Saturday, December 25, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
House Sitting Instructions
1. Jo Ann’s #: 403-XXX-XXXX (marginalia says “flashlight for night walks”).
2. Lulu: 2 walks a day, as before. 1 or 2 pees during day. Large cookie at 9pm. Keep her on the leash and close to you especially when nearing small, yappy dogs, which she hates. Otherwise, the leash can be let out. Put her harness and collar on vestibule bench for Tanis and Ralph (make sure key is under mat) to get on Monday morning. Food: ½ cup (coffee cup) of crunch, one large plop of dog food (soft) for morning and dinner. MAKE SURE KEY IS UNDER MAT (note stating “repeated” and an arrow to marginalia denoting “make sure key is under mat).
3. Cats: ¼ can am and pm. Also crunch in Mud Room if Eli gets too demanding, ie he won’t shut up. Use sparingly. Keep Mud Room door shut otherwise Eli gets into crunch.
4. You: eat anything in fridge, freezer or cupboards but NOT squash soup in stainless steel container in freezer- we’re having that Monday night. There are three packs of Sole in freezer (marginalia: there are no potatoes). If you run out of candles don’t use the red ones- if you find them-, they’re for Christmas. Use utility white ones in drawer next to sink. Don’t snoop for Christmas presents. There aren’t any for you. Lots of toilet paper. Don’t use Anna’s car on Monday. She’s coming back Tuesday night and has an appointment on Wednesday. Check out new TV and zippy vacuum in vestibule closet. You’ll want that to clean up. (Marginalia: for puke and shit on carpet: use spray water and sponge up. Don’t rub or use soap and hot water.)
Lock doors when going out. Don’t leave fire unattended, lights and heat off if not here. Otherwise, thanks and have fun. XO, Mom.
2. Lulu: 2 walks a day, as before. 1 or 2 pees during day. Large cookie at 9pm. Keep her on the leash and close to you especially when nearing small, yappy dogs, which she hates. Otherwise, the leash can be let out. Put her harness and collar on vestibule bench for Tanis and Ralph (make sure key is under mat) to get on Monday morning. Food: ½ cup (coffee cup) of crunch, one large plop of dog food (soft) for morning and dinner. MAKE SURE KEY IS UNDER MAT (note stating “repeated” and an arrow to marginalia denoting “make sure key is under mat).
3. Cats: ¼ can am and pm. Also crunch in Mud Room if Eli gets too demanding, ie he won’t shut up. Use sparingly. Keep Mud Room door shut otherwise Eli gets into crunch.
4. You: eat anything in fridge, freezer or cupboards but NOT squash soup in stainless steel container in freezer- we’re having that Monday night. There are three packs of Sole in freezer (marginalia: there are no potatoes). If you run out of candles don’t use the red ones- if you find them-, they’re for Christmas. Use utility white ones in drawer next to sink. Don’t snoop for Christmas presents. There aren’t any for you. Lots of toilet paper. Don’t use Anna’s car on Monday. She’s coming back Tuesday night and has an appointment on Wednesday. Check out new TV and zippy vacuum in vestibule closet. You’ll want that to clean up. (Marginalia: for puke and shit on carpet: use spray water and sponge up. Don’t rub or use soap and hot water.)
Lock doors when going out. Don’t leave fire unattended, lights and heat off if not here. Otherwise, thanks and have fun. XO, Mom.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Thursday November 18th. A List.
Things I said to strangers today while delivering car parts. Some are instant reactions to things so banal my responses were incomprehensible, some are so straight forward and boring I wish I didn't exist.
1. Guy: How you doing today? Me: Not bad!
2. Guy: Kinda looks like it might rain today, eh? Me: I heard it might snow. Guy: Sure hope not!
3. Girl: It looks like you're delivering take-out when you bring parts in brown paper bags. Me: It's Chinese, spring rolls and chop suey. Girl: Hee hee.
4. Other delivery parts guy from another company at Simeo Auto: Man, bay and government is real backed up with that construction. Who do they think they are doing that during rush hour? Me: Ha. Yeah. Cars fast lane slow, bad traffic up there (incomprehensible, I know, but what do you say to that, too many things I suppose, and I got all "jammed up").
5. Guy: I hate waiting for your parts from Vancouver, you should have them at the warehouse. Me: I'll speak to management.
6. Guy: Thanks, Buddy. Me (in my head): Do not call me "buddy," asshole. I'm thirty-two.
7. Guy: You should have brought this tomorrow with the rest of the shipment. Me: Well, it was on my way. So why not? Guy: Not very resourceful. Me: Thanks!
8. Guy: The return parts are always at the bottom left of the counter, just so you know now, so you don't need to ask. Me: What kind of cars do you sell? (this at the Jaguar dealership. might hear back on this one)
9. Guy: Hey there, World Pack Guy! Me: Hey there, Auto mechanic guy! Guy: Sure is getting close to the end of the week! Me: It sure is! Guy: Take care now! Me: You too!
10. Guy: Do you guys sell CV Ball Joints for 1997 Volkswagen Jettas. Me: What's a CV Ball Joint?
1. Guy: How you doing today? Me: Not bad!
2. Guy: Kinda looks like it might rain today, eh? Me: I heard it might snow. Guy: Sure hope not!
3. Girl: It looks like you're delivering take-out when you bring parts in brown paper bags. Me: It's Chinese, spring rolls and chop suey. Girl: Hee hee.
4. Other delivery parts guy from another company at Simeo Auto: Man, bay and government is real backed up with that construction. Who do they think they are doing that during rush hour? Me: Ha. Yeah. Cars fast lane slow, bad traffic up there (incomprehensible, I know, but what do you say to that, too many things I suppose, and I got all "jammed up").
5. Guy: I hate waiting for your parts from Vancouver, you should have them at the warehouse. Me: I'll speak to management.
6. Guy: Thanks, Buddy. Me (in my head): Do not call me "buddy," asshole. I'm thirty-two.
7. Guy: You should have brought this tomorrow with the rest of the shipment. Me: Well, it was on my way. So why not? Guy: Not very resourceful. Me: Thanks!
8. Guy: The return parts are always at the bottom left of the counter, just so you know now, so you don't need to ask. Me: What kind of cars do you sell? (this at the Jaguar dealership. might hear back on this one)
9. Guy: Hey there, World Pack Guy! Me: Hey there, Auto mechanic guy! Guy: Sure is getting close to the end of the week! Me: It sure is! Guy: Take care now! Me: You too!
10. Guy: Do you guys sell CV Ball Joints for 1997 Volkswagen Jettas. Me: What's a CV Ball Joint?
Friday, October 15, 2010
Craigslist
I got bored of trying to look for a job so I made up my own and posted it on Craigslist:
I am a Lion Enterprises specializes in pet management and nearly all areas of love, affection, discipline training, daily face-to-face interactions, and routine feeding through our family of volunteers. I am a Lion Enterprises is proud to provide assisted living and nurturing to all of our employees. The popularity of our work place environment has seen several of our employees spend their entire careers with us, though, regrettably, on occasion, careers have been cut short by accidental death due to vehicular interference, abduction, and straight-up “wandering away.” So, we're looking for an enthusiastic individual with the right skill set and a can-do attitude to join our team.
Job Title: Feline Companion
This is a full-time, on-call, on-site requirement at our office in Victoria, BC.
SUMMARY
Responsible for the development, support, and maintenance of various family relationships
PRIMARY RESPONSIBILITIES
1. The use of a litter box with minimal supervision.
2. The killing of small animals as required.
3. Providing a warm, friendly presence when the family is sleeping and/or watching television.
4. Other duties as assigned.
ADDITIONAL RESPONSIBILITIES
1. Avoid the dinner table during meal times.
2. Be able to let oneself out in the middle of the night.
KNOWLEDGE AND SKILL REQUIREMENTS
1. Basic behavioral traits associated with being a cat. These are normally acquired through genetic disposition.
2. Ability to maintain composure in the presence of dogs.
3. While it is understood you may not know the difference between a mouse and a bird, we’d appreciate it if you kept the bird slaughter to a minimum.
4. Ability to not get stuck in a tree.
5. Work well with adults and children of varying skill sets.
6. Skill with the following is encouraged:
• Meow Script v. 2.3 (minimal requirement)
• Knowing when dinner is and to not start asking for it three hours before it is served
• Cleaning one’s “privates” in private
• Linux
• Keeping corpses outdoors
• Ability to discern the scratching post from the couch
• Recreational use of Catnip is okay
Thank you for your interest in I am a Lion Enterprises!
I am a Lion Enterprises specializes in pet management and nearly all areas of love, affection, discipline training, daily face-to-face interactions, and routine feeding through our family of volunteers. I am a Lion Enterprises is proud to provide assisted living and nurturing to all of our employees. The popularity of our work place environment has seen several of our employees spend their entire careers with us, though, regrettably, on occasion, careers have been cut short by accidental death due to vehicular interference, abduction, and straight-up “wandering away.” So, we're looking for an enthusiastic individual with the right skill set and a can-do attitude to join our team.
Job Title: Feline Companion
This is a full-time, on-call, on-site requirement at our office in Victoria, BC.
SUMMARY
Responsible for the development, support, and maintenance of various family relationships
PRIMARY RESPONSIBILITIES
1. The use of a litter box with minimal supervision.
2. The killing of small animals as required.
3. Providing a warm, friendly presence when the family is sleeping and/or watching television.
4. Other duties as assigned.
ADDITIONAL RESPONSIBILITIES
1. Avoid the dinner table during meal times.
2. Be able to let oneself out in the middle of the night.
KNOWLEDGE AND SKILL REQUIREMENTS
1. Basic behavioral traits associated with being a cat. These are normally acquired through genetic disposition.
2. Ability to maintain composure in the presence of dogs.
3. While it is understood you may not know the difference between a mouse and a bird, we’d appreciate it if you kept the bird slaughter to a minimum.
4. Ability to not get stuck in a tree.
5. Work well with adults and children of varying skill sets.
6. Skill with the following is encouraged:
• Meow Script v. 2.3 (minimal requirement)
• Knowing when dinner is and to not start asking for it three hours before it is served
• Cleaning one’s “privates” in private
• Linux
• Keeping corpses outdoors
• Ability to discern the scratching post from the couch
• Recreational use of Catnip is okay
Thank you for your interest in I am a Lion Enterprises!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Robo Lasagna
I like to cook. I'm not fantastic. But I'm okay. Amazingly, today was the first time I had ever made Lasagna on my own. It reminded me of a story I wrote for a contest a while back. It was for M&M Meats, the idea to write about a family cooking memory. I only found out about the contest an hour before the deadline so I whipped something up. I didn't win the $200 worth of free meat. But, whatever, you can only have so much ground beef at once:
Robo Lasagna
Growing up, meal times were a very routine process. Dinner was always at six and preparation usually started around five. My younger sister would help with chopping veggies for the salads, and, over time, she would learn the basic cooking skills that allowed her to contribute to the meals with my mother’s supervision. I was trusted with some lighter tasks, such as setting the table, doing the dishes, and entertaining the dog.
There was a lone bar stool that overlooked the counter and I often hung around on it watching dinner be made. I sat slumped, my head resting in my hands, my feet kicking together. My father would not be home from work until just before dinner, so I would gaze away at my sister and mother chatting. I felt left out. It was like I was the lone audience member for a community cooking show. Monday to Friday, it was like this for years.
My mother and sister were making Lasagna one day. I was sitting on the bar stool as usual. There was a basket on the ledge between the counter and bar stool and I was rooting through it. In it I found a box of staples. Eventually, my mother put the lasagna noodles in a casserole dish beside the kitchen sink, which was right in front of me. She went back to the stove to help my sister with something, and while they were there I showered the cooling lasagna noodles with staples.
I have no idea why I did this. I still don’t. A cry for attention? To be a part of the process? Like, in some way, throwing staples into a pan of lasagna noodles would contribute to the meal making process. I didn’t say anything and the lasagna was cooked ala staples. I must have dropped about fifteen in.
We sat down to eat, the four of us, and before we began, I told everyone what I had done. My father was outraged, calling me a Doorknob, a Ding-a-Ling, and a “right fucking asshole.” My mother looked on the verge of tears. My sister didn’t know what to think because she was only seven, but I think she copied my father’s reaction and started repeating his insults.
I’m not sure why I decided then to mention it. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe I knew that eating staples could ruin our intestines thus creating the potential for ulcers. I’m not sure. I was only ten. But all that is irrelevant to what that meal would eventually mean to us as a family.
My father would go to his toolbox and grab a large circular magnet. Each of us would be plated with a piece of lasagna and we would take turns hovering the magnet over it. It didn’t really work, as a tiny staple is not going to get pulled through mounds of melted cheese. But it was hilarious; we were in hysterics. We chewed each slice slowly, making outrageous faces towards one another.
We recovered several of the staples and no one ended up knowingly eating any, and, if they did, nothing serious happened. But it has had a lasting effect. It’s a memory that bonds the family. And still, to this day, someone, inevitably, when at a family dinner, will say, “Excuse me, can you pass me the Magnet?”
Robo Lasagna
Growing up, meal times were a very routine process. Dinner was always at six and preparation usually started around five. My younger sister would help with chopping veggies for the salads, and, over time, she would learn the basic cooking skills that allowed her to contribute to the meals with my mother’s supervision. I was trusted with some lighter tasks, such as setting the table, doing the dishes, and entertaining the dog.
There was a lone bar stool that overlooked the counter and I often hung around on it watching dinner be made. I sat slumped, my head resting in my hands, my feet kicking together. My father would not be home from work until just before dinner, so I would gaze away at my sister and mother chatting. I felt left out. It was like I was the lone audience member for a community cooking show. Monday to Friday, it was like this for years.
My mother and sister were making Lasagna one day. I was sitting on the bar stool as usual. There was a basket on the ledge between the counter and bar stool and I was rooting through it. In it I found a box of staples. Eventually, my mother put the lasagna noodles in a casserole dish beside the kitchen sink, which was right in front of me. She went back to the stove to help my sister with something, and while they were there I showered the cooling lasagna noodles with staples.
