Flip Flop Flying

Archive for August, 2010

Keep on Truckin’

with one comment

A man in a tight cords wore a T-shirt
Keep on truckin’ written on the front.

I took his advice
And I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
All night long.

I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
All day long.

I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
And I kept on truckin’
The next day, too.

I kept on truckin’
All the next week
I kept on truckin’
The week after that.

I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
The whole next month.

I kept on truckin’
All through spring
I kept on truckin’
Through summer, too.

I kept on truckin’
Through autumn and winter
I kept on truckin’
And the year after that.

And the year after that
And the year after that
And the year after that
And the year after that.

I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
I kept on truckin’
For twenty five years.

Twenty five years and
Sixteen weeks and
Three days and
Two and a half hours.

Then I stopped truckin’
And I heard on the radio
Another guy was still truckin’
So he won the truckin’ endurance competition.

Written by Craig

August 31st, 2010 at 1:06 pm

Posted in Blah blah

Pet Sounds by YouTubers

without comments

Pet Sounds. The Beach Boys’ 1966 album. You all know what most people think of this record, and as someone who’s website takes its name from the lyrics of a Beach Boys song, I’m sure you can guess how I feel about the record. I was lying in bed trying to sleep last night, and got to wondering if I could find cover versions of each of the album’s songs on YouTube. Well, of course I could. It’s YouTube. So, embedded for your enjoyment, Pet Sounds as covered by YouTubers. (I picked them at random if there were several versions of the same song. I’m making no comment about the quality of the cover version, either pro or anti. They are, though, all interesting in their own way.)

Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Burro1231

You Still Believe in Me by simonbarget

That’s Not Me by jimfusco

Don’t Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder) by troubleclef

I’m Waiting for the Day by JDrevolver66

Let’s Go Away for Awhile by mandobanjoguitar

Sloop John B by bubtulip48

God Only Knows by alpet07

I Know There’s an Answer by posturex1

Here Today by michaelthorner

I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times by ChrisDodgen

Pet Sounds by kobifox

Caroline, No by podonline66

And for the extra track completists out there:

Hang On to Your Ego by sydbarrett5

Written by Craig

August 30th, 2010 at 3:15 pm

Posted in Blah blah,Music


with 2 comments

Since moving over to WordPress, this blog receives between 25 and 50 spam comment a day. It’s as tedious as all spam tends to be. Here’s what some of them have to say:

Helene Humann says: I would really urge people to buy fondue sets, I have possessed a set for quite a while. I purchased it when I was on holiday in Zurich and have got it out ever since. It usually surfaces at parties for chocolate fondue with strawberries. Sometimes we have cheese fondue at dinners as well. Make sure you wash out them after you use them though, otherwise they can be very difficult to washout!
Thanks for the tip, Helene. I don’t own a fondue set, mostly, I think, because I rarely have dinner parties. It’s all I can do to make something warm to eat never mind filling a thing full of molten cheese. and really, it’s a slippery slope if one starts making fondue to eat when one is alone.

Car Antenna says: Where can I find a good car antenna?
I’m pretty much the worst person to ask for a couple of reasons, Car Antenna. Firstly, I’ve never owned a car, and therefore never had any need to buy one. Secondly, you IP address indicates that you are in Phoenix, Arizona, and I’ve only spent about an hour there in my life. As far as I noticed, they didn’t sell them in the airport. I hope you manage to find one. It would be somewhat odd if someone called Car Antenna was unable to buy one. Hang on in there, champ!

Good Abs Workout says: Glenn Beck was the gross kid everybody picked on in school now using his nasty talk to try and get level the score with them. I can’t consider anybody trusts any of the crap that come out of the mouth of this right winged racist.
I agree wholeheartedly, Good Abs.

cash for junk cars says: What will you now do tomorrow because of what you did today?
Well, because I did quite a lot of editing of my book, it means that I can take it easy tomorrow, and go to the Blue Jays-Tigers game, have a few beers, and enjoy myself.

Bryon Toda says: Shakira’s a beautiful person.
Oh Bryon, how right you are, she is dreamy.

Lexus GS says: There’s too much blood in my caffeine system.
Funny man!

Shirley Manners says: The sun and the rain playing a deceiving game.
Shirley, you just blew my mind a little bit. I’m gonna have to think about that some more.

Boston Market Coupon says: I’m a fan of Beck, O’Reilly and others, but Sean hannity is definitely my favorite.
You should have a fight with Good Abs Workout. He’s got good abs; you’re a coupon. He’d kick your fuckin’ ass!

lose weight naturally says: What is the most important thing that happened to you today?
As I was saying to cash for junk cars: editing.

