:: Weather for Winning ::

It is cold and overcast today - very un-June like, and I just had this conversation with my brother.

Chris: This is good weather for a Canucks' win.

Me: I don't know what the weather has to do with anything, but I'll agree with you.

Chris: I just figured it'll be a cold day in Hell before the Canucks win the Stanley Cup, and it's pretty cold out.

Me: Good point.

Chris: Yeah, the Canucks aren't going to win on a sunny day. That just would never happen.

:: I fully agree with the statement below ::

Next month, Christene and I are going to a boozeless wedding – a friend of hers from her old job is getting hitched. The groom is a pastor, the bride is also religious, so that's why there is no booze, as is my understanding.

And while I must admit never having been to a alcohol-free wedding, it's a Sunday brunch-style reception, so it's not like I'd be getting loaded anyhow (probably). So I'm cool with it, and understand. I like weddings in general – they're fun.

What's less understandable is the wedding I was at a few years back. It, too, was supposed to be boozeless, until the bride's family was convinced at the last minute that it was a poor idea expect people to come to a Saturday night reception without alcohol. Brunch is one thing, but a conventional, Saturday-night party, without some of Grandpa's old cough medicine? Not gonna work, I'm afraid.

In the end, it was an expensive bar, which didn't open til late in the reception, and most people left when the dancing started (Again, religious beliefs. For serious). So yeah, it was a little boring.

Today, I mentioned these things to my brother, who some of you likely know is getting hitched soon – next year, I understand. Anyways, this is his "vision" for a proper wedding.

"I never understand why people wouldn't want (booze). I want my wedding to be the biggest, best party of people's lives. I want every single person to wake up the next morning and forget whose wedding they were at."

So yeah, you want to be invited to that wedding. Take a memo on your Newton.

:: Chris on Christmas ::

"You ever filled a stocking before? It feels like I just spent about $120 on absolutely nothing. I wish I was marrying a Jew." - text message I received today from my brother.

:: The Beginning of Asshole Chris ::

It's well established now, and something of an inside joke amongst our friends, that my brother, Chris, has a bit of a jerky side to him. Sure, he is for the most part a nice guy. But there's been plenty of times – after a few beers – where he's not so nice. Not towards us, mind you, but usually to complete strangers. Which of course, usually makes for big entertainment for the rest of us. 

This persona has become known as Asshole Chris, and nearly every one of us has a story. 

A few months ago, I tried to explain the Asshole Chris phenomenon to Christene, because she's always so damn adamant that this cannot be the case – "He's such a nice guy," she always says. And while I explained, I tried to think of how this whole asshole personality came about. 

Now, it's easy to assume that it came about as soon as he hit 18/19 years old and started drinking and going out to the bar. But in fact, I think the seeds were planted much, much sooner.

When I was 18 and Chris was about a week away from turning 15, the two of us went to the movies to see the South Park movie on opening weekend. Now, this was in the days when – for big movie openings – a theatre employee would introduce the movie and talk to the crowd before the film actually started. 

Before South Park, the employee offered some kind of prize – probably a free movie pass – to the person who could do the best Cartman impression. Even though it was a packed theatre, only one guy volunteered. So up he walked to the front of the theatre, grabbed the microphone, and did his impression.

It was not good. Awful, as a matter of fact. When his impression was over, the theatre remained almost dead silent – some people weren't paying attention while others were simply too polite to boo. 

Except 14-year-old Christopher. 

After about a one-second pause, he yelled out from our seats near the back of the room, "THAT FUCKING SUCKED!!" 

He got some laughs, some scattered applause and the rest, as they say, is history. 

But that was the start. 

:: File this under "Not Surprising" ::

Chris and Jenna are in Edmonton this week, for a hockey tournament. On Wednesday night, they went to the Canucks-Oilers game. As you may be aware, the Oilers – losers of 15 of 16 heading into the game – blew a late lead, and the Canucks won it in overtime.

Had this result been in Vancouver, the rink would've been filled with Wooo!'s (which to the uninitiated, is the newest fad, Rick Flair-esque cheer at GM Place). Apparently, the numerous Canuck fans in attendance in Edmonton – Chris said "at least half" were wearing Canuck jerseys – tried to recreate this trend. Some more, uh, directly, than others.

Chris, via text message: Oh, there are some unhappy Oiler fans in here. This is hilarious, I don't think I can get enough Rick Flair's in before I leave.

Me: Haha, excellent work. Woo it up.

Chris: Oh, I did. Everyone was doing it. Especially me. Very loud too. And right in people's faces.

Me: Are you drunk?

Chris: No, buzzed maybe.... only had like seven beers.

:: Small Victories ::

"This one guy, a goalie, keeeps bitching that his stats are wrong because I missed the shots on goal in two of his games, which throws off his goals-against average and his save percentage. He actually emailed by fucking boss to make sure it gets done. They're fucking men's league stats, for Christ's sake! Anyways, I pulled all his team's gamesheets and entered all his stats properly, sort of. I divided all his shots in half, so now his save percentage is so low it's ridiculous." - Chris, on how to deal with problems at work.

:: Early morning revelation ::

"I'm bored. The day is actually quite long when you actually get up a decent hour and don't have anything to do." - Chris, who faced his day off bright and early, at 8:45 a.m.

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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.