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,


9 thoughts on “My buddy JP

  1. A Rampage was my first vehicle that I legally owned. It was a total lemon, but such a cool cruck, that it didn’t matter about it’s constant breakdowns.

  2. Laughed out loud at this one! I’ve never met anyone who was able to put crystal clear water and the gap in Harwood in the same paragraph. Well done.

    • Oh, it’s been done before. I once drank a bottle of crystal clear water while fishing at the gap in Harwood. See? Easy as pie.

  3. I loved that cruck until you ruined it. You should tell your friends that horrible story. Maybe then they will know why I always say drive safely.

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