:: A Blog to send us off ::
12 months under the microscope

"I'm choking on my own delight." - Buchs (Jan. 8)

"You should beat up Jesus, I'll give you five bucks." - Amanda (Jan. 14)

playing a tough game of Chaser...
Me: Fuck this, I quit!
Amanda: Fine, you can't play anymore then!
(Jan. 28)

"My mohawk is better than Jesus." - Jer (Feb. 5)

"Do brown people go to Merritt?" - Kels, starting a comment-war (Feb. 7)

"I got Bre flowers and all that shit. Stupid girls - flowers die anyway. I should get her a fence, that'd last a lot longer." - Ian (Feb. 14)

"If it had been about a llama and a tranvestite It'd be a different story." - Buchs, after saying he wouldn't watch Brokeback Mountain (Feb. 26)

"You might as well break the law before it's illegal." - Buchs, trying to convince Ian to chuck a "mashed potato ball" at a street sign. Apparently when Ian's in the RCMP breaking the law will be doubly bad. (March 13)

"Ahh...that's good. It's like pissing in the mouth of God." - Buchs, peeing outside (March 26)

"To quote Aristotle: Fuck you guys." - Buchs (April 2)

"I'm just a farmboy who occasionally likes to get jiggy with it." - Buchs, wishing he lived in the sticks (Apr. 9)

"Let's go get stoned and play bingo!" - Tara (Apr. 16)

"I hate soup! I don't wanna eat food that I'm drinking!" - Sean (April 29)

"Kelsey, there's something about you that makes me want to shimmy." - Amanda (May 7)

Nick: Where's Buchs?
Bobby: He's probably asleep.
Nick: No, he was with Amanda when we left from playing ball.
Bobby: Oh. Well, there's still a good chance he could be laying
down still.

"Is a pap test like a massage? You know, you pay a little extra
for a happy ending?" - Buchs

"Japanese people don't dig. They just use their ingenuinity and
playstation it out." - Buchs again, unfortunately (May 13)

"This computer lacks the appropriate emoticons to express my
befuzzlement." - Mike, in an msn conversation, after reading over the latest post's comments and discovering that a certain someone is dating a certain someone else. (May 19)

Melissa: I'm talking to Lorne right now, and he says he's never once ate wedding cake. Isn't that bizarre?
Me: I'm talking to Lorne too. About how and where we'd go to both
become ninjas. (June 3)

"I think it's safe to say we finished off the Finishers." - Scott (June 23)

"Welcome to Enderby. Population: Losers." - Jer (July 6)

"I can't ever take it easy because I have no idea what excessive is. I just keep going and going." - Bucholtz (July 6)

"If I fold the seats down in the Cougar I could have sex with
like four people at once." - Kelsey (July 18)

"One (Beer)? Only one? This is MeatFest not a pussy convention!" - Dave (Sept. 20)

"Sometimes I think about the things that I say, and my brain's
like 'What? Are you fucking serious?'" - Buchs (Nov. 4)

2006 featured many a thing, right here on this blog even. There was the short-lived yet popular "Weekend Awards" which died a slow death because I stopped feeling like doing them, and also
because, for a stretch, people weren't doing anything I felt like rewarding them for.

But a number of things stayed constant - for one, my ever-changing moods. I ranted. I raved. I made fun of people and caused many a person to laugh. Made people cry, too. Twice.

In real life, away from the blog, it was a year with all kinds of happenings, yet was still largely familiar. We all agreed that 2005 was probably the worst year we could ask for - for a number
of reasons, so 2006 didn't really need to aim high to be better. I'd say it likely passed the test, if for no other reason than nobody almost died in car accidents or other less-than-stellar
circumstances.

There were some shitty things this year - for me the biggest being my grandma dying in August. Rarely having to deal with such issues, I sort of forgot how it feels to lose somebody. Sucks. Hard.

And my getting in shape plan de-railed around mid-year, when the gym stopped being directly on my way home. I still probably lost around 8-10 pounds (maybe) but it's not good enough. 2007 will have to be another big year. Has to be.

Lots of good stuff happened too, though - I bought a townhouse finally, we had our best slo-pitch season ever, finishing in (gasp!) second place. Brad came home from G.F. Strong at the beginning of the year. We got drunk a lot too - Funtastic, Merritt, rafting, and then pretty much every Friday, as per usual. In addition to ingesting near-unsafe amounts of alcohol, there were a lot of familiarities between '06 and, well, the last five years. Nobody really came and went from the group, although there are a few people who don't come 'round as much anymore. And what would a year with us be without new pairs of people hooking up? Some days I swear to God it's like an episode of Friends, people.

But considering where I was at the end of last year - on the street in front of my parents' house having a shitfaced yelling match with Kels about God knows what - I'd say things were pretty solid.

2007? No predictions. No outlandish hopes. No resolutions. No nothing.

Instead, we'll head into next year with the same battle plan once employed by famed French general Napolean Bonaparte:

First we'll show up, then we'll see what happens.

Almost hard to believe he lost.

:: Jingling Bells ::

"When fighting for a mall parking spot on Christmas Eve, remember to be festive..for example...'Move your holly, jolly ass!' or "I'll deck the halls with your face!'" - commercial I heard on the radio yesterday.

So, Christmas is here in two days. How the hell did that happen. Weren't we just at Lambie's Halloween party, like two weeks ago? Crazy.

Most families have their various Christmas traditions - I know my family has a million. Makes the next few days pretty fun, but over the past couple Christmases we, as a group, have done our best to invent our own yearly events, too, which I always look forward to.

My Christmas kicks off every year when Mike comes down from Kamloops. He's usually here for a night every year - and has been at Bucholtz' birthday ever year since Buchs turned 19. (Happy 22nd today, by the way dude). It's usually that day where my lack-of-sleep Christmas routine kicks in, but this year, thanks for Mike's extra holidays from work, it started a few days earlier.

We haven't done much, really - watched some TV, saw Rocky Balboa (FANTASTIC!), and basically just hung out, doin' our usual thing. The two of us are usually pretty lowkey (except when we're not, watch out. Things get stolen. Cops are called. Fences are jumped).

Tonight though, could be good - it will likely include video games, booze, and perhaps a copious amount of oranges.

But there's more too - for starters, late on Christmas Eve the last year or two we usually end up at somebody's house for a quick gathering and a few beers. One year it was Gorski's house, another it was Jer and Amanda's. Then, on Christmas Day, after dinner has been digested and Chris has already ate 4 turkey sandwiches, everyone usually ends up at my parent's house, where we proceed to get very drunk.

I was trying to think how that little tradition got started, and I finally figured it out. About 4 or 5 years ago, I got a fancy all-glass shot glass set and ice bucket. It also came with a bunch of booze and a book of strange shots, so me, Chris, Jeremy, and Ian - and likely other people i can't remember - gave 'er a test run. I remember drinking absolutely repulsive shots with names like Test Tube Baby, and other less-than-appealing titles.

Good times.

I expect this year to be no different, with all of us convening someplace to get intoxicated. Really, the drinking is the same than any other weekend. But this time, we've been known to wear Christmas sweaters, so that makes it different.

That makes it Christmas.

Have a good one guys.

(As an aside, this guy here could use some Christmas spirit. Or maybe he's inventing a tradition of his own.)

:: Canucks By the Numbers ::

With Mike doing his 10-best movie trailers blog series (and doing a good job too, by the way), I decided I needed a blog project too, to pass some time during the Christmas blogging lull. But analyzing movies, or in this case, their trailers, isn't really my area of expertise.

What is, you ask? Well, not much, to be honest, but I do know hockey, and since I was a kid, was always interested in jersey numbers, much like Don Taylor, as you can notice from his Sportsnet broacasts ("And there's Matt Cooke, wearing Larry Melnyk's old No. 24...")

Anyway, taking a qeue from Bronx Banter, which listed the greatest New York Yankees according to the number on their backs, I decided to do the same with the Canucks.

Also, I figured a Canucks post was timely, after my favourite drunken, irreverent Canucks' blog, Vancouver Canucks Op-Ed signed off this week, with owner Alanah moving to a more "professional" blog, Canucks and Beyond. Classic Times wishes her well, and I promise to make up for the lack of drunken live blogging on VCOE, by adding more drunken blogging here.

Anyways, the extremely lengthy list is below, so enjoy...

(And no, I don't expect anyone to read the whole thing, but I'm sure Mike, and maybe Chris will. I know it doesn't fit in with my usual angry rants and stupid quotes, but I don't have a real sports blog to post such inane writings. Also, mucho thanks to Canucks.com, which has the jersey number list in full)

1 - Kirk McLean over Roberto Luongo
Obviously, this one’s only been worn by goalies. By the time Luongo’s done in Vancouver, he’ll likely be remembered as the greatest Canuck netminder. But until he takes a team deep into the playoffs, or – better yet, wins a Cup – McLean’s still the best to wear #1. Before McLean, it was worn by Dunc Wilson, “Suitcase” Gary Smith, and Wendell Young. Since he was dealt in ’98, it was worn by Sean Burke, Peter Skudra and Maxime Ouellet.

2 – Mattias Ohlund over Jim Agnew
Somewhat surprisingly, not a lot of key players have worn the deuce. Ohlund wins this one in a walk. Other luminaries to done #2 – Ken Hammond, Kevan Guy, and Ian Kidd. Honourable mention goes to John “don’t call me Evgeny” Namestnikov, an undersized Russian D-man who played 35 games from the ‘Nucks from 1993-96. Always liked him, not sure why.

3 – Doug Lidster over Bret Hedican
Lidster (Canucks, 1983-93) was a stalwart on the blueline for years, and holds the team record for points in a season by a defenceman (63). He was dealt the offseason before the 1994 Cup run for John Vanbiesbrouck, with the hope that Johnny-V would be a more attractive expansion draft option for the Florida Panthers than Kay Whitmore. It worked.

