The Adventures of the Rainbow Racers

Most Favourite Cousin came to visit me at the end of March. It was very exciting, as she is my most favourite cousin. You might've already guessed that, given that I call her Most Favourite Cousin.
It would be rather misleading if I called my least favourite cousin "Most Favourite Cousin", wouldn't it?

"My Most Favourite Cousin is coming to visit next week."
"Oh, you must like her a lot."
"Actually, no. She's the worst."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Wait, so when you call me your Most Favourite Friend..."
"Yeah."

These are actual thoughts that go on in my head, people. Be afraid.

Baa, ram, eww. (See what I did there? Ha.)

Last Sunday, my life changed forever. I wasn't expecting it, and I certainly didn't want it, but I sit here now, unable to un-see the things I have seen. It is safe to say I will forever be haunted by the memories of what transpired last Sunday.

Christian and I arrived at the AGO, thinking we were going to see some art ranging from mediocre to somewhat cool. We were paying for our tickets when I heard this strange sound. I wanted to comment to the ticket seller that it sounded like there was a sheep loose in the building.

You know, because of the baa-ing sound I could hear.

The Gross Crew goes bowling.

What's this? I'm writing another bloggery post, and it's only been a day since my last one?

Yeah. That's right. I'm staying on top of things. Bam.

Staying on top of things . . .  by writing about stuff that happened four weeks ago. Yeah, uh, so on top of things.

But, yes, I've managed to put down the Pad Thai long enough to bring you another delightful tale. This is the tale of the time I went bowling with Bea, James and Aaron. Alternately, it can be known as the tale of the time I sucked really hard at bowling.

Zoo Trek

A couple of weeks ago, Bea, James and I decided to go on a Zoo Adventure. Naturally, we decided to go to the zoo the weekend after there was a Groupon deal online. This meant that it was obnoxiously full of people. And strollers. So many strollers.

It's times like these I think about investing in some sort of scooter. A pink one. Obviously. And it would have a cup holder, where I would keep my beverage. Because I imagine it would be hard to operate a scooter if I had a beverage in one hand. Safety first, guys. Well, laziness first, safety second.

BALLOONCEPTION

While I was at the greatest wedding of all the times, I witnessed something miraculous. Something so mind boggling that my poor little brain could barely comprehend it.

What was this amazing thing you ask?

"Manatee" is a strange name for a crayon colour.

It's no secret that I'm fairly organized. Especially now, having just typed that out. And while I prefer to say "organized", some of my friends prefer to say "anal retentive" or "annoying" or "seriously, you spent your Friday evening doing what?"

Doing what, indeed. I'll be getting to that in a moment.

I made stuff!: "friendship" bracelets.

Occasionally I make stuff. Okay, hardly ever. Well, I mean I bake cookies a lot. And cupcakes. But then I eat them, as that is what you are meant to do with delicious cookies and cupcakes, so there isn't really a lasting end result, unless you count my lasting feeling of satisfaction and joy. I had a point. Oh, right: sometimes I actually make things. Like, crafty things.

Earlier this week, I had a hankering for a smoothie. So I had one. I also had a hankering to do something crafty. I was all inspired by the DIY hex-nut bracelets on Honestly...WTF's bloggy, so I decided to get myself some materials and bust out some bracelets. Note the materials below. Right now, they are all boring and not doing much but laying there and being a pile of string. BORING. But soon they will be bracelets. Magical.

Poutine. It's so hot right now. Hansel. I mean, poutine.

I'm in Oakville for a few days. It's where I went to school, unfortunately, and even more unfortunately, it's where my mum and brother still live.

But as Jillian and Pete point out, there is a delicious sammich place on Lakeshore. And there's also a Marble Slab. So that makes it okay. Almost bearable.

I also sometimes enjoy spending time with my mum.

Sometimes.

And always if she brings ice cream or sammiches into the equation. Or both.

Anyway, my brother picked me up and announced we were going to make poutine.

Amazing!

From scratch.

What?

And we actually did! Sort of.

We went to Whole Foods. Yes, for some reason he was insistent on having the fanciest kind of poutine ever. We actually found cheese curds and organic beef stock. We decided to NOT buy butter from Whole Foods, as it is way too expensive for our greasy poutine needs. And then we learned that Whole Foods only carries frozen sweet potato fries.

That and alphabet shaped fries. Go figure.

I've decided that Whole Foods is a huge waste of my time. And for overly fancy people or people who want to appear overly fancy. I just can't support a store that doesn't carry frozen french fries.

And, also, Whole Foods has this habit of leaving bowls of organic popcorn and fancy chips at the ends of the aisles. No supervision or signage or anything. I think I might just accidentally have a chip and find myself having some sort of awful allergic reaction and I'll just have to sue. Sigh. Such a burden.

But, really, think of all those dirty hands reaching into those bowls. Mine are definitely dirty. You don't want to know where they've been today.

Those four things cost almost $30. Who knew cheese curds were so expensive. And the organic chocolate was just for me. And just about the same price as the gravy stock.