Dario Internet Marketing says: Ahhh the Yanks. Good stuff here. Shame they are this injured this season.
Well, I’m hoping Pettitte and A-Rod will be back soon, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a wee bit worried.

The Network Marketing Guy says: Ahhh the Old Sox. Great stuff here. So sad they are so hurt this season.
As a Yankees fan, I don’t really care about the injured Red Sox players.

Mrs. Anti-Virus says: I bet you wish george bush was still president now
Not really.

Cast iron outdoor fireplace says: i absolutely like your world-wide-web web site. Its really informative. Goodbye!…
Thank you kindly. Goodbye.

Now let’s see how much comment spam this post will produce.

Written by Craig

August 28th, 2010 at 7:07 pm

Posted in Blah blah


with 2 comments

Went for a haircut this morning. I tend to think of haircuts as a chore rather than as a part of my beauty regime, so going to a trendy place to pay $60 is not something I’m gonna do. Instead, I went to a barbershop with nice faded sign-writing above the windows. The bell jangled when I opened the door, and I could see the white-coated back of big, old, balding guy in the doorway to a back room. He was talking loudly in Italian. He turned round, acknowledged my presence, and finished up his phone call. Looking around the room, there were lots of dusty bottles of lotions, faded pictures of footballers, faded topless calendars (July 1983 was particularly busty), an old Zorro poster, and a bunch of photos that looked like family photos.

The barber came out, showed me to the chair, asked what I wanted, and the festivities began. Firstly, he spoke like a caricature of an Italian, so when I quote him later, feel free to read it out loud like-a dat. I asked him how his week had been. He stopped snipping, and began chatting with me in the mirror. For the majority of my time in the chair, it felt like the haircut was incidental to the monologue. The inspector is breaking his balls because a customer complained that he cut him, drew blood. Thanks for telling me that, makes me feel quite confident sat here with you behind me holding some scissors. It was the first of at least ten times he said someone was breaking his balls. Although one time he amended it, and said the government was breaking his ass. On a complete tangent, he asked if I knew Errol Flynn.

“That’s the guy who played Robin Hood, right?” I said.
“The original Robin ‘Ood, not like Kevin Costerner (sic) or Russell Crowe: they make Robin ‘Ood look like a fuckin’ idiot!”

He’d been on vacation to Hollywood. He’d seen the graves of Flynn, Marilyn Monroe, Dean Martin, Farrah Fawcett. “Look!” He pointed to a photograph of his round pink head in front of the Hollywood sign. Then he pointed to an old black and white photograph of him as a young man; full head of black hair. Then he warned me that hair was like grass; that I should take care of it and cut it more in the summer because “you don’t want to end up like me!”

He reached over to a jar of alcohol, and pulled out a straight razor, and began removing the hair on the back of my neck. He returned to his original point about the inspector, and the customer who’d complained. Turns out the customer was Jewish. So now I wonder: what is the correct way to handle a situation when an old Italian anti-Semite has a cut-throat razor at your neck? Should one take a stand? Or should one, like I did, sheepishly and quietly mutter “uh-huh” to everything he said, and wait for the slightest pause to change the subject? I jumped in and asked him where abouts in Italy he was from.

Sicily. It’s wonderful, apparently. Go in the summer, they have the best fruit you will ever taste.

Written by Craig

August 27th, 2010 at 12:30 pm

Posted in Blah blah

Dear Canada

without comments

Dear Canada,

I’ve not seen a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman. Where the hell are they? Where are you hiding them? I’ve been here for three months and I’ve not seen hide nor hair of ’em. I’ve had some maple syrup, I’ve had poutine, I’ve hummed along to “O Canada,” I’ve heard people say “eh” and “aboot,” I’ve watched hockey on TV, I’ve admired Don Cherry’s suits, but I’ve not seen a Mountie. Please send one round to stand outside the house tomorrow morning.

Yours sincerely,

Craig Robinson

PS. If I could think of something funny to write, this is where I’d do it.

Written by Craig

August 26th, 2010 at 11:38 pm

Posted in Blah blah


with one comment

Written by Craig

August 25th, 2010 at 2:39 pm

Posted in Artwork,Silly

Oh Andie, it’s so easy to mock you

without comments

Written by Craig

August 24th, 2010 at 5:26 pm

Posted in Silly


with 7 comments

I went downstairs to make a cup of tea. Came back up, sat down, looked out of the window, and FUCKING HELL-

Anybody a) know what type of bird that is? and b) want to share that information?