This one is a toughie though– aside from Lidster and Hedican, other 3s were Brent Sopel, Lars Lindgren, Pat Quinn and the current 3, Kevin Bieksa. Garth Butcher also briefly wore #3 before switching to his more famous 5.

4 ­– Gerald Diduck over Bryan McCabe
While McCabe is arguably among the league’s best D-men now, he only suited up for two years for the Canucks, never scoring more than 21 points, so Diduck takes the honours. Diduck was in Vancouver from 1990-95. He had 8 points and 22 PIMs during the Canucks’ 1994 playoff run. Reminds me a little of Bieksa. Other #4s – Nolan Baumgartner, Greg Hawgood, Barry Wilkins Give it five years and Luc Bourdon should take the title.

5 – Garth Butcher over Dana Murzyn
Betcha thought I was only gonna pick guys from the ’94 team didn’t ya? Butcher, who used to live ‘round here in Langley, is second on the team all-time in penalty minutes, and was your typical stay-at-home, kick-your-ass defenceman. Also, had one of the best scowls in all of hockey. Murzyn was often the butt of jokes for his slow, pylon-ish ways, and I believe he now manages a hot-dog factory in Calgary (seriously).
Other 5s – Bryan Allen, Grant Ledyard, Zenith Komarniski, and hey, anyone remember Justin Kurtz?

6 – Sami Salo over Adrian Aucoin
I was tempted to call this one a tie, because I’m a fan of Aucoin, but he only had a few good years with Vancouver, while Salo’s turned into a better player since coming here for Peter Shaeffer.
Other No. 6s – Robert Nordmark, Adrien Plavsic, Dennis Kearns.

7 – Cliff Ronning over Brendan Morrison
Morrison’s a pretty solid centre and a local guy, but Cliffy is among the best players to ever hit the ice for Vancouver, in my opinion. Best season was 1992-93, when he tallied 85 points in 79 games. Now he runs up the score at alumni games, while doing analyst work for pay-per-view broadcasts. One of the best.
Others 7s include Gary Lupul and Dan Quinn – a former Canuck captain (He split duties with Lidster and Linden before Linden took over the C for good) who could score , but later ran afoul with the law in 1992 when, as North Star, he was charged with sexual assault against a 19-year-old girl in a Minnesota hotel room. Charges, however, were later dropped.

8 – Greg Adams over Willie Mitchell
After all Adams heroics – especially during the 1994 run when he scored the OT winner to defeat Toronto in the Western Conference finals – his inclusion here is a no-brainer. Other top 8s – Marek Malik, and Bobby Schmautz. Who’d you think I was gonna pick, Donald Brashear?

9 – Tony Tanti over Ryan Walter
Tanti’s is among the greatest Canucks, and is honoured as such on the wall at GM Place. He owned many scoring records through the late 1980s and early ‘90s, until guys like Bure, Naslund, etc. came along. Was traded to Pittsburgh for the infamous Quinn (above). Other players to wear 9 were Ivan Boldirev, Russ Courtnall, Mike Keane, Brad May and Harold Druken. Currently, it’s Taylor Pyatt.

10 – Pavel Bure over Geoff Courtnall
Like this one is even close. Courtnall is more fondly remembered as No. 14 for the Canucks, but there’s really not a whole lot else to pick from for #10 second place. Trevor Letowski? Brian Bradley? Drew Callander? Don Lever is maybe a solid runner-up, but it really doesn’t matter. It’s a one-horse race. Bure’s still the most talented Canuck ever.

11 – Wayne Maki over Mark Messier
Maki wins this one simply because there’s no chance I’m givin’ it to ol’ Mess, who helped Mike Keenan run Linden out of town, robbing Canuck fans of a few of the last real offensively-productive years in TL’s career. Most fans will never forgive him.

Maki had a rather unremarkable career, but after he passed away from cancer in 1974, the team “unofficially” retired the number, only taking it out of retirement so Messier could get his paws on it. Chris Oddliefson is the only other player to ever wear it.

12 – Stan Smyl over Barry Wilcox
Another no-brainer. The only retired number hanging from GM Place rafters, Smyl is one of the top Canucks of all time. Captain for years. Heart and Soul of the team. Being born in 1981, I’ve never seen another player wear the number.

13 – Artem Chubarov over Lars Lindgren
Not a lot of options here folks. Lindgren, who also wore #3 (See above) played six unspectacular years in Canucks’ yellow, never scoring more than six goals. Similarly, Chubarov was a defence-first forward who left for Russia during the lockout and never came back. Will be remembered by junior hockey fans as the guy who scored the OT winner to sink Canada in the 1999 World Junior Championships. He scored on Luongo.

14 – Geoff Courtnall over Chris Oddleifson
Both wore other numbers at some point, but were both among the more memorable ‘Nucks – Courtnall for his role in the powerhouse teams of the early ‘90s. He scored 31 goals and had 77 points in ’92-’93, and had 19 points in 24 playoff games in 1994.

15 – Rich Sutter over John McIntyre
Pretty slim pickin’s here folks, as 15 has – lately anyhow – been the number of choice doled out to temporary call-ups like Harold Druken, Rick Rypien and Pat Kavanagh. Sutter wins here fairly easily.

16 – Trevor Linden over Who Cares?
Per-Olov Brasar, Brad Gassoff, Dan Hodgson, Mark Kirton, Stu Kulak.
All players to wear #16 at some point during the Canucks’ 37-year run. All were before 1988, and never again will it be worn by anyone other than Trevor himself.
The most popular Canuck in the history of the team, he took the team to the finals, and his exhausted arm-around-the-neck hug of Kirk McLean after they lost to the Rangers is probably the most famous photo in Canucks’ history.
After he was dealt to the New York Islanders by Keenan (for McCabe and Bertuzzi), nobody was assigned his number until Brian Burke returned him to the team in 2001.

17 – Patrick Sundstrom over Ryan Kesler
Sundstrom was the Canucks’ chief offensive producer in the early ‘80s, scoring as many as 91 points in 1983. I also believe he held the single-season goal-scoring mark by left-wingers for a time, until it was broken by Markus Naslund (I think). Kesler has a lot of work to do to catch Sundstrom, although at $1.9-million a year, we can expect that, right?
Other notable 17s are a handful of middle-of-the-road types – Mike Ridley, Dixon Ward, Vladimir “Pass the mustard” Krutov, Doug Wickenheiser, and Jose Charbonneau.

18 – Igor Larionov over Darcy Rota
I badly, badly wanted to give this one to Rory Fitzpatrick, but there are just too many solid 18s to pass up. Larionov's a legend in Russia, and went on to great things with the Detroit Red Wings, and with San Jose to a lesser extent, but he was still one of the best playmakers Vancouver has ever had. One wonders what could’ve been had he stuck around longer.

Rota was a strong player in his own right after joining the team from Atlanta Flames in 1980, scoring 42 goals in 1982-83. Other 18s include Shawn Antoski, Marc Crawford, Fedor Fedorov, and Steve Kariya.

19 – Markus Naslund over Jim Sandlak
Not really a tough call here, as Nazzy is the Canucks’ all-time goal scoring leader, and among the most popular players ever in Vancouver. Also one of the longest-serving captains in team history, behind Smyl and Linden. When his days are done, there’s a slight chance he could see his number hanging beside Smyl and TL’s, and a Cup run wouldn’t hurt his chances any. He also wore 22 upon arriving from Pittsburgh.
Other 19s – Mario Marios, Petr Nedved, Dale Tallon, Tim Hunter.

20 – Steve Tambellini over Dave Scatchard
There aren’t a lot of real solid choices here, so I picked Tamby because he’s also been a solid contributor in the front office for years, and is identifiable as a Canuck.
Scatchard, on the other hand, was run out of town early during Messier and Keenans’s reign of terror because – if a rumour I heard right from an ex-teammate is true – he didn’t care for the advances of a team captain (No, not Linden). Gross.

21 – Jyrki Lumme over Cam Neely
For nine seasons Lumme was Vancouver’s top defenceman after the team acquired him from Montreal (For Jose Charbonneau, I believe). He’s one of the more popular Canucks from the mid-‘90s, and beats out Neely because Cam simply didn’t play for Vancouver long enough. We all know what he did in Boston, however, and if he hadn’t been swapped (along with the draft pick that became Glen Wesley!) for the immortal Barry Pederson, he’d likely be the best #21.

22 – Tiger Williams over Daniel Sedin (barely)
I never saw Williams play, being that he played just before my time, but we all know what kind of player he was. Tough, could score a few, and was one of the league’s more colourful characters. He narrowly overtakes Daniel, who’s obviously one of the current team’s most consistent scorers.
Some other solid 22s include Naslund (briefly), Jeff “Yes, I think I’ve met your wife before,” Brown, Robert Dirk, and Peter Zezel.

23 – Thomas Gradin over Martin Gelinas
Gradin, now the team’s top Euro scout, was one of the more electrifying players in the 1980s, scoring 20+ goals in seven of his eight seasons – including two years over 30. He beats out Gelinas, who became one of the team’s most popular players. Barely two years after being picked up on waivers from Quebec, Gelinas had back-to-back 30-goal seasons. He’ll also be not-so-fondly remembered as the guy who sunk the Canucks in the 2004/05 playoffs with the Game 7 OT goal as a member of the Flames.

24 – Matt Cooke over Curt Fraser
Another close one. Fraser twice scored more than 20 goals for the ‘Nucks, but only played four-and-a-half seasons in Vancouver, while Cooke’s working on Year 7. While not as offensive-minded, Cooker’s still been an integral player the last few years.
Other 2-4s include Lidster, Larry Melnyk and Jiri Slegr.

