Monday, July 28, 2008

Salt Spring Island

And now more from the "I ate raspberry jam on toast for breakfast. The jam has quite a few seeds" school of blogging! That's right!A torrid, soul skeweringly boring post about real life stuff!

The family all piled into the hatchback and took a vacation to Salt Spring Island this past weekend. It's a somewhat large island off the west coast of BC. Google it. No, not that link, don't be disgusting. Don't you google with adult filters ON? What's wrong with you?

Salt Spring is everything you think West Coast is. Yoga, crystals, chakras, a pottery studio on every corner. Their weekend open market is colossal and confusing. Who knew there was such a demand for lavender based products? Or overpriced ultra-organic beets? Looking around, you see that tie-dye is not worn ironically, and apparently MANY MANY white people like dreadlocks. Or hate bathing. Or, both, actually.

There is also another side. The OBSCENELY RICH. The ocean side houses run around 2-3 MILLION. Not a stone throws away from some old tear down that a Cultural Anthropology Grad student is using for a hemp clothing store and LSD ReImagineering Factory. Sure, there are Honda Civics from 1983, but there are also exotic cars that are named like fringe Italian porn stars. The women are botoxed and lifted and implanted, The men have that ruddy look you only get by spending all your free time sipping dry martinis on yacht decks discussing the S&P 500 and monetary policy.

And, in a weird twist of 'rising tide lifts all boats' economic theory, everything is pretty damned expensive for a sleepy little island where every industry can be rightfully prefixed with the word 'cottage'. There's gelato there for crying out loud. Small seaside towns should have either a Dairy Queen built from the hopes and dreams of newly impregnated beauty queens, or a corner store that doesn't serve ice cream per-se, but a frozen muck with 1005% the daily recommended intake of Xnyoxy-tri-methyl-dihydride 2,3-di-phenyl percolate that's called 'soft serve'.

In some ways, it's a perfect match: the craftsmen who don't like anything unless it's handmade with artisanal attention to detail; and the jet-setting elite who are willing to pay for that craftsmanship.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Job Description :

It's been my experience, that jobs that are advertised in the classifieds (or anywhere, come to think of it), are guaranteed to be spectacularly over-sold. In a world of sanitation engineers, office managers, and periodical canine companion cardio-vascular coaches, this probably shouldn't be surprising.

So I can't help but imagine what flurry of copywriter bravado sucked certain people into their jobs.

That Guy With The Church's Chicken Sign Dancing On The Street:
Do you thrive on solo projects? Do you have a natural ear for rhythm and the ability to engage customers in the smallest time frame? With your Bachelors (Marketing), and a drive to succeed, a growing multinational restaurant chain is looking for you! Apply today with the subject line "Dynamic Hands-On Motorist Marketer Opportunity".

The Mall Security Guard With The Dead Eyes And Expandign Midsection Holding All His Frustrated Hopes and Dreams:
Aegis International is looking for driven professionals proven to provide the best in high-profile, high-risk collateral protection. If you rise to the occasion, and are familiar with firearms (training will be provided), this might be the elite outfit you've been looking for. Featured in Ammo and Guns Top 3000 Employers To Work for 1983, Aegis International only hires the best. Because we are the best. Are you?

Dude and Dudette Selling Cell Phone Plans While Trying Desperately to Look Hip and With It:
Wanted - urban lifestyle mavens and players who know the pulse of the youth. If you go to the hottest clubs, and hang out at all the coolest release parties, and have an eye to join the field of Marketing, Ramjet Worldwide might have a spot for you! As a Principal Senior Field Marketer, you'll be responsible for the accounts of hundreds of urban professionals, committed to a NOW! lifestyle! If you have what it takes, drop us a line!

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Ah the ... :

There are a few running jokes that Mrs. Owl and I bandy back and, ad nauseum. They might not be terribly funny to most people, but they are HI-larious to us.

First, a little backstory. We do enjoy the ultra-popular mega-mass-marketed ultimately low brow comedies that are just 'too popular' to be any good. Yes, I'm talking about 'Friends'. While most hipster-elites turn their noses up at TV in general (or if they do watch, it's either only watching the Bravo Channel or 'Arrested Development'), we embrace things we find amusing.

I know, shocking.

So, in this one episode of Friends, there is this zoo janitor, who makes charming bylines for zoo animals (e.g. "Ahh, the bat. Ambassador of darkness, flitting out of his cave like a winged messenger, sightless spectre of the macabe."). I mean, that's gold.

So that's what we do now. Er, or what Mrs. Owl goads me to do. Some couples do macrame, we do this. Examples,

"Ah the mall security guard, sentinel against retail crime, protector of the fashion consumer, WHITE KNIGHT in the crusade against shoplifting."

"Ah the backyard, gathering place for a neighbourhood community, nexus of social interaction, crossroads in which familial and societal ties are formed and strengthened."

"Ah the pool, great vat of chlorine treated crystal clear leisure, dominion of the life jacketed toddler and awkward adolescent, the modern re-imagining of Romanesque bathhouses.... AH the pool. "

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Unreasonable Time For Certain Activities

I finished this McSweeney's book. It's quite good, as it tries to "be funny without being humourous". Think the subtler parts of "The Office". This, naturally, sparked off a series of idears in my head, one of which is, well, read the title.

14 years : to pay back 20 bucks you borrowed from your best friend for a questionable strip bar.

10 years : your undergraduate degree.

4 years : realizing that you are indeed, catching.

3 years : finding where you misplaced that nailgun.

8 months : to realize you are in a relationship.

23 days : to finish a 'friendly game' of Risk.

17 hours : replying "I love you too" to your significant other's IM.

4 minutes : pause in conversation while talking with your father-in-law about cross-dressing.

2 minutes 39 seconds : hugging your buddy who just rescued you from soviet-era commandos on a mission to harvest your brains for their super army.

12 seconds : removing a thorn from your left testicle.