Written by Craig

August 24th, 2010 at 3:07 pm

Posted in Blah blah

All coast U.S.A.

without comments

I took a map of the contiguous part of the United States, erased all the bits which didn’t have a coastal border, and joined those coasts together to make an island. Labelled version here.

Written by Craig

August 23rd, 2010 at 12:23 pm

Posted in Artwork


with 2 comments

The woman who served me in Starbucks this morning asked me how I was doing. I tried to say something, and in those microseconds where your brain is thinking of what it is you want to say, all that came out was a few stutter-y noises. She looked at me, and offered a suggestion for a word I was looking for: “Meh?”
“Sorry?” I said, because I hadn’t quite heard her properly.
“Meh,” she said. “Er, that’s how you say it right?”
She had such a sheepish look on her face, almost like it was the first time she’d used the word out loud and in public. This woman was young – in her twenties – but I have a feeling, though, that that sort of stuff is awaiting all of us. I’ll find myself talking to someone about that great new band Arcade Five or something. And the youngsters will laugh and I will feel old.

I had a wee laugh to myself, though, on the way back from Starbucks. I’ve walked that route from home to Starbucks and back again virtually every morning since I’ve been in Toronto, and I’d never noticed it before. It’s not original or particularly interesting to point out sign writing mistakes, but at 8.50am on a rainy Sunday, it made me chuckle. And if you ever need some contaracting doing, you now know where to come.

You never hear much about acid rain these days. Does it still exist?

Last night, half-asleep, I leant over the edge of the bed and scribbled some words on a scrap of paper. Took me a while to decode the scrawl this morning, but it said “transcribe Alpha Wave Plastikman mix.” It must’ve seemed like a good idea at the time cos that song (“Alpha Wave (Plastikman Acid House Mix)” by System 7) is nineteen minutes and thirty nine seconds long. Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um …

(go make a cup of tea, come back in eighteen minutes)

… Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um Na-wooh-um weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw weeeh-wahw. There we go. Another successful blog post.

Written by Craig

August 22nd, 2010 at 4:46 pm

Posted in Blah blah

Where I write something just to get back in the habit

without comments

On the way home from a bar last night, I stopped off for one last drink at a place I’ve often walked by, often enjoyed the brief moment of music I’ve heard as I passed, and often wondered what sort of place it was. It was rammed in there, and I found out why. Pole dancers. No cover charge, decent priced drinks. Awesome. Sadly I arrived just a little too late, just in time for last orders, so I had a quick rum and Coke, watched a lass do her thing for a few minutes and left. As I stumbled home, I heard some screeching in an alley. I went to have a look what it was. I have no idea what sort of create it was. At first I thought it might be racoons, but as I got closer I noticed the branches of a tree shaking. Do racoons climb trees? They seem a bit big for that. So I’m thinking it was likely squirrels. But they were at it hammer and tongs. Couldn’t see the fight going on; it was dark and the tree had lots of leaves.

I saw a skunk, too. But that was last week. I’m not gonna pretend it was last night. I could do that, I could lie to you and you’d be the none the wiser. A couple of night ago, though, I smelled a skunk. It was in the early hours of the morning, and at first I thought my one of my neighbours was smoking weed on the balcony. But they weren’t. It was obviously a skunk. Either that or it was a skunk smoking weed, deliberately trying to fry my brain.

Lazy, lazy morning lying in bed watching Weezer and Beach Boys videos on YouTube. Took me until around 2pm to drag my carcass out of bed to go to the shops. At the moment I’m going through all the pages of the copyedited manuscript of my Flip Flop Fly Ball book. I’ve been instructed to make notes on the print outs in a different colour. Makes sense. So I had to go and buy a green biro today. I was a wee bit shocked at how difficult it was to buy one biro. Just one. Not a pack of three of five. One. One pen. If I’d needed a black pen, I could’ve justified buying three cos they would come in handy at some point, but three green pens? I could live to be one hundred and thirty nine years old and I’d still not have used up three pens worth of green ink. In the end, I had to go to an art supplies store, where I found a Pilot pen, one of their B2P range, which are apparently made from recycled water bottles.

