Facebook Killed the Blogging Star.

The book of a million faces...

On an awesome scale of Facial Excema (least awesome) to New Wave Hairdo's (most awesome according to The Beasty Boys), Facebook ranks a solid Angelina Jolie's lips (pretty awesome but kinda creepy too).

Now I fully admit that the only reason I've not written anything here is because of facebook. I've decided that it's time to bring it back. Not so much in the "bring sexy back" sorta way that Justin tells us he did (don't be fooled, sexy was always here it's just that we forgot what it looked like thanks largely to a severe lack of focus on Robbie Williams in the North American press). No, it's more so the "Bringin' back that ol' New York Rap" sorta thing that Beasty Boys were doing.

I've been asked to reopen the blog with a research post, but my research consists of 10% Google and 90% Opinion disguised as fact in clever APA format. So instead of researching I'll do what I'm better at (cause I've never actually researched anything in my life). And that thing is making lists of "best of's".

So, because all you facebook lurkers will soon be poking around in here, here's the Best of thesightsandsounds.com:

5.
http://thesightsandsounds.blogspot.com/2006/08/this-is_28.html

The first ever installment of "This Is A..." all about the glory and revelry that was whyte ave during the Oiler playoff run. "This Is A..." will definitely be making a comeback as well.

4.
http://thesightsandsounds.blogspot.com/2006/10/pitiless-posts-for-pitiful-times.html

Jake's sister goes through a breakup. Jake makes fun of her. Good times.

3.
http://thesightsandsounds.blogspot.com/2007/06/wedding-vows-and-chloroseptic.html

Because disastrous wedding stories are always fun! (also, see below post).

2.
http://thesightsandsounds.blogspot.com/2006/12/there-is-something-missing-in-our-art.html

A rant against practices in the Church. (Warning: NOT FUNNY. But brilliant and insightful).

1.
http://thesightsandsounds.blogspot.com/2006/09/this-is.html

How to spot your very own Gravy Train! Another brilliant installment in the "This is a..." series.

Enjoy. Again. For the first time.

There And Back Again, An 18eh Tale.

In a twist of irony so cruel that we thought we were under the sway of the Greek God's of old, our 3,000 kilometer trip to Holland Michigan began with the 6 of us (four 18eh boys and 2 wives) waving goodbye to Mike and his wife who had returned to Edmonton for a family reunion. Here we were seeing friends that we'd not seen since their own wedding almost 3 years ago and we were leaving them in our own city for yet another... 18eh Wedding.

The night before though saw us out on the town to celebrate Mike's visit and to kick off what was sure to be one epic trip in an epicly small van.

Peter, capable or emitting odours from his body that are positively inhuman, had been ordered on a strict diet of steamed celery 3 weeks prior. 

Shiggs had lost 75% of his hair for the wedding. My CanJapaJesus was gone. He'll return though like he promised.

Dustin was worried about his comfort levels on the long journey but he would be alright as he had packed an inordinate amount of womens underwear. As he tells us, "It's strictly a comfort thing guys."

"Did you get Chris a wedding gift Mike?" I asked. "Yea, I'm getting you to punch him in the face for me when you see him for timing his wedding like a complete retard." he replied sourly and promptly returned to his drink.*

I was pretty sure I'd gotten all my bad juju out of the way on my last wedding weekend two weeks ago and that this wedding weekend (W^2) would be a smooth, healthy and productive one...

Hahahahahahahaha

ANYways. Let's see, what happened during the roadtrip?

We uhh, ate breakfast in Estevan, Saskatchewan.

Dustin drank a lot of Red Bull.

Oh! And this one time, Pete totally moved up to the front of the van while we were driving. It was AWESOME!!! Pete, man that guy's crazy.

You see, the problem with relating stories about roadtrips that happen across the Canadian prairies and the American midwest is that these locations are mindblowingly boring. I mean, Saskatchewan, North Dakota, Minnesota and Wisconsin aren't just boring... God doesn't even know they exist. It's godless, heathen coutry. When you're in Canada and you have faith in such things, you literally leave God's hand of protection when you travel between the City signs of Edmonton and Ottawa. In America, God will not set foot upon the land between Denver and Chicago. I see this now. It is fact. It is science.

So when I say "Nothing happened in between Edmonton and Chicago." I'm dead serious. If you weren't born in that region, you have no business being there. When we consulted HAL, our onboard GPS system, it basically drew a straight line between our city and that of Chicago as if to say "Put your head down and go. It'll all be over soon." 