25 – Orland Kurtenbach over Andrew Cassels
A lot of players have worn 25, but none better than Kurtenbach, the team’s first captain and still to this day one of its most identifiable players. Earns extra points for being a nice guy in general, and still having an iron handshake.
Cassels had a few in-his-prime years year, and was an above average setup guy, but never quite reached the point-scoring heights he did in other places, like Hartford.
Other 25s – Lidster (again!), Kevin Bieksa, Alek Stojanov, and Nathan Lafayette ­­– who came within a goalpost of being the hero of the 1994 playoffs. His goalpost shot would’ve tied Game 7 with just minutes to go.

26 – Petri Skriko over Mike Sillinger
If not for Skriko, who scored over 30 goals four times from ’85-’89, this number would be a tough sell to call somebody “the best.” Others include Tiger Williams (who I didn’t count, since he’s remembered as 22), Trent Klatt, and the immortal Tommi Santala.

27 – Harold Snepsts over Sergio Momesso
I really wanted to give this to big Serge, who played five seasons on the West Coast, from 1990-95, but Haaaarrrrold is too tough a rival. He wins for his 12 seasons in Vancouver (from 1974-84, then again from 1987-89), and for the fact his helmet-less head bobbing around the ice is an image burned in the minds of many fans.

28 – Roman Oksiuta over Brian Noonan
Hard to believe that no one of much consequence donned the number in 37 years of hockey, but it’s true. Don’t remember Oksiuta? Well my other options were Dan Ratushny, Brian Helmer, Joey Kocur, and Rod Buskas, so shutup. Technically the best 28 was Mel Bridgman, but he played just 15 games for Vancouver at the end of his career, before retiring.
Oksiuta will be remembered by me (And Chris) for his 1996 trade deadline deal that sent him to Anaheim for Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiike Silllllllinger!!

29 – Gino Odjick over Jack McIlhargey
Everybody knows Gino, the Algonquin Assasin. One of the most loved characters ever, he was famous for his fists and his unlikely friendship with Russian superstar Bure. Scored 16 goals in 1994-95, playing on a line with his pal. Wore #66 in his first-ever game.

30 – Cesare Maniago over Garth Snow.
Welcome to the goalie graveyard. Mike Fountain. Martin Brochu. Frank Caprice. Gary Bromley. Wade Flaherty.
Maniago’s really the only one in the list to have a long career, so he earns the nod, although Fountain is my personal fave. If not for Captain Kirk between the pipes all those years, I think Fountain could’ve been a legitimate ‘tender, given the opportunity.

31 – Corey Hirsch over Troy Gamble
Welcome to the goalie graveyard, Part II. Picked between a pair of personal faves here. Hirsch never lived up to his “Can’t-miss” prospect billing after being acquired from the Rangers, but he had one of the best junior careers of any player with Kamloops, and his “Psycho”-inspired goalie mask remains the best-ever worn by a Vancouver keeper.
Only three position players ever wore the # (And each time not for long) – Lubomir Vaic, Shawn Antoski, and Brad May.

32 – Murray Craven over May
One of the many numbers worn by May (9, 10, 31 being the others), but he still doesn’t outgun Craven, even though the latter had just one full season with the team (scoring 55 points), He had 13 points in 22 playoff games in 1994.

33 – Henrik Sedin over Mike Peca
Sedin’s currently the Canuck’s leading scorer, and is one of the team’s few bright offensive lights, along with twin Daniel. Will be a solid 70+ point guy for years to come still. Peca’s been among the league’s best defensive centres for years and years, but was traded (for Alex Mogilny) before any of that happened in Vancouver.

34 – Jason Strudwick over Jassen Cullimore
Now we’re getting into the slim pickin’s…Strudwick was the prototypical seventh defenceman – big, slow, and dropped the mitts. Nothing fancy about his brief stint with the team. He’s now playing in Europe, while Cullimore still mans an NHL blueline. Problem is, he didn’t do much of that for Vancouver.

35 – Richard Brodeur over Kay Whitmore
Goalie Graveyard, Part III. This jersey contains perhaps the most famous list of failed netminders – Kevin Weekes, Steve Weeks, Bob Essensa, Alex Auld, Troy Gamble, and current backup Dany Sabourin. Ironically, both Brodeur and Whitmore were on Stanley Cup-final teams, but Brodeur was a one-man puck stopping machine during the ’82 run; Whitmore just the backup in ’94.

36 – Josh Green over Chris McCallister
Only other options were Ryan Bonni and Dane Jackson – both middle-round draft picks from the mid-‘90s who played in the NHL sparingly. Green wins simply because he’s the only guy of the four still there (even if he’s #25 now).

37 – Jarkko Ruutu over Rick Rypien
Ruutu was the epitome of a pest, as is Rypien too now (when he’s not hurt), although the latter is now wearing 15.

38 – Jan Bulis over Brad Leeb
Bulis has struggled as ‘Nuck, but Leeb only played four games for the team and is now 27-year-old minor leaguer in the Leafs’ system. Only other 38 – Todd Hawkins. If you said “Who?” you are in the majority.

39 – Dan Cloutier over Enrico Ciccone
Clouts was a solid if not spectacular goalie we all know. You either loved him for his combativeness and inability to curb his temper, or you hated him for his inability to make the big save. We all remember the Lidstrom goal.

No real Canuck ever wore #40 (although I think UBC emergency call-up Chris Levesque might did), so now we get into a few skipped #s…some of these don’t even need writeups as we’re smack in the middle of the “Who the hell..?” department.

41 – Robin Bawa, Prestin Ryan
42 – Josef Beranek
43 – Don Gibson (debuted the same night as Odjick, playing 14 NHL games. Gino played 605).
44 – Todd Bertuzzi ties Dave Babych
The only tie on the board, Bertuzzi loses a point for only having one really big year, and struggling after the Moore incident, but gains for the way his handled everybody’s shit. Babych earns a point for his sweet moustache and his supporting role in Slapshot 2.
45 – Tomas Mojzis, Nathan McIver
47 – Pat Kavanagh
48 – Cam Brown, Bert Robertsson
50 – Mike Brown
55 – Ed Jovanoski would’ve won against anybody, but is so far the only Canuck to wear 55.
58 – Robert Kron. Also wore 18 during an 11-year career as a third/fourth liner for a handful of teams.
66 – Gino, as mentioned above.
71 – Jiri Slegr, on his brief return to Canuckland in 2003.
72 – Peter Shaeffer gave up 29 for Felix Potvin. Gave up another # two years ago in Ottawa, when he offered No. 15 to Dany Heatley upon his arrival in the Capital.
77 – Anson Carter. A dreadlocked, movie-producer resurrected as a scoring machine for one glorious season. Should send 50% of paycheques for the rest of career to Daniel and Henrik Sedin.
81 – Fedor Fedorov. Million-dollar talent. 10 cent brain/heart. To quote former GM Brian Burke, when Fedor was struggling in the minors with the Moose.
“He can buy a house in Winnipeg as far as I’m concerned.
89 – Alex Mogilny. Had a few solid years in Vancouver, but never meshed on a line with Pavel ,which was the plan in the first place. Helluva player though, when one top of his game.
96 – Bure. For a few injured plagued seasons before switching back to #10.

"I'm drunk off rootbeer." - Kelsey

"Do you want to lick my chest?" - Kelsey, to Amanda.

Well, here's another post...really, just for the sake of posting something. The post-worthy topics have been few and far between the last week, for whatever reason. But Bucholtz informed me tonight that this blog was a much better read when I was being more of an asshole. At first, I didn't know what he was referring too, but I guess he has a point. Or two. Maybe even three or four.

I'll try harder, starting right now - Fuck you! (what, too blunt?)

"I wouldn't even want Barry Bonds on the Cannons." - Chris

"It's not lying if you don't tell the whole truth." - Ian

"I love Santa. He's like the father I never had." - Amanda

"I don't like the repercussions of drinking. My brain hurts." - Ian, Saturday morning.

:: The List ::

I've felt a little off lately, and I'm not sure as to why. It's not that I've been feeling particularly bad, nor particularily good.

Just off.

Alternately bored, anxious, kinda melancolic, and other times just plain fine. Why the sudden shifts in mood? Beats the fuck out of me. Maybe it's because I'm not exactly thrilled with my job anymore, nor the direction my work-related life is taking me. That may be due, in part, to my fascination with the new NBC show Studio 60, thus making me decide that maybe my future career should be writing witty television shows in Hollywood, rather than re-writing 11-year-old's swim results and asking "Can you spell your name for me again?" in White Rock.

Or maybe it's just this God-damn weather, making me feel like I'm somehow cooped up, hemmed in, because of the snow and ice. (Nevermind that the roads are actually pretty good and I've been fine in it thus far)

Could also be the fact that I don't have a girlfriend - and it ain't for lack of trying, especially lately - and everyone else seems to. Also, the fact that I haven't got laid since about 1976 ain't doing any favours for my current malaise.

But regardless, I feel odd. Usually, when something like that happens, the first consequence for me is insomnia. That's not been the case this time, however. Instead, I've just been waking up in the middle of the night a lot, and rather than go right back to bed, I usually get up. Sometimes I'll go get something to drink, or surf the 'net for a few minutes. Other times I'll just wander around my townhouse in the dark, staring out all the windows.

I know. Weird.

I have, however, found a solution to my funk, the idea spawned from a TV Special I watched (hosted by Ami James from Miami Ink) the other day called "30 things to do before you're 30."
Being that making to-do lists is partially what keeps me sane, especially at work where my desk is covered in yellow sticky-note lists, I figured I'd give it a shot. I don't know why, but I've always been a list kind-of guy.

So here goes, my Things To Do in Life list - but not neccesarily before I'm 30 because that only gives me five years (yikes! that's weird to say), but just in general. Also, the list is in no particular order, just written as they came to me. I suggest making your own list, either on your own blogs, or if you are of the blogless variety (losers!) then there's always the comment section here.

