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#75 Threatening to Move to कनाडा

So, I did this thing the other day. I walked around a very large, flat area, and looked at cars. No, it was not a parking lot; it was the Toronto car show, or whatever it’s called.

Right, so you might think that I am lacking in enthusiasm, and maybe I am Mr. Fancy Pants, but that does not mean that I did not enjoy myself a little, and maybe learned something too eh? Or whatever.

I honestly thought there would be tons about ‘fuel efficient’ cars or ‘eclectic’ type of autos…but not so much. The only thing that did really impress me way the Toyota, fandancy super duper fuel-efficient hybrid dealy. Not really sure what to call it, cause the plaque in front of it didn’t really say much, and there was no one around to answer questions really. There was this dude constantly whipping down the car though. I don’t know what his name was, but if I was to name him, that name, would be ‘Todd.’ So, there was Todd whipping down that car a ton, so a friend and me moved along rather briskly, and at the end of it all experienced an anti climax with the Lamborghini exhibit, these thing happen.

Okay, so, you just looked at the pictures this time didn’t you? Don’t lie, it will only hurt my feeling all that much more.

Painfully yours,


dsm

Whoa,
Been a little while since I have blogged, I know, we just got the internet back on course, hello internet.

Anyway, I would like to talk about three live performances that ‘occurred’ at the Cameron House a little while back then, so here we go.

First on the bill was a young fella named Jack Marks. Jack, reminded me of when I was a young kid when I would be at a neighbors house party, and somehow it would seem that we would all be stuffed in the kitchen at one point of the night. Looking back on it, it was most likely because the adults were a bit hungry after a few drinks, now; I’m the adult now, shutter. Just as people would be huddled around, someone uncle, or close relative would come in playing an acoustic guitar singing some song, lost over the years, and only living out in his memory, of a time forgotten.

Yard Sylvester, on the other hand, would be that guy at the same party, but no one would seem to really know who he was. However, he would be bouncing around the house, making quick jokes, and shaking a few hands. Yard’s set however, was no place near tight, and at some points incoherent. With long rambling sections where he would ‘participate’ with the audience in long drab conversations, that lead no place in particular, his songs, then to, lead us to the same place.

This brings us to the closing act, Brad Casey. Brads set meandered between loose and tight at times, loosing and then finding his way back, Brad would acknowledge his inequities as quick as the audience would realize them. By this point I must admit, I had a few oatmeal stouts, and thus, spilled on my note pad. However Tania (me special lady friend), made a few notes about Brads performance.

-Keeps eyes closed.
-Gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”
-Out of tune…usually.
-Really high pitched (voice), true, for a man, eunuch?
-Cute beard, chicks dig this!
-Leaves on the ceiling are…kind of cool! Like a jungle…ooh!
-Roy Smells good!

That last one, t'was about me actually.

dsm