:: Poor efforts ::

In the last month or so I've noticed a disturbing lack of new blog posts from my esteemed blogroll on the left - namely Christene, Kelsey, Meghan and Lanette.

Now, there are other blogs I link to as well – Jason Mulgrew, The FYC – that have been pretty delinquent lately too, but I don't know those people, so I feel bad calling them out. Besides, Mulgrew just wrote a fucking book, so if he wants to not blog for awhile, give the dude a break.

But as for the rest of you... well, I know you all personally and feel quite fit to point out your blogging inadequacies. And let me tell you, your lack of effort is shameful. 

Because it's a slow afternoon here at the always-prolific/constantly updated/fan favourite Classic Times, I took a few minutes to crunch some numbers, math being my specialty.

Not including this post, here are some startling numbers: 

Christene 

Last post: April 6; Classic Times posts since that date: 8 (7 plus 1 guest post)

Kelsey  

Last post: March 31; Classic Times posts since: 10

Meghan  

Last post: March 21 and then she closed up shop altogether; Classic Times posts since: 16

Lanette  

Last post: April 25 (But before that, no posts since April 9; Classic Times posts since April 9: 12

So there you have it. And I don't want to hear any whining about lack of internet or moving or quitting sob-stories or any of that crap. I didn't post for over a week because I was in Vegas, and then when I returned there was no Internet at the house for 4 days (technical difficulties) and I still managed to out-write the shit out of all of you.

Consider yourselves called out.

:: A bad day to be pants-less ::


Me: Wow, minus-40 today up there, eh?
Kelsey: It's fucking terrible.... It's -46 with the wind, apparently. And I didn't wear pants today!
Me: It's way too cold to be pants-less.
Kelsey: I know. Real smart.


I know over the last 15 months I've taken more than my fair share number of shots at the city of Fort McMurray, and more specifically, shots at the people who voluntarily decide to move there. And each time, whether it's Lanette, Kelsey or sometimes others (Amanda, looking in your direction), I get an passionate retort about how I'm wrong, how the city isn't that bad, how the money's good, or about sometimes you gotta sacrifice, etc etc.



And, all joking aside, I can respect that. I really can. I mostly bash the northern experience because a) I didn't like it when I was there, and b) it's fun to be a "pot-stirrer" as Lanette called me a week ago. But truthfully, I understand their responses to my criticism. I'd expect you to defend the place you live, your home. Hell, I do the same thing when people bash Langley (But really, why would they? It's lovely.)



But having said that, sometimes I think you get to a point where any response you can muster in defence of your fair city is rendered impossible. And I think that point is about -46.


At that point, no matter how much you may like certain aspects of your town, I think you just have admit to a small part of yourself, "Yep, this really sucks."


It's like my old buddy Carlos – who grew up in balmy Mexico City – once said to me when I told him how cold it was when I lived in Peace River:


"I don't see the logic in building a city in uninhabitable conditions. It would be like building a city underwater. It's just not meant to be."


But if you absolutely must build a city there, I'd recommend a sweater and a snow suit – at least. Not wearing pants is just, well, stupid.

"It did not get cool until I got here."

I woke up this morning to this text message from Fort McMurray:

"You posted quotes yesterday and not a word about my birthday... gone r the days of birthdays shout-outs, apparently.... Hurtful."

Jesus Christ. A person gets all this shit for her birthday - and 24th birthday, for that matter (not exactly a milestone to begin with) - and she's still fucking complaining about the lack of a mention on a crappy, 25-readers-a-day blog.

Some people are just so ungrateful.

But as I've often said - it pays to complain, so in honour of Kelsey Lundquist's 24th birthday, I will repost what is probably my favourite Kelsey quote of all-time:

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

So there's your damn shout-out. Happy Birthday - you asked for it.

:: Public Service Announcement ::

In my 27 years on this planet, I have met quite a few people, and a significant number of these people I consider to be my friends. Now, for the most part, these friends are good people, smart people. I don't, after all, associate with too many complete fucking idiots.

