Jan 31

My buddy JP

I was fortunate enough to go for a drive to Ajax today, and experience the wonderment of Costco. We got some snorkel sets and other necessary items for our trip. I’m looking forward to doing some real snorkeling in some crystal clear water, because the last time I tried it it didn’t go so well. I think it was Scooter, Handsome Bastard and I by the gap in Harwood, and we had a chunk of garden hose that we were using as a snorkel. I have to tell you that thin walled hose doesn’t make a good snorkel, because it will collapse if you go down too far. I found this out at about eight feet below the surface, which probably doesn’t seem bad , but when you’ve just expelled a lung full of plastic air and then can’t breathe back in, it seems a little more of a concern to get back up those eight feet. After we realized the limitations of cheap garden hose as diving gear, we continued our venture in to the tackle business. I would just hang around in the shallow part and look for lures that the Americans would lose while the boys would plug the end of the hose every once in a while. I guess they were just making sure that I wasn’t sleeping. We would then sell the lures back to the people on shore for half price, or whatever we could get for them.

While looking around in some tangled roots, I spotted a Mepps snagged in the wood. As I was picking it out of it’s trap, a muskie or something with big teeth, smashed into my mask. I came out of the water like a shot, babbling and sputtering like an idiot, while Scooter and Handsome Bastard laughed at me from the shore. I was done with that fucking hose, and they were all assholes for not taking me seriously.

Wait a minute. I said that was my last time using snorkeling equipment, but that’s a lie. Another time we were at the gap, and I decided that I wanted to see what bottle rockets looked like going off under water. I went in with the mask on, and told them to shoot it off to my left. I then went under, and watched where I had told them to shoot it, when something bounced off of my mask, and exploded. The concussion was intense, and it sucked the mask right on my face and I thought my eyes were going to pop out. I was flailing and gasping for air, and forgot that I could blow out with my nose to relieve the suction. My instincts just told me to not breathe. Luckily I was only in four feet of water, and was able to stand up to prevent myself from drowning, but the ringing stayed in my ears for several days. This was not the last bad experience that I had with gunpowder.

The next “misfire” happened when I was working at Bruce and Rick’s carwash, and I had cut open a bunch of shotgun shells to get the powder out. While I was cleaning out my Rampage, I found some of the primers, and thought I’d put one in the vice, and give it a little tappy tap. WOW, who knew such a tiny thing could make so much noise? I guess being in an enclosed space didn’t help it much, but holy shit! I couldn’t hear anything but a high pitched whistle for hours, and very little for a few days. I have since quit entertaining stupid ideas of inventing new bombs, and have resigned myself to writing about stupid ideas I have previously toyed with. I do this for you, the reader, to help you avoid the mistakes I, or others I know, have made. You’re welcome, and on that note, I’m going to tell you about my lunch.

The box was too small to have sex in, or so I thought.

We went to JP’s Pita Deli at the Liberty St. exit in Bowmanville, Ontario. It is the most fantastic place to get a delicious pita, and have a really good chat with one of the most colourful guys you will ever meet. JP is an Armenian fellow that makes the most delicious food, and does it with a smile on his face. Well, unless those guys that are building his house do something stupid, because they don’t know anything, and are constantly wrecking things on him. Those days, he is like the sad guy that goes to the bar to unload his woes on the bartender. You can’t help but like the guy, and when he is on a rant about something, it’s like poetry. Poetry from an angry Armenian. He uses only fresh ingredients, and makes his falafel mix up daily. He loves to tell you about all of the tricks that the fast food conglomerates use to get you in and shove their filthy poisons down your throat. I’m with him on that one. I also love that he goes to all the local supermarkets to buy his ingredients, instead of getting a wholesaler to deliver it. He is open from 10 AM to 9 or 10 PM, and he works those hours himself, and then does all of the shopping for the store between 9 and 10 AM. I would post his picture, but he doesn’t want to be on the internet where people will see him. I can post a picture of me eating on of his pitas though. My sweet baby took it today.

I was happy. I hadn’t had one in over three weeks.

If you do decide to try out JP’s, tell him Chris sent you from the internet. You definitely won’t be disappointed.

