Farmville
And on facebook, briefly, really just checking on the co-workers status on days off, when I see that one of the co-workers, a weekender, is playing farmville.
I see this because she's online all day, the game sends out alerts to all her friends telling them what she needs - "So and so needs a -----" or "So and so needs a -------? Do you have one to give her?".
It's inane. Entirely. I want to message her the same farmville messages that keep appearing on my facebook telling her that "So and so needs a life....", but probably that wouldn't go down so well.
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- Category: Rants
Farmer's Market, Archery Lanes
So out with the boy on another failed Sunday - Farmer's market for lunch, we try some organic, free range, hormone free burgers. $12.00 per burger, no sides.
They're shit. Lots of meat, but overcooked, you could get a far, far better burger at Notables or any other fine restaurant served to you, not a mall style kiosk, for far, far less, sides included. I have the feeling of having been ripped off in a big way.
Mini Donuts after, the lady running the mini-donuts stand looks exactly as you'd expect, in that "One for you-One for me" sort of way. Someone in a neighboring kiosk gets her attention, she takes our order (small bag - $5.00), then she turns and ignores us for a few minutes.
I'm getting pissed off, starting to suspect that we just paid her to eat our mini-donuts, and I voice my concerns - perhaps a trifle loudly - to the boy....
...She turns and gives us our donuts with a saccharine smile upon her face. They were being fried fresh, this isn't the comic-con where they're scooped hot - always hot, always in demand...they're delicious, we trade a few for some samples of bacon, together an amazing combination....
Lunch done, we head off to the Archery Lanes in SE Calgary. Deep South East.
Something new, we haven't done this before.
It's busy, surprisingly busy, who would have guessed such a subculture existed? More of a family atmosphere than the gun range, with men, wives, children all taking part in the glorious sport of Archery. There's no hope of us getting a lane today, and nobody to talk to about when is a good time to come. Another long drive for nothing.
While we're there we look at the bows, the merchandise, there's a clearout bin of old VHS "Archery Videos" - "Corn Crazed Does" and "Legends of Old Mossy" - a hundred other titles that are somehow suggestive of ripped off porn classics. Archery porn.
It's a different world, we've gone far enough outside of our box for the day, "Next Week..." I tell him "Bring your swimsuit and friends and we'll just go swimming. Everyone has fun at the pool...."
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Fucking Poetry
For something different I take the boy to a poetry reading. He's never been to one.
It's at the Auburn Saloon, beneath the Calgary Tower, an interesting crowd, poets, poetesses reading their work. And every poem uses the word "Fuck".
Every single one.
Now I can see using it if the intent were to shock, you don't generally see it spoken aloud in public forums other than by Comedians. It would appear that comedians and Poets have something in common. But, as we listen to more and more of this poetry, the power of "shock" is eroded, it has been overused, shocking, now, would be a poet who got through their work without using it.
The boy, he's not so impressed, not his thing, really, it's really not that interesting, I have to agree, we'll try and attend a poetry slam, where there's a little more audience involvement and the possibility of more interesting, less poetic material.
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The Immigrant Hordes
The owner's gotten a link from one of his friends, some old Fox-news story on how Mexicans are fleeing the USA for the easy life in Canada.
He wants me to watch it, 3 minutes of idiocy, Mayor of concerned Canadian town discussing his concerns about the Mexican immigration crisis, interviews with family of Mexican refugees who cheerfully talk about how the government is giving them free housing, food, education...
Now it's one sided, shallow reporting, but the owner doesn't get that, he's on a little rant about how the immigrant hordes of Mexicans are coming to prey upon our social systems, I'm not so interested and so he begins talking to Z, the East Indian waiter, and they both agree there's a problem with our immigration system.
Having been born here, a few generations hence, I'm not qualified to say, I keep discreetly out of the conversation. I might agree, but with all the easy and obvious ironies it's better to keep my mouth shut...
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- Category: Conversations
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