I waited until the car passed by to open the door of our house in hopes that the noise of the car wouldn't wake Stephanie (girlfriend) who laid in the bed sound asleep.

I drove home tonight from Parsons' "close friends" bachelor party. We ended up going down town - something I hadn't anticipated. We did however meet up with the corresponding bachelorette party. Then we went back to the hotel we had rented that night.

In order for us to maintain a good time I bought 2 dozen beer and stashed them in a snow bank on the way downtown - to pick up later. I did threaten the cab driver who brought us not to tell where the beer was stashed. To which he said "I don't give a fuck" so that pretty much guaranteed the secrecy of my loot.

We came back from an uneventful excursion downtown and proceeded to carry on the previous festivities.

Well that didn't quite happen. Most of the boys passed out, which left Glenn and I to take advantage of our friends.

We did the usual "put your finger in the warm cup" to see if our friends would pee in their clothes. But that didn't happen.

Glenn and I, after hushed laughter - playing pranks on the boys - decided to go to sleep. Being 4AM and all.

Me being me, I couldn't sleep so I decided to drive home. I wasn't under the influence one bit, I had a long day and even longer night and figured it would be best to go home to sleep - which leads me to this point.

Listening to esoterical banter about classical composers on CBC Radio 1, I was pensive all the way home. During the voyage I drove in slush that started to thicken as I drove to a higher altitude as I ventured along Prince Phillip Drive. I passed a guy carrying a shopping bag - who I pitied - wondering all the way until Mundy Pond Road, what the hell was so important for him to be out so late.

Going down Shaw's Lane I put the car in neutral. I usually let the car drift until she hit's 100KM going down the hill. Being slushy and all I decided against it and just settled for 80KM. Then made my way home.

I assume the guys left in the hotel room will figure I left early, but in fact I left premature. We're supposed to be going out for breakfast tomorrow - the whole bridal party.

Well that was my idea, and I've got response to the point that, that may not happen, but I know for sure us guys will be meeting up, as we have to do a final fitting for our tuxes tomorrow. I'm gonna have a feed of toutons and molasses at breakfast.

Anyhoo, I'm gonna go BBQ some Bologna before I go to bed. I will most likely eat it with mustard pickles and a lot of green olives avec pimento.

.


Joe will get a kick out of this - on account of the name!

Cause nothing says "cool" like a fanny pack

You may find it funny but my well-meaning mother. . .


(Godbless her heart) has done some inadvertently funny things over the years.

Very innocent things that yielded great laughter from her children. But it's the naivitae that is the funny part -the good intention met with reality.

Let me explain.

I'll start by saying that the 80's were a memorable time for many. It was a hip and happening time. Michael Jackson's coat was a big item on the "got to have it" list. People were wearing bright colours, girls were wearing their dad's long sleeve shirts with the collars popped and fanny packs were ubiquitous.

Jump ahead roughly 20 years and it's Christmas time at the Samways household. Mom has spent the past 2 months carefully noticing/keeping an eye out for potential gifts for family and friends.

My Cousin Kim who is 20 something at the time as well as my girlfriend are pretty savy ladies when it comes to the high fashion. I would say they are high maintenance, but it's not entirely true.

They do however know what exactly is in style and are certainly a good representation of it. They are always seen wearing the cool sunglasses and wearing the latest accessories. They are stylish to say the very least. As to whether or not my Mother is aware of this is another thing.

My mother isn't interested in what's going on in Paris or Milan, nor does she care to be fitted in the latest couture garb. She doesn't follow the fashion magazines and why the hell would she? She my Mom and shes good at it!

I did expect her to be stylish when I was a silly pretentious little brat of 10 or 11. But certainly now I only expect her to be her. So when she gets gifts on Christmas, it involves thought and care and comes from the heart. She thinks about functionality and practicality - as do I - when she's seeking gifts for people.

She did however blow my mind when she told me what she had bought for my girlfriend and cousin.

I bust out laughing in front of my Mom, to her amazement. She was bewildered as to why I was dying from laughter right in front of her. And to her dismay I wouldn't tell her what was so funny.

I waited until my girlfriend came later that day and I told her. She had the same reaction, she immediately took with a fit of laughter. There was an airborne contagion because my Mom started to laugh as well - must be the pheromones.

Unfortunately she didn't know what was so funny, just simply that something was. Which was exacerbated by my laughing even harder at my Mother's innocence.