And I was stuck on Joy, that was her name,


Jan 28

One Messed Up Night

A good friend asked me to recount a night in the 90’s when a horrible thing happened to some friends of ours. I’m not going to put in any names of the people in the accident, because of the circumstances, but it’s still a story and I’ll try to remember what I can of it. This story isn’t intended to lay blame, but to try and drive home how stupid and thoughtless it is to drink and drive, or allow someone else to.

I can’t really remember how old I was, but I’m guessing at eighteen or nineteen, because of the car I was driving, and the crowd I was out with. My buddy Steve and I went out to a pit party at the Centreton sand dunes. I wasn’t drinking, but Steve had had a couple, and it was starting to get out of hand around there. There was one rich kid that was trying to burn his quad, because he was drunk, and an ***hole. A bunch of others were just getting stupid. I guess it was because they were all younger than us, so we decided to take off, and head for Harwood. As we were getting our proverbial “sh**” together, we noticed some really good friends were leaving too, so we stopped to chat. I noticed that the girl driving was pretty wasted, so I tried to talk her out of leaving, and we tried to get everyone out of the van. The driver told me that someone else was going to drive (I think it was her brother or something like that), and that they really weren’t leaving right yet, so I asked my friends to please not go with her, and I’d give them a ride. They said that they wouldn’t, and I left it at that.

I know my mother is against it

I got in the car and started to drive Steve and I home. We were just driving along, shooting the shit, and we had made it to the Centreton Rd. – Hwy 45 intersection when we turned right and started to go north. There had been headlights coming up behind us pretty fast when we got there, and I wondered if it was the OPP, so I was looking in the rearview to see if they had turned the corner. Steve was looking in the side mirror when all of a sudden the lights were spinning through the air, and whipping all around. We realized that someone hadn’t seen the stop sign in time, and had rolled across the highway.

We turned around fast, and went back there to find the girl’s van on it’s wheels, and one of our friends strapped into the passenger seat. She was frantic, and trying to get her seatbelt off and open her door. We tried to calm her down and find out where the other two were, because there was no one else in the van. She was hysterical, and rightly so. I asked her to please go across the road to the restaurant, and call 911 to get the ambulance there as soon as possible. We heard moaning coming from under the van, and looked in to find our other friend pinned underneath. The axle was on her head or neck, and she was not in good shape. She started screaming about the pain from the van being on her. Somehow we lifted the van up, and got her out from under it. I don’t remember who had stopped to help, but I’m sure that Steve and I didn’t lift the van, and pull her out all by ourselves. Her neck was in bad shape, so I got Steve to stay with her and keep her calm and lying still, and I went to the other side of the van to see what had happened to the driver.

She was a little way from the van, and was conscious, but seemed incoherent. I went over to her and tried to talk to her, but then she started to freak out. I noticed that she had what looked like a hole in her head, and she was banged up pretty bad. I guess she was thrown about fifteen or twenty feet from the van, so you can imagine there was some bruising and swelling. I got her to settle down, and held her head until the Baltimore Fire Department arrived and took over. I was just trying to keep her calm by stroking her hair and talking to her, because you could see the terror in her eyes. When the firemen came, and then the ambulance, I was relieved beyond measure. I was so scared that one of them was going to die, and there would be nothing we could do about it.

Have you noticed there are no groups that are FOR drinking and driving

I’m sure it was much worse than I remember, and I imagine I’m leaving out a bunch of my own freaking out and not knowing what to do, but it was at least twenty years ago, and I really had a hard time recalling the events. I think it’s been at least ten years since I’ve even thought about it, so when Rachel brought it up last night, I started to think about how I could tell a story that I maybe don’t remember as well as I should. I then thought that it was worth trying to remember, because of the fact that the driver had been drinking, as were the passengers. All of them were begged not to go, and had assured us that they wouldn’t, but did anyway. I was pissed about that for years, but looking back, I’m now very angry with myself for allowing that to happen. I should have taken the keys from that girl, and made them find another way home, or get in with us, and I’d drive them to where they were going. Because of my poor judgement, my friends were very nearly killed that night. Luckily they were all given second chances.