While I was out of my green pen hunt, I saw a man taking a photo of a billboard poster with his cellphone. I can’t remember what the poster was advertising, but it had a man and a woman hugging on it. The man on the poster was the same man who was taking the photograph. It was kinda nice to see someone so handsome being a wee bit excited about his face being on a poster. Either that or he was sexting someone, like, “Yeah baby, I’m hot as shit.” Perhaps that’s what the screeching squirrels were doing, too, though, shouting filthy sex talk at each other and fucking in the trees. Where’s David Attenborough when you need him?

Written by Craig

August 21st, 2010 at 8:39 pm

Posted in Blah blah


with 14 comments

I came to Toronto thinking that because I’d be living in a new city, hopefully having fun, enjoying working on the book, that it would mean I’d have a lot to blog about. I don’t keep a diary, so if I don’t do this, it’ll be tough to remember the sort of stuff I got up to. Obviously, I decided to have a break a couple of months ago. And it was nice to not think about it; just throw a few drawings up now and again. But I’m wanting to make notes again, and I seem not to be able to do that unless they are here. Wonder why that is. Truth be told, part of the reason that I decided on the break was because of the situation when I moved the blog from using Blogger to WordPress. Blogger decided to stop doing FTP support, I started the process of changing, decided to do it later, then found myself unable to get back into where the original stuff was. So when I finally moved to WordPress, there was no way of doing an RSS note to let people know it was moving. A very large proportion of readers used that RSS feed, so without being able to tell them that the blog was moving and they should change the RSS feed, the blog’s readership plummeted. My ego started pouting, and continued to pout until it decided to have a break. Sometimes I wish I had the nerve to turn commenting off. Then I’d not be checking every ten minutes to see if anybody has left a comment about the latest post. But my ego likes comments. My ego is a dick.

Last night I chipped a tooth. Just a tiny bit, a couple of millimetres in length, of what the Internet tells me is called my left mandibular central incisor. I’d been drinking at my local bar, Squirly’s, and was planning on getting some food on the way home. It was around 10pm, thought it’d be a civilised evening, a few beers, some Thai food or something. I walked right past the Thai place, and instead of turning around, I kept on walking to see if something else took my fancy. I kept walking and walking, and about 20 minutes later I was a fair few blocks away from home. So I decided to go have a beer somewhere else. On my way there, I was biting one of my finger nails and got a tiny piece of nail lodged between my teeth. I tried to poke it free with my tongue. I tried to suck it out, too. Then I put my thumb nail in there and tried to root it out that way. I obviously have very strong thumbnails, cos that’s how I chipped a bit of my tooth off. I sat in the bar, watching sports scores scroll across the bottom of an ESPN Classic boxing match, got slowly drunker, smiled at the pretty barmaid, and kept tonguing the sharp edge of my tooth. I drank some more. I eventually did eat something, but it was at the end of a long night’s solo drinking. And it was from McDonald’s. I rounded off the evening by falling over on the stairs when I went down to get a glass of water. I didn’t turn the light on, and thought I had reached the bottom, but there was still one stair to go. I’ve got a nice raw red mark on my knee now. When I woke up this morning, though, I remembered that I’d kept the tooth chip in my back pocket. Aquí:

I’ve been drinking too much since I’ve been here. Way exceeding those recommended limits. And it’s not really a cheap hobby, either. For one thing, buying a six-pack is a pain in the arse. The Ontario government runs things. You can’t just go to a corner store and buy a beer. You have to go to something called, rather matter-of-fact-ly, The Beer Store. If you want anything harder than beer, you’ve gotta go to the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO). If I, for example, wanna buy some vodka, I’ve gotta trudge over to the LCBO. You want some vodka after 9pm? Fuck you, buddy. Same deal at The Beer Store. And they just have pictures of the labels and the prices in tiny numbers on the wall. It’s like Soviet China or somefink, I tells ya.

While we’re on the topic of stuff that fucks you up, and while I know the majority of you don’t care about cigarette prices, this has been an interesting quirk. They’re not cheap here either, but that’s kinda the same everywhere in the Western World these days, I guess. But one thing that seems consistent in other countries is that cigarettes are pretty much exactly the same price in every store (unless you’re trying to buy them in central London after midnight). When I bought a pack in Berlin, they were €4.90 in every store. In the three corner stores that are within five minutes walk from where I’m living here, one store charges $9.15, another charges $9.50, and the third charges $10.50. The guy in the cheapest store always seems surprised that right behind him, there are racks of cigarettes, like he’s never heard of such a thing before or like they crept up on him. The second cheapest store has a really chirpy friendly guy, and a woman who always seems to be eating and tells me the price with her mouth full of food which makes me want to pull out a machete and chop off her head. The most expensive store has the most miserable shopkeeper I’ve ever seen. The look of disgust on his face when I asked for Camel Lights, interrupting him eating a Danish pastry, was the look I would normally reserve for seeing a dog eating human vomit off the street. (But not as bad as the look of disgust I’d have if I saw a human eating dog vomit off the street.) Without wiping the sticky off his hands, he grabbed the cigarettes and flung them across the counter at me. He wears a green waistcoat, though, which suits him. But being a complete fucking psychopath, I’ve been back in there a couple of drunken times specifically to ask for cigarettes, watch him get them, listen to him tell me they are $10.50, and then tell him that they are too expensive, and go to the cheap store like I’d planned all along. It’s a shitty game, but it’s a game that makes me grin like I’m wearing an Aphex Twin mask.

