MarcO

I really don't see ZZ Top w/ Brooks & Dunn as that strange a pairing.

hands up all those who thought the band would be called "Kae Sun".

Lizz Wright is a beautiful singer.

go see Richard Thompson for fuck's sakes!

Everytime a nun masturbates the Baby Jesus gets to go to Chuck E. Cheese.

I'd say when you have a state as FREAKIN SEXY as Canada, it would be foolish not to invite it into the bedroom. YUM!!

Ed sounded great, he demonstrated a lighter touch than Adam, which I appreciated. Best fat Cats show I've seen in quite a while actually. The soundguy at PJC - I believe his name is Doug (?) - is just awesome. He filled the room nice and loud but not obnoxiously so and you could hear the vocals and instruments with true clarity. Kudos!

isn't that the guy that used to play with that band?

it's too hot out.

yup, I've come to some similar conclusions.

Why oh why do I totrure myself with this hellhole, The Jet Cafe (King St E, Hamilton)?!? I guess I know, it's just across from where I work and will do in a pinch - not a lot of other early morning options for a bit of grease or an affordable bagel. The place seems to run on an ESP system of service. Doofus at the counter scribbles your order (watch him, he'll write "white" when you just said "brown") incoherently on a slip of paper, which is then absent mindedly tossed to his right. Then the middleaged shitbag (Ms. Shitbag) who runs the place might have her spidey sense go off, realizing that someone, somewhere has placed an order. She'll look at your order like she has no idea where she is, what it is, or why you would want to order anything. After interrupting the first doofus - who is now confusing someone else's order - to receive clarity on this monumental enterprise, she looks around the restaurant with total disdain before clicking her away into the kitchen, where a man who is apparently on a day pass from the Barton St jail receives the order, debates the whole thing with Ms. Shitbag before working his magic on the griddle. WAIT! SOMEONE HAS ASKED FOR A SESAME SEED BAGEL! STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES! Do they have sesame seed bagels? They know they HAD some, but WHAT ABOUT NOW?!?!? Doofus says, "we had some yesterday". Ms. Shitbag gives him a look you're sure is intended to reduce him to a steaming pile of puss and dust and sneers "why the hell didn't you tell me we were out of sesame seed bagels????". Into the kitchen they go - team meeting (this really all just happened) - OK RELAX EVERYONE! They have taken stock - there's some whole wheat bagels, some everything bagels and some plain bagels. Disaster narrowly averted!!! Ah....... yes the time does pass doesn't it? It takes a while to make a grilled cheese & bacon sandwich. Perhaps one might spend their time reading the newspapers they have so thoughtfully placed around. Yes, the ones from two weeks ago. Hey - no news is good news right? Or watch in hilarity as the orders come out of the kitchen. Watch as Doofus just STOPS taking a nice old lady's order - just walks away from the cash register, mid-order - to take a plate or two onto the floor of the restaurant. THIS is where the supernatural powers of mind-melding come into play. He will go from table to table, making just enough eye contact with everyone, in order for them to send the mental signal that "yes this is my order" to him, sealing the deal. Not this table? Shuffle over to the next...... next....... puts it down at the first table to not stare blankly at him. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!! Now where was he......? Ah but there's more here to amuse and confuse! Look, the menu boards are up and they certainly have some interesting specials on today! My ooh my do they ever: "Chicken with Teryaki Sauce" "Cheese Omelette with Cheddlar cheese" "Julieanne salad" "Eggs Benedict with Porched Eggs" "Waffles with fruit and wipped cream" It's as though I'm in a diner in Hell. Did I mention they don't play any music here? The only thing breaking the eerie silence of people's craniums imploding in frustration is several TV's (ranging in size from 9" to 42") all on different stations. It's like torture. OH HAPPY DAY - HERE COMES MY SANDWICH! Ms. Shitbag clickity-clacks triumphantly out of the kitchen, cuts the sandwich in half, places it thoughtlessly in wax paper, into a small bag and then places it on the counter BEHIND THE DOOFUS and scurries away. Doofus boy has no idea it's there. She didn't say anything - apparently these mindmelding techniques of service are starting to fail. And so there it sits, like a scrotum in the sun, while Doofus stares blankly at the cash register, trying to price an order. After what seemed like my entire work day, he turns around and spies what appears to be an object of some sort containing food. Lifting it suspiciously, he turns slowly around and begins to stare - from his left to his right - at the customers in the restaurant (including the woman who had JUST ordered) - proferring the strange bag of edibles aloft until he meets my eye. "Here ya go" he says, flopping the package onto the counter and it's another successful transaction at the Jet Cafe!!! FUCK.

happy (belated) birthday Lisa! you rock!

Charred striploin (rare) and baby potatoes with grilled asparagus and grilled peppers.

not sure how that constitutes being an adult. please explain. it means I take pride in the appearance of my home. you big fag.

every morning. I'm an adult.

ladies of the East Coast - spread wide and accept your lot.

lotta perverts in Kitchener. I'm just sayin'.

In Canada, it's spelled c-o-l-o-u-r.

Like I'm going to read this pile of cuntybollocks. There's a sun I'd rather stare directly into.

Happy Birthday baby! I love you very much and am so lucky to have you in my life.

is Jerry really considered an important bluegrass artist?

I always wanted to make one of those New Age nature CDs. Just 50 minutes of the sound of a calm wind rustling through the tall grass, songbirds gently singing their sweet songs, interspersed with soft-pedal piano and haunting pan flute melodies. And every 12 minutes or so I'd include the distant, fleeting sounds of a man desperately screaming for his pathetic life.

FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS!!!!

I leave the house sometimes doughboy. It's not like the fridge just refills itself with beer.