The view alone is worth the price of admission.
Although it was a high cost, moving away from close friends and family, and giving up the band that has meant my life for five years, I'm starting to feel more and more like Alberta is my home. Once I visit I'm sure I'll miss living in Guelph, but that part of my life: those friends, the memories, will always be accessible.
Not a whole lot has been going on, aside from working endless hours. I applied for a loan to buy a 2007 Ford Focus, I'll find out about it Wednesday. Normally I'd be chattier, or typier, but I'm way too tired.
Football fever, catch it.
September 20, 2009
August 20, 2009
I actually went through with it? I'm as surprised as you are.
Whoa!
A bit delayed on posting, and not in the usual self deprecating manner, but still I'm back on the world wide web. After three days on a bus, a breakdown an hour away from Calgary, a missing bicycle, and too many other occurrences to mention I'm finally set up in Alberta! I have a new phone number and its in the crazy 403 area code. I don't have too many things interesting to write about, I only seem to be able to write in odd tired or crazy moods and so far I've been levelheaded. I miss my close friends and family but I'm still having a great time!
Reading lots of books, getting my ass kicked riding in the mountains, and almost hitting cows, this is the life.
Some cool pics:
A cake I baked today for Claire's birthday. Its the first cake I've made and easily the most work I've put into anything food related ever.
This is driving home, and crazy weather patterns.
August 3, 2009
July 28, 2009
The never ending goodbyes continue
My everything hurts.
I have a wife beater shaped sunburn.
I'm tired as hell.
But I'm a few "see ya"s closer to leaving for Alberta.
I drove to Bancroft with my older brother this weekend to hang out with my uncle, aunt, and two cousins. We drank a garbage bag full of beer cans, went tubing and water skiing, fished, and all other things required of a cottage visit. I came to some pretty substantial conclusions over the course of this trip and the ensuing visit:
-My younger cousin Dylan is going to be covered in tattoos
-I can't water ski, and learning that hurt. Physically.
-Peet is not a word, and therefore my brother won the scrabble game.
-The cd player in my mother's car seems to hate punk o' rama 4.
I'm 6 days away from a life changing move.
I have a wife beater shaped sunburn.
I'm tired as hell.
But I'm a few "see ya"s closer to leaving for Alberta.
I drove to Bancroft with my older brother this weekend to hang out with my uncle, aunt, and two cousins. We drank a garbage bag full of beer cans, went tubing and water skiing, fished, and all other things required of a cottage visit. I came to some pretty substantial conclusions over the course of this trip and the ensuing visit:
-My younger cousin Dylan is going to be covered in tattoos
-I can't water ski, and learning that hurt. Physically.
-Peet is not a word, and therefore my brother won the scrabble game.
-The cd player in my mother's car seems to hate punk o' rama 4.
I'm 6 days away from a life changing move.
July 22, 2009
My enemy has a first names its spelled J-a-s-o-n
Stuck at the Greyhound station with so many forced goodbyes and teary exits I'm reminded of two things: my ever nearing move to the vast mountains and skies of Alberta, and my agonizing defeat in the highly anticipated rematch of Whitney v. Brake. Since I'm sure I'll discuss Alberta significantly in the future, other topics to discuss come at a premium, and must be exploited. My defeat was agonizing not only because of my failings in reaching a fourteenth hot dog consumed, but also due largely to the extreme pain in my stomach. To confirm, this is the type of pain that is only relieved by an equal level of flatulence, which simply isn't an option at a Greyhound terminal, what with all the upstanding citizens who use their services. To those not in the know I will issue a recap of the first battle of the bottomless stomachs.
A time set, a weapon selected, an age-old enemy challenged. Hot dogs and Dr.pepper would be our measuring sticks. Not being vegetarian I obviously selected all beef dogs while Jason went with the far more morally sound veggie option. For eight dogs there was clear skies, smooth sailing, and a veritable feast for easy consumption. But like so many triathletes and marathon runners we eventually hit the wall. The point where every step becomes a battle not only against the clock, but yourself as well. The two of us struggled on, using sit ups, belching, removing clothes, and a few tears to aid as a helping hand. Eventually, reaching a dozen dogs each, we ran out of food and moved on to drinking Dr.pepper as the tiebreaker option. Reaching as high as six sodas consumed I was stung with the need to use the washroom, and this is where debate was born: was using the washroom outside of the rules? No such law being established I fought in my defense and in the end a stalemate was reached, and the contest was to be rescheduled. I stood strongly in my conviction that the singular reason Jason remained in contention was his selection of veggie dogs, as they wreak far less havoc on the internal systems. This brings us to the current date, somewhat.
