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Posts Tagged ‘Puking’

Canada Day at the Bandshell

In At home, Concerts on July 8, 2011 at 11:45 pm

I know I said I was moving addresses but just haven’t gotten around to it.  And since I had something to write about I decided to stick it here instead of waiting for a new address to happen.  This past Canada Day my friend Sara and I got tickets to see the Soulstice concert which headlined SWV, Ginuwine, and Tony! Toni! Toné! I was psyched, I certainly love TTT and also enjoy a song or two by SWV.  Ginuwine I always found highly offensive and disgusting but was hoping he might have grown up a bit in the past 15 years.  The concert was held at the Orpheum, a rather classy joint with rotten acoustics for an R&B spectacular.  I saw K’naan there last year and it was a good thing I knew the lyrics to his songs because from where we were sitting it was pretty muffled.  We sat in about the same area this time, note to self.

The evening started off when a couple sat beside us, totally excited to see the show.  They had bets on who would open and close and which songs would start the sets.  Shortly before the show started there was a minor commotion behind us when someone in the drunk group puked on their seat and the floor.  The ushers came after the row had left and put up stylish canvas ropes to prevent others from walking in the vomit.  Then SWV came out.  I keep forgetting as the years move on quickly that time has passed so it was kind of a shock to see three middle-aged ladies rocking it out in 90’s attire.  The first one wore shiny spandex tights, the second wore black sequined tights, the third wore black sequined culottes, 3 inch heels and a Michael Jackson military jacket.  Halfway through the second song she kicked off her shoes and told us all she felt at home which is why she would perform the rest of the show barefoot.  Mmmm hmmm.  By this point the concert was reminding me of Canada Day celebrations at the bandshell in Fort George Park back home in P.G. You know those small town fetes where every cultural group has a cute group of kids dancing and there’s a lot of heart and soul driving it?  The people who run sound and stage manage usually have big hearts too, just not a lot of organizational skill or ability to get rid of feedback fast.  The roadies were running around the stage trying to replace mics while the ladies sang, pull cords, and do other visible things.  I guess it was good the music was canned (sorry to the dj who I think might have been trying just a little) because if a band was up there it would have added a whole other mess to the mix.  More on that later.  Couldn’t understand much of what they were singing but the middle one sure had pipes.  They were done in about 30 minutes.

They left, there was a 20 minute break, and then another dj hopped up on the stage followed by two guys wearing white cotton golf pant things, t-shirts and lovely navy blue pullover vests.  Ginuwine strutted out.  Wearing all white. Mother of mercy.  He started singing and even though I couldn’t understand a word he sounded pretty good.  You need to know that in the 90’s Ginuwine loved loved loved his penis and his abs.  Fifteen years later his abs might not be the same since we didn’t catch even the tiniest glimpse of them, however, whatever love he used to have for them was transferred to his penis so we got a whole lotta crotch grabbing, him holding the mic in front of his manhood, and the lovely ladies in the front row make golden effort grabs for his pony.  Meanwhile, the roadies were still running around the stage trying to get mics to work and hide cables and do other visible things.  Music was canned again (sorry to the dj who I think might have been trying just a little, but really, can we stop with the “Let me hear you make some mutha f@#$ing noise” already?)  Mercifully that set ended about 30 minutes in as well and now we just had to wait for TTT.

I was getting a little excited again, there were actual instruments on stage with monitors indicating the sound might possibly get better.  A dj who had been hovering in the back like a lost roadie hopped up to the turntables and actually did some good stuff.  T1 marched onto stage with his guitar, wearing a jungle print jacket over hot green pants and military boots.  Then T2 came on wearing a sharp grey suit with orange shirt and smart white shoes.  T3, otherwise known as Raphael Saadiq, was absent, probably because he has a highly successful career writing new songs and doesn’t need a comeback tour to cover last month’s expenses.  Sound wasn’t better, roadies were even more visible, one had to run over to the bassist to turn his monitor around so it was facing him and not the drummer.  T1 one had to squat down to fix his foot pedal with his hand, mics canned out.  Again.  T1’s 15 year old son had the most beautiful fro and rocked it out on the keyboards, but I had to wonder if his father wasn’t a little concerned that the lovely ladies up front were making a grab for the onstage jailbait.  Fortunately the music for Feels Good was awesome even if we couldn’t understand the words and then terribly for us, seven ladies were pulled on stage to dance.  Maybe two of them could groove, but the rest rocked back and forth while holding onto their purses and continually running their hands through their hair all sexy like, cuz that’s like, hot, right?  The nice couple beside us left at this point after saying “This got weird.”  Let’s Get Down ended the show with Ginuwine reappearing in track sweats and more crotch grabbing.  I’ll bet what you got down there is super nice, eh Ginuwine?  Thankfully it all ended finally.  But is it normal for a group to announce the after party to the whole audience?  Because they did.  Twice.  I hope someone showed up since it sounded like TTT was nervous nobody would.

This was probably the worst concert I’ve ever been to, including Billy Idol when he was so drunk we thought he’d wander off the stage and never come back.  But just like Billy Idol, it was a fun time.  And in case you don’t know who any of the bands were and are wondering what you missed, here’s a classic line from TTT’s Let’s Get Down:

Who is your friend?
She don’t look nice.
But I bet she will,
Later on tonight…

Super Fine Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe One

In India on May 17, 2009 at 2:13 pm

Tea leaves lie above fans that dry them for use. You can’t see or hear the fans but put your hand over the leaves and they’ll shoot up all around.