I have no idea why I did this. I still don’t. A cry for attention? To be a part of the process? Like, in some way, throwing staples into a pan of lasagna noodles would contribute to the meal making process. I didn’t say anything and the lasagna was cooked ala staples. I must have dropped about fifteen in.
We sat down to eat, the four of us, and before we began, I told everyone what I had done. My father was outraged, calling me a Doorknob, a Ding-a-Ling, and a “right fucking asshole.” My mother looked on the verge of tears. My sister didn’t know what to think because she was only seven, but I think she copied my father’s reaction and started repeating his insults.
I’m not sure why I decided then to mention it. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe I knew that eating staples could ruin our intestines thus creating the potential for ulcers. I’m not sure. I was only ten. But all that is irrelevant to what that meal would eventually mean to us as a family.
My father would go to his toolbox and grab a large circular magnet. Each of us would be plated with a piece of lasagna and we would take turns hovering the magnet over it. It didn’t really work, as a tiny staple is not going to get pulled through mounds of melted cheese. But it was hilarious; we were in hysterics. We chewed each slice slowly, making outrageous faces towards one another.
We recovered several of the staples and no one ended up knowingly eating any, and, if they did, nothing serious happened. But it has had a lasting effect. It’s a memory that bonds the family. And still, to this day, someone, inevitably, when at a family dinner, will say, “Excuse me, can you pass me the Magnet?”
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Brains Milan Style
This is an actual recipe my sister and I just found in a cook book I gave her a few years ago for Christmas. I also gave her a pony. The cook book was a secondary gift, and, quite possibly, the strangest book of recipes we've ever seen.
Brains Milan Style
Overall timing: 15 minutes plus soaking and cooling.
Freezing: Not suitable.
To Serve 4
4 Lambs Brains
2 teasp Vinegar
2 teasp Salt and Pepper
2 teasp Bouquet Garni
4 tbsp Plain Flour
1 Egg
4 tbsp Fresh Breadcrumbs
2 oz Butter
2 oz Sage Leaves
2 oz Lemon Wedges
Put the brains in a bowl of cold water with 1 teasp of the vinegar. Soak for 15 minutes.
Drain the brains. Holding them under running water, carefully pull away membranes and blood vessels. Put the brains into a sauce-pan and cover with cold water. Add the remaining vinegar, salt and bouquet garni. Bring to a boil, then remove from the heat. Leave to cool in the liquid.
Drain the brains and dry on kitchen paper. Break into small pieces and coat with the flour. Beat the egg. Dip the brain into the egg, then coat with the breadcrumbs.
Melt the butter in a frying pan till foaming. Add the brains. Cook for 5 minutes till brown on all sides. Garnish with sage leaves and serve with lemon wedges.
Brains Milan Style
Overall timing: 15 minutes plus soaking and cooling.
Freezing: Not suitable.
To Serve 4
4 Lambs Brains
2 teasp Vinegar
2 teasp Salt and Pepper
2 teasp Bouquet Garni
4 tbsp Plain Flour
1 Egg
4 tbsp Fresh Breadcrumbs
2 oz Butter
2 oz Sage Leaves
2 oz Lemon Wedges
Put the brains in a bowl of cold water with 1 teasp of the vinegar. Soak for 15 minutes.
Drain the brains. Holding them under running water, carefully pull away membranes and blood vessels. Put the brains into a sauce-pan and cover with cold water. Add the remaining vinegar, salt and bouquet garni. Bring to a boil, then remove from the heat. Leave to cool in the liquid.
Drain the brains and dry on kitchen paper. Break into small pieces and coat with the flour. Beat the egg. Dip the brain into the egg, then coat with the breadcrumbs.
Melt the butter in a frying pan till foaming. Add the brains. Cook for 5 minutes till brown on all sides. Garnish with sage leaves and serve with lemon wedges.
Monday, August 23, 2010
New Work
My story "Don't Get Comfortable" at the Montreal Review. Muchos Thanksos to Charlotte Musgrave for being an alternate set of eyeballs.
http://www.themontrealreview.com/2009/Dont-Get-Comfortable.php
http://www.themontrealreview.com/2009/Dont-Get-Comfortable.php
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Tenor
"Bravo, Bravo," they sing, they sing, they sing as the Tenor bows and leaves the stage, her stiff black dress darting across the floor behind her to the rhythm of her footsteps. She waves, crosses through the curtains into darkness. She avoids the ropes and chains and props for past and future productions. She turns left down a shallow hallway; the circular lights that hang smell of fried dust and burned moths. She goes down concrete steps. The ceiling is low. The chorus of Bravos retreat like dismissed echoes. The Tenor goes through a heavy door. The door knob, brass, is worn, like a pastel smudge. She enters a small room. Baskets of flowers with cards signed in fast writing are on a coffee table that is primarily brown. There is graffiti on the walls. The light in the room is fatigued, failing.
The Tenor shuts the door. She undoes her dress, lets it fall to the floor, steps out of it like she is performing a military drill. She sits in the make-up chair and grabs a water glass from a tray that also contains small white towels and packets of soap. She fills the water glass with melting ice from the ice bucket. She shakes away the water that sticks to her hand; small droplets pierce the carpet like rain on old snow. She picks up a bottle of McCallum's, pours a long draw into the water glass, several fingers high. She takes a heavy sip, cocks her head to the right as she swallows. The Tenor stands. She walks to the coffee table, picks up the paper, opens it to the classifieds. She takes another, smaller sip.
An announcement is made in the auditorium. It's muffled, indiscernible to the Tenor. The audience begins the process of leaving: the putting on of coats, the rediscovering of cell phones in pockets. They discuss the Tenor, marvel at her voice, the show. In the dressing room the Tenor scrolls the paper for an apartment. She sees one of interest. She finds a pen, circles the ad. She puts the paper down. She grabs the water glass of melted ice and McCallum's with her left hand and puts her legs up on the dressing table, crosses them. With her other hand she lights a cigarette.
The Tenor shuts the door. She undoes her dress, lets it fall to the floor, steps out of it like she is performing a military drill. She sits in the make-up chair and grabs a water glass from a tray that also contains small white towels and packets of soap. She fills the water glass with melting ice from the ice bucket. She shakes away the water that sticks to her hand; small droplets pierce the carpet like rain on old snow. She picks up a bottle of McCallum's, pours a long draw into the water glass, several fingers high. She takes a heavy sip, cocks her head to the right as she swallows. The Tenor stands. She walks to the coffee table, picks up the paper, opens it to the classifieds. She takes another, smaller sip.
An announcement is made in the auditorium. It's muffled, indiscernible to the Tenor. The audience begins the process of leaving: the putting on of coats, the rediscovering of cell phones in pockets. They discuss the Tenor, marvel at her voice, the show. In the dressing room the Tenor scrolls the paper for an apartment. She sees one of interest. She finds a pen, circles the ad. She puts the paper down. She grabs the water glass of melted ice and McCallum's with her left hand and puts her legs up on the dressing table, crosses them. With her other hand she lights a cigarette.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Rifflandia
Hey, all you five (including myself, which follows myself), my band Seven Year Old Poets is playing the Rifflandia music festival in Victoria, BC, September 23, 2010 @ Upstairs Cabaret with Calico Mountain, Tyger Dhula, DJ Rowan, and Delhi 2 Dublin. We're glad to be playing and hope to see at least one of you there (not including myself, because I will be there playing).
http://www.rifflandia.com/
http://www.rifflandia.com/
My Hot Date with a Hot-Bot
So, I'm checking my email, rights, and I'm in Hotmail and all, and then I sees that this friend of mine is on messenger and I don't really pay attention and then I go pee and come back and gets a message from him and at first I thought it was him but then I realized after I tried to do what he "suggested" that he'd been hacked and then I had fun.
Adam. J. says:
Hi r you there?
Bill Farrant says:
Yeah.
Adam. J. says:
i just took an IQ quiz
Bill Farrant says:
How low did you score?
Adam. J. says:
I was better than I am! I scored 108
Bill Farrant says:
Haha.
Nice work.
I once did one with my ex-wife, we scored 130, but I'm sure it was all her.
Adam. J. says:
you need to try if you can do better than me, http://iqscoreme4.com/?test=1so707d43
Im sure you cant haha
Bill Farrant says:
Haha.
Adam. J. says:
take it now while Im in the shower and tell me ur score later
Bill Farrant says:
Okay, I'll give it a go. I just smoked crack, so this should be interesting.
You been to the pub lately?
Adam. J. says:
good, you?
Bill Farrant says:
Yeah, I saw Mike. He says to say Hi.
Can I touch your tits?
Hey, why did you tell me you were going to take a shower? That's a little personal, don't you think? I mean, we're not that close.
Adam. J. says:
are you kidding? its me and not some bot, stop this
Bill Farrant says:
So, you been to the pub lately?
Are we playing chess?
I'm really good at chess, fyi.
I could really use a back rub right now.
Neck's real sore.
Sooo, I'm just gonna take my shirt off right now... get a little comfortable. I'm soooo sweaty.
I kinda dig digital life forms, you know? Kinda like Idoru. You know that book by William Gibson. Just saying.
Hahahahah! My pants fell down when I stood up. Whoopsies!
Hey, where did you go?
I miss you.
You're never there when I need you.
I'm going back to Jemma. That's final. You can take your "don't give a shit attitude" and shove it up your fucking ass, Missy. I'm done!
Ps. Can I touch your tits?
Are you still there?
Adam. J. says:
yes thats me
Bill Farrant says:
I love you.
I need to know the key words (said in that Seinfeld voice, like "Newman.")
Okay, fine, what personal information do you need from me? Your IQ test requires my phone number. I'll give you everything. Trust me. Take it all. Bank account number? Sure. Passwords to my private things? Why not! I'm doing this for our love, our special bond (Jeremy Bond, perhaps?). Just know it's real, "us."
Adam. J. says:
yeah, but nothing else is needed
Bill Farrant says:
Other than love?
Linda, I'm confused.
Can you give our love some parting words at least?
Linda, I'm desperate! Just say anything so I know you exist!
Please, just one word, a poorly put together sentence is enough.
Seriously, hack-bot Dude, just give me a line to end this story with.
Adam. J. says:
im not a bot silly, its me
Bill Farrant says:
Thanks!
Adam. J. says:
Hi r you there?
Bill Farrant says:
Yeah.
Adam. J. says:
i just took an IQ quiz
Bill Farrant says:
How low did you score?
Adam. J. says:
I was better than I am! I scored 108
Bill Farrant says:
Haha.
Nice work.
I once did one with my ex-wife, we scored 130, but I'm sure it was all her.
Adam. J. says:
you need to try if you can do better than me, http://iqscoreme4.com/?test=1so707d43
Im sure you cant haha
Bill Farrant says:
Haha.
Adam. J. says:
take it now while Im in the shower and tell me ur score later
Bill Farrant says:
Okay, I'll give it a go. I just smoked crack, so this should be interesting.
You been to the pub lately?
Adam. J. says:
good, you?
Bill Farrant says:
Yeah, I saw Mike. He says to say Hi.
Can I touch your tits?
Hey, why did you tell me you were going to take a shower? That's a little personal, don't you think? I mean, we're not that close.
Adam. J. says:
are you kidding? its me and not some bot, stop this
Bill Farrant says:
So, you been to the pub lately?
Are we playing chess?
I'm really good at chess, fyi.
I could really use a back rub right now.
Neck's real sore.
Sooo, I'm just gonna take my shirt off right now... get a little comfortable. I'm soooo sweaty.
I kinda dig digital life forms, you know? Kinda like Idoru. You know that book by William Gibson. Just saying.
Hahahahah! My pants fell down when I stood up. Whoopsies!
Hey, where did you go?
I miss you.
You're never there when I need you.
I'm going back to Jemma. That's final. You can take your "don't give a shit attitude" and shove it up your fucking ass, Missy. I'm done!
Ps. Can I touch your tits?
Are you still there?
Adam. J. says:
yes thats me
Bill Farrant says:
I love you.
I need to know the key words (said in that Seinfeld voice, like "Newman.")
Okay, fine, what personal information do you need from me? Your IQ test requires my phone number. I'll give you everything. Trust me. Take it all. Bank account number? Sure. Passwords to my private things? Why not! I'm doing this for our love, our special bond (Jeremy Bond, perhaps?). Just know it's real, "us."
Adam. J. says:
yeah, but nothing else is needed
Bill Farrant says:
Other than love?
Linda, I'm confused.
Can you give our love some parting words at least?
Linda, I'm desperate! Just say anything so I know you exist!
Please, just one word, a poorly put together sentence is enough.
Seriously, hack-bot Dude, just give me a line to end this story with.
Adam. J. says:
im not a bot silly, its me
Bill Farrant says:
Thanks!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
A Brand New Place to Live
This is a dialogue I had with a guy who made a post on craigslist trying to rent out an apartment. It sounded too good to be true. I'm not currently looking for a place to live, but a friend was, so I was helping them out. I searched his email address before I started and came across this link:
http://www.scamwarners.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=39&t=10715&start=0
Date: Wed, 4 Aug 2010 19:02:11 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm the owner of the apartment you are making inquiry for. Short term and long term are both available. I'm currently in Wisconsin and that's why the apt is vacant for $600, the refundable damage deposit is $500, the rent includes Heat, Hydro, Water, Cable, Internet, Parking. Here is the add of the unit: 827 Fairfield Rd Victoria, BC V8W 2G9. I'm not in town presently to show you the apartment but I want you to maintain the apartment and treat it like your own if you are willing to rent it. If you're interested, the pictures and application form will be sent to you.
I await your prompt response,
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 4:23 AM
Hi Terry,
I'd be interested in taking a look at the place. Is there someone that would be able to show it to me in Victoria? Are you living out of town now and subletting the apartment? Do you own the place or are you currently subletting it from someone else? Or are you renting out a room in the apartment you own? Thanks for your time!
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 00:42:47 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm renting out a room in the apt I own.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 4:11 PM
Hi Terry,
That's good to know. So, as per my previous email, would someone in Victoria be able to show me the place?
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 09:29:07 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Nope.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 4:43 PM
Hi Terry,
Okay. Well, in that case, why don't you forward me some of the photos so I can have a look.