I guess all the years following the 80's and the fun we all made of ourselves and the styles we wore never occurred to my Mom. And definitely the fact that our fun making was concentrated on one item of the 80's in particular.

My sweet, sweet Mother in all her glory, practicality and wisdom had chosen a gift she was sure my girlfriend and cousin would cherish (I picked the word"cherish" purposely beacuse it was sung by Madonna in the 80's early 90's).

She had picked out a gift that had been very popular at one time, only this one was much better. It was made of pleather too which makes it even funnier. She had got them Fanny Packs.

Oh me Darlin Clementine

It used to be that here in Newfoundland Clementines were a Christmas thing and only available during that time.

Well now things have changed.

And one of those things is that there's friggin seeds in those damn things. It didn't happen when I was a child! I bet you I didn't bite into a single Moroccan Maroc clementine seed until I was 19. And I ate a lot of those fuckers.

So what happened? Did they get unsophisticated and say the hell with making all of them seedless? "Oh yeah we'll just make some of them seedless, just to fuck around with people"

I just bought a box the other day and there are a lot of seeds in them bad boys.

To the point where I'm holding the sections up to the light to see if there are any in it. Because God knows - and so do I - that theres nothing worse than biting into a seed. It just ruins your whole chewing experience. If my neighbours saw me holding my clementine sections up to the light - well I just don't know what they'd think. Maybe they'd say "I bet he's checking his Moroccan Maroc clementines for seeds" not fuckin likely!

I once bit into a bone whilst eating a chicken salad sandwich at Tim Hortons. I didn't get another for 3 years. I eat them on croissants, better texture.
Then the first 3 were OK and then another bone. Then another 4 years and I didn't eat those things. The last time I had one the whole recipe had changed. They have chunks of chicken now.
I'm not fussy

You get some seedless clementines and then you get ones with seeds all in the same box. What's going on? Don't they have quality control in Morocco?

Get your shit in order fellas because this inconsistency is killing me!

A wolf in sheep's clothing

There was a time when I was into the whole brand name thing.

My Cousin Tanya had all the brand name clothing: Roots, Esprit, Beaver Canoe, AuCoton, United Colours of Benneton, Northern Reflections, Club Monaco all that jazz. I kinda got into it, because I looked up to her and thought she was cool. Plus all her cute friends wore that stuff too. They were kinda cool in Gander back then.

My classmates (notice how I didn't say friends?) also started wearing brand names. I didn't have a stitch of Brand name stuff. I was still wearing excalibur sneakerboots for Christ's sake and fuckin Bi-way brand shit. I wanted the Far West jackets the Vuarnet and Chip'n'Pepper shirts the OP shorts/trunks, I wanted it all.

Whenever my Parents travelled I would always make sure they brought back something brand name, even the fucking bag from the store would do. I seen Tanya do it!

One year when I was in grade 4 my Mom bought me 2 Northern Reflections sweaters. As I remember it was the first of my "Brand Name" clothing and I wore it proudly. I even have pictures home with me wearing one - over a turtleneck no less - which was very much in style at the time.

Now I couldn't really be bothered with the whole brand name shit. I go for style and comfort now. Cashmere and nothing less than merino, maybe the odd lambswool when it comes to sweaters - not that I have trouble sweating.

I do favour Gap. They have quality clothing and Nan concurrs. I don't buy the stuff with "GAP" written on it, I'm not like that anymore, I've grown conservative in my years.

I did have a girlfriend once who couldn't understand the point in buying GAP clothing if it didn't have GAP advertised on it somewhere. I guess she hadn't advanced to my point in her retail efforts. That was Christmas 2001, when she made the comment and before the year was through she had gone and bought a baby blue fleece GAP hoodie - which was all the rave at the time. I was just happy she bought something from one of my favourite clothing stores. I felt a sense of accomplishment, although it was obvious I had failed.

Years after I hit puberty I would often wander through the Northern Reflections store at the Avalon Mall in search of clothes. I would always feel uncomfortable and out of place there as a kid. I attributed it to my lack of self confidence and self esteem.

It wasn't until I was in my Twenties that I realized that Northern Reflections is wholly a women's store!

I was kinda coming to that conclusion when my Mother and her Mother would always make a special trip to Northern Reflections whenever they hit the mall. They love that stuff. My Mom is not afraid of the vests either.