That is the name of the tea we tried yesterday.  Orange Pekoe is easier.  Today was the last full day up on the Darjeeling stair master.  After 4 1/2 days I now have calves of thunder.  Apparently it’s not uncommon to get charlie horses in the middle of the night and last night I woke up a few times needing to pop extra strength advil to help stop the burning.  All of us have also developed a strange scratchy throat with cold-like symptoms.  I think it’s from the altitude and breathing in jeep fumes through hairless nasal passages.

It’s a good time to leave, not because it’s bad but because of the following:

1.  Always leave on a high.  Darjeeling is awesome – the time here was worth every minute of the journey up.

2.  Saw one of the girls I met puking in a gutter today.  The shopkeeper who’s store was on the gutter came out to say “Vomiting is bad, it’s not healthy.”  Couldn’t tell if he felt sorry for her or was telling her that puking in public is unhygenic.  She could have used some of my VomitStop tablets.  I like that they call it what it is here, what does “Gravol” tell you it does?  Whenever you see the white people puking in public it’s time to move on.

3.  Feels like I’m cheating my trip up here.  It’s not conventional India, it’s rather modern and not nearly as dirty or hot as down below.  It’s great but I need the grit again.

4.  Really looking forward to Kolkata now that I’ve had my break.  Want to see the masses of people again and check out the sites down there.

5.  I have a farmer’s tan from wearing t-shirts.  Those have never been attractive, need to even it out for a new look.

The one sad thing about leaving tomorrow is that me and my two little brothers will be separated.  The guys will head north to Sikkim and then onto Nepal from there.  They’ve been great fun to travel with, very entertaining and they certainly made the journey up here almost bearable.  From here to Kolkata I’ll be with James which is nice since he’s been there before so I won’t feel so totally out of it.

Dave, Me, Andrew

One more quick walk/hike tomorrow to find some monasteries and then sucking back the rest of my VomitStops for the 3 hour jeep ride back down to the plains to catch the train.

That’s it from Darjeeling, one of the finest places on the planet.

Crossing the street or climbing it.

My Neighbourhood

In At home on January 8, 2008 at 8:02 pm

I love my neighbourhood.  I’ve been living there for just over 4 months and have enjoyed every minute of it.

My building is not too big, maybe 25 suites in all, so there aren’t so many tenants.  It’s like every other big city though, none of us know each other, so what I do know about them comes from seeing them at their windows or hearing them through the walls.

The people across the hall have sing-along sessions every week and from what I can hear, they actually know how to play the guitar.  Sounds kind of folky and sounds kind of nice.  The guy to the right of my apartment, I have no idea what he does for a job, but whatever it is he needs to unload on Friday nights which means he opens all his windows and cranks Diamond Dave Van Halen til about midnight.  During the day on Saturdays he’s usually playing other 80’s rock classics so I’ve become reacquainted with Europe and some AC/DC I’d completely forgotten about.  The girl above my apartment, let’s just say she yelps like a dog when she’s ‘excited’ and she gets excited A LOT.  Usually at 3 in the morning, but also at 7, 8, and 10:30 in the evenings.  Sometimes it’s 6:30 on Saturday mornings or 2 o’clock Sunday afternoons.  I’ve never seen her, I assume she sleeps a lot as she must be tired from all the activity.

My building is on the corner of a busy intersection and my apartment is the corner suite so I get to hear everything going on outside.  Every night around 12:30 some guy walks by under my bedroom window playing a harmonica.  I hear lots of animated conversations but can’t understand most of them as they are usually in Japanese, Korean, Portuguese and Spanish.  It makes for pleasant white noise when I’m kicking around, but I’m always surprised when I finally do understand something being spoken in English.  The street also seems to be the strip for drunken party-goers and a lot of them like to talk loudly and laugh about their exploits.  One early morning three girls were laughing and yelling about how funny they were.  Next thing they were all puking just under my window and chanting, “We’re funny but we’re not pretty, ha ha ha ha.”  I hope they got home alright.

The best burger joint in the world is two blocks away, serving bison, muskox, and ostrich burgers.  When you order their fries, you will be constantly reminded that they are hand-cut.  “Here are your hand-cut fries.”  “How are you hand-cut fries?”  “Would you like some more hand-cut fries?”  I finally asked if slave labour was cutting the fries by hand in the kitchen.  Whoosh, over her head.  “No, the fries are put through a hand-operated machine by one of our employees.”

Rumour is that the Hell’s Angels operate the super expensive Super-Valu three blocks away.  I prefer to do my shopping at the little hole-in-the-wall grocery store where everything is way cheaper.  From the outside it looks like a fruit and vegetable stand, but when you get inside it stretches way to the back and is packed with tons of shelves lining tiny aisles that you almost have to walk through sideways.  At Christmas all the employees wore Santa hats and threw a store 30th anniversary party, clearing out the bread aisle to make room for a dance floor.

The angriest people in the world work at the video store around the corner and I’d say they go out of their way to be miserable except it appears to be in their nature to be permanently unhappy.  They should be happy, they all have excellent hair.

I’ve got a crush on the guy who used to work the nightshift at the corner convenience store.  It made getting my morning coffees worth getting up for as my current job doesn’t inspire me to do so.  He hasn’t been there in the mornings for weeks now, I wonder where he’s gone.