I know I’m in the minority here, but I think 3:10 to Yuma sucked shit. It was basically a rip-off of Lord of the Rings only with a doughy Aussie instead of a stumpy Brit. A band of brave westerners embark on a quest to deliver outlaw-renaissance man Russell Crowe to justice in Yuma. Chased by a pack of evil-doers, our heroes find a shortcut through a mountain that leads to climactic a ending where one of the guys that everyone likes gets offed. Sheeesh.
This plot should have stayed on whatever public bathroom stall door it was written on and Clint Eastwood should kick the ass of anyone who compares this steamer to the Unforgiven.
I want my $10.50 back.
This is what happens to hungover backseat drivers when they pay more attention to Fergie than they do to highway detour notifications. Don’t let backseat freakouts happen to you — pay attention to posted signs and construction detours.
Again, sorry Steve.
Filmed by cuzoogle on the way to Golden, B.C.
Just spent a blurry long weekend partying in the rockies at Banff and Kicking Horse. I was mostly boozing, but some of the guys decided to re-enact movie posters for gay cowboy movies. Well done fellas. Too bad you didn’t do it in Vegas — what happens at Moraine Lake stays on the Internet.
More pics later. Woot.
It’s official, beerandnews has moved to Calgary. It’s been a busy week and already I’ve made some wonderful discoveries, like:
+ Not having to recycle anything saves tons of time.
+ The beef out here is so good you’ll punch yourself in the nuts to make sure you’re not dreaming.
+ The beer sucks. I’m gonna have to stick with imports.
+ You can smoke at Hooters.
Of course, it’s beautiful and clean. And although it’s tough to find a place to live, there aren’t nearly as many douchebags around as there are in Toronto. There are, however, tons of homeless nutbars on the streets and you do get the feeling that at any moment one of them may take swing at you. That combined with a feeling that frontier justice has more influence than the Canadian Criminal Code out here gives a guy the sense there’s some Wyatt Earp motherfucker who’ll take care of things.
Despite the crap beer, I think I’m going to like it out here. At least I found a good pub.
I have the worst timing. I gave away my tv, ps2 and vcr all in one night due to my upcoming departure to Calgary. At least I still have a functioning liver, two kidneys and a wallet full of fives for pints of Carlsberg. Good thing my neighbor hasn’t clued in on how to block off his free wireless internet. Otherwise, I never would have found this gem.
Just as Philadelphia has cheeseteaks, Chicago has deep dish, Toronto has peameal — Halifax has the donair. And like those other great cities, Halifax’s greasy signature snack is loaded with more fat and calories than one should consume in one sitting — or one week for that matter. All the same, nothing removes a hangover quite like two Advil gel caps and a regular donair.
As you can see, it’s served on pita piled high with a special blend of spiced meat, tomatoes onions and topped with a creamy sweet and sour garlic sauce. I’ve been in cities across Canada and seen sandwhich boards in front of pizza shops advertising “Authentic East Coast Donairs”, but they’ve never been anything more than a beef shwarma with some kind of yogurt on top.
No, for the real deal you have to head east until you can smell the salt water of the Atlantic. Find Halifax and follow the shitty celtic music downtown until you see an intersection lit on all sides by the neon lights of Pizza Corner. If your timing is right, you’ll hear the drunken cadence of hundreds of pilgrims slowly making their way along Agyle, Grafton and Blowers towards this holy spot.
Order fast and be patient, these things take time to prepare. Once you have it, tear in. Despite what some locals might say, there’s no right way to finish a donair. Some pick away at it like popcorn, others eat it like a sandwhich. Know this — no matter how hard you try, your hands will be covered in grease and sauce and you will get some on you shirt, pants or shoes — a souvenir you’ll enjoy forever. Also, don’t expect to get any kisses from vampires as the smell of garlic will linger on your breath long after the lights of Pizza Corner have faded in the rearview.
These little pieces of heaven start at about $4 a pop. Do yourself a favor and give one a try while blood can still make it’s way through your un-clogged arteries.
OK, if this dude is getting pulled over for driving under the influence, the four horseman of the apocalypse can’t be too far behind because the world is officially screwed. Seems when he’s not dishing out life lessons on his “hit” TLC show, Matt Roloff likes to play Mad Max in Oregon. I guess this means he may also be appearing in a show on Court TV, and if we’re lucky, maybe one like Oz (no, not the one that starts off in Kansas, but good catch).
I don’t want to hate on little people or anything, but if there’s anyone out there who should be careful about their booze consumptions it’s them — and maybe toddlers. The only benefit I can see is that Yank beer would actually have the affect of a real beer.
I’m never driving in the states again. You never know who’s driving drunk down there.
Yes, these are Greek soldiers — waging some kind of war against good taste.
Seriously. These guys make those dancing Filipino inmates look cool. Zeus is gonna be pissed.
I know this is an older promo still from a crappy movie [Blades of Glory], but what I never noticed before was the view of Montreal’s Olympic Stadium out the hotel window. I guess I was busy admiring my favorite TV receptionist in a very un-Pam-like outfit. I’ve always said that ladies are sexier in Montreal and this is proof that it isn’t just the booze talking.