I urge all of you, no matter what your age, size or gender is, to do whatever you can to get the keys from someone who’s drinking, and don’t ever trust a drunk person to do what’s right. If they tell you they aren’t driving, then they shouldn’t have a problem giving you their keys for safe keeping. If they won’t, then wrestle them away from them, trick them, or knock them the f**k out, but get the keys from them. You won’t be able to live with the remorse if you don’t and something terrible happens. Remember that  just because my friends and I got a second chance, doesn’t mean everyone else will too. I’ve felt horrible rethinking that night, and trying to remember my actions, but I’m thankful to Rachel for reminding me about it, and ultimately changing my perspective on who’s responsible for who’s life.

I think we are all responsible for each other when someone isn’t able to think for themselves. Alcohol affects our judgement, and I’m not saying we shouldn’t enjoy it, I’m just saying we aren’t always thinking straight when we do, so if you see a friend in trouble, help them out. They will thank you the next day, even though they will call you a no good so and so that night. I’d rather be a so and so that gets to hang out with my friends the next day, and I don’t mean going over to put peroxide in the pinholes that her halo put in her scalp and skull. I have done that once, and as crappy of a job as it is, it’s better than her not being here to do it for.

And when your brother is troubled, you’ve gotta reach out your hand for him, ’cause that’s what it’s there for,


Jan 02

Of New Year’s Eve, Shenanigans, And Fresh Ink

This is mostly going to be a picture and video post, because that’s how I feel.

I tried a couple of new kinds of beer last night, and one of them was not too bad, It was called Winter Ale, by Great Lakes Brewery, the other one was actually quite bad, it was called Winter Beard and it was chocolate flavoured. I tried a whole bunch of shots of different things, and some were good. Some others were not so good. Actually, the only one I wasn’t fond of was the Chinese tequila, and I guess the Sauza as well. I like tequila if there’s lemon and salt, but just drinking that shit straight isn’t in the top ten of my favourite boozes. Gadget brought the Mamajuana, and I did like that stuff, but everyone else seemed to think it wasn’t worth even drinking. I got that impression when people ran away as we poured it. You can see the video of  that coming up next.

As you might have guessed, we spent some time at the bar…

Gadget brought the good stuff

She had some of everything

There was some dancing…

Fuck you Cooper, I’m leading

Everybody say “Whoop, there it is”

It’s not a mistletoe Wayne



There were photo shoots…


Mmmmm, drunk chicks

Our hosts were terribly happy







So sparkly, they must be in Vegas, right?

And more photo shoots…


Fuck he’s handsome

He’s getting lucky after, you can tell by that smile





They’re both disgustingly tall

There were sexy photo shoots…


Seriously Gadget, am I the only one into this?

Gadget’s in almost all the sexy photos






Looks like I left a little too early

Who doesn’t love drunk chicks kissing?

This is how wife swapping starts. Shouldn’t they be smiling a lot more than that?









Maybe I’m biased, but this is giving me wood

And there was just plain old craziness…

We’re not short, he’s freakishly tall


I think you need smaller frames, and maybe a bit more squareness









Hey, is that the new Sanchez?

Things got a little freaky, but we don’t judge














That is by no means the end of it. We still have to see the tats that were so tastefully done. Here’s some of Mrs. Birdman’s handiwork…

That’s dead on, if you ask me.

Who doesn’t love a mock nipple piercing?














And now for Gadget’s artsy drawings. (editor’s note: I was asked to please not show the one on my chest, because of how vile and disgusting it was, so I’m not going to. As much as I believe in freedom of expression, I believe in safe and happy cocooning more.) He is definitely on his way to becoming one of Wicklow’s foremost tattoo artists, as you can tell by these…

Yep, the other one is way worse

I feel that this is his masterpiece.

I should probably mention that Gadget was going to do an 8 ball on my neck, and a couple of teardrops under my eyes, but the fun police jumped in and put a soul crushing stop to our festive spirits.

This is what the fun police look like. Beware.

Now the final bit of archived footage from the party, unless someone else sends some in, is coming up next. We couldn’t put all of the photos up here, but they will all be on the Facebook page, so if you check it out, you’ll see the infamous tattoo, that will never be seen on this blog.

Well, there’s not much left to tell you all. We hope that 2012 will be better than 2011, and not because 2011 wasn’t amazing, because it was, but I’m greedy and I want more health and happiness in for all of my friends. I can honestly say that we think of you as our friends (the ones who interact with us, anyhow), and I don’t think that it cheapens a friendship if we’ve never physically met. We appreciate every single one of you that reads this blog, and we hope you will keep reading, and following Chin, Mrs. Birdman, and myself through this crazy, exciting, and fun thing that we call life. we raise our glasses to you, and hope for the best in the coming year, and years for each and every one of you.