Chicago welcomed us with open arms. It's sky scrapers a beacon of light against the sea of barbaric wastelands we had just come through. And when I say "welcomed us with open arms" I really mean "welcomed us with burning car on the freeway". Awesome. Pure awesome. Chicago is a city that continually punched me in the face with fistfulls of awesome.

Because of massive construction delays on I-94 we were forced to ditch the highway. Fortunately for us, we had HAL. Like it's namesake though, I think our HAL had a little death wish for it's human compatriots and instead of leading us to the highway in a logical manner, it decided to tell us to drive through some of the roughest neughbourhoods I'd ever seen in my life. There we were, 6 kids from Canada (4 from the prairies and 2 from the city but after seeing Chicago aren't so sure they're from the city anymore) and we're in the middle of what looks like Escape From New York. Seriously, I swore Kurt Russel was gonna jump out at any second with that badass eyepatch and blow us all away.

But after godless, heathen country, burning cars, Bloods and Crips and a vindictive GPS computer that thinks it's freaken SkyNet, we made it to Holland Michigan where Christopher Leigh Zeller was waiting for us at 7am.

For more on Chris, go here and read up. For that matter, go back and read other posts. I'm actually very entertaining and I promise I won't waste your time. Being far too tired to punch Chris in the face for Mike, I settle for a big hug from the lovable little guy then passed out on the couch for 5 hours while "The Marrieds" went and napped on the beds upstairs... or whatever.

At this point we'd been driving for 36 straight hours.

That night was the wedding rehearsal. I don't remember much of it except for finding out that I was playing guitar in the ceremony itself and then realizing that I didn't have anything but jeans and a suit jacket to wear. This is actually pretty close to what I was actually seeing the night of the rehearsal...

After the rehearsal, we left for the supper and had great game of "Shake Face". The greatest new camera game ever.



ACT BREAK

We went and watched Transformers that night after the reception. Not only did Michael Bay completely make ammends for the steaming piles of crap that were Armegeddon and Pearl Harbour but he managed to reference the fact that no one likes those movies in his new film. Self deprecating humour+The best looking thing I've ever seen on a screen=Jake's new favorite summer blockbuster ever. Go watch it now. NOW!

END ACT BREAK

The next morning, after our torrid drive and relentless schedule the previous day (filled with such activities as eating out and shopping at Target) the boys and I were all woken up at 7am E.S.T. That's 5am for the normal world. We were to go golfing that morning.

I was happy.

Luckily, we of the 18eh variety pride ourselves at being able to "Up The Awesome Factor" of any event and at all hours of the day (or morning). So we prcticed our mad sword fighting and celebrating skills that we always keep in tip top shape for the impending zombie apocalypse.

Something cool of note: There isn't a single picture of all 6 of us together in existence. I like to think this Ups Our Own Awesome Factor, much like our shirts in the photo below (since in the photo above we're wearing shirts from the golf course. Apparently we were below dress code there and had to put on collars. So really we were kind of "Downing The Awesome Factor" of the golf course...).

If we were in Japan the caption would read: "Transformers Shirt Yes!"

That afternoon, I fell asleep in the sun for far too long and ended up with blistering skin all over my chest and arms. The bad juju I thought I'd left in Medicine Hat at Dustin's wedding apparently has a cousin in Michigan.

These wedding weeknds will kill me yet. It'll probably be my own too no doubt.

The wedding was awesome. The reception was... well a reception. The food was awesome, the toasts were, well they were toasts (I liked Dustin's though) and Ana (Pete's wife) made some great comparative analysis of the bride's maiden name to parts of male genitalia at a table of complete strangers. I accidentally sang Pete and Dustin a love song through a microphone that was apparently turned on through the room's PA system. All in all, it was business as usual.

Chris acted like a prepubescent retard: Check.

Jake got on Shiggy's nerves: Big time check.

One of, if not the best roadtrip ever (so far). Hell, I even met a girl who had a zombie escape plan! Up until this point the only people with enough foresight to prepare for a zombie apocalypse has been my 18eh Boys. Apparently we're no longer alone. The highlight of the trip for me by far was when Chelsea, Chris' new sister in law, confessed to having a zombie escape plan of her own. My knees may have buckled a little bit and, I've gotta be honest here, I may have had flashes of the two of us growing old together right there. I had to restrain myself from asking her to marry me on the spot (the only reason I didn't was because I didn't want to steal Chris' thunder). Also, had I done such a reckless and insane thing, I would have been met with this face right here:

Jake says: "I'll take that as a yes."