Basically, if I shopped at Whole Foods all the time, I'd be broke. I think the rule is: I should only shop at Whole Foods once I have an Audi and a very long driveway leading up to a very large house with a very large garage in which to park said Audi. And my Vespa. And my Segway. Yeah.

Brother actually made all of it. I just stood around making "thumbs up" signs and talking with friends on MSN. I'm a good helper.

It was actually the most delicious poutine ever. Very tasty. Two thumbs up! And I also really want my camera back. The end.

Concrete Crafts

Along with puffins, I really enjoy boats. I loved boats way before Andy Samberg loved them; he ain't got nothing on me. I just didn't feel the need to brag with a song.

Today, I got to ride on a ferry, which is a fun kind of boat. Why? Because cars get to go on it! The ferry was going to Bell Island and leaving from Portugal Cove-St Phillip's.

Here is a map for your viewing pleasure:

So, I'm not quite sure why there is a dash in Portugal Cove-St Phillip's or if it's even okay to just say "St Phillip's, but either way, it's about a 20minute drive west of St. John's. Everything is kind of a 20min drive outside of St John's, which is nice. And after that it's all just wood. And moose hooked rugs.

But, yes. The ferry leaves from the port in Portugal Cove and it takes about 20 minutes for it to get over to Bell Island. It is called Bell Island because there is a bell on it. At least, that is what my cousin says. It's not that grand of a bell either. But who am I to judge? 

Bell Island has really good fish-n-chips.

Bell Island is also the place for one to get their concrete crafts. That's right! If you've wanted to add some sort of concrete craft to your art collection, look no further than Bell Island. Just expect extra shipping charges due to the weight.

And, yup. Bell Island. A bell. And fish-n-chips. And concrete crafts.

Oh, and here's a bit of interesting information: after the 8:10PM ferry, the service stops being every half hour and the next, and last ferry of the day, isn't until 10:30PM. FUN FACT!

Another fun fact: there is no Tim Hortons on Bell Island. This is something that only became painful once we were stuck on the island for 2 hours.

We managed to escape finally and made it back to the sprawling metropolis that is St John's. And I got Tim Hortons. And life was good again.

things to know about puffins

Now, when you go to Newfoundland, just as when you go to any sort of tourist-y place, you are bound to come across a gift store or five. Gift stores are great because they give you a basic idea of what that particular place is all about.

Sometimes (okay, all the time) it might be stereotypical. But do your friends really want you to bring home some sort of overly "unique" gift from, say, New York City. The sort of gift where you can't tell where it's from? And your friend has to ask, "Hey, where is this gift from? I can't tell because there is nothing identifying about it. Maybe you just bought this at the mall or something. You know what, just take it back. And also, I don't think I really want to go to that movie with you tonight anymore. And give me back my shirt, the one you borrowed last week."

Heck no. They want a Statue of Liberty balancing on an apple in the middle of Times Square and there's a button and when you push the button, that Alicia Keys/Jay-Z song starts playing.

And if that's not New York enough, there's always those I <3 NY t-shirts.

Where was I?

Newfoundland. Right.

Well, when you go into a Newfoundland gifty store you are bombarded with the following images:

fishing boats
Newfoundland dogs
puffins
colourful houses

And you know what? It's all bollocks. Because my cousin is a real Newfie, and she doesn't live in a colourful house. Okay, well, actually it's red. But, she doesn't have a Newfoundland dog, nor does she own a fishing boat. In fact, she thinks boats are boring. And, to top it all off, she's never even seen a puffin before.

That's a crying shame, that is.

But I like puffins. I think they're rad.

Today I learned that there are three kinds of puffins. The Atlantic Puffin hangs out along the east coast and the two other kinds live out on the west coast. It is often called "sea parrot" or "clown of the ocean". But they do not talk. Or make balloon animals.

And then I got kind of bored reading about them on Wikipedia. But here's some stuff with puffins on it.

Oh, and also, on a napkin, I was told that "awful nice" is a Newfie kind of phrase. And I say that all the time! Look how Newfie I am.

film review: Frozen

*This contains massive spoilers. Well, actually, I recount the whole film. My version is better, though.*

Frozen

Frozen was shown right after Wasteland as part of the volunteer screenings on opening night. I don’t know why I stayed. It looked terrifying from the trailer. But I was already at the theatre and didn’t have anything better to do.

Sleeping would have been better.

The film itself was terrible. Terrible script, terrible acting, terrible everything.

Did I mention terrible?

It was so implausible, but realistic enough to scare the crap out of me. I mean, cave monster movies I wouldn’t be so affected by because, really, there are no cave monsters. But getting stuck on a ski lift? Yea, that can happen.

In fact, I met a guy today who builds them in this area and he confirmed that yes, someone did get stuck on a ski lift. And yes, he jumped down. And yes, he broke about half of his body. Gross.

But, back to the movie.

After twenty minutes of really lame dialogue, they finally get stuck on the damn lift. And they cry and shout and then the chick decides to smoke a freakin’ cigarette and drops her glove. And then, after a few hours, one of the dudes decides to jump.