I’ve been working on my book. It’s more-or-less finished now. Still gotta do the cover, and I’m currently up to my neck changing every hyphen in the graphics to an en dash or em dash. Oh how I wish I knew the correct usage before I’d begun the book. The tentative title is “Flip Flop Fly Ball: An Infographic Baseball Adventure.” It’s been hard work, it’s driven me a wee bit insane, but it’s been a lot of fun, too. Especially because my editor Pete and I get along really well, and spend every day chatting over email about all sorts of baseball-y crap. And from my bedroom window, I can see the garages out of the back of all the houses on the street, the garages which grey and black squirrels scamper across. Late at night, there are often racoons on the roofs, too. I can face to face with a few of them last night actually. A mama and three kids were rooting through a neighbour’s bins. I wouldn’t like to get too close, but they really are cute-looking creatures.

I’m still pronouncing the name of this city with two Ts. Toronto. Everyone else says Toronno, or ever Tronno. I feel self-consciously English when I hear the word coming out of my mouth. I don’t have the same thing, though, when I say Atlanna if I’m talking about Atlanta.

Things that are in no way connected plopped into a paragraph: The electricity lines buzz a lot here. I’ve never seen as many people on motorised wheelchairs as I have in this city. Most of the beggars here have “funny” signs. They’re not funny. Yesterday, I saw a blind man with a woman. She sniffing a menu/flyer she’d been by a Chinese man on the street. Nothing spectacular about that, but it was just an interesting thing to see happening. No matter what time of day it is, the Canadian coffee/restaurant chain Tim Hortons always seems to be packed. I’ve not eaten anything from there, but should you ever be visiting Canada and want to drink some coffee, I’d recommend not going to Tim Hortons. It is quite the most horrible coffee this side of McDonald’s. I wonder what it is about the human brain that compels us to pluck a leaf from a hedge when we walk by one. While we’re on the topic of hedges, the older I get, the more I like watching old men trimming their hedges. And I mean their hedges; it’s not a pubic hair euphemism. A guy around the corner has been painting the wood columns and other bits on his porch recently. He was painting them white, he highlighted bits in a rather nice dark green. When I walked by today, he was painting the stone squares at the bottom of the columns silver. Metallic silver. A bold choice. Same journey, I was walking on the kerbside of the pavement, walking along walking along. Woman, mid-twenties, huge sunglasses, deliberately walked diagonally across the pavement so she was right in front of me. Being vaguely gentlemanly, I moved aside as she kinda started me out. I turned my head to kinda just take the weirdness in, and she’d instantly returned to the side of the pavement farthest from the kerb. On the way back from Starbucks, a guy probably late teens, surf-y shorts, mirrored shades was sauntering in a vague diagonal. Was the same thing gonna happen again? I behaved like a twat: I put my head down and walked in a completely straight line. Fuck you, mirror boy. But he’d already crossed the street before could collide. I really like potato salad. I always feel disgusted with myself after eating potato salad. I’ve considered getting a tattoo once again, and once again decided against it. Something that I liked on Marc Maron’s WTF podcast today: “If I can get to the point where I’m actually pursuing happiness as opposed to relief, that would be the next phase.” That sounds like good advice to me.