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 10:00:30 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Find them attached.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 9:44 PM
Hi Terry,
Let me assure you, I am quite interested in renting your property, even without viewing it or knowing any information about it. I'm quite prepared to send you the damage deposit and rent right away in trusting you will send me a key. The five pictures of the apartment look wonderful and I can already see myself living there. I prefer to have minimal contact with my landlord and this arrangement looks like the perfect fit. Even your email responses are short, and concise, a mere few words. That's the way I like it: you stay out of my hair, I stay out of yours. I'm looking for a long-term commitment here. You can always count on me to provide rent and any other money for suddenly needed (but not obvious) repairs. Possibly, in the future, you might even come visit me at your apartment and we could go out for a drink, maybe discuss our love of smooth jazz and American politics- you do like smooth jazz and American politics, don't you?
Trusting this situation is a benefit to all and to a long and lasting professional relationship,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 15:29:02 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm sure our first meet will be nice. Below is the payment information:
Name: Terry Nichols
City: Eleva
State: Wisconsin
Zipcode:54738
Amount: 500
Text Question: BEST COLOR
Answer: BLUE
So, I will like you to get back to me with the Money Gram details which include the Sender's Name, Sender's Address and the 8 digit REF#.... I await your prompt response as soon as you send it today.
Best Regards!!!
P.S - As soon as the payment is confirmed, I will proceed to DHL Office to send you the package and get back to you with the tracking number for you to know the exact time the package will be delivered to you.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 11:20 PM
Hi Terry,
That sounds good. I'll get on that right away. I'm assuming, as the ad was made for an apartment in Canada, that the $500 required would be in Canadian funds? Also, would it not be beneficial for me to send you $1100 so I don't have to do another transaction in a few weeks for the first months rent? That would be the$500 for the Deposit and $600 for the first months rent.
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 20:13:55 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
The funds in CAD. I want you to send the deposit first, then the first month rent later.
Looking forward to read from you.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Friday, August 6, 2010, 7:07 PM
Hi Terry,
I've been stuck at work all day and haven't been able to get away. I've found a local Money Gram place, so I'll be able to get to it when I'm off work at 4:30.
Thanks again!
Katie
Date: Fri, 6 Aug 2010 16:20:44 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Okay.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Saturday, August 7, 2010, 12:46 AM
Hi Terry,
I've done the Money Gram wire of the $500 and here is the information:
Sender's Name: Katie Giese
Sender's Address: 1531 Kersey Rd, Brentwood Bay, BC, Canada, V8M 1J5
Ref#: 26731326
Hope it worked! Can't wait for the new place!
Thanks again, Terry!
Katie
Date: Fri, 6 Aug 2010 19:52:20 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm having a Doctor appointment tonight. I will get this done tomorrow and get back to you. Sorry for the inconveniences.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Saturday, August 7, 2010, 9:01 PM
Hi Terry,
I haven't heard back from you, so I'm just checking to make sure everything went okay.
I hope the Doctor's appointment went well!
Regards,
Katie
Date: Sat, 7 Aug 2010 14:41:09 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Yeah, Katie, the appointment went well and thanks for the concern. I will send you the package on Monday with 24hrs delivery.
Sorry for the delay and enjoy the rest of the day.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
Date: Sat,7 Aug 2010 18:04:33 -0700
Hi Terry,
I apologize for the delay in responding too. I have to use my little brother's email at the moment cause the one I use for college only works during the school year. I know, I know, you're going to say, "What kinda young person doesn't have eight or nine email accounts, and an iPhone, a Blackberry, and a twitter?" But I guess I'm one of the odd ones. I'm a little ignorant of technology, probably why I'm studying to be a florist.
Anyway, this is my first time with my own place- I've saved up all summer. So, I'm a little nervous to find out whether the Money Gram transfer went through. Knowing me, I probably screwed it up. Ha! Can you let me know if you got the $500?
Hope your day has been rosy (that's the florist in me, tee hee)
Best,
Katie
Date: Sun, 8 Aug 2010 10:06:34 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Sorry for responding late. I've been busy with church activity. I intend going to the nearest outlet this evening to confirm the $500.
Stop being nervous, Katie! Ok?
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Sunday, August 8, 2010, 11:37 PM
Thanks, Terry!
I too had church today. I help out with a Sunday school at my local. Today I taught some kids how to make a lamb out of an old wool sock. It was hilarious! And a lot of fun.
Talk soon!
Katie
Date: Mon, 9 Aug 2010 09:53:59 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Hey Katie,
The lady at the money gram outlet told me the REF# is invalid. Can you check and get back to me asap?
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Tuesday, August 10, 2010, 1:46 AM
Hi Terry,
Ack!!! I just knew I'd screw this up. I'm sooo sorry!!! I checked the ref# that I sent you and I accidentally switched up a few numbers. It should read: 26713326.
Hope this works,
Katie
Date: Tue, 10 Aug 2010 11:55:47 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Send me a copy of the money gram receipt.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, August 11, 2010, 12:19 AM
Hi Terry,
What!!!? I don't understand what is going on here. I thought I did everything correctly. I do have the receipt, so once I figure out how to send you a copy, I will right away. So sorry about this!!!
Regards,
Katie
Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2010 09:34:58 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Scan it or find a way to snap and upload it.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, August 11, 2010, 10:23 PM
Hi Terry,
Please find attached the copy of the receipt. It took awhile as I had to get my friend Tom to scan it for me.
Regards,
Katie
Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2010 15:30:50 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To:xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Hmmm. Is that you?
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
Date: Wed,11 Aug 2010 15:45:26 -0700
Hi Terry,
No, that is not me. It is a picture of an anus, more commonly referred to as an asshole. I attempted to attach a mirror. But that proved too difficult. So, I figured the attached picture would get the point across.
A simple Google search of your email address produces a link to a scam alert website. This was searched before the initial email to you. I'm powerless to stop you from you ripping off innocent people. So, at the very least, I wasted your time. Small victory? Sure, maybe. Maybe you knew all along. I don't care. But what I have now is a nice dialogue with a scam artist that I can publish.
My favourite part of our correspondence was when you mentioned you were "busy with Church activity." That's the oldest trick in the book, the "this guy's honest cause he's a holy man" approach.
Here is a quote from Marcel Proust (some say he's a Yenta). I don't know why I chose a quote from him. I don't even know if it makes sense in regards to the context of this situation. You probably don't even know who Marcel Proust is. But, whatever:
Your soul is a dark forest. But the trees are of a particular species, they are genealogical trees.
Best of luck in your future endeavors,
Katie
http://www.scamwarners.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=39&t=10715&start=0
Date: Wed, 4 Aug 2010 19:02:11 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm the owner of the apartment you are making inquiry for. Short term and long term are both available. I'm currently in Wisconsin and that's why the apt is vacant for $600, the refundable damage deposit is $500, the rent includes Heat, Hydro, Water, Cable, Internet, Parking. Here is the add of the unit: 827 Fairfield Rd Victoria, BC V8W 2G9. I'm not in town presently to show you the apartment but I want you to maintain the apartment and treat it like your own if you are willing to rent it. If you're interested, the pictures and application form will be sent to you.
I await your prompt response,
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 4:23 AM
Hi Terry,
I'd be interested in taking a look at the place. Is there someone that would be able to show it to me in Victoria? Are you living out of town now and subletting the apartment? Do you own the place or are you currently subletting it from someone else? Or are you renting out a room in the apartment you own? Thanks for your time!
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 00:42:47 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm renting out a room in the apt I own.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 4:11 PM
Hi Terry,
That's good to know. So, as per my previous email, would someone in Victoria be able to show me the place?
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 09:29:07 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Nope.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 4:43 PM
Hi Terry,
Okay. Well, in that case, why don't you forward me some of the photos so I can have a look.
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 10:00:30 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Find them attached.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: $600 / 1br - Nice place in Vic to live in - Comfortable area (Downtown)
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 9:44 PM
Hi Terry,
Let me assure you, I am quite interested in renting your property, even without viewing it or knowing any information about it. I'm quite prepared to send you the damage deposit and rent right away in trusting you will send me a key. The five pictures of the apartment look wonderful and I can already see myself living there. I prefer to have minimal contact with my landlord and this arrangement looks like the perfect fit. Even your email responses are short, and concise, a mere few words. That's the way I like it: you stay out of my hair, I stay out of yours. I'm looking for a long-term commitment here. You can always count on me to provide rent and any other money for suddenly needed (but not obvious) repairs. Possibly, in the future, you might even come visit me at your apartment and we could go out for a drink, maybe discuss our love of smooth jazz and American politics- you do like smooth jazz and American politics, don't you?
Trusting this situation is a benefit to all and to a long and lasting professional relationship,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 15:29:02 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm sure our first meet will be nice. Below is the payment information:
Name: Terry Nichols
City: Eleva
State: Wisconsin
Zipcode:54738
Amount: 500
Text Question: BEST COLOR
Answer: BLUE
So, I will like you to get back to me with the Money Gram details which include the Sender's Name, Sender's Address and the 8 digit REF#.... I await your prompt response as soon as you send it today.
Best Regards!!!
P.S - As soon as the payment is confirmed, I will proceed to DHL Office to send you the package and get back to you with the tracking number for you to know the exact time the package will be delivered to you.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, August 5, 2010, 11:20 PM
Hi Terry,
That sounds good. I'll get on that right away. I'm assuming, as the ad was made for an apartment in Canada, that the $500 required would be in Canadian funds? Also, would it not be beneficial for me to send you $1100 so I don't have to do another transaction in a few weeks for the first months rent? That would be the$500 for the Deposit and $600 for the first months rent.
Regards,
Katie
Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2010 20:13:55 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
The funds in CAD. I want you to send the deposit first, then the first month rent later.
Looking forward to read from you.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Friday, August 6, 2010, 7:07 PM
Hi Terry,
I've been stuck at work all day and haven't been able to get away. I've found a local Money Gram place, so I'll be able to get to it when I'm off work at 4:30.
Thanks again!
Katie
Date: Fri, 6 Aug 2010 16:20:44 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Okay.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Saturday, August 7, 2010, 12:46 AM
Hi Terry,
I've done the Money Gram wire of the $500 and here is the information:
Sender's Name: Katie Giese
Sender's Address: 1531 Kersey Rd, Brentwood Bay, BC, Canada, V8M 1J5
Ref#: 26731326
Hope it worked! Can't wait for the new place!
Thanks again, Terry!
Katie
Date: Fri, 6 Aug 2010 19:52:20 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
I'm having a Doctor appointment tonight. I will get this done tomorrow and get back to you. Sorry for the inconveniences.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Saturday, August 7, 2010, 9:01 PM
Hi Terry,
I haven't heard back from you, so I'm just checking to make sure everything went okay.
I hope the Doctor's appointment went well!
Regards,
Katie
Date: Sat, 7 Aug 2010 14:41:09 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Yeah, Katie, the appointment went well and thanks for the concern. I will send you the package on Monday with 24hrs delivery.
Sorry for the delay and enjoy the rest of the day.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
Date: Sat,7 Aug 2010 18:04:33 -0700
Hi Terry,
I apologize for the delay in responding too. I have to use my little brother's email at the moment cause the one I use for college only works during the school year. I know, I know, you're going to say, "What kinda young person doesn't have eight or nine email accounts, and an iPhone, a Blackberry, and a twitter?" But I guess I'm one of the odd ones. I'm a little ignorant of technology, probably why I'm studying to be a florist.
Anyway, this is my first time with my own place- I've saved up all summer. So, I'm a little nervous to find out whether the Money Gram transfer went through. Knowing me, I probably screwed it up. Ha! Can you let me know if you got the $500?
Hope your day has been rosy (that's the florist in me, tee hee)
Best,
Katie
Date: Sun, 8 Aug 2010 10:06:34 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Sorry for responding late. I've been busy with church activity. I intend going to the nearest outlet this evening to confirm the $500.
Stop being nervous, Katie! Ok?
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Sunday, August 8, 2010, 11:37 PM
Thanks, Terry!
I too had church today. I help out with a Sunday school at my local. Today I taught some kids how to make a lamb out of an old wool sock. It was hilarious! And a lot of fun.
Talk soon!
Katie
Date: Mon, 9 Aug 2010 09:53:59 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Hey Katie,
The lady at the money gram outlet told me the REF# is invalid. Can you check and get back to me asap?
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Tuesday, August 10, 2010, 1:46 AM
Hi Terry,
Ack!!! I just knew I'd screw this up. I'm sooo sorry!!! I checked the ref# that I sent you and I accidentally switched up a few numbers. It should read: 26713326.
Hope this works,
Katie
Date: Tue, 10 Aug 2010 11:55:47 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Send me a copy of the money gram receipt.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, August 11, 2010, 12:19 AM
Hi Terry,
What!!!? I don't understand what is going on here. I thought I did everything correctly. I do have the receipt, so once I figure out how to send you a copy, I will right away. So sorry about this!!!
Regards,
Katie
Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2010 09:34:58 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Scan it or find a way to snap and upload it.
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, August 11, 2010, 10:23 PM
Hi Terry,
Please find attached the copy of the receipt. It took awhile as I had to get my friend Tom to scan it for me.
Regards,
Katie
Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2010 15:30:50 -0700
From: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
To:xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
Hmmm. Is that you?
Terry
From: xxxxxxx@hotmail.com
To: terry_n71@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: PAYMENT INFORMATION
Date: Wed,11 Aug 2010 15:45:26 -0700
Hi Terry,
No, that is not me. It is a picture of an anus, more commonly referred to as an asshole. I attempted to attach a mirror. But that proved too difficult. So, I figured the attached picture would get the point across.
A simple Google search of your email address produces a link to a scam alert website. This was searched before the initial email to you. I'm powerless to stop you from you ripping off innocent people. So, at the very least, I wasted your time. Small victory? Sure, maybe. Maybe you knew all along. I don't care. But what I have now is a nice dialogue with a scam artist that I can publish.
My favourite part of our correspondence was when you mentioned you were "busy with Church activity." That's the oldest trick in the book, the "this guy's honest cause he's a holy man" approach.
Here is a quote from Marcel Proust (some say he's a Yenta). I don't know why I chose a quote from him. I don't even know if it makes sense in regards to the context of this situation. You probably don't even know who Marcel Proust is. But, whatever:
Your soul is a dark forest. But the trees are of a particular species, they are genealogical trees.