Throughout the weeks and months following the contest there had been large speculation amongst people who did not attend the event. Word spread and a legend grew of our exploits and the scars left in the kitchen that very day. As anticipated, many expectations were set for a follow up bout, and this was simply not something that could be left unfinished when I head west. So on my lengthy farewell tour I clearly needed to set aside a date in Kitchener.
Three steps up the stairs and my palms are sweating. We needed to take a trip to the grocery store to buy hot dogs and pop. We elected to both select vegetarian dogs and once again our valiant chef Kevin Dent prepared the hot dogs to be consumed in large volume. The first six hot dogs came and went without much attention, and at a frightening pace. For the second set of six I opted to add some taste enhancers. I saw bacon salt and sprinkled it on all my dogs. What I anticipated as a bonus quickly soured. My mouth dried up after one bite of the first dog. With a dried out mouth I fought through six more hot dogs. At this point Jason was fighting the pains, but was still one dog in the lead. Beginning my thirteenth dog we were both in trouble. I took a large bite to finish my hot dog and decided to attempt another strategy. I took a sip of root beer to break down the buns and dog. The bun quickly evaporated and I ate it without hesitation. The dog itself had mutated into a compound the likes of which man has never seen. Attempting to chew multiple times I succumbed and spit out the dog. I had lost to Jason for realzies this time, and had to accept it...
After such an exhilarating evening I think I might elect to sleep in tomorrow. Then again, perhaps I could use an extended bicycle ride.
A time set, a weapon selected, an age-old enemy challenged. Hot dogs and Dr.pepper would be our measuring sticks. Not being vegetarian I obviously selected all beef dogs while Jason went with the far more morally sound veggie option. For eight dogs there was clear skies, smooth sailing, and a veritable feast for easy consumption. But like so many triathletes and marathon runners we eventually hit the wall. The point where every step becomes a battle not only against the clock, but yourself as well. The two of us struggled on, using sit ups, belching, removing clothes, and a few tears to aid as a helping hand. Eventually, reaching a dozen dogs each, we ran out of food and moved on to drinking Dr.pepper as the tiebreaker option. Reaching as high as six sodas consumed I was stung with the need to use the washroom, and this is where debate was born: was using the washroom outside of the rules? No such law being established I fought in my defense and in the end a stalemate was reached, and the contest was to be rescheduled. I stood strongly in my conviction that the singular reason Jason remained in contention was his selection of veggie dogs, as they wreak far less havoc on the internal systems. This brings us to the current date, somewhat.
Throughout the weeks and months following the contest there had been large speculation amongst people who did not attend the event. Word spread and a legend grew of our exploits and the scars left in the kitchen that very day. As anticipated, many expectations were set for a follow up bout, and this was simply not something that could be left unfinished when I head west. So on my lengthy farewell tour I clearly needed to set aside a date in Kitchener.
Three steps up the stairs and my palms are sweating. We needed to take a trip to the grocery store to buy hot dogs and pop. We elected to both select vegetarian dogs and once again our valiant chef Kevin Dent prepared the hot dogs to be consumed in large volume. The first six hot dogs came and went without much attention, and at a frightening pace. For the second set of six I opted to add some taste enhancers. I saw bacon salt and sprinkled it on all my dogs. What I anticipated as a bonus quickly soured. My mouth dried up after one bite of the first dog. With a dried out mouth I fought through six more hot dogs. At this point Jason was fighting the pains, but was still one dog in the lead. Beginning my thirteenth dog we were both in trouble. I took a large bite to finish my hot dog and decided to attempt another strategy. I took a sip of root beer to break down the buns and dog. The bun quickly evaporated and I ate it without hesitation. The dog itself had mutated into a compound the likes of which man has never seen. Attempting to chew multiple times I succumbed and spit out the dog. I had lost to Jason for realzies this time, and had to accept it...
After such an exhilarating evening I think I might elect to sleep in tomorrow. Then again, perhaps I could use an extended bicycle ride.
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