We would have put a picture of Chin in here, but he hasn’t supplied us with any.


We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet for auld lang syne,

Birdman and Mrs. Birdman

P.S. I want to thank my soul partner for making this blog possible. If it weren’t for her, it would be nothing but cell phone pics and my words. I think that we can all agree, that it’s not enough to keep you riveted to your computer screen, as you most likely are every day. She knows that I appreciate everything that she does, but I think that the readers should know that she puts as much of her soul into this blog as I do, and a hell of a lot more talent. So if you see her out and about, maybe you could give her a pat on the back, and as much money as you have on your person, because she deserves it, and we would like to retire soon.


Dec 18

I got some things I need to say

I just don’t know where to start. I guess the positive is a good place to start.

The positive (sort of)

I was just chatting with an old pal of mine, and he recently had a baby girl. He’s one of those really good guys, that’s nice to everyone, he’s funny, smart, and loves life (No, it’s not me). He’s the kind of guy that deserves to have a little bundle of love waiting for him when he gets to his days off. Yeah, he doesn’t get to live with his daughter, or even near her, but as soon as he’s done work, he’s trekking across the province to see his little girl. You know why he does that? Because he loves her and that’s what you do. Just because you and the child’s mother aren’t together anymore, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t spend every possible moment with your kid. I know quite a few people that barely make the time to see their kids on their scheduled visitation days, and they live in the same town. This guy drives probably 15 hours to spend as much time as he can with her. He’s a proud daddy, and he knows that his daughter’s life is more important than anything else. I liked him a lot before I heard this story, and now I’m almost in love with the dude. Seriously, can you find a better reason to be proud to know someone? Anyhow, I just thought that all of you girls that say there aren’t any good guys left, can rest assured that there are. I’ve said it a million times, just to get told that all of those guys are all taken. Hey, open your eyes, they are right in front of you, but because there’s nothing for you to change about them, you aren’t interested.

Sorry for getting all high and mighty there. I just thought I should turn a really nice story into a rant about women liking “bad boys”; it’s sad, but you all know it’s true. I really am happy for my friend, and I’m happy for his daughter for having parents that will work together to make her life wonderful. I also have some other happy news. HOME IN THREE DAYS!!!

That Chin guy is going to get to work the night shift, then get a free flight to Calgary. Awesome, right? Not for me. I have to drive the water truck to FSJ (8-9 hours), then the Green Goblin to Calgary (9-10 hours) to make a six o’clock flight to the homeland, where my sweet baby will be waiting for us at the airport. I just remembered that at 9:00 the next morning, I have a dentist appointment to get this hideous bastard fixed.

…and that, son, is how not to open a beer with your teeth.

That should be fun; Mrs. Birdman will get me home by 2 AM, and I’m sure we will go right to sleep, so I’ll get six hours sleep, right? Not bloody likely. I don’t care though, I just want to kiss her lips, and hold her again. It’s been way too long for this cowboy. The stolen hugs by the mandaid and the security guard just don’t cut it; I need me some cocoon time, and I’ll give up being awake while my toof gets bilt to get some.

Now for the negative

An old work friend passed away, and his funeral is tomorrow. Sadly, I won’t be able to make it, but I would like to pay my respects anyhow. Aaron and I worked with Jim on different jobs, and he was just a good, funny, easy going guy. When I was trying to learn to run cat, he was very patient, never getting upset if I screwed things up, and always giving me hints that he had learned in his years of  working in the patch. I’m embarrassed to say that I sucked as an operator, and no amount of teaching or hints would make me passable, so it wasn’t Jim’s fault that I never was any good. Anyhow, get some rest, buddy. It was a pleasure knowing you, and break up is just around the corner.