Best of luck in your future endeavors,
Katie
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Dinner on July 23, 2010
I opened the freezer and examined the contents: French fries, pergoies, half a beer, yoghurt with chopsticks in it (my roommate likes yoghurtsicles), the frozen peas I use to ice soccer injuries, two nearly empty containers of strawberries left by a previous tenant, a box of chicken nuggets (seven in total), a sirloin steak with an expire date from last year, a chicken thigh wrapped in a Pharmasave bag, ice cubes, and a package of what appeared to be hamburger patties. None of these items were mine- though, I could make a case for the ice cubes.
I grabbed the package of what appeared to be hamburger patties. It was surrounded by ice. I opened the package and started chiseling away with a butter knife. I felt my schooling in Archaeology was being applied well. Turns out they were hamburger patties, three in total. I smashed up a few ice cubes to pack around the remaining two patties. This replaced the ice that melted during the process of exhuming protein for dinner.
I put some butter in a frying pan. The butter was mine. The frying pan was not. I defrosted the patty for ten minutes, nearly cooking it completely. I think it lost half its weight.
I pulled out two pieces of the rye bread my mother bought me the other day from Bond Bond’s. This is good bread and currently my most prized food possession. It’s actually my only food possession.
I put the bread in the toaster.
I started frying the patty on low heat.
I grabbed my roommate’s mozzarella cheese and hacked off two thin slices. I noticed when I opened the package he’d last used the cheese on a grater. My clean knife marks left evidence of unauthorized cheese borrowing. So, I got the grater and grated some cheese. Then I ate the grated cheese. When I removed the cheese from the fridge, I made a mental note on how the saran wrap had been folded and the position of the cheese on the shelf. This assured that when I put the cheese back in the fridge it appeared untouched.
I grabbed the jug of fruit punch from the fridge and poured about fifty milliliters into a glass. I added water to the glass. This created purple flavoured water. I added about fifty milliliters of water to the jug of fruit punch to cover my tracks in case my roommate had made an invisible “remaining juice indicator line.”
I spread Miracle Whip on the toast. The Miracle Whip was mine. I’ve been sold on this product every since those commercials during the hockey playoffs that insinuated the using of Miracle Whip would lead to eventful and raucous parties where beautiful people wear shorts and barbeque on the rooftops of old brick buildings.
I covered the toast in ketchup. Ketchup is one of those items that someone buys and it gets used. I don’t feel guilty for borrowing some. It’s kind of like toilet paper and dish soap that way.
I placed the patty on the toast, topping it with the slices of mozzarella cheese. The patty didn’t cover much of the toast.
I sat down and ate the toast around the edges of the patty. If I’m going to eat toast with Miracle Whip and ketchup on it, I’m going to eat it as an appetizer, not as the last bites of a mediocre meal. What was left was something that looked like an Oreo cookie that had gone all wrong.
The improvised sandwich actually wasn’t too bad.
I washed the cheese grater, juice glass, knife, and pan. I removed the stray bits of grated mozzarella cheese from the counter and washed them down the sink- putting them in the garbage might have raised suspicion later on.
On Monday, when I get paid, I’ll buy my roommate a six-pack of beer. He’ll think I did it for no reason, that I’m a really nice guy. And I am. But this is my way of paying him back for eating his food without asking and elaborately covering it up so he wouldn’t notice. I call this an act of Passive Aggressive Reciprocity.
I grabbed the package of what appeared to be hamburger patties. It was surrounded by ice. I opened the package and started chiseling away with a butter knife. I felt my schooling in Archaeology was being applied well. Turns out they were hamburger patties, three in total. I smashed up a few ice cubes to pack around the remaining two patties. This replaced the ice that melted during the process of exhuming protein for dinner.
I put some butter in a frying pan. The butter was mine. The frying pan was not. I defrosted the patty for ten minutes, nearly cooking it completely. I think it lost half its weight.
I pulled out two pieces of the rye bread my mother bought me the other day from Bond Bond’s. This is good bread and currently my most prized food possession. It’s actually my only food possession.
I put the bread in the toaster.
I started frying the patty on low heat.
I grabbed my roommate’s mozzarella cheese and hacked off two thin slices. I noticed when I opened the package he’d last used the cheese on a grater. My clean knife marks left evidence of unauthorized cheese borrowing. So, I got the grater and grated some cheese. Then I ate the grated cheese. When I removed the cheese from the fridge, I made a mental note on how the saran wrap had been folded and the position of the cheese on the shelf. This assured that when I put the cheese back in the fridge it appeared untouched.
I grabbed the jug of fruit punch from the fridge and poured about fifty milliliters into a glass. I added water to the glass. This created purple flavoured water. I added about fifty milliliters of water to the jug of fruit punch to cover my tracks in case my roommate had made an invisible “remaining juice indicator line.”
I spread Miracle Whip on the toast. The Miracle Whip was mine. I’ve been sold on this product every since those commercials during the hockey playoffs that insinuated the using of Miracle Whip would lead to eventful and raucous parties where beautiful people wear shorts and barbeque on the rooftops of old brick buildings.
I covered the toast in ketchup. Ketchup is one of those items that someone buys and it gets used. I don’t feel guilty for borrowing some. It’s kind of like toilet paper and dish soap that way.
I placed the patty on the toast, topping it with the slices of mozzarella cheese. The patty didn’t cover much of the toast.
I sat down and ate the toast around the edges of the patty. If I’m going to eat toast with Miracle Whip and ketchup on it, I’m going to eat it as an appetizer, not as the last bites of a mediocre meal. What was left was something that looked like an Oreo cookie that had gone all wrong.
The improvised sandwich actually wasn’t too bad.
I washed the cheese grater, juice glass, knife, and pan. I removed the stray bits of grated mozzarella cheese from the counter and washed them down the sink- putting them in the garbage might have raised suspicion later on.
On Monday, when I get paid, I’ll buy my roommate a six-pack of beer. He’ll think I did it for no reason, that I’m a really nice guy. And I am. But this is my way of paying him back for eating his food without asking and elaborately covering it up so he wouldn’t notice. I call this an act of Passive Aggressive Reciprocity.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Youtube Channel
This is unrelated to writing but I don't care. This is my blog thingy and I can do whatever I want.
My Interpretive dance partner (La Kat) and I have started a Youtube channel. We have been performing mind blowing dance creations to the wonderful sounds of eighties/nineties sitcom theme songs. Our elaborate budgets and cutting edge choreography should not be missed. The first one is up now, the Facts of Life. And to come shortly are our interpretations of Saved by the Bell and Jem and the Holograms.
We appreciate your support and urge you to follow us as our careers as internet sensations blossom.
http://www.youtube.com/user/BroomheadProductions
My Interpretive dance partner (La Kat) and I have started a Youtube channel. We have been performing mind blowing dance creations to the wonderful sounds of eighties/nineties sitcom theme songs. Our elaborate budgets and cutting edge choreography should not be missed. The first one is up now, the Facts of Life. And to come shortly are our interpretations of Saved by the Bell and Jem and the Holograms.
We appreciate your support and urge you to follow us as our careers as internet sensations blossom.
http://www.youtube.com/user/BroomheadProductions
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
The Cure
“Yeah, that’s right, two dozen, please,” I say. “I’m at the community pool. How long do think it’ll be?”
I stand out front and wait. It’s raining slightly.
A teenager arrives in a car. He gets out, meets me on the curb. “That’ll be $14.35 with tax,” he says. I give him fifteen.
“Keep the change,” I say.
I’m a pretty generous guy.
I take my hot wings into the change-room. I take off my clothes and place the hot wings on a bench. I put on my trunks and walk to the shower. You’re supposed to have a rinse before you go in. So I have one. I hold the hot wings above my head so they won’t get wet.
I head out to the pool. There’s loud music playing, something from the fifties. Old people sit quietly in the hot tub. Children scream from all directions. I walk past a pile of life jackets and beach balls. I see a guy shoot out from the water slide. He makes a large splash. Then he swims over to the other side of the pool and starts doing lengths, front crawl.
I enter the sauna and sit near the back. I start eating my hot wings. They’re really good.
A woman is in here. She pours water on the rocks. She looks at me wide-eyed, mouth open. She doesn’t say anything. She’s about forty-five.
I have sauce all over my face. I’m starting to heat up. Moisture is coming out of every pore in my body. I’m losing weight right before my eyes. I can’t feel my tongue. Breathing is difficult.
I try to engage the woman in conversation.
The woman leaves.
I think I’m approaching cardiac arrest.
I have five hot wings left. I haven’t even used the blue cheese dip yet.
A young couple enters. The guy whispers to the girl, “Well, looks like we have an Upper Paleolithic Cro-Magnon here.” The girl says, “That man is fucking gross, Jerry.” The couple leaves immediately.
I realize that I can’t see anymore.
My knees are shaking. I have one hot wing to go. It’s a drumstick. My favourite.
I finish the last hot wing. With the box full of bones in my hand I crawl towards the door. I can’t open it. A lifeguard arrives and helps me up. I can tell it’s a male lifeguard because of his grip. I would have preferred a female one. But you can’t always get your way.
The lifeguard puts the box of bones in a trashcan and escorts me to the change-rooms. I hear a parent say to a child, “Daddy’s here, Honey. You don’t have to look.”
The lifeguard says to me, “I’d better not see you here again, asshole.”
I take a long, cold shower. It’s great.
Then, my eyesight returns.
I towel off and put my clothes back on.
I leave the pool.
I feel much better now, thank you.
I stand out front and wait. It’s raining slightly.
A teenager arrives in a car. He gets out, meets me on the curb. “That’ll be $14.35 with tax,” he says. I give him fifteen.
“Keep the change,” I say.
I’m a pretty generous guy.
I take my hot wings into the change-room. I take off my clothes and place the hot wings on a bench. I put on my trunks and walk to the shower. You’re supposed to have a rinse before you go in. So I have one. I hold the hot wings above my head so they won’t get wet.
I head out to the pool. There’s loud music playing, something from the fifties. Old people sit quietly in the hot tub. Children scream from all directions. I walk past a pile of life jackets and beach balls. I see a guy shoot out from the water slide. He makes a large splash. Then he swims over to the other side of the pool and starts doing lengths, front crawl.
I enter the sauna and sit near the back. I start eating my hot wings. They’re really good.
A woman is in here. She pours water on the rocks. She looks at me wide-eyed, mouth open. She doesn’t say anything. She’s about forty-five.
I have sauce all over my face. I’m starting to heat up. Moisture is coming out of every pore in my body. I’m losing weight right before my eyes. I can’t feel my tongue. Breathing is difficult.
I try to engage the woman in conversation.
The woman leaves.
I think I’m approaching cardiac arrest.
I have five hot wings left. I haven’t even used the blue cheese dip yet.
A young couple enters. The guy whispers to the girl, “Well, looks like we have an Upper Paleolithic Cro-Magnon here.” The girl says, “That man is fucking gross, Jerry.” The couple leaves immediately.
I realize that I can’t see anymore.
My knees are shaking. I have one hot wing to go. It’s a drumstick. My favourite.
I finish the last hot wing. With the box full of bones in my hand I crawl towards the door. I can’t open it. A lifeguard arrives and helps me up. I can tell it’s a male lifeguard because of his grip. I would have preferred a female one. But you can’t always get your way.
The lifeguard puts the box of bones in a trashcan and escorts me to the change-rooms. I hear a parent say to a child, “Daddy’s here, Honey. You don’t have to look.”
The lifeguard says to me, “I’d better not see you here again, asshole.”
I take a long, cold shower. It’s great.
Then, my eyesight returns.
I towel off and put my clothes back on.
I leave the pool.
I feel much better now, thank you.
The Smoking Section
The Smoking Section
The ship is sinking but we don’t care. We are the smoking section. We are better than disasters.
There are twelve of us. We are a diverse bunch, standing in groups of three. And then there is Stan, the chief steward. He’s in the middle. There are no women.
We are on the top deck, port side, near the bow.
Alarms are sounding. The non-smokers are running. They are in disarray, lost. The ship is listing but not enough for concern- our concern, that is.
We continue smoking. We lean back against the white walls. We converse. “Might rain tonight,” we say. “Where you heading?” That sort of thing.
We hear a significant crash. A lifeboat has fallen. A man hangs on, screaming. We look half-heartedly and ash our cigarettes.
We are veterans, ready under pressure. Though, we feel none. When the time comes we’ll know what to do. We decide to have another cigarette. I light my Lucky Strike. I help John light his. He says, “Thank you.”
An announcement gives orders. It’s a little too panicked for us. It hurts our ears. People are in the water now. Most are poor swimmers. A fire breaks out on a lower deck. It’s electrical we decide.
Stan looks at his watch, pushes his long hair over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath. He looks bothered. And so he should. The sinking ship is ruining our day.
Without saying a word we follow Stan to the nearest lifeboat. He releases the lines. We help ease the lifeboat down. Then we get in one by one. There is no pushing, no shoving. It’s orderly. We are considerate of each other. Stan gets in last and lowers us the rest of the way.
We hit the water and function like an organism: six per side, stroke for stroke. Stan sits at the head, like a coxswain, except he has no need to yell.
The ship is partially submerged. Non-smokers keep hurling themselves over the railings. The fire has spread. The ship’s funnel has fallen into the water. It’s not looking good.
We row. Our blue plumes of exhaust are evidence of our efforts.
We approach an island and bring the lifeboat ashore. We pull it onto to the beach like we are pallbearers. We are solemn. But that’s because we are inconvenienced.
We sit on a grass covered point and light cigarettes. We sit twelve abreast, Stan behind us, like a father.
“It’s a real shame, bout the ship and all,” Thomas says. “She was a real thing of beauty.” We nod because we agree.
The ship is pretty much under by now. There’s a lot of debris floating on the surface. There are no signs of struggle. It’s gotten real quiet over there. We’re certain no one has survived but us.
Philip says, “The disaster was rather biblical don’t you think?”
James says, “Yeah, it was beyond belief.”
The ship is completely gone. It’s silent, save for the seagulls that hover above the wreckage. The sun burns through the clouds.