Sure, some of my friends have their moments of stupidity - who doesn't? - but by and large, they are sensible people who are ruled by rational thought.

But sometimes they do things that just boggle my mind. I don't think they're stupid, I just can't quite grasp their reasons for doing things sometimes. And with that in mind, I just want to remind all of you of one thing for your own good:

Fort McMurray is really fucking far away. And really fucking North.

In recent months, some of you have forgotten that, so I just wanted to remind you all, so we don't have any more of these mistakes.

If this warning saves at least one person, it will have been worth it. And for those of you it is too late to save, well... see you in six months. Try not to get frostbite. (Or the herp, for that matter. Those oil sands guys are pretty sketchy).

Thank you for your time.

:: Regarding a bet ::

Dear Kelsey's money,

Although you likely haven't been informed yet by your current owner – not surprising, as she clings to a faint hope of continuing her ownership of you – you will be packing up and moving soon, from Kelsey's pocket to mine.

You'll be leaving as early as Sunday night, in fact, so pack up your nickels and dimes ahead of time. You see, Mr. Twenty-Dollar Bill, you've been wagered in a foolish bet pitting the New England Patriots – whose coach is a cheater and star wide receiver is an alleged woman-beater – against the saintly San Diego Chargers, whose star running back went to a good Christian university, and whose placekicker looks like an innocent 12-year-old boy.

You'll like it better here, I promise.

No longer will you be alone in a wallet, with no other dollars and cents to keep you company – you'll now be surrounded by friends of all currency, even a few American visitors (I hear that Andrew Jackson fella is a real hoot!) And, even better, you will no longer have to put up with the kind of high-brow, snooty remarks which I'm assuming can only come from a Starbucks Visa card.

"Oh, look at me - I'm worth a triple grande hazelnut. misto, no-foam, extra hot latte," I can imagine it saying. "And look at you – you're just a dirty, used up piece of parchment."

What a bitch. That can be hard for any honest, hard-working $20-bill to put up with. I understand.

It's OK though – you're beer money now. Long may you prosper in the cash registers of seedy pubs, and in the apron pockets of overworked, sexy-in-a-beer-googles-kind-of-way waitresses.

It will be one helluva run, I promise you that. So come on over – you know you want to.

:: Kelsey's Birthday ::

"If this T.V. had arms it would strangle itself." - Scott, not overly impressed with Kelsey's below average-sized television.

"Nick, we need to go on a hunt - and not just any hunt, a slut hunt." - Ian, apparently trying to help me meet some drunk girls, of which there were plenty at the Foggy Dew.

"Do you have a cock? No? Hi, my name is Scott." - Scott, on standards when trying to pick up girls.

and a few old quotes, from weekends past...

"I'm just gonna get messed up and fuck bitches." - Bucholtz, on his ambitions while in Mexico.

"Foiled in my own web of suck..Dammit!" - Ian, absolutely shitfaced to the point of not being able to walk. I have no idea what he's talking about.

So yesterday was Kelsey's birthday, which consisted of some serious pre-drinking, followed by more pre-drinking and pizza, and then the Foggy Dew pub.

By the time we rolled into Kelsey's, some of us - me, Ian, and Sean - had already downed about five or so beers, and after a few periods of the Canucks game, I was pretty well on top of my game, which slowed a bit once we got to the pub, but not by too much.

Never having been to the Dew before, I thought it was pretty cool - I like Irish pubs to begin with, but this one's pretty damn nice. The kind of place I wish we had in Langley, but alas, we're stuck with The Vanilla Room, The Rendezvous and Citrus/8 Seconds/Liquid/China Beach.

Like most nights - and birthday's specifically - Friday offered numerous highlights, from Rachel's stalker and $10.25 Baileys, to Pat's triumphant-but-brief return, to some drunk dude in the bathroom, who didn't have any idea where he was ("I'm where? In fucking Coquitlam??! FUCK!")

All in all, a pretty quality night. No hangover either, unlike the birthday girl.

Sucker. Happy Birthday though.

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

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!