1. Get a tattoo. Hopefully this will happen soon, but we'll see.
2. Travel to South America. I know a guy organizing an Ecuador trip, so this could conceivably happen too.
3. Buy a dog
4. Break my "slump"
5. Be in the arena/stadium when a sports team wins a championship
6. Actually 'get up' on a wakeboard
7. Spend an alcohol and drug-induced weekend in Vegas. Lose money, but snort blow off a hot stripper's naked rack in a far too expensive hotel room. Call that breaking even.
8. Go to Europe.
9. Own a cabin on a lake somewhere.
10. Write a book. Even if it sucks and nobody actually publishes it. My mom will still like it.
11. Quit a job in a huff, storm out and never come back. Fuck two weeks notice.
12. Win a sports-reporting award of some kind. Fuck this second-place BS.
13. Invent an alcohol concoction of some type. Like the Flaming Moe but mine will be called the Steve Garvey. Buchs and Bobby know why.
14. Get a story in the newspaper about me when I die. This means more than just an obituary. An actual story, where some timid reporter has to call my family and friends and get quotes and stories about me. This will require me to be either a) noteworthy/well known in my community, or b) die in some strange/outrageous/awesome way. Should I have to go this route, I've narrowed it down to hail of gunfire, large grease fire in a Chinese restaurant, or choke on the world's largest Rice Krispie square.
15. Pick up a girl at a wedding.
16. Watch a Canucks game from the press box.
17. Drive to California, stopping just whenever I feel like it. Returning home when I feel like it as well.
18. Own a sports car. Porsche. Corvette. Mustang GT. I don't care, just gimme something fast.
19. Write a standup comedy routine. Actually getting on stage and performing it is another matter entirely.
20. Impress a girl enough so that she's the one chasing me. Not the other way around.
21. Further to #20, use girl strictly for sex. Why? I dunno, seems fun, far as I can tell.
22. Hit a home run in slo-pitch.
23. Make a movie.

Well, thats' all I got folks. 23 things. I'm seriously about them all, too, even if some of them seem smart-alecky.

Now, back to staring out the window. I feel better already.

:: Playing through the hurt ::

I'm sitting here, at 2:37 p.m. on a Friday, with my usual vodka/redbull on the desk beside me (I also had a beer with my 1 p.m. "breakfast"...which was tacos.)

Kyle Bucholtz is hundreds of miles north, freezing his sack off in Dawson Creek.

So who ever said I needed Bucholtz in order to drink on a Friday afternoon? (Well, besides A-Scrams, who called me at noon basically taunt me for not having my drinking partner. But in my defence, I'd rather have no drinking partner for a few weeks than no partner for...other stuff. So the joke's on you.)

Besides, I'm drinking anyway.

I wasn't going to, in part because I have a work function (also involving booze) slated for 4 p.m., and also because I wasn't really sure I wanted to drink by myself.

But then I thought about all the times athletes play after deaths in their family, or some other tragedy. Like the time Brett Favre's dad died and he went out for the Monday Night game and threw for 400 yards.

"I knew that my dad would have wanted me to play," Favre said. "I love him so much, and I love this game. It's meant a great deal to me, to my dad, to my family, and I didn't expect this kind of performance. But I know he was watching tonight."

And, while I know I'm blowing this way out of proportion because a) Buchs is not dead and b) I'm not Brett Favre, I decided to begin the drinking process early, as per our custom.

Because that's the way Buchs would want it.

I also decided to blow it way out of proportion because I've been hurtin' for a post lately, but that's neither here nor there.

So I'm drinking. Not a ton, certainly not normal Nick-Kyle Friday levels, but that's because I have to drink in 40 minutes, and also because, well...it just hurts so damn much. (que phony tears and violin music).

"God I love vodka. It just sneaks up on you - it's like a silent assasin." - Me

"Wow, its like 5 o'clock and I haven't said anything stupid yet that you would put on your blog. What the hell is going on?" - Bucholtz

After Bucholtz found out the best man in some (all?) East Indian weddings ends up with a lot of cash...
Buchs: Hurry up and get married Bobby. I need some money.
Bobby: Well, help find me a wife first then dammi–.
Buchs: AMANDA!!!

Ouch. Although, in Amanda's favour, that's probably an upgrade. (Just kidding Buchs)

So, another weekend.

I haven't been in a posting mode lately, which you've probably noticed. And even after a pretty solid weekend – a long weekend, even – like we've just had, I'm still not really feelin' it. So bear with me. It's not necessarily that I don't feel like it, I guess, it's more like I don't have anything to say. We'll see how much I can write...

This weekend was the usual, although fairly low-key - for me, anyhow. Started off Friday as it usually does, with me and Buchs sitting in my living room at about 3:30 drinking a couple (or 6) beers. Went quickly down to Sam's for a few pints and tequila shots with Chris, Jenna, D-Mac, and Chris's boss Mike (Now I know two funny brown guys! Solid.)

Anyhow, we ended up at Derrick's after that, chillin in the garage/TV room. It was a little chilly, but it was still a pretty good time - after awhile most people showed up, had some drinks, and then, starving as I hadn't ate anything since 11:30 a.m., me and Buchs headed back to my place, with a quick Subway stop first.

Normally, Subway after midnight is pretty uneventful - I know this well, having made Subway a regular late-night stop. But I'd never been there with a drunk Bucholtz before. Within 5 minutes, he'd managed to make fun of the two 18-year-old douchebags in front of us in the line, confuse the "sandwich artist" about his choice of sub, and then throw the whole thing - my order too - on his Visa for some reason.

There was a minor altercation as we drove away, which basically just involved the two aforementioned douchebags yelling at us for making fun of them, Bucholtz hollering and laughing at them, and me driving away.

The rest of the night was pretty uneventful, it involved watching about half of 8 Mile, watching Buchs spill his sandwich onto the rain-soaked courtyard outside my front door (and then scooping it all back up again, good as new...mmm), and then going to bed. I woke up at 4 a.m. and found Bucholtz passed out on my couch, snoring loud as a friggin chainsaw, dvd player still on. And, for some reason, the fireplace too.

Saturday was Scotty's birthday extravaganza, which was supposed to begin at Montana's, but due to ridiculous 2-hour wait times, began at Red Robin instead - apparently the only place in Langley capable of seating 16 people on short notice. (As an aside, when did restaurants stop taking reservations? How is this in any way, shape or form good for business? Turning away 16 people who are going to eat, and most likely drink, a significant amount? Genius. Fucking idiots, I say.)

So Robin's it was, complete with onion ring towers, fried cheese, and Scott standing on his seat getting sung too. After that, it was back to Scott's place for drinking, drinking, and some more drinking, courtesy of bartender-Scott, who busted out all kinds of booze, which he'd apparently been saving for such an occassion. Broken-down golf carts, paralyzers, vodka, and some new creations, which including redbull and cranberry juice, and one with lemon gatorade.

I'd like to say I partook in the festivities as much as everyone else, but i did not. This was due somewhat to the fact that I didn't really feel like getting blitzed, but also because I had no ride home, and was not about to a) leave my car all the way in South Surrey or b) stay there. So I took it easy. Couple drinks, couple shots, one typical conversation with a drunken Sean in the driveway and home I went.

But not before I saw way too much guy-ass for my liking. Ridiculous fellas, ridiculous.

Why I like Paul Tracy.

Why I like Paul Tracy even more.

(Editor's note: Yes, I know all the quotes are from the same guy, but when you hang out with the same person every Friday afternoon, it just kind of happens. And happens remarkably often, too.)

"I almost got herpes from talking to a girl." - Bucholtz, on his Enderby experience last summer.

"Chicks can't drive. They can suck dick and make pies." - Bucholtz

Me: At least twice Ian's had Giants' tickets and never called me, and Chris has extra Canucks' tickets, but he'll probably sell then to Sean and Rachel. Nobody ever invites me anywhere or offers me tickets to anything, bunch of fucking jerks!
Bucholtz: Maybe it's your attitude.

Good point. (but it still angers me. OK, not really, but I can do this fake rage thing pretty good).

"Sometimes I think about the things that I say, and my brain's like 'What? Are you fucking serious?'" - Buchs

So last night was a fairly weak Friday, in comparison to the last few, which were pretty rad. Buchs came over 'round 4:00 and we had a few beers and watched most of Lord of War on TV, and then we went to Moxie's to meet Chris and Jenna. And then Sean and Rachel and Brad and Amanda all wanted to come too, so me and Buchs ended up sitting at three different damn tables that would satisfy our ever-increasing group of people, and then they bailed anyway.

After that we hung out and S&R's for a bit, before I went home. Some people went to Shark's.

When will we ever learn?

"Everyday I hate myself a little more inside for liking Laguna Beach." - Kelsey

:: A long awaited post about nothing in particular ::

I was at work last week when I walked next door to Shoppers Drug Mart to buy something to drink, and in the case next to the Diet Coke I eventually bought, was a 4-pack of dark bottles, labelled Coca-Cola Blak.

First off, let me say to the good folks at Coca-Cola Inc., leaving out the 'c' in black? Gold. Nothing says Marketing Genius like a mispelled word. Which Harvard-grad thought up that beauty?

But let's get down to what this drink actually is. It's Coke. And coffee. I'm not kidding. That could be, possibly, the grossest combo drink since Jones Soda came out with those disgusting sounding Holiday-flavoured drinks.

But at least they did it as a joke or a novelty. They didn't actually expect people to drink the shit.

And aside from the fact that this new Coke probably tastes like the bottom of a shoe, what kind of asshole decides it's smart to toss that much caffeine into something? Wasn't coffee addictive enough in the first place?

The website says it's cola with "a coffee essence." What's next? Sprite, with essence of Extascy? Maybe Tobbacolate is coming in time for the holidays. And be sure to watch out for their newest flavour, Peaches and Crack.