Stan opens a fresh package of cigarettes, passes some out. We get up to leave. We walk towards the mountain single file, smokes in hand. Stan will know what to do next.
The ship is sinking but we don’t care. We are the smoking section. We are better than disasters.
There are twelve of us. We are a diverse bunch, standing in groups of three. And then there is Stan, the chief steward. He’s in the middle. There are no women.
We are on the top deck, port side, near the bow.
Alarms are sounding. The non-smokers are running. They are in disarray, lost. The ship is listing but not enough for concern- our concern, that is.
We continue smoking. We lean back against the white walls. We converse. “Might rain tonight,” we say. “Where you heading?” That sort of thing.
We hear a significant crash. A lifeboat has fallen. A man hangs on, screaming. We look half-heartedly and ash our cigarettes.
We are veterans, ready under pressure. Though, we feel none. When the time comes we’ll know what to do. We decide to have another cigarette. I light my Lucky Strike. I help John light his. He says, “Thank you.”
An announcement gives orders. It’s a little too panicked for us. It hurts our ears. People are in the water now. Most are poor swimmers. A fire breaks out on a lower deck. It’s electrical we decide.
Stan looks at his watch, pushes his long hair over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath. He looks bothered. And so he should. The sinking ship is ruining our day.
Without saying a word we follow Stan to the nearest lifeboat. He releases the lines. We help ease the lifeboat down. Then we get in one by one. There is no pushing, no shoving. It’s orderly. We are considerate of each other. Stan gets in last and lowers us the rest of the way.
We hit the water and function like an organism: six per side, stroke for stroke. Stan sits at the head, like a coxswain, except he has no need to yell.
The ship is partially submerged. Non-smokers keep hurling themselves over the railings. The fire has spread. The ship’s funnel has fallen into the water. It’s not looking good.
We row. Our blue plumes of exhaust are evidence of our efforts.
We approach an island and bring the lifeboat ashore. We pull it onto to the beach like we are pallbearers. We are solemn. But that’s because we are inconvenienced.
We sit on a grass covered point and light cigarettes. We sit twelve abreast, Stan behind us, like a father.
“It’s a real shame, bout the ship and all,” Thomas says. “She was a real thing of beauty.” We nod because we agree.
The ship is pretty much under by now. There’s a lot of debris floating on the surface. There are no signs of struggle. It’s gotten real quiet over there. We’re certain no one has survived but us.
Philip says, “The disaster was rather biblical don’t you think?”
James says, “Yeah, it was beyond belief.”
The ship is completely gone. It’s silent, save for the seagulls that hover above the wreckage. The sun burns through the clouds.
Stan opens a fresh package of cigarettes, passes some out. We get up to leave. We walk towards the mountain single file, smokes in hand. Stan will know what to do next.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Results matter
Thanks to all that voted for me in the Geist Postcard Story contest. My story Grizzly Bill tied for first for the Reader's Choice Award. As an act of celebration, I will look at google image photos of Disneyland.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
News story, I mean New Story.
My story "Athlete" at Jersey Devil Press issue #9. I start on page 33, but read them all, they are great. Muchas Gracias to Eirik Gumeny and the Garden State. And Aleris Medea for "insight."
http://www.jerseydevilpress.com/archives/issue-nine-june-2010/
http://www.jerseydevilpress.com/archives/issue-nine-june-2010/
Thursday, May 13, 2010
New Story Out
My story On the Bus with Jesus appears in the Writer's Block Magazine from St. FX University in Nova Scotia. I wasn't aware the issue was up as no one told me. It's in issue number 5, on page 10, at this link: http://www.thewritersblockmagazine.ca/currentissue.html
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
More News and Events!
So, there is a Reader's Choice Award to the Geist Postcard Story contest. Aside from the Judges choices, the readers can vote too. So vote for me. I dare you to. Follow the link and vote the maximum score! Of course, you can decline this offer of free voting. Voting without a care, etc... But, it would be nice if you did, all three of you who publicly follow me- this includes myself, but I already voted; even politicians vote for themselves; reserve your judgment, please.
http://www.geist.com/postcard-story/longlist2009
http://www.geist.com/postcard-story/longlist2009
Monday, April 26, 2010
News and Events!
Check out my story "Grizzly Bill" that was long-listed for the Geist National Literary Postcard Story contest. http://www.geist.com/postcard-story/grizzly-bill
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Homework Assignment
Assignment for the week of April 19th
Kevin Griffiths
English 12
Midlake Secondary School
1. Write a brief summary of the movie JAWS that we watched in class Monday.
Summary
The Chief of Police discovered that sharks kill. He attempted to advise the Mayor and Local Business Owners but they would have none of it. “What about Tourism,” they said?
A girl who was torn to bits while drinking at a beach party is said to have “died” in a “boating accident.” The Chief of Police was skeptical. Then a small boy was devoured in daylight at a public beach. His mother walked down the beach calling her son. She found the raft he was on shredded and bloody. That part was pretty sad, I guess.
There was a tonne of doubt shown by the Town Committee even though experts were brought in to prove that a killer shark was on the loose. Slowly, fear spread. There was a scene on a beach that showed families scattering in all directions at the site of a giant fin in the water. It turned out to be a hoax. I thought that was hilarious.
Several local fishermen arrived with hopes of being heroes. Their methods were generally unsound and unsafe. However, they did catch a shark. There was much rejoicing. People felt safe and the beaches were reopened. The Mayor and the Local Business Owners were satisfied that the threat was over.
This was decent writing on the part of the screenwriters because the “real” killer shark had not been caught and was still out there lurking. One can only assume a police inquiry would have ensued because an innocent shark had been slaughtered.
The Chief of Police eventually blows up the killer shark in a long-drawn out scene involving most of Act Three. I have to say, it was pretty cool when he stuffed that air-tank into the sharks mouth and then detonated it with a well-aimed rifle shot. Unfortunately, one of the supporting characters was lost in the battle, sliding into the killer sharks’ mouth like a sardine shortly before the climax.
The movie ends with the Chief of Police a hero, but for most people, summer was ruined.
2. Write an outline for a sequel to JAWS in five hundred words or less.
Sequel
In JAWS 12: Nature Controlled, the Chief of Police has formed a Shark Rehabilitation Task Force. His new title is Director of Correctional Services. He tracks sharks with sonar devices and arrests them. He has a horde of Lieutenants and Generals that speed out from the mother boat, which is called Shark and Destroy and registered to Panama. The sharks are subdued by taser.
The character of the Director is modeled after Dog the Bounty Hunter and is played by Sylvester Stallone. The Director has a love interest, Maria, which is performed amazingly by historical footage of Julie Andrews from the Sound of Music.
The Director takes the sharks back to an Ocean Based Pen where he counsels them on their deviant ways and subjects them to monotonous routines of swimming in straight lines. The Director sees himself as a Shark Whisperer.
Small groups of protesters picket the Ocean Based Pen in zodiacs. They question the ethics of having an Ocean Based Pen without Tom Costner present. This subplot is dealt with when the Task Force comes to the rescue of a capsized zodiac, proving once and for all that hippies in small boats are inferior to men with enormous machines.
After many months of successful treatments, the sharks are released into the wild, in particular, the waters nearing third world countries. Little is mentioned whether the rehabilitation program is successful, and it is just assumed, from the lack of reporting or post-care follow-up, that everything is fine.
One day Rex Murphy and a television camera crew arrive at the Ocean Based Pen to do a special on shark rehabilitation.
The Director had planned to use this opportunity as a press conference. He was to announce that a treaty had been signed between sharks and humans.
News of the press conference was leaked. The BBC showed up. So did CNN and Al Jazeera. Anderson Cooper was wearing a cardigan. The Al Jazeera correspondent, Avi Lewis, could be seen talking furiously on a satellite phone in English. Nigel Wrench, of the BBC, was nowhere to be found; instead, they sent a football pundit, Paul Gascoigne.
The Director read the details of the treaty from a prepared statement. He stood before a backdrop draped in the soft tones of sandalwood and forest berry. Then, suddenly, a rogue shark, one supposedly in the process of rehabilitation, but clearly not, an imposter with an agenda, hurled himself out of the Ocean Based Pen in what can only be described as a suicide attack. The shark annihilated the Director in one crisp bite and subsequently destroyed himself when he detonated an air-tank in his stomach, an act surely seen as tragically ironic. The blast killed several Shark Rehabilitation Task Force employees and Rex Murphy. Obviously, the treaty was rejected.
This sets the stage for JAWS 13: All Bets are Off, staring Nicholas Cage as the new Director and Ben Stiller as “Patchy,” the half-human-half-shark leader of the Carcharhiniformes Resistance.
Kevin Griffiths
English 12
Midlake Secondary School
1. Write a brief summary of the movie JAWS that we watched in class Monday.
Summary
The Chief of Police discovered that sharks kill. He attempted to advise the Mayor and Local Business Owners but they would have none of it. “What about Tourism,” they said?
A girl who was torn to bits while drinking at a beach party is said to have “died” in a “boating accident.” The Chief of Police was skeptical. Then a small boy was devoured in daylight at a public beach. His mother walked down the beach calling her son. She found the raft he was on shredded and bloody. That part was pretty sad, I guess.
There was a tonne of doubt shown by the Town Committee even though experts were brought in to prove that a killer shark was on the loose. Slowly, fear spread. There was a scene on a beach that showed families scattering in all directions at the site of a giant fin in the water. It turned out to be a hoax. I thought that was hilarious.
Several local fishermen arrived with hopes of being heroes. Their methods were generally unsound and unsafe. However, they did catch a shark. There was much rejoicing. People felt safe and the beaches were reopened. The Mayor and the Local Business Owners were satisfied that the threat was over.
This was decent writing on the part of the screenwriters because the “real” killer shark had not been caught and was still out there lurking. One can only assume a police inquiry would have ensued because an innocent shark had been slaughtered.
The Chief of Police eventually blows up the killer shark in a long-drawn out scene involving most of Act Three. I have to say, it was pretty cool when he stuffed that air-tank into the sharks mouth and then detonated it with a well-aimed rifle shot. Unfortunately, one of the supporting characters was lost in the battle, sliding into the killer sharks’ mouth like a sardine shortly before the climax.
The movie ends with the Chief of Police a hero, but for most people, summer was ruined.
2. Write an outline for a sequel to JAWS in five hundred words or less.
Sequel
In JAWS 12: Nature Controlled, the Chief of Police has formed a Shark Rehabilitation Task Force. His new title is Director of Correctional Services. He tracks sharks with sonar devices and arrests them. He has a horde of Lieutenants and Generals that speed out from the mother boat, which is called Shark and Destroy and registered to Panama. The sharks are subdued by taser.
The character of the Director is modeled after Dog the Bounty Hunter and is played by Sylvester Stallone. The Director has a love interest, Maria, which is performed amazingly by historical footage of Julie Andrews from the Sound of Music.
The Director takes the sharks back to an Ocean Based Pen where he counsels them on their deviant ways and subjects them to monotonous routines of swimming in straight lines. The Director sees himself as a Shark Whisperer.
Small groups of protesters picket the Ocean Based Pen in zodiacs. They question the ethics of having an Ocean Based Pen without Tom Costner present. This subplot is dealt with when the Task Force comes to the rescue of a capsized zodiac, proving once and for all that hippies in small boats are inferior to men with enormous machines.
After many months of successful treatments, the sharks are released into the wild, in particular, the waters nearing third world countries. Little is mentioned whether the rehabilitation program is successful, and it is just assumed, from the lack of reporting or post-care follow-up, that everything is fine.
One day Rex Murphy and a television camera crew arrive at the Ocean Based Pen to do a special on shark rehabilitation.
The Director had planned to use this opportunity as a press conference. He was to announce that a treaty had been signed between sharks and humans.
News of the press conference was leaked. The BBC showed up. So did CNN and Al Jazeera. Anderson Cooper was wearing a cardigan. The Al Jazeera correspondent, Avi Lewis, could be seen talking furiously on a satellite phone in English. Nigel Wrench, of the BBC, was nowhere to be found; instead, they sent a football pundit, Paul Gascoigne.
The Director read the details of the treaty from a prepared statement. He stood before a backdrop draped in the soft tones of sandalwood and forest berry. Then, suddenly, a rogue shark, one supposedly in the process of rehabilitation, but clearly not, an imposter with an agenda, hurled himself out of the Ocean Based Pen in what can only be described as a suicide attack. The shark annihilated the Director in one crisp bite and subsequently destroyed himself when he detonated an air-tank in his stomach, an act surely seen as tragically ironic. The blast killed several Shark Rehabilitation Task Force employees and Rex Murphy. Obviously, the treaty was rejected.
This sets the stage for JAWS 13: All Bets are Off, staring Nicholas Cage as the new Director and Ben Stiller as “Patchy,” the half-human-half-shark leader of the Carcharhiniformes Resistance.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wm. Farrant admits that he is a hockey fanatic. And he's okay with that.
I am a man. I like sports. And I have a lot of time on my hands recently. This evening B-Unit and I watched all four playoff hockey games. It’s probably not the last time we’ll do this. I have a complex ranking system on what teams I will cheer for. And this it:
1. Vancouver – This is the team I live closest to. Therefore, I support the local sports team.
2. Ottawa – This is the only other city I have lived in. They are my back-up local sports team. Also, no one likes the Senators in Ottawa; they all seem to like the Leafs or Canadians.
3. Chicago – My grandfather played for them in the 1930s- one game mind you, but it still counts.
4. Carolina – My childhood team was Hartford. It was all about the jerseys. Carolina’s don’t do it for me. That said, I still root for them. When they won the Stanley Cup I wore both my Whaler jerseys out in public.
5. Montreal – I like when they say “Le But.” It’s kind of cool to cheer for the Habs too.
6. Edmonton – Gretzky hangover thing- note: my spell-check recognizes the word “Gretzky.”
7. Calgary – I’ve tried to like them more but can’t. As far as Canada goes though, I like them more than Toronto.
8. Boston – I like talking with a Boston accent. And, of course, number four, Bobby Orr.
9. Detroit – My Dad’s favourite team. And see #30.
10. Rangers – My Grandfather and Grandmother were at the post-party Stanley Cup celebrations when they won it in 1940. Not much of a reason. But I don’t care.