Attention Shoppers, Aeropostale has opened a new store in St. John's Newfoundland

Aeropostale. You start a clothing line that isn't available in every province and all of a sudden everyone has to have it. It was like that with American Eagle, until it came to town. It's still like it with Bath & Body Works.

If it's out of reach or exclusive people want it.

I'm not sure it's to be pretentious anymore.

I've gone to the West Edmonton Mall with a fucking shopping list to pick-up shit for friends of mine that want Bath & Body Works stuff. While I was there I decided to pick up some of the damn stuff - it just smells so good. And we all know nothing smells as good as something no one else has.

Aeropostale even has the allure of people not knowing how to pronounce it, I know I've heard four versions. The first by my Cousin Jeremy - he's a sucker for that shit. The fourth by my Cousin Lee. Tonight

I was at the 24 hour Sobeys late last night and the girl ahead of me with 2 items is rifling through her purse trying to find her debit card. Her ordeal was not helped by the phone stuck to her ear, which was held in place by her shrugged shoulder - enabling her to be unable to rummage efficiently. It's all about efficiency.

It was at that point that I wondered if I should go to the vacant cash just up 3 cashes. Only thing about that was . . . there was no one at it. I would probably have to summon someone to it. I have no problem doing the sort as I love to hear myself speak in public. If only for my witty banter.

Back to the girl. I'm serious when I say it was a minute before she found her good sense to put the phone down. Another 20 seconds after that to fetch the card. It was one of those moments when the woman at the cash is looking at the purse and tilts her hip, then looks at the girl, the purse, me, the girl, the purse, me, the girl, her co-workers, the girl again - I guess to see if the girl seen her look at her co-workers with a look of impatience and disdain.

There was a lot of time.

I had a lot of time on my hands during the search and I take a visual account of the scene. I notice that this young woman ahead of me was wearing a pair of Aeropostale Jogging pants as well as a shirt from said company which was peaking out from under a hoodie from the same place. Well surely this woman who must be a skeet - evidenced by her over abundance of brand name clothing (quite the same way women when they go out to a dance wear every fucking piece of jewelery she has, especially the rings which on one finger may count 4 or 5) - should be able to pronounce "Aeropostale" and she did. It was the third variant of pronunciation I have ever heard.

Best Dude

Here's a picture of Parsons and I playing fooseball in Kemptville Ontario.

He is the cat I have to toast on friday at his wedding. He's my best friend. I've written a lot of stuff - funny stuff. My girlfriend doesn't think it's that funny, in fact she thinks it's insulting. What I say is that everyone fails to realize it's going to be like a roast, like they do on "the mainland". Coming from Newfoundland all the speeches at a wedding are endearing and kind, but I want to make my speech funny and burn him a little. You know like it happens in most places. I'm afraid my audience won't get it. My audience - the whole time I was writing this shit were my buddies who are standing at the wedding as well. I know they'd get a kick out of it. In fact today I read most of it to Glenn, he thought it was funny but more sour than sweet and not in keeping with the "norm" as I like to put it.

This is Parsons and Glenn - both funny people.

By the way that picture happened like that, it's not what you think.

These guys would totally get the whole thing. I even googled "bestman speeches" and all of them were of the bestman poking fun at the groom. I enjoyed them and wanted to follow in this long standing tradition. I usually do anything for the sake of being funny - as though my life were being documented - and this moment of comic genius had to come out.

But again I must stress that in Newfoundland we don't do those kind of toasts, and far be it than for me to be the trailblazer - the pioneer of Newfie Bestman Roast Toasts.

Do you know how many people I would offend? Generations of people. Especially the, lets say the exlax users or the cane walking crowd. To them that shit is just bad manners - and I agree. But it kills me not to go on with the speech the way I wanted to. Because it's hilarious. I love my culture just the way it is, I have enough trouble when someone doesn't know what a touton is!

I'm going to do a great toast, but I just wanted more laughter. Perhaps I will have to preface the whole speech by telling the audience what my vision was and how bestman speeches are done according to the internet.

I was never a Snowboarder

I picked this colour scheme for my blog because it reminded me of snowboarding clothing. I also have a shirt that Smitty's brother once owned in the seventies with nearly the same colours, it's one of my favourites. I cut the collars off and my Nan made it look real Pro-Fessional. She's good like that - quite the seamstress I must say!
I always liked the clothing worn by snowboarders it looked awesome. I even felt like I was in Whistler or Banff or somewhere like that when I wore the clothes. It gave me confidence in my skiing ability and social skills - that's how I lie to myself.