Fucking ridiculous. End rant.

And now for a completely unrelated quote from Bucholtz...on the frequency of jerking off.

"I've had a few double-digit days in my time."

Wow.

And speaking of ridiculous, last Friday we went to Kelsey's for a shaker. Usual crowd. Usual debauchery. Worse-than-usual hangover.

I slept in til 11:30, then went home and slept again til 3:30. Ugly, ugly day.

There were many of us who were just gongshowed, not the least of which was yours truly. Fuck I was mangled. In my defence though, we did put the drinking pants on early, watching TV at my place. And the Canucks game at Sammy J's. And then at Kelsey's. Ouch.

I don't remember the final few hours of the night, nor the ride to my parents house, or what happened when I got there - although according to Amanda I fell once or twice. Not surprised. Not at all. Good thing she was driving my car and not me. She was even nice enough to return it promptly the next morning, although by then I was still barely in driving condition.

It was a looong day.

God I hope tomorrow goes better for me that this.

Wow, two posts on the same day (although to be fair, I did post the first one last night before I went to bed late). But I digress...

I'm sitting here kind of bored, just chillin, watching baseball and drinking a beer, and figured I'd post snippets of a couple MSN conversations I've had the past few days. Nothing groundbreakingly hilarious (and no funny slogans), but it's something to pass the time.

"I remember opening phone bills that were $268, $295...I'd pull the gun out for a short while, contemplate my suicide." - Kelsey

Bre: My midterm was early this morning...it was hard.
Nick: What class?
Bre: Oncology.
Nick: I don't even know what that word means, so you definitely did better than I would ever do.

Well, looks like it's officially Friday the 13th.

Happy Birthday dickhead.

Who says current events aren't discussed in schools anymore?

"Man, I'd love to fucking live in North Korea right now. I'd cause all kinds of international incidents and then just be like "What?! What are you gonna do assholes? We got a nuclear bomb bitches! Yeah, that's right, just sit there and take it!" - some kid, probably Grade 9 or 10, as overheard in the parking lot of a high school I was at today.

Reminds me of Denis Leary's song Asshole...

"I'm gonna wipe my mouth with the American flag and then I'm gonna toss the styrofoam container right out the side and there ain't a God damned thing anybody can do about it.

You know why? Because we got the bombs, that's why.

Two words. Nuclear fucking weapons, okay?! Russia, Germany, Romania - they can have all the Democracy they want. They can have a big democracy cake-walk right through the middle of Tiananmen square and it won't make a lick of difference because we've got the bombs, okay?!"

:: So...how ya doin'? ::

So most of us probably saw that Family Guy rerun last week - or at least you're familiar with it. (If you're not a FG fan at all, then you can go straight to hell).

It's the episode where Peter is ordered by his work to go to that female sensitivity camp, and essentially returns a week later without his dick.

The funniest scene is a few seconds later, when the newly "sensitive" Peter is in a bubble bath, and calls Quagmire for absolutely no reason. You know, just to chat.

"So Quagmire," Peter says softly.
"Whatcha thinking about?"

Quagmire is understandably disgusted and confused. Rightfully so. And hangs up the god damn phone.

The last, I dunno, year or so, I've felt the same fucking way when a certain person calls me. (And don't worry, it's none of you regular blog-readers.)

Now, don't get me wrong, I like this guy a lot - one of my good buds, but enough is enough. Yes, I know I don't call you that much, nor even return all my messages. Ask around dude, it ain't nothing new. And you aren't the only one to ever get annoyed by it. But I don't need to be badgered by a guy about it.

I actually got this today on msn (and in the past):

"Hey, you there?"
"Hello?"
"Dude, don't you ever check your messages?"
"Are you mad at me or something?"

Are. you. fucking. kidding. me?.

Christ.

I can't take it anymore. I've had it.

And on the rare occasion we're actually talking, it's either yakkin about nothing, or you complaining we never hang out, etc etc.. If I wanted that kind of nagging and guilt trips, I'd get a fucking girlfriend.

At least that kind of nagging comes with blowjobs.

I will allow for the slim fact that you just don't know how guys relationships work. We drink beer. We watch sports. We go to bars. We hang out and watch reruns of King of Queens while drinking beer and thinking about sports.

We do not call just to chat - unless the two friends live far away and don't talk to see each other much. In that case, calling just to catch up is fine. I have friends from school I rarely see, so I have no problem if, on a rare occasion, I talk to Mike or Dustin for a while.

But we live 10 minutes away. We have no catching up to do because my life is always the same - work, baseball, drinkin' beer, sleeping. Yours is similarly uniform, although not as exciting, if I may be the judge of such things (and I may be).

So let me break it down for ya. Here are the following acceptable reasons guys call each other.

1. Wanting to know where and when the drinking/party/hockey game/other event is about to occur. Making plans is perfectly fine.

2. "Wanna go to the peelers right now?"

3. Your car is dead/stolen etc somewhere and you need a ride or a jump or something.

4. You just saw a midget getting attacked by pigeons in the mall parking lot and you just have to tell somebody.

5. You just found a keg of beer.

6. "Seriously dude, we're going to the peelers like now! Get your coat!"

7. You've somehow maimed yourself and need a ride to the hospital.

8. It's 10:52 and you desperately need a lift to the beer store immediately.

9. You need to borrow money. (Acceptable question, but the answer's probably no).

10. You need a hand moving furniture or something else that takes at least two guys.

I think that's about it. You'll notice no sign of the phrases "just to chat", "how are you feeling?", or "Are you upset?"

There's a reason for that guys. It's cuz we have balls.

Next time one of these little "chats" happens I swear to God I'm just going to pull a Quagmire and hang up the god damn phone, and not answer it again until you've spent at least 2 weeks doing nothing but listen to Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden, fucked two chicks, dranked six bottles of Jack and 172 beers, all while watching porn and thinking about football.

And have learned proper god-damn phone ettiquette for guys.

From the "Get a real fucking job" department...

One small mistake for man, one giant waste of time and money for mankind

No cure for cancer yet, but they're worried about fucking grammar. Unbelievable.

"I'm the pimp of Mp3s." - Mike, after sending me yet another song to help refill my music collection.

Kels, I guess you're in the same category, as is, to a lesser extent Bucholtz.

Thank you ye givers of tunes.

:: Conversation with a quarterback (and then, unfortunately, Mike) ::

Tonight I did about a 15 minute interview with current B.C. Lions' QB Buck Pierce. He called me at home - a day after I jokingly was damning him and all the B.C. Lions to hell for not being around during work hours when I needed to talk to them.

The convo was good - he's a pretty cool dude. And then this msn convo happened....

Nick: yo
mike: sup
Nick: nuthin, just finished up doing some interviews from home
mike: who with?
Nick: Buck Pierce - the bc lions quarterback (he lives in white rock).
mike: ahh, him. Damn him, that Mr. Pierce!
Nick: Actually I won't damn him anymore, he's a cool guy.
mike: no! Damn him!
Nick: no, it's true, he's a nice guy. And he talks with a cool accent - kind of half california surfer, half southerner.
mike: It's a trick!
mike: meant to trick unsuspecting victims
Nick: haha maybe.
mike: so he can spread his lies
Nick: All in his diabolical plot to take the starting QB job away from Dickenson right?
mike: that or take over the world
mike: !!!!!
Nick: Okay. I'll be back in a few - I'm in the middle of cooking dinner and I just realized I'm pretty much burning it. You continue with your crazy theories in the meantime.
mike: Already his lies are ruining your life!
mike: first the burning of your dinner
mike: next, the immolation of your house
mike: and after that, the combustion of your car
nick: shutup you crazy fool.
mike: after that, the entire Lower Mainland!
mike: UP IN FLAMES!
nick: you're friggin insane.
mike: the lick of the flames whispering amidst his evil, evil cackling
nick: okay, I'm leaving now.
mike: wringing his hands with a devious smirk as he surveys the bleak, tattered landscape!
mike: Okay, I'm done. After all, what can we do in the face of such evil?
mike: Nothing but persevere and continue on with our lives.

Wow. I don't even know what to say to that.

:: Quick Hits ::

1. Happy birthday Sean and B-rad

2. Quote from Sean tonight, when Kelsey walked in the door at Sean and Rachels...
"Aahhhh fuck! Where's Scott?"

So much for being happy to see somebody.

3. Just got a few pics e-mailed to me from MeatFest. I look like I'm about 300 pounds. I seriously look god awful in every single one of them. No fucking wonder I'm in a slump, it's disgusting. Gotta hit the gym, I guess. Or do something. Fuck.

That is all. Carry on.

:: MeatFest 2006 ::

"I wish I had a big leg of deer to knaw on right now." - Dave, about 45 minutes into the first day.

When it was discovered that Dan had only drank one beer through the front 9 of the golf tourney...
"One? Only one? This is MeatFest not a pussy convention!" - Dave

"I want to kill a bison!" - Dan, shitfaced, when his BBQ chicken just wasn't doin' it for him.

"Guys...let's face it, meat rules. CHEERS TO MEAT!" - Dave, hammered, during a round of midnight barbecue.

When me and Dave discovered an unguarded, free, cold keg of beer near the sixth hole (at 9:30 a.m.)...
Dave: You think we're allowed to just drink it? Let's tee off, then when we walk past for our second shots, we'll have some.
Me: Dave, if we walk passed this keg of beer without touching it, we'll regret it for the rest of our lives.
Dave: Good point, let's drink.

More MeatFest tales to come later, when I feel like writing more.

On the toss-up between cheap drinks and school work...