11. Islanders – They had a good dynasty for a while and have an old arena.
12. Pittsburgh – A Lemieux hangover thing- note: my spell-check does not recognize the word “Lemieux.”
13. Washington – I remember watching that Islanders Capitals overtime game when I was young. And Rod Langway because he was born in Taiwan.
14. St. Louis – As a musician, you have to like their jerseys.
15. Buffalo – Because I’ve been there and it’s the ugliest city ever. Plus, they played in the Aud and their announcer guy really knows how to make a “goal call.”
16. Colorado – Think “Nordiques.”
17. Phoenix – And remember the Jets.
18. New Jersey – No reason. I just hate all the other teams more.
19. Philadelphia – Same as #18 but their uniforms are worse than New Jersey- personal opinion, obv.
20. Los Angeles – They had good uniforms once. And, well, it’s L.A.
21. Minnesota – Kind of close to Canada?
22. Dallas – See #21 for a historical connection.
23. San Jose – Sounds Mexican.
24. Anaheim – They made a movie out of this team. Though, I think Cowee Pearwee is alright.
25. Nashville, Columbus, Florida, Atlanta, Tampa – Hockey does not belong in these places.
30. Toronto – This team wouldn’t pay my Grandfather’s medical bills when he broke his nose in pre-season. A long story follows. They didn’t sign him. Bunch of jerks. A family hatred of the Leafs ensued, and continues. I would be willing to break the rule if they were in the final against the teams ranked below 20- it’s a Canada thing.
1. Vancouver – This is the team I live closest to. Therefore, I support the local sports team.
2. Ottawa – This is the only other city I have lived in. They are my back-up local sports team. Also, no one likes the Senators in Ottawa; they all seem to like the Leafs or Canadians.
3. Chicago – My grandfather played for them in the 1930s- one game mind you, but it still counts.
4. Carolina – My childhood team was Hartford. It was all about the jerseys. Carolina’s don’t do it for me. That said, I still root for them. When they won the Stanley Cup I wore both my Whaler jerseys out in public.
5. Montreal – I like when they say “Le But.” It’s kind of cool to cheer for the Habs too.
6. Edmonton – Gretzky hangover thing- note: my spell-check recognizes the word “Gretzky.”
7. Calgary – I’ve tried to like them more but can’t. As far as Canada goes though, I like them more than Toronto.
8. Boston – I like talking with a Boston accent. And, of course, number four, Bobby Orr.
9. Detroit – My Dad’s favourite team. And see #30.
10. Rangers – My Grandfather and Grandmother were at the post-party Stanley Cup celebrations when they won it in 1940. Not much of a reason. But I don’t care.
11. Islanders – They had a good dynasty for a while and have an old arena.
12. Pittsburgh – A Lemieux hangover thing- note: my spell-check does not recognize the word “Lemieux.”
13. Washington – I remember watching that Islanders Capitals overtime game when I was young. And Rod Langway because he was born in Taiwan.
14. St. Louis – As a musician, you have to like their jerseys.
15. Buffalo – Because I’ve been there and it’s the ugliest city ever. Plus, they played in the Aud and their announcer guy really knows how to make a “goal call.”
16. Colorado – Think “Nordiques.”
17. Phoenix – And remember the Jets.
18. New Jersey – No reason. I just hate all the other teams more.
19. Philadelphia – Same as #18 but their uniforms are worse than New Jersey- personal opinion, obv.
20. Los Angeles – They had good uniforms once. And, well, it’s L.A.
21. Minnesota – Kind of close to Canada?
22. Dallas – See #21 for a historical connection.
23. San Jose – Sounds Mexican.
24. Anaheim – They made a movie out of this team. Though, I think Cowee Pearwee is alright.
25. Nashville, Columbus, Florida, Atlanta, Tampa – Hockey does not belong in these places.
30. Toronto – This team wouldn’t pay my Grandfather’s medical bills when he broke his nose in pre-season. A long story follows. They didn’t sign him. Bunch of jerks. A family hatred of the Leafs ensued, and continues. I would be willing to break the rule if they were in the final against the teams ranked below 20- it’s a Canada thing.
Unsolicited Email 2: a response!
Kelly Williams April 14, 2010 04:54
Subject: Hi
I am kelly from North Carolina But prsently In Africa , I am 31, i am a mixed race ....That's African/American Birth on may 20 1978, My Zodiac is Capricorn i am 5'7 feet 185 inches in Height 145 kg 150 Ibs in Weight Brown in Eyes, Dark in Hair, im a Grad student i have not state working yet, Highly in Education, christianity single.
I am seeking for %100 LOVE I am Not here to Seek for a MAN That will be Playing Games Or Toying with My Heart...So Babe I am seeking for a man That is willing and Serious, Romantic, someone That I will Spend The Rest Of My life with, someone That will stand By me when I am Good and During My Times of Needs and Difficulties and That is Really Ready for A woman in His Life and Ready to Take Actions on What he wants and Needs in His Life But to seek for Love, A long term relationship and Possibly Marriage Hopefully If THINGS Works Out, a person to be with for the rest of my life, a person who is nice, Compassionate,Loyal,Faithful, caring, trustful, worthy and also down to earth, Honest, understanding ,simple loving ,above all sense of homour. i am fun if these person has these qualities.
I am English in Spoken my personal traits are smart, honest, modest, kind, loyal, elegant, gentle, cheerful, optimistic,romatic, I like these kinds of Music Classical,Jazz,Pop,New age , I usually read Love Novel and playing , i Like going out to Theater, cinema, concerts, disco,parks,meeting with a Good nature.friends,nature,travel, my Favorite cuisine African Italian and PortugueseI like travelling,Gym and Billiiard , i am respecful, independent person with a Good nature ... I'm very dynamic and easy going,I have a very calm personality.I love travelling and meeting People with different culture . I want to make friends and I really would love to find a lovly Soulmate, my Age of Group of a partner that doesnt matter to me okay
Bill Farrant April 14, 2010 11:32
Subject: re: Hi
Hi Kelly,
First off, you don’t have to re-introduce yourself; I know your name is Kelly. And okay, okay, I get it: age doesn't matter to you! But still, you didn't address any of my concerns from the previous email. Like, what about poor Clifford Wilcox? And what about the conflicting surnames? I said I was skeptical of online marriage, yet you've completely avoided that line of discussion.
It's great you're in Africa, Kelly. But, one would logically assume, if you're a grad student who is originally from the United States, that you could compose a proper sentence, and have a basic grasp of grammar. Like, come on: "I am English in Spoken?" I originally thought you'd said, "I am English in Spokane."
So, which is it, Kelly? An American in Africa or a Tosser in Washington State? That's a joke because I miss-read you, but that goes back to the whole "being able to write a sentence with proper grammar" thing. How can we expect to understand each other when you can’t even properly communicate?
And the line, "i have not state working yet, Highly in Education, christianity single" just doesn't make sense.
I'm beginning to think you're not who you say you are. I know I said to meet me at the pool hall. But that was what we call "sarcasm." I mean, Christ (Christianity single for you?), I didn't even state which pool hall!!!
Oh, and one more thing: you're profile picture is quite obviously taken from a magazine advertisement for food products- I can see where the page was folded and a recipe for "Pasta Bolognese." And your other picture is of a completely different person. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to think this is some sort of scam. I don't need my heart jerked around here!
I just don't think this is going to work between us- I hate being called “Babe” by the way.
I'm going to give this whole "online marriage" thing a pass. I enjoyed our time together, however brief it may have been, but I think it's for the best that we part ways, Kelly Williams/Richards.
All the best in your pursuit of online love!
Regards,
Bill
Subject: Hi
I am kelly from North Carolina But prsently In Africa , I am 31, i am a mixed race ....That's African/American Birth on may 20 1978, My Zodiac is Capricorn i am 5'7 feet 185 inches in Height 145 kg 150 Ibs in Weight Brown in Eyes, Dark in Hair, im a Grad student i have not state working yet, Highly in Education, christianity single.
I am seeking for %100 LOVE I am Not here to Seek for a MAN That will be Playing Games Or Toying with My Heart...So Babe I am seeking for a man That is willing and Serious, Romantic, someone That I will Spend The Rest Of My life with, someone That will stand By me when I am Good and During My Times of Needs and Difficulties and That is Really Ready for A woman in His Life and Ready to Take Actions on What he wants and Needs in His Life But to seek for Love, A long term relationship and Possibly Marriage Hopefully If THINGS Works Out, a person to be with for the rest of my life, a person who is nice, Compassionate,Loyal,Faithful, caring, trustful, worthy and also down to earth, Honest, understanding ,simple loving ,above all sense of homour. i am fun if these person has these qualities.
I am English in Spoken my personal traits are smart, honest, modest, kind, loyal, elegant, gentle, cheerful, optimistic,romatic, I like these kinds of Music Classical,Jazz,Pop,New age , I usually read Love Novel and playing , i Like going out to Theater, cinema, concerts, disco,parks,meeting with a Good nature.friends,nature,travel, my Favorite cuisine African Italian and PortugueseI like travelling,Gym and Billiiard , i am respecful, independent person with a Good nature ... I'm very dynamic and easy going,I have a very calm personality.I love travelling and meeting People with different culture . I want to make friends and I really would love to find a lovly Soulmate, my Age of Group of a partner that doesnt matter to me okay
Bill Farrant April 14, 2010 11:32
Subject: re: Hi
Hi Kelly,
First off, you don’t have to re-introduce yourself; I know your name is Kelly. And okay, okay, I get it: age doesn't matter to you! But still, you didn't address any of my concerns from the previous email. Like, what about poor Clifford Wilcox? And what about the conflicting surnames? I said I was skeptical of online marriage, yet you've completely avoided that line of discussion.
It's great you're in Africa, Kelly. But, one would logically assume, if you're a grad student who is originally from the United States, that you could compose a proper sentence, and have a basic grasp of grammar. Like, come on: "I am English in Spoken?" I originally thought you'd said, "I am English in Spokane."
So, which is it, Kelly? An American in Africa or a Tosser in Washington State? That's a joke because I miss-read you, but that goes back to the whole "being able to write a sentence with proper grammar" thing. How can we expect to understand each other when you can’t even properly communicate?
And the line, "i have not state working yet, Highly in Education, christianity single" just doesn't make sense.
I'm beginning to think you're not who you say you are. I know I said to meet me at the pool hall. But that was what we call "sarcasm." I mean, Christ (Christianity single for you?), I didn't even state which pool hall!!!
Oh, and one more thing: you're profile picture is quite obviously taken from a magazine advertisement for food products- I can see where the page was folded and a recipe for "Pasta Bolognese." And your other picture is of a completely different person. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to think this is some sort of scam. I don't need my heart jerked around here!
I just don't think this is going to work between us- I hate being called “Babe” by the way.
I'm going to give this whole "online marriage" thing a pass. I enjoyed our time together, however brief it may have been, but I think it's for the best that we part ways, Kelly Williams/Richards.
All the best in your pursuit of online love!
Regards,
Bill
Monday, April 12, 2010
Unsolicited Email
Kelly Williams April 12, 2010 at 12:21pm
Subject: Hi
I am quite fascinated by your profile. i am keen about knowing you. Well My name is kelly I am a new member to this web site......I am on this site to search for a real soulmate ,i noticed that online marriages are turning out to be successful and so i decided to give it a trial. Who Knows!!i saw your profile and it really intrested me.....i would like it if you could email me through my personal email address(kellyrichardxxx@yahoo.com so that we could have more private talk,chatting with you would be a great idea,then i can tell you really more about me and my family ,you can get me on this yahoo id kellyrichardxxx@yahoo.com on the messenger. hope to hear from you soon.
kelly
Bill Farrant April 12, 2010 at 2:18pm
Subject: re: Hi
Hi Kelly,
I think it’s great that you are fascinated by my profile and that you’re keen on knowing me. Seeing as my privacy settings are set to “friends only,” and that you are not currently my friend, you must have been blown away with all the intricate details of my life that are posted on facebook that you have no access to. I won’t deny that you’re probably attracted to me. I mean, who wouldn’t love my faceless white silhouette against a blue background!
That said, love can be hard. And I don’t doubt that you are searching for a real soul mate, though, when I look at your profile and it says you are currently in a relationship with Clifford Wilcox, I become a little wary. It’s kind of a warning sign to me. It’s human nature to be interested in people. I don’t doubt that. But what if Clifford, say, accidentally hacked your facebook account, or you left yourself logged in one day and he saw this email to me? What would he think? How would you explain yourself?
I’ll be honest with you, Kelly, I find it a little strange that your name is Kelly Williams, yet your contact information for yahoo is for Kelly Richard. Is this a maiden name? Have you previously been married? I won’t lie, I don’t like used goods. Not that I’m perfect by any stretch. But I’d prefer my soul mate “pure” if you catch my drift.
I wouldn’t put too much stock in online marriages, either. They can be just as faulty as normal marriages, if not more so. In the end, it’s just two people, and the fact that we’ve never met and you’re basically proposing to me on the first email is another sign that finding true love together might be a false hope. Is it possible there are other issues in your life that you are not dealing with? Possibly miserable in your relationship with Clifford? If so, it’s not unnatural, but seeking the comfort of other men via online marriage might not be the answer. Do you have family you can talk to? You do mention you have family. I’ve always found that a parent or a sibling is a good person to talk to when in a time of need, when you’re questioning the plight your life seems to have taken.
One more note, I think it’s probably unhealthy to treat online marriage as a trial. Marriage, in general, I’d think, is a commitment, and not something you try on for thirty days only to get a refund if you are unsatisfied with the product. Just saying, you know?
Anyway, I hope everything works out for you. Kelly Whateveryourlastnamereallyis.
Maybe we’ll run into each some day. You never know!
Regards,
Bill Farrant
Ps. I’ll be at the pool hall at eight. I’ll be the guy with the leather jacket on.