Same again, but going through my Twitter to see if anything of interest needs writing down in longer form since last we spoke: I would like to go up to employees at American Apparel and tell them, “It really is okay to enjoy life. You don’t have to look so bored. Eat an apple. Pull a silly face. There’s more to life than The XX album.” The World Cup was excellent in Toronto. I’d kind of anticipated the interest here being minimal, but the internationalism of the city made it utterly fantastic. Supporters of more or less all the teams around. I’d vowed to myself not to care about England, but damn those roots, they dragged me back in. I was kind of glad they got knocked out though (although I’d much rather it had not been done by the Germans), cos that meant I could just enjoy the rest of the football. Frank Sidebottom‘s creator Chris Sievey died which made me really really really sad. I received a spam email which said, “LOL if you see someone drowning in bacon.” The Queen came to visit Canada but didn’t drop by to say hello, sadly. I’d assumed all Britishers living abroad would get a visit when she was in town. I’ve fallen in love with the Canadian national anthem. It’s a very beautiful song. And I’ve seen a crapload of baseball: 23 Blue Jays games and a massive 73 home runs (52 by the Jays, 21 by the visitors).

Oh, something of interest did happen. Somebody alerted me to this article in the Winston-Salem Journal titled “Book, in error, got judged by its cover.” Apparently a library staff member picked up nine copies of my Atlas, Schmatlas book to give as gifts to children. If you’ve read the book, you’ll know there’s quite a liberal smattering of curse words in the book. Full article here.

Kraig my friend from Portland came to visit three weeks ago, which was nice. I’d been saving up tourist-y stuff to do. We went up the CN Tower which is very high indeed. There’s a bit with a glass floor. There were kids and adults all milling around. I took a tentative step onto the glass, took a photo, felt incredibly queasy, and walked away.

And we rented a car and took a day trip to Niagara Falls. The falls themselves are excellent. Really quite beautiful. Lots of people, not sure why I wasn’t anticipating that. I was as close to the United States as their immigration people would let me be, too. So I paid tribute to their decision-making process in the only way I could:

Once you move away from the falls, though, the town is nuts. For some reason, when people had told me that it was a bit tacky, I was envisaging “English seaside” not “low rent Vegas.” It’s all well and good, but the experience of the falls was kinda blunted by the crassness of the town’s touristy main drag. It was like drinking a really nice glass of wine and washing it down with a pint of ketchup.

Anyway, next month I will be celebrating (…?) my 40th birthday. I’m not in the market for a Harley Davidson, but I am considering something a bit life changing. I’m seriously thinking about getting contact lenses. I’ve worn glasses since I was in junior school, so I kinda fancy a change. I keep taking photos of myself without my specs on so I can try and get used to what I will look like (being short-sighted means that I can’t really see myself properly in a mirror unless I get pimple-squeezingly close). So, what do you think? Specs or contacts? (Yes, I have a lazy eye. Bone idle, in fact.)

Right, time to kick off my flip-flops, fire up Good Will Hunting (never seen it before), and eat some tamari almonds cos they are fucking delicious.

Written by Craig

August 19th, 2010 at 8:17 pm

Posted in Blah blah

Brief conversations

with 2 comments

Brief conversations between sea-based creatures and their land-based namesakes.

SEA HORSE: You’re quite a majestic creature. I am happy we share a name.
HORSE: Yep, me too, actually. You’re very pretty.

SEA LION: You’re the king of the jungle, right? Awesome! I am happy we share a name, although I think you might be a tad disappointed with me.
LION: Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a wee bit perplexed, but you seem nice enough.

SEA URCHIN: You’re a bit dirty. Maybe you’d smell nicer if you had a wash, young man.
URCHIN: Cor blimey, guv’nor, if it ain’t a talkin’ spikey thing! Spare us a shilling?

CAT FISH: I’ve seen you on the Internet, you’re funny. You can has cheezburger! LOL!
CAT: Oh shush, you damn fool, I’m trying to take a nap.

SEA CUCUMBER: Really? A fucking vegetable?
CUCUMBER: Well actually, I taste marvellous in a fancy English sandwich at afternoon tea.

SEA OTTER: Oh, we kinda look the same. I can see why we’ve got the same name. So what’s the deal? You don’t like salt?
OTTER: Watching my sodium, dude.

SPERM WHALE: Yeah, right. It’s all a big joke to you, isn’t it? Arty beardy speccy-four-eyes man writing crap about animals on his bloody Web site, thinking it’s all a great big joke… What, not got any baseball to watch today, you boring fucking nerdy loser?

Written by Craig

August 15th, 2010 at 5:49 pm

Posted in Silly,Stories

Couple more

with 2 comments

Drawn using Brushes application on the iPod touch/iPhone. More of my finger painting in the Much Fuck It’s Drawing section.

Written by Craig

August 11th, 2010 at 11:41 pm

Droh ings

with one comment

Drawn using Brushes application on the iPod touch/iPhone. More of my finger painting in the Much Fuck It’s Drawing section.

Written by Craig

August 8th, 2010 at 11:31 am