what are friends for?

Remember Chris Harris? Well he's back baby! A few weeks ago he came over for what proved to be a very eventful weekend. In order for you to not think that this is another pathetic Jack-Ass knock-off of pushing somebody in a shopping cart, you have to understand Chris Harris. Chris was in an accident a few years ago and it has somewhat limited his mobility (not in ways that count, ladies!); along with that is the fact that he might be the laziest person I have ever met. Ever. A couple of months ago Chris mentioned to me that his preferred mode of transportation would be some kind of padded wheel-barrow-like device which would allow him to recline while being pushed by a minion. This sounds a hell of a lot like a stroller to me, but to each his own. The first night that he was staying here, Chris wanted to get his drink on and go to the LCBO. The closest liquor store is a good 2 km away, which poses a problem - too far to walk, too short to justify a cab, and the unreliability of the #11 bus negates it as an option. Chris quickly came up with the brilliant idea that we could walk to the store for him. Because I prefer not to do things for other people, this wasn't going to happen. My eyes focused immediately on the shopping cart that was sitting in the corner [for some reason Mike couldn't carry groceries home and he needed to bring the cart here for the next 2 months]. I made Harris a deal: we would walk to the grocery store if he would walk with us. No dice; I was one step closer to my real plan. Knowing there was NO way he could comfortably travel via shopping cart, I proposed we [Adam] would push him. Chris gave it a shot, but as you can clearly see it failed to meet his high standards for comfort:



My first instinct wasn't to help him, but rather to grab my camera and try to take pictures between fits of uncontrolled laughter. Getting him out wasn't an easy ordeal either:



Chris loves booze and he wasn't about to let a few minutes of agonizing pain deter him from his goal. He insisted that his chariot be padded. Once he got in it was on.



Because I was embarrassed carrying my camera I didn't push. Besides, Adam was doing such a good job of it.





Despite the fact that it's blurry, I think this may be the best picture I've ever taken:



After Harris had his alcohol I asked him if it was worth the degradation. He was confused by my question and countered with "why would I be degraded? Adam was the one pushing me." Touché.

one more, i think my eyes were closed

Let me set the scene for you: it's early-ish (just before 10) and I'm flipping through the TV to get to one of many all-news networks. While I was "channel surfing" when The Baby Story caught my eye. Let me rephrase that, it didn't so much catch my eye as much as it simultaneously horrified/disgusted/and relieved me that I'll never have to pass something the size of a watermelon through a hole the size of a lemon. You might think the slimy grey-blue creature that this woman passed through her vagina was the source of the horror and disgust, but you'd be wrong. What was truly disturbing about this birth was that while the baby was half-way out of the mom's hoo-ha, the doctor decides to pause and awkwardly make the baby wave! to! the! camera! While not having a vagina means I can't fully understand the beauty [read: excruciating pain] of childbirth, I can still empathies with the fact that having a doctor stop your birth while passing the baby's torso for a photo-op would be blinding with both pain and rage. I should have taken down the doctors name - I don't think I'd want him checking me for a hernia. Say Cheese.

if I was a few years older...

Okay, so flickr is finally being cooperative and I can share some horrifying images from Van City. As I mentioned before, on a beautiful day, I walked around Stanley Park by myself and enjoyed being sea-side. At the end of that 10 Km walk I ended up by a beach and a cool condo with a tree on the top. While I was walking past the front of the condo I spied this:



Although not horrifying from a distance, it certainly is up close:



Yes ladies and gentlemen, that's a senior citizen in a tiny black bikini. Instantly I was reminded of Magda from 'Something About Mary' and I shamelessly whipped out my camera and took a picture. I'm not "hating" on her - it takes courage for an octogenarian to wear something like that... and it takes a really good body on an 80 year old to almost pull it off.

Ryan went downtown and all you got was this lousy post

'Sup bitches? Okay, let me clear something up here: although I am a whore for comments [all bloggers are], I simply asked that you comment so I knew that people had read my last post before I wrote a new one. Why'd you have to get all up in my grill in my comments section?

Because I reached 10 comments so quickly, I decided to hold true to my word with a new post, I went to upload what will be the most shocking pictures yet on my blog, but Flickr is being a pain in the ass, so they'll have to wait. In the mean time I have a couple of open letters to write to my fellow subway riders on the TTC last night.

Dear man who spit while on the train:
I don't know where you were raised, but apparently you weren't educated on the difference between inside and outside. Let me help you out with the complexities of etiquette surrounding spitting: if you are not outside, it is NOT socially acceptable. If you were on the platform and you hawked onto the tracks, that would have been better, but you weren't. You were on the train. Sitting between an old woman and a young mother. Classy.

To the uniformed Catholic school-girl playing with devil sticks:
Do you remember when devil sticks were cool? Yeah, that was in '93. You missed the trend by 12 years. Fads will come and go, but Catholic school-girls hiking their skirts up to say "I'm religious and slutty" has stood the test of time, so at least you did something right.

Dear homeless woman who threw a half-full can of Pepsi at my head while screaming in jiberish:
Thanks. Your little act of crazy made my night.