Subject: Hi
I am quite fascinated by your profile. i am keen about knowing you. Well My name is kelly I am a new member to this web site......I am on this site to search for a real soulmate ,i noticed that online marriages are turning out to be successful and so i decided to give it a trial. Who Knows!!i saw your profile and it really intrested me.....i would like it if you could email me through my personal email address(kellyrichardxxx@yahoo.com so that we could have more private talk,chatting with you would be a great idea,then i can tell you really more about me and my family ,you can get me on this yahoo id kellyrichardxxx@yahoo.com on the messenger. hope to hear from you soon.
kelly
Bill Farrant April 12, 2010 at 2:18pm
Subject: re: Hi
Hi Kelly,
I think it’s great that you are fascinated by my profile and that you’re keen on knowing me. Seeing as my privacy settings are set to “friends only,” and that you are not currently my friend, you must have been blown away with all the intricate details of my life that are posted on facebook that you have no access to. I won’t deny that you’re probably attracted to me. I mean, who wouldn’t love my faceless white silhouette against a blue background!
That said, love can be hard. And I don’t doubt that you are searching for a real soul mate, though, when I look at your profile and it says you are currently in a relationship with Clifford Wilcox, I become a little wary. It’s kind of a warning sign to me. It’s human nature to be interested in people. I don’t doubt that. But what if Clifford, say, accidentally hacked your facebook account, or you left yourself logged in one day and he saw this email to me? What would he think? How would you explain yourself?
I’ll be honest with you, Kelly, I find it a little strange that your name is Kelly Williams, yet your contact information for yahoo is for Kelly Richard. Is this a maiden name? Have you previously been married? I won’t lie, I don’t like used goods. Not that I’m perfect by any stretch. But I’d prefer my soul mate “pure” if you catch my drift.
I wouldn’t put too much stock in online marriages, either. They can be just as faulty as normal marriages, if not more so. In the end, it’s just two people, and the fact that we’ve never met and you’re basically proposing to me on the first email is another sign that finding true love together might be a false hope. Is it possible there are other issues in your life that you are not dealing with? Possibly miserable in your relationship with Clifford? If so, it’s not unnatural, but seeking the comfort of other men via online marriage might not be the answer. Do you have family you can talk to? You do mention you have family. I’ve always found that a parent or a sibling is a good person to talk to when in a time of need, when you’re questioning the plight your life seems to have taken.
One more note, I think it’s probably unhealthy to treat online marriage as a trial. Marriage, in general, I’d think, is a commitment, and not something you try on for thirty days only to get a refund if you are unsatisfied with the product. Just saying, you know?
Anyway, I hope everything works out for you. Kelly Whateveryourlastnamereallyis.
Maybe we’ll run into each some day. You never know!
Regards,
Bill Farrant
Ps. I’ll be at the pool hall at eight. I’ll be the guy with the leather jacket on.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Exciting times
My Story "Grizzly Bill" has been long-listed for the Geist Postcard Story contest. Geist is a national literary magazine of reputable proportions. Stayed tuned for a link to the long-listed stories on Geist.com.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
New Material
The Take Down to be in Sleep.Snort.Fuck. this week. Stay tuned for a link!
It's actually older material. Does that make me a liar?
It's actually older material. Does that make me a liar?
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Lions of the Kalahari
There is a picture above the urinal at Boondocks entitled: ROAR: the Lions of the Kalahari.
The photo is of a Lion walking through a field. In the background there are antelopes sipping water from a shallow lake. The Lion is staring off into the distance, casually, and calculated, like a model. You immediately wonder why he isn’t focused on the antelopes behind him. One can only assume he is well fed and can pass up such opportunities.
It’s hard to tell if it is a photo or a painting, actually. It might be a hybrid. The lion looks real. But the rest looks like pastels. It was likely created in the 1980’s. And it’s the kind of thing you’d expect to see in a portable at an elementary school along side diagrams about the temperature at which water boils and the life span of fungi.
I noticed once that the picture is in a frame with no glass. I asked my friend Dagan who worked at Boondocks if he knew why. He thought it was hilarious that I noticed the missing glass. Then he told me the story of the Lions of the Kalahari.
One night a group of guys came in for drinks. They’d been on the water all afternoon fishing, having several drinks. It was one of the guys fortieth birthday. At one point the Birthday Boy puked a little, a small handful, onto his shirt. Dagan decided the he was cut off, done. He then followed the Birthday Boy as he staggered to the washroom. He had a tough time finding his zipper. He started peeing and it was going everywhere: the floor, the walls, himself. He was teetering back and forth. Suddenly, his rocking motion got the better of him, he went too far forward, and he face planted the Lions of the Kalahari, breaking the glass, making a ten-inch incision across his forehead. Then he fell straight down and removed all of his front teeth on the lip of the urinal.
His pants were around his ankle, he was covered in blood and piss, he’d thrown up on himself, and his front teeth were hanging out with the urinal cake. It all happened in a split second.
Dagan helped the guy get his pants on and wiped up the blood. He put the teeth in the Birthday Boy’s pocket. Then he escorted the man back out to the bar where his friends, laughing hysterically, insisted on more drinks. This was not going to happen, so the party decided to leave. As the Birthday Boy walked out the front door of Boondocks he tripped over a can of cigarette butts and rode the steps down to the pavement with his face, removing all the skin from his ear and left cheek.
I avoid the urinal now at Boondocks. I use the toilet instead. And I sit. I avoid the Lions of the Kalahari at all costs; I refuse eye contact. The Lions have seen things, hold secrets. They are vexing and could cast spells. And above all, they represent bad luck.
When I leave I look at the mirror and admire my full set of teeth.
The photo is of a Lion walking through a field. In the background there are antelopes sipping water from a shallow lake. The Lion is staring off into the distance, casually, and calculated, like a model. You immediately wonder why he isn’t focused on the antelopes behind him. One can only assume he is well fed and can pass up such opportunities.
It’s hard to tell if it is a photo or a painting, actually. It might be a hybrid. The lion looks real. But the rest looks like pastels. It was likely created in the 1980’s. And it’s the kind of thing you’d expect to see in a portable at an elementary school along side diagrams about the temperature at which water boils and the life span of fungi.
I noticed once that the picture is in a frame with no glass. I asked my friend Dagan who worked at Boondocks if he knew why. He thought it was hilarious that I noticed the missing glass. Then he told me the story of the Lions of the Kalahari.
One night a group of guys came in for drinks. They’d been on the water all afternoon fishing, having several drinks. It was one of the guys fortieth birthday. At one point the Birthday Boy puked a little, a small handful, onto his shirt. Dagan decided the he was cut off, done. He then followed the Birthday Boy as he staggered to the washroom. He had a tough time finding his zipper. He started peeing and it was going everywhere: the floor, the walls, himself. He was teetering back and forth. Suddenly, his rocking motion got the better of him, he went too far forward, and he face planted the Lions of the Kalahari, breaking the glass, making a ten-inch incision across his forehead. Then he fell straight down and removed all of his front teeth on the lip of the urinal.
His pants were around his ankle, he was covered in blood and piss, he’d thrown up on himself, and his front teeth were hanging out with the urinal cake. It all happened in a split second.
Dagan helped the guy get his pants on and wiped up the blood. He put the teeth in the Birthday Boy’s pocket. Then he escorted the man back out to the bar where his friends, laughing hysterically, insisted on more drinks. This was not going to happen, so the party decided to leave. As the Birthday Boy walked out the front door of Boondocks he tripped over a can of cigarette butts and rode the steps down to the pavement with his face, removing all the skin from his ear and left cheek.
I avoid the urinal now at Boondocks. I use the toilet instead. And I sit. I avoid the Lions of the Kalahari at all costs; I refuse eye contact. The Lions have seen things, hold secrets. They are vexing and could cast spells. And above all, they represent bad luck.
When I leave I look at the mirror and admire my full set of teeth.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Stacey and the Three Drunks
Written on request for MM many moons ago.
Once upon a time in a nursery rhyme there were three drunks. One was an Older Drunk and one was a Younger Drunk and one was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
They’d all gone a-stumblin’ and a-bumblin’ into the woods- and oooooh they were drinking- when along came a girl who was not even thirty, but walked like she was twenty, with matted down, deliciously curly hair- and a Mickey of Southern Comfort in a two-litre bottle of Pepsi in one of her hands. Her name was Stacey and up upon the door she went!
[Knock, knock, knock]
But no one was there. And she didn't care that no one was there. So she walked right in and got fucking right fucked up!
Home came those three drunks!
"Someone's been drinking my gin," said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Someone's been drinking my rum," said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Where’s the rum, where’s the gin, Oliver, Oliver, the night has just begin," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
"Someone’s been puking on my lawn chair," said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Someone's been puking in my Chevy on blocks around the side of the house," said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Chaaaaaaaaair, Cheeeeeeeeeevy, Chhhaaeeeevvvvvy," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
"Someone's been rustling up the sheets in my bed," said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Someone's fucking puked in my bed…fuck…Christ,” said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Fuck, dudes, there’s a fucking chick sleeping in my bed," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
Just then Stacey woke up, saw the shit she was up against, and got the fuck out of there.
"Where’s my kiss,” said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Damn, she was a fine thang, dang-it,” said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Bee bop a ree bah," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
So ends the story of Stacey and the Three Drunks.
Once upon a time in a nursery rhyme there were three drunks. One was an Older Drunk and one was a Younger Drunk and one was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
They’d all gone a-stumblin’ and a-bumblin’ into the woods- and oooooh they were drinking- when along came a girl who was not even thirty, but walked like she was twenty, with matted down, deliciously curly hair- and a Mickey of Southern Comfort in a two-litre bottle of Pepsi in one of her hands. Her name was Stacey and up upon the door she went!
[Knock, knock, knock]
But no one was there. And she didn't care that no one was there. So she walked right in and got fucking right fucked up!
Home came those three drunks!
"Someone's been drinking my gin," said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Someone's been drinking my rum," said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Where’s the rum, where’s the gin, Oliver, Oliver, the night has just begin," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
"Someone’s been puking on my lawn chair," said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Someone's been puking in my Chevy on blocks around the side of the house," said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Chaaaaaaaaair, Cheeeeeeeeeevy, Chhhaaeeeevvvvvy," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
"Someone's been rustling up the sheets in my bed," said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Someone's fucking puked in my bed…fuck…Christ,” said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Fuck, dudes, there’s a fucking chick sleeping in my bed," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
Just then Stacey woke up, saw the shit she was up against, and got the fuck out of there.
"Where’s my kiss,” said the Older Drunk, said the Older Drunk.
"Damn, she was a fine thang, dang-it,” said the Younger Drunk, said the Younger Drunk.
"Bee bop a ree bah," said the one who was a Wee Bit Drunker than the rest.
So ends the story of Stacey and the Three Drunks.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
New Piece
On the Bus with Jesus to be in the next issue of The Writer's Block. Stay tuned for a link. I know you're all waiting. All of you.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
How Gentlemen Act in Poorer Times
By W.L. Farrant and Seamus O’Byrne
From the First Gentleman at 11:55
I had to leave the house in the quickest of fashions as the instruments that I use to conduct my work were not functioning properly; I’ve retired to the family estate in the country for peace of mind.
Can you produce a favour and place my loaf of bread and my portion of black forest ham in the freezer so they do not spoil? It would be most splendid if you could enact such kindness during what most certainly, for yourself, will be a strenuous day.
From the Second Gentleman at 12:52
Your loaf of bread and portion of black forest ham have been relocated to the freezer, good sir. Rest assured they will both be ready to be thawed, and enjoyed, at your leisure.
From the First Gentleman at 14:43
I applaud you for your efforts and hold you in the highest esteem.
If it is not too much to ask, would you kindly place the sum of money required to secure our dwelling on a monthly basis in the little black container that is either on the third or fourth shelf in the room in which I take my rest?
From the Second Gentleman at 14:45
Indubitably, mon Frere. When shall I expect your return?
From the First Gentleman at 14:50
I expect to return no later than Thursday in the evening hours.
From the Second Gentleman at 14:56
I cannot detect a black container in the locations provided. There is, however, a black plastic jar on the top shelf with some American paper-notes and a plethora of foreign coins in it.
From the First Gentleman at 15:04
The object you refer to as a “jar” is the one I have made reference to in our previous correspondence. When viewed through a larger scope over the duration of recorded history, “jar” can be assumed to be synonymous with “container.”
From the Second Gentleman at 15:22
The description is not in dispute. However, being that I am going to place a large quantity of funds in it, and the location presented to me was FUCKING WRONG, I thought it best to be absolutely clear.
From the First Gentleman at 16:05
There is only one place that it is functionally possible to have a third or fourth shelf in the room in which I take my rest. Therefore, the writer feels that his directions were not misleading or FUCKING WRONG and that maybe the reader has certain undiagnosed cognitive issues that pertain to the "finding of things."
From the Second Gentleman at 16:08
It would seem to me that one of us has been counting from the ground up, while the other has been counting from the top down, the latter being the "correct" way. At least that is the way I perceive it, from my uniquely unbiased perspective.
From the First Gentleman at 16:20
Listen, friend, let us not quarrel over this. We are both reasonable individuals who just so happen to have different ideologies on the way shelving can be interpreted. In my own heavily biased but correct opinion, there is no academically accepted method in which to "count" shelving.
Ps. the word "count" is juvenille; professionals, like myself and other learned men, prefer to use the word "enumerate."
From the Second Gentleman at 16:34
On further reflection, I would surmise that enumerating shelving from the bottom up would be the correct method- if there is one- as every shelving unit has a bottom shelf. I offer my most sincere apologies.
From the First Gentleman at 16:48
I am impressed and humbled by your heartfelt honesty in regards to this matter. It takes a big man- and by no means is this directed as a personal attack- to admit that he is lesser in the understanding and grasping of basic concepts.
***
From the Second Gentleman at 22:17
Hey, can I borrow twenty bucks?
From the First Gentleman at 22: 25
Yeah, sure. Black jar on shelf in bedroom.
From the First Gentleman at 11:55
I had to leave the house in the quickest of fashions as the instruments that I use to conduct my work were not functioning properly; I’ve retired to the family estate in the country for peace of mind.
Can you produce a favour and place my loaf of bread and my portion of black forest ham in the freezer so they do not spoil? It would be most splendid if you could enact such kindness during what most certainly, for yourself, will be a strenuous day.