That was a good one guys. So who's up for California?

Horrible, Revolting... Magnificent.

The first time I met Michael Paul Henry was my first week of college during an amateur talent night (is there any other kind) set up for the entertainment of the on campus students. With one hundred and fifty people breaking at least 7 different types of fire codes in our small cafeteria, I watched Mike as he nearly burned the room down while performing a Neil Diamond tune off the Hot August Night album. He did in fact wreck the makeshift stage, cracking it right down the middle and finishing the tune off from his backside on the floor over by the fountain pop.

The stage wasn't the only thing in the room that night that wasn't at least slightly devastated. The one hundred and fifty people (many of whom, myself included, were getting their first taste of Mike Henry) who witnessed the spectacle were left in an emotional state somewhere in between feeling awe and feeling completely voilated. This is what your first encounter with Mike is like. Leaving you feeling like you're completely in awe and also like you've been slightly molested.

Years later, as I was delivering the best man speech at his wedding, I wrestled with how to properly (and appropriately) convey what it is to be best friends with a guy like this. If I'd only had these pictures that night, I could have done him a little bit more justice I think (though, if I do say so myself, my speech should go down in history as one of the more memorable best man toasts ever).

So without further delay, here in his own words, is Mike Henry. One of The 18eh's finest.

The key to any good flop is theatrics. I hid the target beneath my shirt until the moment arrived

A deafening roar filled the camp as the each one of those middle schoolers were traumatized.

A nice close-up. All these were taken by the camp photographer. He said, "I threw-up in my mouth a little" when the shirt came off.

Counting down... "ONE BELLY, BELLY!"

"TWO FLOPPY, FLOPPY!"

"THREE"
Notice the graceful and delicate approach to the flop. Many people make the mistake of jumping too high or too far forward. Really the best jump is a simple spring off the board.

Preparing for impact, be sure to spread all the way out, don't let your waist bend or knees hit the waer first. It will undoubtably affect your smack-quotent

A fine impact, great smack and the horns went flying.

Emerging victorious!
I ended up in thrid place this year, a good showing, but a little disappointing considering 1st and 2nd didn't do anything new. Oh well, there's always next year.

I've never been more proud...

And Now For Something Completely Different

While I work on the massively epic post on the Michigan roadtrip, please enjoy this amazing piece of youtube candy. This is why the internet was invented. Right here. Like my good friend and guitarist Graeme, this makes me want to be better faster and stronger. So to my literally 7's of readers, enjoy kiddos.

Sleepless In Sheboygan

Sitting in a foreign bedroom listening to a conversation debating the merits of the four Tremors movies, I'm dwelling on the fact (yes fact) that there's Meth Heads out there that have gotten more sleep than I've gotten in the last 48 hours. Our talking GPS system, affectionatly named "HAL" told us that we'd been in our van for 36 continuous hours, stopping only for a friendly visit on the US border with our friends the border guards.

Remember the band "Guided By Voices"? That's the theme of this roadtrip for me after spending the majority of my time either in the driver chair or in the front passenger seat listening to HAL tell me how to drive through some of the most podunk little towns the western world has ever seen. HAL knows everything. Are you boxed in by construction on I-94 in the middle of Chicago? HAL will tell you where to go and will take you on a scenic little jaunt through Chicago's most run down and violent ghetto's, where every window is barred, 3 cars are either burnt out or in the process of burning up and the only visible people on the street are wearing the color red. * Are you in need of gas at 530am in Regina? HAL will tell you how to get off the ring road and will take you to 7-11 in the heart of the City's majestic truck stop quater.

A word from the (now) wise:

• Large amounts of dairy product and greasy mushroom burgers should NOT be consumed before driving for 36 hours.
• Girls will ask who farted in a van when it wasn't them, but when it was... they won't make a sound.
• Paying toll in Chicago is obviously for the entertainment value recieved while driving on the interstate through downtown. Cars on fire, roving gangs... it's like driving through DieHard.
• There is nothing of scenic value on the entire North American continent in between Edmonton and the Quebec border.
• When you hear stories allllll week long about Americans dying or being dismembered in fireworks accidents in their own homes and backyards, don't be surprised.
• North Dakota... Not that cool.

