Archive for November, 2006

Booze news

LCBO employees have their smocks in a knot over government plans to increase the number of “agency stores” available in Ontario. These outlets operate in existing grocery and convenience stores in small communities where it doesn’t make sense to build an entire LCBO like us big city boozers enjoy — I guess they don’t drink Lemoncella in the sticks.

They say they’re protesting the expansion because it will increase liquor sales to minors, but everyone knows they just don’t want private businesses moving in on their territory. And really, who cares if minors are drinking. I invented underage drinking and I turned out fine…ish. If anything it means more booze sales to keep these whiny humps employed.

I say ship these fuckers off to Sioux Lookout and make them sell Thunderbird to the local inbred public urinators.

Here’s anohter reason why Letterman will always rule late night. Not many talk show hosts can get away with bits like this anymore — especially with image-concious pretty boys like George Clooney. Woot!

Hubris is a bitch

Steven Soderbergh
Acclaimed film director Steven Soderbergh was probably more than a little surprised this weekend when his latest flick got a less than warm response at a special New York screening. It seems the crowd thought the film was less an hommage to Cold War-era film noire than a blattant rip-off of some of the genre’s best-known works. Not known for being passive aggressive, the NYC crowd let him have it with boos and sarcastic questions during the Q&A.

I don’t normally care about film reviews enough to write about them, but I’m taking quite a bit of pleasure in the hostility being directed towards Soderbergh. The guy had a good career going with solid movies like Out of Sight, The Limey and Traffic. Then he became buddies with George Clooney and Brad Pitt and did what any of us did when the cool kids paid attention to us in high school — pretend you’re not smart and akwardly try to act cooler than you are.

Shit-flicks like Ocean’s Eleven, Solaris, Full Frontal and Ocean’s Twelve are the cinematic equivalent of getting stoned behind the dumpster with jock assholes after school. And the rude New York crowd is basically his former band of nerd buddies [perhaps played by Steve Buscemi and David Lynch?] confronting him saying, “What happened to you man? We never used to care about what those jerks thought.”

I’m looking forward to Act 3 where we find out if dipshit ditches the jocks and hunkers down for finals, or sticks with the cool guys and ends up making Breakfast at Tiffany’s III starring Lindsay Lohan.

Of course, the fact that Ocean’s Thirteen is in pre-production is not a good omen.

My suspicions about rookie Nova Scotia premier Rodney MacDonald have been confirmed: he’s a total douchebag. This week’s issue of the Coast has a pretty in-depth article on the rotten tactics he used to win the party leadership and the inept leadership he’s displayed so far.

Basically, he manipulated the delegate system to get elected. And so far, he’s launched a number of useless money-wasting programs, appointed friends to high-paying government jobs and done something to make his wife kick him out of the house. I’m not surprised, he’a a Cape Bretoner after all. I guess I’m disappointed in my Nova Scotia peeps for letting a tool like this in the premier’s office. He used to be a gym teacher for chrissake!

Here’s a pic of Rodney MacDonald shaking hands with out-going premier John Hamm.

Rodney MacDonald, John Hamm

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Had an alright time in Ottawa this weekend. I took the train up Friday, so there was no risk of getting lost. No luck trying to find either of my Federal Hotties — Belinda Stronach, Michaelle Jean — for a beer, but it wasen’t for lack of trying. I had interesting conversations with security for both, but the closest offer I had for a date was a two-course knuckle sandwich dinner followed by a scenic tour in the trunk of security’s car. I opted for pints at the Manx instead. Aside from that it was just boozin and snoozin in our wonderful National Capital Region.

Here are some pics.

Other highlights:

+ Dinner at Shanghai — voted Ottawa’s No. 1
Chines restaurant and Kareoke joint

+ Beers at Lieutenant’s Pump on Elgin
+ A&W burgers
+ Beers in the Market
+ Indian feast at Haveli
+ Shoplifting from Chapters
+ Stranger than Fiction
+ Beers at the Manx — woot!
+ Brunch in Belinda Stronach’s condo

Now, back to TCB.

The Christmas season has arrived and with it, a new iPod playlist. It might sound lame, but believe me, I’m pirating nothing but the best holiday songs out there. Of course most of them come thanks to legendary producer Phil Spector — who incidently makes shithouse rats look well-adjusted.

Sure, he may be on trial for murder after allegedly losing one of his bullets in the back of a lady-friend’s head, but there’s no denying that he’s one of the only producers around who made Christmas music tolerable. Barry Gordy’s in there with some Motown classics, but Spector dominates thanks to his “wall of sound” and talented roster of female vocalists including the Ronettes and Darlene Love.

Maybe if Gordy held more of his artists at gunpoint during recording sessions there’d be more, but this year crazy Phil rules the iPod. Here’s a taste.

We went to a rodeo last Friday at the Legion and a birthday party broke out. The Beer Bandit showed up, but it wasen’t enough to spoil the fun. Woot!

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I was eating some yogurt this morning — don’t ask, it was on sale asshole — and I was wondering what the arrow logo on the container was supposed to mean. It’s just this big arrow, pointing down. So I went to the yogurt web site to check it out. You can imagine my surprise when I realized that the yogurt is trying to get me to pleasure a lady for two weeks in a row. Consult the two slides from their advertisement pictured below:

yogurt.jpg

I’m game for anything, but unfortunately my time off is all gone for the year. But could it be that this actually part of some better living regimen? If so, I may be entitled to medical leave. Or maybe the creative department at Danon’s ad agency is run by 18-year-old horn dogs who managed to slip one by the boss.

Either way I appreciated stumbling upon this porn so early in the morning, intentional or otherwise. Too bad the yogurt tastes like ass.

PS3 vs. A-hole

As much as I hate the idea of promoting this douchebag, I want to post something on the PS3 and this is the latest item I’ve come across. That’s why I’m not linking to his site — he’s probably expecting to cash in off the ad impressions he gets, but hopefully YouTube will undermine ’em.

My buddy Blonskibeat waited in line for almost two days for a PS3, but he’d never do anything like this. Check ’em out.

It’s not a PS3 but…

My co-workers surprised me today with a delightful Belinda Stronach-accented birthday package. Thanks to TB and IT for the cool designs. Here’s a pic of the package highlight. Woot.mug.jpg