"I'm studying. I don't have a lot of money. Scotty paid me the other day, but I did the responsible thing and paid bills with it....Paying bills and studying. I think I'm turning into a homosexual or something." - Bucholtz

:: Random Ramblings ::

For whatever reason, the topic of people having weddings on holiday weekends has come up in conversation many times for me lately - I can think of at least two conversations I've had in person, and then I read similar anger and bafflement from St. Louis blogger/bullpen catcher Al Fritz over at The FYC.

It still makes limited sense to me. And, as someone pointed out the other day - by getting married on a holiday long weekend, not only do you fuck over Big Long Weekend plans for yourselves and your many guests (unless you're me and plan to get married in Vegas with only a coked-out stripper and a guy in an Elvis suit who smells like gin in attendance), but you also ruin that particular long weekend each and every year for the rest of your marriage, which - for the sake of your social life - will hopefully be short, shrift, and merciless.

What am I talking about? Good question. If you get married on holiday weekend X, that would therefore make each impending Holiday weekend X your anniversary, so instead of spending said day off work at some peeler bar with the boys, or in Vegas doing jello shots off hookers' tits, or taking the boat out on the lake, you're stuck with your wife.

And while everyone else is off having fun, you're suddenly wearing a tie, going to some overpriced restaurant with an unpronouncable menu and bathroom attendants, and then you're off to the theatre to watch some horrid chick flick.

Or you're snuggling.

God forbid.

On another note, I mentioned yesterday that I added a pair of new blogs to the links list on the left there. They both rule to a serious degree. Being that I discovered these sites through Mike's blog, he of course, demanded credit. I, of course, refused to give him any.

However, today - for the first and only time - I will change my mind and give Mike his props. I do this only once, and only because he impressed me greatly today in the mocking of a mutual friend.

Sometimes Mike, you outdo yourself.

Anyways, as I was going through some of the old posts at these new sites, I came across a post at 123 I Love You which I quite liked:

"I’ve made a new decision today. It’s to be more cruel.

I’ve decided that I expend far too much energy trying to cater to everyone’s needs. I spend far too much time worrying about whether or not I’ve hurt/angered/insulted someone.

If I can do at least one cruel thing each day, I think that would be a major step in the right direction. It will show people that I'm not afraid to go after what I want. It will get me into the habit of just not giving a damn, and maybe it’ll help me pick up chicks."

I've wrote similar things in the past, but this says it better. Perhaps because it's a high school teacher saying it, not just bitter ol' me after I downed 11 Kokanees alone sitting in the dark.

Then of course he ends with this: "Some days I think I rule so much that the world can’t take it."

Amen.

As most of you know - through my incessant complaining the last few weeks - I'm now working a Sunday-to-Thursday shift at work, thus giving me Friday off. It goes without saying that I'm unhappy - having Friday off while everyone else is at work is sort of a waste to me.

Below is my first Friday off, documented. A waste? You be the judge.

- Woke up far too early for my liking...around 9:30.
- Watched two episodes of the Cosby Show on TBS, followed by King of Queens.
- Overpaid for pineapple.
- Ate a mango.
- forgot to buy milk.
- Vacuumed, and cleaned my kitchen. Left the bathrooms for another day (Don't want to peak too early after all)
- Downloaded 32 songs to my new computer.
- drank a beer in the bathroom
- completed 2 fantasy football drafts on Yahoo!
- added two new links to this blog (at left)
- started drinking at 3:45
- drank another beer in the shower
- Now having Internet access again after a week without, I checked to make sure there is still porn on the world wide web. There is.
- Double checked.

That is it.

:: Wakeboarding, breaking shit, work, golf carts, MeatFest 2006... ::

Well folks, it's back to work for ol' Nick - although not before a) ending my holidays in fine fashion and b) breaking a lot of expensive stuff.

I had two weeks off - which were, quite frankly, up and down. Lots of good times, some really bad, some just boring. But still, it beat the fuck out of being at work.

Some of the highlights were, of course, my annual trip to Seattle with my dad. We watched a pair of outstanding ball games - including a gem of a game from M's Felix Hernandez. We also went to the Experience Music Project and wandered around. If you like music - especially any of the following: Hendrix, grunge, or 80's rock from the Pacific Northwest (Heart, Queensryche, to name a few) then I suggest you go there next time you're in Seattle. Also, if you have any musical ability of any sort, there's a whole room full of gear to mess around on.

Probably the coolest part of the trip though, was leaving the second game with a batting practice home run ball off the bat of Richie Sexson. We were chilling in the lower left field seats with the other ball hawks there, gloves-on-hand, waiting to catch a ball. I, however, wasn't paying attention, and Sexson's ball came straight for my head. It bounced around off gloves before it got to me though, and my dad eventually scooped it up.

After Seattle, I hit the golf course (again) and basically hung out for a few days doing nothing, until I went with some of the family up to Shuswap to my uncle's cabin for a little drinking, boating, wakeboarding, and some drunk golfing.

But not before my computer decided to completely crap out Thursday night. I should also mention this was two days after I shelled out $200 for a new phone. (a completely unecessary new phone, apparently).

Not only did a need to buy a new laptop, which I picked up tonight, I also lost all data on my old computer - it was unsavable. So goodbye 900 Mp3s, and good bye all my pics of my digital camera.

All those drunken memories gone. Or at least only in online form (link on the left, as always).

I was on quite a streak of breaking stuff last week. The phone broke. The computer died. And my "Maintenance Required" light came on in my car. And then when I went to hop in the car bound for the Okanagan my iPod wouldn't turn on either.

For the better part of the week, literally everything I touched broke.

At that rate, I was petrified of jerking off.

But, electronic troubles aside, I had a fantastically great Labour Day weekend. Hung out with my two cousins and their significant others, Dave and Kyle, who are fast becoming a couple of my favourite people to hang out with. All four of 'em really.

On Saturday me, Kyle and Dave cracked beers by 10:30 - much to the chagrin of either their wife or girlfriend. I don't have a wife or girlfriend to speak of sadly (Yet not surprisingly), but lemme tell you, my mom did not look too impressed.

We hit the water around lunchtime and after jetting around the lake for a bit - going from Anglemont to the Narrows, we went wakeboarding. And I suck. A lot. After many attempts I couldn't even get out of the water on the board - although I came close on a few occasions. Compounding the problem - aside from my obvious lack of skill and the fact I have arm strength similar to a 9-year-old girl - was the fact that the lifejacket I was wearing sucked. It fit OK around the middle, but was old and had a few straps missing. As a result, after about 5 seconds of being pulled by the boat, the jacket ended up around my face, basically, which hampered my ability to do just about anything.

As Kyle said, "It looked like you were wearing the lifejacket for a hat out there."

Not pretty folks. Not pretty at all.

The next day my arms hurt like a bitch, yet I joined the crew for a neighbourhood best-ball golf tourney in Salmon Arm with about 40 people from the surrounding cabins. I didn't expect to golf, so I had no clubs, but I rented some from the Salmon Arm Country Club.

There were a number of problems right away.

1) My clubs were too short, I soon realized, which made hitting the ball with any power or accuracy very difficult.

2) Even with good clubs, I'm still not very good.

3) The girl in our group had never golfed, and had no idea how to even hold the club properly.

4) The two other guys in our foursome, Mark and Shawn, were stinking hammered by the 3rd hole.

I'm talking drinking-a-case each, doing 720-spinaramas downhill in golf carts kind of hammered. It was a pretty interesting back nine, I'll tell ya that much.

Somehow, however - we managed to not suck. That is to say, other people sucked far worse than we did. Far, far worse, from what I saw.

We ended up shooting a 4-over-par, good enough for a second place tie. But I gave us the unofficial silver medal because we drank more beer. We were two strokes back of "Team Domination" - the squad of Kyle, Dave (who's a 5 handicap), Tracy and Jen, who have now won the tourney 3 straight years.

Not a bad outing though.

In other weekend news, the first night we were there, Dave told me about his newly founded end-of-summer extravaganza, MeatFest 2006. Such an event will take place next weekend at Dave's Grandpa's summer house on Bowen Island, and the premise is a simple one:

Bring Meat. Lots of it.

We're talking 30-ounce steaks and 3 a.m. rounds of cheeseburgers here, people.

It is also necessary to bring copius amounts of alcohol, but that goes without saying. Golf clubs wouldn't hurt either, because Dave's also hosting a 12-person golf tourney he's dubbed the Bones and Beer Invitational.

I won't know many of the people going aside from the aforementioned four people and, if they decide to come, Chris and Jenna, but it's nonetheless going to be a disgusting show.

The only hitch is the plan is that I now have to work Sunday fucking mornings, courtesy my new fucking work schedule. This will entail peeling myself off a piece of Bowen Island, still drunk as an Irishman, at about 5:30 in the morning and getting on the 6 a.m. ferry back to Horseshoe Bay. From there, I'll likely just hightail it right to the office.

Normally I'd go home first to shower, change and sober up, but it's a Sunday and there's not going to be anybody else in the office.

Besides, even if there was, it's a Sunday and they're gonna have to get used to me in my natural Sunday state.

Hungover as fuck.

:: Science Schmience ::

I just read this right here, a so-called scientific report, that states taller people are smarter than shorter people.

I would imagine it took these "experts" months of research, and thousands upon thousands of dollars, to come to such an assanine conclusion.

It is hereby disproved:

Kyle Bucholtz is 6'7". I am 5'9".

Done and done.

Fucking scientists.

:: Home Field Advantage ::

I've been in my new place about a month or so now, maybe a little longer, and I realized that I'm only partially taking advantage of the new opportunities borne from living on my own again.

I'm taking advantage of some, no doubt about it - I walk around naked whenever I feel like it, without worrying that somebody else will be home; I can buy whatever groceries I want to, and unlike when I was at home with my parents, I can cook whatever I want to for dinner. Also, not that I couldn't at home, but I pretty much come and go as I please, without really worrying when I'm home for dinner. If I don't eat til 8:30 now, that's OK.