Pictures to come...

*I'm now a Blood for life.

Secondsies For A Wedding Anyone?

With no new occurrances or revelations that are blog worthy (at least none that are internet appropriate) it becomes the job of this particular post to inform the dear reader that a roadtrip of massive proportions is just about to begin. 

The timing is awkward, the miles are mercilessly long, the planned hours of driving are beyond insanity and the final destination is skeptical at best. The trip however, will most certainly yield at least 4 stories worthy of documentation here. There is now, in my very own posession, a cellular telephone that all the kids are talking about that enables me not only to make telephone calls to different people in different places, but also to take photographs as well. 

My entire life can fit into a small, white canister. I thought my life was too big for a computer to fully encapsulate. Apparently I was wrong. It's unnerving how much the little bugger can accomplish. That, by the way, is the name I've now given to my new techology. "The Little Bugger". Expect to hear much of and from the LB in the very near future.

I will begin updating from a little town outside of Detroit very soon.

Transformers comes out today. Celebrate like it's the birth of Jesus y'all. Or at least party like it's 1984.

Wedding Vows and Chloroseptic

It's been since Tuesday now that the second battle against the evil strepp throat has raged on in the back of my mouth. "It's no big deal really" I told myself "you pretty much just slept it off last week and you were fine." All I needed was a little numbing action from my handy dandy trusty chloroseptic bottle and everything would be right as rain.

Fast forward to Friday morning and allow me to set the scene for you:

After being woken up in a strange bedroom by the inability to swallow this morning, I went to the bathroom at the friend's house I was staying at in lieu of the wedding that I am to be in tomorrow morning in Medicine Hat. It was there, in the depths of southern Saskatchewan, that while gargling an entire mouthful of the local anesthetic, I inadvertantly swallowed over 4 times the recommended limit due to a tickle in my throat.

My kingdom for a time machine...

Had I known what was to transpire over the next 10 hours I would have forced myself to instantly vomit up the concentrated evil I had just put down my soon to be numbed oral cavity. THAT, however would not make for a very good story and we've all guessed at least a couple lines ago that yes, I did in fact go back to bed.

To be woken up 45 minutes later with the queerest feeling in the top of my stomach. "How odd" I thought sitting up and rubbing my hand over the area of my lower chest that was beginning to feel increasingly tospy turvy, "I'm sure it's just a little side effect of the chloroseptic that'll wear off soon enough."

An hour later I was in that position we've all found ourselves in during moments of intense pain without a forseeable ending, negotiating with God, begging, pleading, offering up my own mother while in the fetal position on the bathroom floor of some poor family now wondering what sort of strange, animal noises are eminating from behind the door.

Knowing that there was a wedding reception to go to though, I peeled myself off the floor long enough to stumble to my car, doubled over and unable to stand upright without going dizzy from pain in my stomach. I'd always wondered what the guys in the Alien movies felt like just before the Alien ripped out from inside their chest cavities...

I wish I didn't know.

After only 20 minutes on the road however the dizzy spells were going to endanger the lives of my other passengers so I opted for the best solution I could think of at that point: I would resume my divine bargaining. This time curled up by the toilette of a tourist info stop on the Alberta border, puking like a prairie kid in a Pacific squall.

There's no adjectives to describe the next hour in that Info center bathroom. Rest assured that, even though said adjectives probably don't exist, I came up with a few on my own somewhere in that period of time.

The moral of this story though is this: If ever you drink anesthetic by accident and are pleading with your God to take your life in a Tourist Info center, just hold out for a few more minutes until you've eaten. Please stop and remember that you haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon and that the only reason this shit is staying in your gut is because it's empty.

I recommend Taco Time in a pinch. It goes down easy and makes an otherwise unbearable wedding reception tolerable (though still a little bit unbearable). Oh yea, I'm not really sick anymore...

But now I can't swallow again.

This has been a public service announcement and a test of the emergency broadcast system.

Mellow Drones Are Full of Tones.

If there's one band on the planet that I want to see right now, it's The Smashing Pumpkins. I've always been such a huge fan of these guys if for no other reason than that they seem to be so polarizing with their music. People either love them to death, or wish they were dead. I think that's the sign of a great band. No one who likes that genre of music has a neutral opinion of them, there's no apathy about them. And No Apathy is awesome.