE! Yippee! I love's me some booze! Jolene and I picked up some beer to take back and a couple of bottles of wine. I also scored some long underwear for running on those crisp winter days. On the way to Sam's Club we had our own seats in the van on the way home we had to share because the seats were filled with goods - bummer - but we got through it! We headed back to the family ranch to spend a few moments with the kidlets before heading back to the warm embrace of the hood for another TV viewing fiesta. We'd been burning our way throw Season One of 30 Rock. If you haven's seen it and you have a sense of humour and a brain check it out homeschool! It's tres bon!
I spent some time rappin' with Chrispy's 6 year old nephew Aaron about the virtues of photography and Napoleon Dynamite. We took a picture of each other taking a picture of each other. You can read more about Aaron's photographic exploits at Trenonkat.
We said our good-byes and climbed into the wagon with its cold leather seats to journey back to spend our last night (this go round) in the hood.
Glenda would be leaving us early in the morning to engage in a full on man weekend in upper New York State so we said our tearful good-byes, sent him to bed and continued our 30 Rock Marathon.
No trip to the hood would be complete without consuming some awesome pizza at DiLorenzo's. Which is just a short jaunt from chez Chrisp & Glenda. We were going to meet Mr. Clean of Bald, Fat & Angry blog fame.
I was no longer chattering from the wind that had been burrowing into my soul. The Americans were still moanin' about the weather but as far as I was concerned it was tropical.
Anywhore...we started our stroll to the pizzeria, the air was fresh and delightful, the sun was shining and there would be pizza. What more could you want? Well totally unexpected I came upon some street art in front of one of the neighbourhood houses. Where there was once fresh, wet cement there was now some very profound words to live by.
Now I've heard of "bro's before ho's" and "don't hate the playa, hate the game" but this tidbit of wisdom was new to me.
"Money over Bitches." I had to risk gettin' a cap in the ass to squeeze off a few shots of this rare hood gem. I was pretty impressed. Everything was spelled correctly and the block printing was pretty decent for this particular medium. Kudos to the author, you're defacing public property but you still have the patience and steady hand to scribe this missive. You have inspired me to adopt a new philosophy for the new year "In 2008 bitches can wait!" The almighty dollar will be my dirty little mistress for the next twelve months. Thank you for setting me free! With my belly full of pizza and the hood soon to be a memory I was reminded to pray for Fishsticks freedom! I say write to your senator not in the pavement if you want your voice to be heard! And don't forget the tartar sauce...WHUH!

Happy Hood Year (Part the First)

Well Haters I'm fresh from my trip to the hood and ready to share my tales of the Hood New Year. We started our journey Sunday the 30th of December. Jolene and I left the Patch in the late afternoon to head for the border. We were well stocked with Canadian goodies for Chrispy and Glenard and a few bottles of hooch to help ring in the new year. We were psyched! There would be food, thrifting, and the opportunity to punish my bro's new plumbing (which you can read more about at Trentonkat's Pre-Christmas Mishmash post). We drove until about 9pm and spent the night at the Best Western in Tully. We continued on our trip the following morning arriving in the hood at around 4pm. I had brought various hors d'oeuvres in my cooler from Canada and it was going to be a finger food feast!
After we arrived we sat in the "friendship room" sipping beverages and catching up on the post Christmas fallout. Our family participates in a gift exchange, what usually happens is that we put all the adults names in a "basket" or reasonable facsimile - then the names are drawn and matched to a list of every ones names and we are to buy gifts for that person only. We're not Cretans though we always pick up something for our parents and the nieces and nephews. This is not a unique concept but it has had its ups and downs over the years. We all dread certain people getting our names, but in the spirit of Christmas and with a mere $30.00 limit we can all survive. I however had to inform the deuces that according to a decree on our kitchen chalkboard, written by my mother, that there would be "NO MORE GIFT EXCHANGE" (pictured below).
I don't know if this is considered legal and binding but I think I'll wait until next fall for the annual name draw to get the skinny on the poop - I've learned to "not poke the bear".
Though Glenda and Chrispy were devastated by the news we managed to find our joy once again and continue on with our musings.
We retired to Monkeys room and watched some television on DVR. Having only 3 channels coming in with my rabbit ears I am thoroughly jealous of my bro's TV technology. Sure we have a satellite hook up downstairs but it's perma-locked on CNN where my ma is busy solving crimes. The idea of taping television, pausing television and then...for the love of God watching it whenever you want makes me all tingly inside.
Chrispy heated up all the delicious foodstuffs from the President's Choice line. Fig & Goat Cheese in Phyllos pastry, various cheese assortment and some meatballs. I sipped a delicious Cabernet from California - Liberty School - a personal favourite and Jolene macked down on some Yuengling Lager (that's some kick ass 'Merican Brewski's).
We were all pretty tired from the holidays so it was a bit of a struggle to keep it pumpin' till midnight - but like people everywhere we had to see if some how at midnight, if we were awake to experience the change over, we would be magically transformed. We watched the ball drop in Times Square - asking each other - "Who are those random pre-pubescent celebrities hosting rockin' new years eve?"
We were all delighted to see that Dick Clark had been reanimated for the occasion. I can only think that poor Walt Disney must have been lonely back in the cryogenic vault.
As the ball descended to ring in 2008 we turned off the sound on the TV and opened up a window. Throughout Trenton, New Jersey revelers were setting off fireworks and unloading bullets into the sky. (Okay, it could have just been caps I have no audiological proof that there were actual bullets - I'm just going for street cred deuces).
As we drifted into sweet slumber people banged garbage pail lids together and hooted into the wee hours of the morn...tomorrow would be another day in the hood.
I'm gonna go work on my Eva Braun Shadow box...stay tuned for more "Tales from the Hood".
b-spot on the "moist as a snack cake" northern front!