Okay now, why the fuck does anyone give two shits about whether or not someone says Happy Holidays? Get a grip on something, folks. Not everyone celebrates the birth of Christ, or the whole commercial aspect of Christmas. I would rather celebrate Neil Young’s birthday than Jesus’. At least I know that Neil Young has brought me great happiness, and that he exists in the flesh. I know Jesus exists in your hearts, but please don’t cram it down our throats. Yeah, I celebrate Christmas reluctantly, but I always try to use “xmas”, because then I don’t have to capitalize it or recognize that it has anything to do with Jesus. Not everyone in the public school system, the civil service, or the major corporations buys into your horseshit religion, because they have their own horseshit religions. They aren’t yelling Happy Diwali, or Happy Hanukkah at you angrily, so why the big deal about Christmas? No one is saying that you can’t say it, but why do you expect a Chinese or Indian greeter at Walmart to say it because it’s your belief? What’s wrong with Happy Holidays anyhow? Everyone gets their statutory holidays, and I’m sure they’re happy about that; maybe not happy enough to believe in Jesus, but happy nonetheless. So why not just smile and say “Thank you. You enjoy yours as well.”? I don’t know, maybe I’m not running with the pack here, but those are my two cents, anyways.

Also, I got ripped off today. It was supposed to be steak night, and instead, it turned out to be prime rib night. Awesome, right? No, no it’s exactly the opposite of awesome. I got the end piece, which was the equivalent of eating a dried out piece of boot leather. I looked around at everyone enjoying their beautiful, pink slabs of delicious, while I had to take a drink with each bite, just to get it down. Oh well, one more supper here, then it’s homeward bound.

Last but definitely not least is to state that I hate dogfuckers. People who try to dawdle and have it timed out so that they won’t be able to get another load after 6 PM. It’s unbelievable, really. We make very good money, to do very little work, and then you have guys that need to pilfer that last thirty minutes out of the oil company’s hands. Whatever. They pay us very well to work for them, and they treat us quite decently as well. Why do people feel the need to dog fuck every little bit they can? You aren’t doing anything but waiting around anyhow, grab half a load and spread it on the way out. Make them want to hire you back, because if I notice it, others do too, and the next job that they need trucks for, could be when you happen to need a job as well. I don’t know where everybody’s work ethic went, or maybe I’m just getting old, but I think that if you hate your job enough to steal from your boss, you should go find something you like better. Oh, and good luck getting a letter of recommendation, you lazy douchebag.

There, I’ve said all that needs to be said at this particular juncture. I wish everybody, safe travels, and please make it home in one piece, if you aren’t home already. Your loved ones don’t need to be IDing a body for their holidays, so drive safe, and do it sober. If you need a ride, call a cab, a friend, or if none of those work, call me, but please don’t drink and drive. Now please enjoy the greatest thing in the world.

Who’s gonna drive you home, tonight?



Nov 19

It turns out Abner’s real nickname is Chin. Captain’s log Movember 19, 2011


(Editor’s note – If you want to see more of the adventure, keep clicking the next button at the top right of the post.)



Chinstrap is driving now, or is it Chinster? I’m just going to call him Tim from now on. I don’t have a lot of time to post, but we are fine as frog’s hair. He’s winning the biological warfare battles, but I am winning the snoring contest. There isn’t really a contest, but I need to be good at something, so there you are. We just crossed into Saskatchewan and we’re going to grab a room tonight. I hope he doesn’t give me a Dutch Oven while I’m sleeping, because I have already lost a bunch of nerve function in my hands from his hotboxing; it’s pretty brutal.

For some reason Telus doesn’t want people to use their services between Hearst, ON and the Manitoba/Saskatchewan border. I guess I shouldn’t say that, there was some in Thunder Bay, Kenora and Winnipeg. Apparently the Trans-Canada isn’t a busy enough highway to warrant some towers alongside it’s length in Northern Ontario and Manitoba. Ah well, SK has plenty of service for me to yammer on for a bit. We’ve been munching on our sack of snacks from Asian Fusion in Cobourg. I love their assortment of Filipino treats. I wasn’t allowed to bring a bag of chicken skin chips, because someone didn’t want me having a minor coronary on the way out. Anyhow if you love asian cooking and decor, you should stop in. They’re on Facebook, and in the book.

How about my baby’s post yesterday? I am so in love with her, it’s ridiculous. I honestly am at a loss for words, even still. I miss those three so much today, that it hurts my heart. Anyhow folks, I’m mixing this with the Movember post, because I haven’t had time, and I’m sorry. I miss my routine, of writing on the computer, instead of the phone.

I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you ah-hall,