On that same note, however, I haven't used that newfound power to do things like eat ice cream for dinner, or decent for lunch I should drink a 6-pack of Bud and eat half a pound of gummy bears.

I have not, as a matter of fact, got drunk once in my new pad. Not once in 5 weeks which, quite frankly, is downright shameful.

Also, I now live 5 blocks away from 7-Eleven, yet I've only made a grand total or two visits - despite a rash of new kick-ass slurpee flavours.

So despite my lack of drinking, slurpees, and ice cream, there's also the sad fact that I've yet to use my new bachelor pad for any bachelor-type escapades. Essentially, the joint isn't properly broken in yet, which is sad, since the general consensus is that, as Rachel said, "this place would definitely woo some chicks."

I better get my shit together.

Might as well finish off with a few old quotes too, that I've had kickin' around for some time...

the first day of rafting, when we busted out the water gun...
Me: So, who we gonna spray with it first?
Ian: Well, we'll see what colour shirts Jenna and Rachel are wearing, and we'll go from there.

"I'd just like to be on the right side of a court appearance for once." - Sean, excited about jury duty.

"Hey, I've never had an STD in my life! That's because I do it in the butt." - Bucholtz (who else?)

"Love is ass sex on Sunday." - Bucholtz again

:: Mothers don't let your sons grow up to be assholes ::

As the last entry would suggest, I had a doozy of a post lined up for y'all. It wasn't 'angry' as one unnamed individual suggested...in fact, it was God-damned hilarious.

Or was going to be, until Friday. Now it's on hold - to be revisited at a later time. Right now though, didn't seem to be the time.

Because my grandma - my dad's mom - died on Friday morning.

She had leukemia, and apparently when you're in the late stages of cancer, things like heart attacks and other things aren't that uncommon, and that's what happened.

My dad found her in the morning, in her apartment. She hadn't answered the phone, and he went to check on her. That was their deal every morning for the past 9 or so months - he'd call at 10 a.m., if she didn't answer, he went over there.

My mom called me around 7 o'clock, from my grandma's house. I missed the call, because I was golfing, but as soon as I saw the the missed call on my phone, I just knew.

I don't know how I knew either - my parents have called me from there many times before, but I don't know why I had a feeling this time.

But I did.

I don't quite know what to say, or type, or do. I don't think the whole thing has sunk in yet. I'm not looking forward to the moment that it does.

But in the meantime I'm angry.

Angry at some of my dad's siblings. I'd call them my aunts and uncles, but since I haven't seen or talked to most of them for the better part of a decade....or longer, I don't really consider many of them family. There's only a few of the seven I know.

"Don't even get your dad started on his brother." - my mom

And one who pissed off off my dad and my family more than the rest.

My dad has an older brother who lives near Calgary. I don't think he's even spoken to most of the rest of the family in probably years. He rolls through town occassionally, saying hello to people when it suits him, but usually not.

He's arrogant, pompous, and as a kicker, pronounces his name differently than anyone else in the family - almost like he has to be different.

When my grandma died, my dad called him in Alberta but he wasn't home. He was in Victoria, visiting one of his sisters. He rolled right through town, and didn't even stop to visit my grandma.

He hadn't been to see her in years - and in the year we all found out my grandma had leukemia, he didn't even call.

Not once in 12 months.

Nice.

My dad, being the calm, don't-rock-the-boat kinda guy that he is, didn't really say anything to his brother. I guess now isn't the proper time to cause trouble, but I've never seen my dad so fucking furious.

Then he says he'll come down back into town "if you need me" to help with the various arrangements.

It's not my fight, and if my dad doesn't want to start a holy war with him that's fine. But it just made me realize how much better a person my dad is than any of his brothers and sisters.

He and my mom were the only ones through this whole thing who took my grandma to the hospital, to the cancer clinic appointment, or out for other errands. Or just to visit.

The only child out of eight.

And none of his other siblings appreciate it in the least. All they fucking do is complain. At least my grandman appreciated it, which I suppose is all that really matters. But it still pisses me off.

All I know is that, if I ever have kids one day, I hope they turn out a lot more like my dad, and a lot less like my uncle.

And I'm pretty damn thankful I'm more like him too.

I promised some people (well, one person) a blog post tonight, and I got started writing it but lost my edge, and I want to make it a doozy, so it's on hold til I find my writing mojo.

But worry not, my friends, It will come.

Oh yes, it will come.

:: Rally Caps ::

Cannons. Second Place.

Not something you probably expected to hear - this season or any other - is it?

No, you probably thought (and rightfully so) that you'd be more likely to read something like "Cannons second-last" or "Cannons banned from slo-pitch for alcohol abuse" or perhaps "Outfielder Bucholtz arrested for statutory rape"

You know, the usual.

And while those headlines may yet be written sometime during Cannons' history, we'll focus on that first one.

Cannons. In second.

Holy Fucking Shit.

Amazing yes, but 'tis no lie. Somehow the Cannons - perennial division bottom-feeders, and basically the Kansas City Royals of Langley Mixed Slo-Pitch - started off the playoffs with a win and then never really stopped.

Friday night? Win. Saturday? A win and a lose - but the win came against the Finishers again, who were the "best" team in the league, standings-wise.

Losers.

Sunday - the final day - was an interesting one. We got through our first game smoothly enough, beating the "I'll-only-swing-if-I-have-to" Patriots by a run or two. That sent us to the semifinals - and by then we had a pretty solid cheering section - parents, grandparents, friends, and even other teams from our division who really want the underdogs to pull it off somehow.

So we did. After all, you can't disappoint the fans.

It was a doozy of a game though, against Tornadoes.

It started pretty strong - we chalked up five or so runs and had a healthy lead until about the fifth inning, when the Tornadoes crawled back after some trademark Cannons defence gave them some free runs.

We tried getting the lead back in our half of the inning, on an infield hit, but I was out at the plate.

And then I watched the rest of the game from the bench.

Fucking umpires. You call them "fucking idiots" once and they give you the boot. On the plus side, I was the first Cannon to be ejected from a game. Proud, proud moment, folks.

Hey, at least I'm in the record book. God knows I ain't gettin' there with my home run totals.

So with me on the bench, and Terry filling in for me in left-centre field, we needed five runs in the bottom of the seventh to tie the ballgame. The top of the order was up, so it was definitely do-able. We smacked out a couple hits, scored a few - and I think Chris and Scotty each had home runs (again. Those two hit the ball a mile all weekend).

When the bottom of the order came up, we had already knocked in 4. Dana was the tying run on third. There were two outs, and Katie - with her 4 or 5 games of lifetime experience playing ball - was at the plate.

No problem.

Katie took a few pitches, and looked pretty nervous up there, knowing the season was on her shoulders. Then she smacked the ball to the pitcher, who couldn't field the ball on time because he slipped.

Katie hustled to first. Safe.

Dana ran home. Safe there too. And the crowd - and dugout - went wild. I've never seen a happier ball team then I did at that exact moment. It was fucking awesome.

That morning, before we'd even played a game, Katie told me that she was going to do something great that day. Something that would win us a game.

Something that people would remember, and later on they'd say "Hey, remember when Katie did that?"

Good God damn prediction.

So the game went to extra's - with the last out from the inning before starting at second base with one out (international tiebreaker rules).

By then the momentum had swung decidedly back in our favour, and boy did we score some runs. Seven of 'em before they could get two outs.

Game. Set. Match.

Fucking rights.

So it was off to the 'ship we went - minus me of course, having been banned for the rest of the fucking tournament - against the mighty Generals.

I'll admit, while I had all kinds of faith we could win considering the roll we were on, I thought maybe, just maybe, the Generals would be too much. They have all kinds of hitters, and they usually thumped us in regular season (like most teams).

We played one outstanding game, though, staying with them - even leading at times - right til the end, when we needed four runs to tie in the bottom of the 7th.

We got three, and the tying run was on third, just a few steps away.

Ah well, can't win 'em all I guess. Although that weekend I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if we did. Man, did we play well.

The only thing that sucks is that next year we're gonna be expected to do some damage in the standings, no more of this 4-18 bullshit.

Which is good because maybe we'll actually do it, but I really liked being the underdog last weekend. And I loved the look on the other team's faces when somebody would say to them, "You got beat by who?"

By the Cannons, that's who.

Nice season guys. Nice season.

There's lots of things I would like to write about, but I'm not going to, because a) I can't find a way to make it witty or amusing, and b) I just don't have the energy. You'll just have to use your imaginations, I guess.

So in lieu of something lengthy, all you're gettin' is this for now....a stupid quote from one of the Ridiculous Quote Legends - a rare occurrence lately, as least in this space.

After a McDonald's commercial featuring baking powder biscuits came on TV...
Kelsey: What is bacon powder anyway?
Me: You're kidding me right?
Kelsey: What?
Me: It's baking powder, not bacon....Wow, I can't believe you just asked me that.
Kelsey: Hmmm, that may have been one of the dumbest things I've ever said.
Me: No, it's actually not, which is the saddest part of all.
Kelsey: Shutup!

:: The Rules ::

Well, it's over.

A few pictures still have to be hung, a few minor things put away, but for the most part, the move is done.

Thank fucking God.

We started moving things in last week, slowly but surely, and we got to the point Saturday where two or three loads and everything was where it needed to be. The rest of the day was spent, along with my parents, putting furniture together and generally sorting out the house.

Did that pretty much all day, til the late evening, when I ate dinner and headed off to Rachel's birthday shaker at her bro's house, which, convienently, is now only about 5 minutes from my house.

But, now that I'm in the new digs, all moved in for good, I figured I should lay out a few rules. I'm not exactly gonna enforce 'em with an iron fist like some douchebag, but just try your best.

1. No puking anywhere in my house, in the front courtyard, or definitely not off my balcony. In fact, just to be safe, how ''bout just keeping all your vomit-like fluids to yourself while you're here.