He jumps. And breaks his legs. But he doesn’t just break them. No, BREAKS them. They’re both bent out the wrong way and his lower leg bone is sticking out through his thigh. I know those bones have names, but I can’t be bothered to look it up. Femur? Yeah? Whatever it is, it’s poking out of his fucking thigh and looks disgusting.

At that point I was feeling nauseas.

And then the wolf pack came and ate him alive.

Seriously. Because wolves do that.

His best friend and girlfriend were stuck on the lift and had to listen to him scream while he was being eaten alive. That was the worst part for me. I can’t imagine how damaging that would be to have to endure.

Oh, but wait, while broken leg guy was bleeding, the other two threw down their warm winter gear so he could attempt to stop the bleeding.

At this point, I’m almost in tears I’m so upset. But it doesn’t stop there. The two remaining kids get cold and cold and yell and bond and then fall asleep. The chick, for some reason I can’t figure out, took her hand out of her coat while she was sleeping and stuck it on the bar.

It froze there. And then she had to peel it off.  A lot of her hand was stuck to the rail after that.

And then she wet her pants. While doing so, really sad, pensive piano music was playing. Because, really, after your boyfriend gets eaten alive by wolves, that’s the worse thing that can happen.

Remaining dude decides to shimmy across the wire and climb down the pole. His hands get all cut up, but he makes it!

And then the wolf pack chases him while he’s sliding down the hill.

They must be really hungry, eh.

The chick, she’s not fine, though. Nope. Because the chair is breaking!  Of course. And then it gets dark, and then it’s the next day. She’s totally wishing she was dead at this point and she finally decides to just jump down.

Broken legs? Nope. Because right as she’s about to let go, the chair breaks and she ends up close enough to the ground that she lands just fine.

Well, the chair falls on her leg, but no biggie.

She crawls her way down the hill, past the carcass of the other guy, still getting eaten by wolves. They give her a free pass and she keeps on crawling.

And then she makes it to the road and a car sees her and she’s safe!

But not really. Because there is nothing more fucked up than two of your friends getting eaten by wolves. And she’ll probably lose her hand from frostbite. And half of her face too.

So what did I learn from this film? Never go skiing, ever, for one. And the other things:

Always ski with a cell phone

Never be the last person on a ski lift, ever

Don’t bribe the ski lift guy, just pay for a regular ticket

Don’t jump off a ski lift

Don’t throw my gloves and scarf and other warm gear at a dude who is totes going to die anyway

And most important:

Always go to the bathroom before getting on the lift. You don’t know how long you’ll be up there for.

Bad Apples

Last weekend, I went to NYC with my brother and his two friends, Alex and Paul.

It was an adventure. To say the least.

Our intention for  driving down was to see a concert on Long Island.

Brand New. Glassjaw. Thrice. Manchester Orchestra.

Amazing.

The show itself was outstanding. It was the first time I've seen Brand New in a giant-ass stadium and I'll never get over how mesmerizing it was hearing about 15,000 kids singing along to Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't.

Brand New is my favourite band, by the way. I have their lyrics tattooed on my arms and chest and have plans for more. Nobody writes quite like Jesse Lacey does.

We also went to see my dad and spent some time in NYC and managed to find a White Castle.

White Castle was sort of a priority, though.

I mean, come on. Slyders? Of course it's a priority. 

I took some pictures along the way. The rest are on my flickr page.

The trip consisted of a series of seriously overused one liners:

"Hawks Rule!" - 75% of the road trip attendees (ahem, not Alex, ahem) attended Loyola in Oakville, where the school mascot is a hawk. The actual Loyola Hawks don't rule at all. In fact, they suck. But hey, school spirit is always appreciated.

"hhsssssss, didwejusthavesex?" - We decided that it was actually from the movie Knocked Up, but it's appropriate in a variety of situations.

"It's come to my attention that there may be some bad apples in this crowd." - It's sort of from an episode of Family Guy.

There were a couple of others, but those were our favourites.

We also learned some valuable things while on this road trip:

1. According to these two Asian guys on Astor Place, if you're a guy and you dance with your hands above your shoulders, you're gay. If you keep your hands down below your shoulders, you're straight. And that's just how it is.

2. After watching some dudes in Harlem, apparently a new mating ritual involves stomping. We also witnessed more males stomping for ladies on Long Island, so it must be a new common "lady hunting" tactic. Stomping, who knew.

3. Never, ever eat at Arbys. We knew it was a mistake before we even walked through the door. But we still did it anyway. And regretted it instantly. And then regretted it again when we were all stuck in the car with re-circulating air.

4. Always turn right. Alex taught us this valuable lesson. Always go towards the right.

5. If you try to drive back into Canada Sunday evening during Thanksgiving Weekend, you will get stuck exactly 1.3km away from the border and it will take you approximately three hours to travel that distance. The following pictures are a result of the delirium we all experienced:

6. A White Castle Crave Case is best shared with friends, but don't go to the White Castle in Paterson, New Jersey. Because that one should be called 'Black Castle', especially as one of the drink options was a giant jug of orange Hi-C. I'll let you make all the jokes you want to.