From the Second Gentleman at 12:52
Your loaf of bread and portion of black forest ham have been relocated to the freezer, good sir. Rest assured they will both be ready to be thawed, and enjoyed, at your leisure.
From the First Gentleman at 14:43
I applaud you for your efforts and hold you in the highest esteem.
If it is not too much to ask, would you kindly place the sum of money required to secure our dwelling on a monthly basis in the little black container that is either on the third or fourth shelf in the room in which I take my rest?
From the Second Gentleman at 14:45
Indubitably, mon Frere. When shall I expect your return?
From the First Gentleman at 14:50
I expect to return no later than Thursday in the evening hours.
From the Second Gentleman at 14:56
I cannot detect a black container in the locations provided. There is, however, a black plastic jar on the top shelf with some American paper-notes and a plethora of foreign coins in it.
From the First Gentleman at 15:04
The object you refer to as a “jar” is the one I have made reference to in our previous correspondence. When viewed through a larger scope over the duration of recorded history, “jar” can be assumed to be synonymous with “container.”
From the Second Gentleman at 15:22
The description is not in dispute. However, being that I am going to place a large quantity of funds in it, and the location presented to me was FUCKING WRONG, I thought it best to be absolutely clear.
From the First Gentleman at 16:05
There is only one place that it is functionally possible to have a third or fourth shelf in the room in which I take my rest. Therefore, the writer feels that his directions were not misleading or FUCKING WRONG and that maybe the reader has certain undiagnosed cognitive issues that pertain to the "finding of things."
From the Second Gentleman at 16:08
It would seem to me that one of us has been counting from the ground up, while the other has been counting from the top down, the latter being the "correct" way. At least that is the way I perceive it, from my uniquely unbiased perspective.
From the First Gentleman at 16:20
Listen, friend, let us not quarrel over this. We are both reasonable individuals who just so happen to have different ideologies on the way shelving can be interpreted. In my own heavily biased but correct opinion, there is no academically accepted method in which to "count" shelving.
Ps. the word "count" is juvenille; professionals, like myself and other learned men, prefer to use the word "enumerate."
From the Second Gentleman at 16:34
On further reflection, I would surmise that enumerating shelving from the bottom up would be the correct method- if there is one- as every shelving unit has a bottom shelf. I offer my most sincere apologies.
From the First Gentleman at 16:48
I am impressed and humbled by your heartfelt honesty in regards to this matter. It takes a big man- and by no means is this directed as a personal attack- to admit that he is lesser in the understanding and grasping of basic concepts.
***
From the Second Gentleman at 22:17
Hey, can I borrow twenty bucks?
From the First Gentleman at 22: 25
Yeah, sure. Black jar on shelf in bedroom.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
A Letter to Anne-Gaelle Sidot
Dear Anne-Gaelle,
My name is Dennis McIntyre and I’m thirty-five years old. I live in Scarborough, Ontario, Canada.
On June 26th, 2000 your self-described “obligatory style of baseline tennis” came to my attention. You were playing at Wimbledon. I was watching on the television in my parent’s bedroom in Mississauga. You beat Anna Kournikova 6-3, 6-4 in the third round.
And what a match! You dismantled the “John Daly” of tennis in just over an hour. I was glued to the screen. Afterward, I remember the camera closing in on your un-expectedly smiling face as you packed up your rackets; while walking to the tunnel, you waved both hands to the rapturous crowd.
And then you had the post-match interview with Billie-Jean King, your sweat drenched hair sticking to your forehead, your cheeks rosy, flush from exertion. It was a special day for me as it must have been for you: it was the highlight of your career!
This isn’t a fan letter. I’m not some crazed person who writes to famous people- you’re not actually that famous, anyway. But you’re a human being like me. It’s just that I think we’re a lot alike, that we’ve lived the same type of life, a life of great potential cut short from what it could have been.
Let me tell you a little about myself. I was an honours student at the University of Toronto school of Dentistry. The “prodigy” as my professors called me. They said they’d never seen anyone make a teeth-mould quite like Dennis McIntyre.
Then it all fell part. It was the spring semester of my third year. The course was DEN321H1, Pharmacology. I got addicted to fluoride. I was missing classes, staying up all night with tubes of the stuff. I started stealing it from the office I was doing my practicum at, Dr. R.F. McNeil’s in Oakville. Instead of using it on patients I pocketed it, took it home, etc…. Needless to say, I got expelled and barred from the profession.
I’m clean now- ha- but my name is tarnished. I find myself working at Lady Footlocker in Scarborough selling women’s shoes. It’s all right, I guess, but nothing compared to the thrill of removing plaque!
It saddens me that you stopped playing at the tender young age of twenty-three. You must have dreamed of walking out to Centre Court at Roland Garros and winning the French Open in front of the hometown fans?
Do you ever question the missed chances, the opportunities, the double-faults, the unforced errors? I used to fear slicing gums with a periodontal scaler, or letting a suction tube slip down someone’s throat. It’s kind of the same thing, right: succumbing to the pressure in the critical moment?
Since you dropped off the circuit in 2002 I’ve often wondered what you do, the path your life has taken. Through a little independent research, I’ve found that you teach at a local academy, in Montiigon, mentoring young French girls, enriching them with your experience as a professional tennis player. But that has to be limiting, living in the background of others future successes, successes you never had?
My excommunication from dentistry has been difficult. I miss root canals and the extraction of wisdom teeth. My only consolations come from slyly telling Lady Footlocker customers the right type of toothbrush to use or that they have a winning smile. I spend long evenings reading Oral Health Journals wondering what could have been.
I know the circumstances surrounding my failure in the field of Dentistry are different from the reasons you retired from professional tennis- a persistent injury such as plantar fasciitis, or your overall lack of success at the sport? I’m can only speculate. But my point remains: we both could have been something more than we were.
I don’t want to spook you with this letter. It’s not like I’m some Line Judge screaming, “Out” when you thought the ball was clearly in. I’m just a normal guy living in the shadow of a former dream, a little lost, and down on my luck.
I’ve got some money put aside and I’m a three-quarter qualified dentist. So, Anne-Gaelle, I’m going to make a proposition: I come to France and we begin a life. I’ll set up an office in the apartment we discover together. Every morning I’ll clean your teeth with loving affection- you’ll have the perfect Parisian smile! In the afternoons we will go down to the nearest clay court and you can beat me six-love, six-love- I’ve even made a trophy that says, “Anne-Gaelle Sidot – Champion of ‘Our’ World.” In the evenings we’ll drink Bordeaux, snack on crackers, cheese, olives and the finest cured meats. In this way, through each other, we’ll satisfy the desires we never achieved: champion tennis player and practicing dentist.
I’ve anticipated your acceptance of my proposal. So, I’ve taken it upon myself to learn your language and familiarize myself with the many aspects of “la culture Francaise,” such as the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud.
In closing, I’ll leave you with a quote from his poem A Season in Hell, to which you can surely relate: “In the dawn, armed with burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.”
Faithfully awaiting your response,
Dennis McIntyre
My name is Dennis McIntyre and I’m thirty-five years old. I live in Scarborough, Ontario, Canada.
On June 26th, 2000 your self-described “obligatory style of baseline tennis” came to my attention. You were playing at Wimbledon. I was watching on the television in my parent’s bedroom in Mississauga. You beat Anna Kournikova 6-3, 6-4 in the third round.
And what a match! You dismantled the “John Daly” of tennis in just over an hour. I was glued to the screen. Afterward, I remember the camera closing in on your un-expectedly smiling face as you packed up your rackets; while walking to the tunnel, you waved both hands to the rapturous crowd.
And then you had the post-match interview with Billie-Jean King, your sweat drenched hair sticking to your forehead, your cheeks rosy, flush from exertion. It was a special day for me as it must have been for you: it was the highlight of your career!
This isn’t a fan letter. I’m not some crazed person who writes to famous people- you’re not actually that famous, anyway. But you’re a human being like me. It’s just that I think we’re a lot alike, that we’ve lived the same type of life, a life of great potential cut short from what it could have been.
Let me tell you a little about myself. I was an honours student at the University of Toronto school of Dentistry. The “prodigy” as my professors called me. They said they’d never seen anyone make a teeth-mould quite like Dennis McIntyre.
Then it all fell part. It was the spring semester of my third year. The course was DEN321H1, Pharmacology. I got addicted to fluoride. I was missing classes, staying up all night with tubes of the stuff. I started stealing it from the office I was doing my practicum at, Dr. R.F. McNeil’s in Oakville. Instead of using it on patients I pocketed it, took it home, etc…. Needless to say, I got expelled and barred from the profession.
I’m clean now- ha- but my name is tarnished. I find myself working at Lady Footlocker in Scarborough selling women’s shoes. It’s all right, I guess, but nothing compared to the thrill of removing plaque!
It saddens me that you stopped playing at the tender young age of twenty-three. You must have dreamed of walking out to Centre Court at Roland Garros and winning the French Open in front of the hometown fans?
Do you ever question the missed chances, the opportunities, the double-faults, the unforced errors? I used to fear slicing gums with a periodontal scaler, or letting a suction tube slip down someone’s throat. It’s kind of the same thing, right: succumbing to the pressure in the critical moment?
Since you dropped off the circuit in 2002 I’ve often wondered what you do, the path your life has taken. Through a little independent research, I’ve found that you teach at a local academy, in Montiigon, mentoring young French girls, enriching them with your experience as a professional tennis player. But that has to be limiting, living in the background of others future successes, successes you never had?
My excommunication from dentistry has been difficult. I miss root canals and the extraction of wisdom teeth. My only consolations come from slyly telling Lady Footlocker customers the right type of toothbrush to use or that they have a winning smile. I spend long evenings reading Oral Health Journals wondering what could have been.
I know the circumstances surrounding my failure in the field of Dentistry are different from the reasons you retired from professional tennis- a persistent injury such as plantar fasciitis, or your overall lack of success at the sport? I’m can only speculate. But my point remains: we both could have been something more than we were.
I don’t want to spook you with this letter. It’s not like I’m some Line Judge screaming, “Out” when you thought the ball was clearly in. I’m just a normal guy living in the shadow of a former dream, a little lost, and down on my luck.
I’ve got some money put aside and I’m a three-quarter qualified dentist. So, Anne-Gaelle, I’m going to make a proposition: I come to France and we begin a life. I’ll set up an office in the apartment we discover together. Every morning I’ll clean your teeth with loving affection- you’ll have the perfect Parisian smile! In the afternoons we will go down to the nearest clay court and you can beat me six-love, six-love- I’ve even made a trophy that says, “Anne-Gaelle Sidot – Champion of ‘Our’ World.” In the evenings we’ll drink Bordeaux, snack on crackers, cheese, olives and the finest cured meats. In this way, through each other, we’ll satisfy the desires we never achieved: champion tennis player and practicing dentist.
I’ve anticipated your acceptance of my proposal. So, I’ve taken it upon myself to learn your language and familiarize myself with the many aspects of “la culture Francaise,” such as the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud.
In closing, I’ll leave you with a quote from his poem A Season in Hell, to which you can surely relate: “In the dawn, armed with burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.”
Faithfully awaiting your response,
Dennis McIntyre
Friday, January 22, 2010
Monday Magazine Food Reviewer Application
So, on a whim, I applied to be the Monday Magazine Food Critique. Obviously, I failed. So, I'm posting my "resume" as you might call it.
It required the answering of a few questions followed by a brief paragraph as to why "you" should be the chosen one. The questions were: the five most recently visited restaurants; five restaurants that must be reviewed; and five current food trends- I'd like to thank Google for aiding me in answering these questions (except for the recently visited ones of course. I actually went to them).
The recently visited:
1. The Fort Café (Victoria)
2. Sabhai Thai (Sidney)
3. Chez Nam (Ottawa)
4. Pancho Villa Mexican Restaurant (Ottawa)
5. Modern Burger (Vancouver)
Those of the must review list:
1. The Office Lounge (Victoria)
2. Pig BBQ Joint (Victoria)
3. Hernande’z (Victoria)
4. Aura (Victoria)
5. Paprika Bistro (Victoria)
Current food trends worth exploring:
1. Lamb
2. Fried Chicken
3. Pairing beer with food of its origin/region
4. Chef-driven quick serve concepts
5. Minimalist design (both in menu and venue)
A brief paragraph about being a great addition:
As a homo sapien I have the ability to enjoy taste and recognize flavour. I also have a stomach and the ability to chew. As an added bonus, I understand language and learned to write at a young age. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I discovered my father’s homemade beer and wine. The combination of the previous four sentences are the basic ingredients for successful food writing.
I recently moved to Ottawa for two months but now live back in Victoria. I’m thirty-one years old. Most nights I cook for one.
I’m aware I’ve written three paragraphs.
It required the answering of a few questions followed by a brief paragraph as to why "you" should be the chosen one. The questions were: the five most recently visited restaurants; five restaurants that must be reviewed; and five current food trends- I'd like to thank Google for aiding me in answering these questions (except for the recently visited ones of course. I actually went to them).
The recently visited:
1. The Fort Café (Victoria)
2. Sabhai Thai (Sidney)
3. Chez Nam (Ottawa)
4. Pancho Villa Mexican Restaurant (Ottawa)
5. Modern Burger (Vancouver)
Those of the must review list:
1. The Office Lounge (Victoria)
2. Pig BBQ Joint (Victoria)
3. Hernande’z (Victoria)
4. Aura (Victoria)
5. Paprika Bistro (Victoria)
Current food trends worth exploring:
1. Lamb
2. Fried Chicken
3. Pairing beer with food of its origin/region
4. Chef-driven quick serve concepts
5. Minimalist design (both in menu and venue)
A brief paragraph about being a great addition:
As a homo sapien I have the ability to enjoy taste and recognize flavour. I also have a stomach and the ability to chew. As an added bonus, I understand language and learned to write at a young age. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I discovered my father’s homemade beer and wine. The combination of the previous four sentences are the basic ingredients for successful food writing.
I recently moved to Ottawa for two months but now live back in Victoria. I’m thirty-one years old. Most nights I cook for one.
I’m aware I’ve written three paragraphs.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
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