2. Speaking of the balcony, do me a favour and don't spit, throw cigarette butts, or beer cans or anything else over the edge. This is because right below my balcony, is my neighbour Steve's patio. And he's a pretty big dude. And he has a goatee. And all weekend he wore a shirt with flames on it, so you know he doesn't fuck around.

3. Shut the fuck up already. We don't have to be church-quiet, obviously, but just keep down the ol' noise when it's late - not really any different than if we're at Sean and Rachel's or anywhere else. I don't have landlords than can give me the boot, but I really don't wanna get fined up the ass by the strata.

4. No sex is to be had in the new abode unless I'm involved in some way. And Bucholtz - about that offer you made to me last night when I informed people of this rule...never say that again.

5. Similar to the shutting up rule, no loud drunken arguments in the courtyard or driveways, parking lots. Decent people are probably trying to sleep. Sean and Rachel, Kelsey and, well, me. I'm looking in your (our) direction.

6. Don't break anything.

That's pretty much it I think. Feel free to come visit. Just gimme a minute to get the door because I'll probably have to find pants first.

:: Merritt, etc... ::

"Who would ever think to get all five of these fruits and then turn them into juice?!" - Amanda, thoroughly impressed with her Five Alive, nursing a hangover one morning in Merritt.

"I just wanna take her clothes off and shut the fuck up." - an old quote from Bucholtz, who was sick of talking to this young'un without getting anywhere.

"Whoa, this is huge. You could have sex in here!" - Amanda, after seeing the size of one of the closets in my room at my new place.

"If I fold the seats down in the Cougar I could have sex with like four people at once." - Kelsey

"I think I'm going to sell the Jeep and buy a horse instead of another car. I bet hay is cheaper than gas." - Amanda

Well, we made it through another Merritt Music Fest.

(Pictures on Kels' site: Click here)

This year's event featured many of the things you've normally come to expect of such an spectacle - boobs everywhere (but not nearly enough, or as many as last year even), serious binge drinking, handjobs in the fairgrounds, and a solid number of random visitors - some pretty cool, others who were pretty big douchebags.

And we brought the Mighty Tent Trailer back for Round 2. Although it'll need repairs if we make an attempt at a Round 3 some day.

All par for the course when you come to MMMF. There were, however, a few slight differences - for one, I mentioned the lack of naked whops compared to previous Merritt's. Also, the band lineup wasn't nearly as good - although Aaron Pritchett kicked ass, as did half the Travis Tritt show I watched before my back hurt to bad for me to stand anymore.

But the biggest difference, for some of us was that we sort of took it easy on the drinking, a rare feat on any day, let alone a four-day outdoor festival in the sun where all there is to do is drink, sit in the river, listen to music and have sex.

But of the three nights we were there, I can really only say I got shitfaced gooned once - one Friday night when most of us skipped the concerts to nurse our crippling addiction to sweet sweet alcohol. That night I was a writeoff, and by all accounts, couldn't stop laughing at nothing all night.

Other people didn't go so hard either - Chris says he didn't, and a few other people mentioned it too. Sure, we all got drunk to some degree in the evenings and late into the night, but there certainly wasn't the same level of daytime shitfacedness. (The kind that begins at breakfast).

There were certainly attempts at that level of drunkness during daylight hours - I know Sean felt pretty damn happy with himself by 2 or 3 o'clock a couple of times, and Bucholtz downed a 40 of Peach Schnapps mixed with orange Gatorade one afternoon too. But it was, dare I say, a lot tamer than last year.

Part of that is my own fault though - I took it easy despite having numerous chances not to. I just was tired and lazy and stuck around the campsite a lot, instead of really trying to wheel this Jessica/Michelle Branch/Molly Hatchett broad, or going dancin' with Kels in the beer gardens at 3 o'clock in the morning because for the love of God she wouldn't quit demanding we go.

Oh well, wouldn't be the first time I missed an opportunity. Next time, maybe.

Still fun though, although I'd still say I had a better time at Funtastic. Drank more there too - which may be why some of us took it slightly easy in Merritt - Enderby was just a few weeks ago, after all.

And now we don't have much time off - Rach's b-day this weekend, Cannon's playoffs the weekend after that, and then August Long is rafting near Princeton.

Jesus Fucking Christ. Get ready liver, you poor, unsuspecting bastard.

:: Merritt, the Prologue ::

"I might just die this weekend. If I do, you can have my DVDs." - Bucholtz

There are some events - Christmas, for one - where often the anticipation of the event is actually the best part. Not to say Christmas isn't good - it's fantastic - but the whole lead up to it is the funnest part. For me, anyhow.

I wonder if Merritt will be the same way. Granted, there hasn't been much anticipation for me because I only decided two days ago that I would, for sure, go. But even back in the spring, I was always looking forward more to Funtastic than Merritt, as far as the two big summer events go.

Then I wasn't going at all, for a few reasons. Now I am again.

And all day yesterday I was pretty excited. Then today at 9 a.m. I got a "WOOOOO!!!" text message from Kels, and was still jacked. Now, I've been home from work awhile, sat around and mellowed. Surfed the web, talked on msn, watched some tube.

To be honest, I'm pretty relaxed, and not nearly as pumped up as I was, even 12 hours ago.

Buchs heightened the mood considerable around dinner time with a Merritt-related purchase, so hopefully that feeling sticks around.

Let's drink.

In other un-related news, here is Buchs' interpretation of this picture of us, seen below:

"You look shocked in that pic. It's like 'Hey, what's going on? I dunno, I'm so scared right now - Hey where's my sandwich? Did I turn my oven off? Yeah, I did turn the oven off. You know what? I really like warm water penguins...Man is Kyle ever handsome. What was I thinking about? Oh yeah...mmmmm....cheez whiz."

And this is someone I associate with on a regular basis.

Ridiculous, I know.

Happy 22nd Birthday Chris!

Now stop sneaking into my house and eating my food you son of a bitch.

In other news, I decided to go to Merritt. Should be ugly, as always.

I apologize in advance.

:: FUNTASTIC ::

Last weekend, from Thursday until Monday, the Cannons made their first pilgrimmage to the Okanagan - to Enderby for Funtastic. The fun started on Thursday evening, when everybody hitched up and took off down the highway.

You might wonder how the fun could start the moment you leave a driveway - before the 4 hour drive has even begun. But you would be stupid to wonder such things if you knew us at all. People took wrong turns, people got drunk en route, numerous stops were made to piss and puke.... or maybe that was just me, Buchs and Scotty.

Regardless, without further adieu, our weekend...

Me: I like to think of myself as the white Dave Chappelle.
Buchs: I like to think of myself as the black Chris Farley.

"It's Enderby. We're better than everybody here." - Bucholtz, seconds upon arrival.

"Popping your eardrum is like blowing it in a chick's ass." - Buchs again, pleased with himself.

"If you dug a hole, shat in it, that's Enderby." - Scott, as Enderby takes another hit.

Me: What the hell town are we in?
Buchs: I dunno, Moose Knuckle Junction?

Lost out on some country-ass backroad...
"Do you think they still have the metric system out here?" - Scott

"I think all Enderby girls have herpes." - Buchs

"Welcome to Enderby. Population: Losers." - Jeremy, in perhaps the funniest thing he said all weekend.

Buchs: We're not making very good time.
Scotty: Don't worry about it - I do my best work at night. I'm like a bat.

After Buchs took one disgusting shit at a Vernon Shell station...
"Well fellas, that was pretty much the sum of my entire weekend."

On long drinking/camping trips...
"I can't ever take it easy because I have no idea what excessive is. I just keep going and going." - Bucholtz, completely sincere.

Excessive.

That about sums it up.

Excessive drinking. Excessive partying. Excessive crying. Excessive baseball. Excessive yelling. Oh who am I kidding, there's no such thing as excessive drinking.

We got there Thursday night, me and Buchs already drunk. Within a short time, all the calvalry had arrived. Kels showed up from some pub around 1 (or so she says, I really have no idea at all). We partied hard that first night - beer flowin', music cranked until probably past 4. The sun was coming up as I fell asleep.

Then we had a game at 8 a.m. Needless to say, it did not go well.

We were hungover as fuck - or still drunk - and we were not used to the Funtastic rules, nor were we really ready for the heat.

We got fuckin stomped.

But then, in very un-Cannon-like fashion, we went on a run. Won three straight games. Now, I don't really remember all the details of the game - the beer and heat sort of killed my memory of specifics - but we still did some damage. We didn't lose until playoffs when some power-hitting drunks took us for quite a ride. But it was another early morning game, and, once again, we were hungover as fuck.

Some of the highlights...

Chris chanting "Let's go Cannons!!" all night in the beer gardens. I wasn't really sure of his reasoning behind such a move, other than to be a drunken ass, but then I remembered what he told me on the way from the campsite from the gardens.

"When we leave, people are gonna fucking remember that the Cannons were here."

Mission accomplished, I'd say.

We spent a lot of time just hanging out drinking, tossing a football around, diving into the river off the bridge in town. And starting - or trying to "improve" - fights between a bunch of punk 18-year-old Enderby kids fresh outta high school.

They were real jackasses, and then some of them stole our fucking coolers - getting some beer, some Baja Rosa, and my fucking smokies.

Bastards.

Chris caught one 16-year-old dick with a backpack full of our beer, but I was slightly shocked to find out the next morning that he didn't pummel him from there to Armstrong.

There were a few other wicked parts of course - too many to probably write into one post, but I'd say, without a doubt, the high water mark was our good friend and right fielder Sean.

Who, with nearly no prompting, stripped down and streaked the Canada Day fireworks in front of probably a couple hundred people and firefighters.

We gave him the tourney MVP just for that. And he fuckin' deserved it.

Same time next year, right?