Branta Canadensis (Brown)

I was having trouble coming up with a brown post. Then the answer was delivered to me. I was leaving work early on Wednesday to go study for a final. As I was leaving I was confronted by some Branta Canadensis. There they were, grazing in the field right beside the parking lot, honking and shitting and driving me into an a state of rage that I am not even sure my ex-wife was able to produce. I didn't realize it was that time of year already.

Seriously, the sight of those brownish winged devils makes my teeth hurt. I start to see red. All I want to do is take a golf club and perform a miraculous killing shot, a la Tripp Isenhour. It was horrible to read about what he did to that poor hawk. But if he suffers the same ill sentiments toward that bird as I do toward those wretched migrating shit machines, I guess I should not be alarmed at his actions. I would love nothing more than to see the whole flock lying on their sides with blood flowing freely from their nostrils, as they slowly fade into oblivion.

I know that as the weeks pass, at least one pair of these little waddling, honking harbringers of hell are going to nest on a retaining wall right beside our parking lot. While they are in residence here, I know that everyone that walks anywhere near where they are is going to get chased and honked and hissed at. We are all in for a few months of utter annoyance. People will go out of their way to avoid them and will still get attacked either by air or by a lumbering, waddling charge, just for walking to their cars. And we have no recourse because they are protected by the Federal Migratory Bird Act of 1918.

Really, what purpose do these birds serve? Can't I just kill a few? All I want to do is flay them alive, then start to roast them while they are still breathing. Just one. Is that too much to ask? I'll never ask again, if they would let me get just one of them. I 'm sure if they let me, I would lose a lot of my anger issues associated with this particular species. It's just like when I play hockey and hit someone. I got them back, so I don't feel the need to hurt them anymore. Perfectly, logical.

Conversations With Canadians and a Fun Song

When Big Joe, Lindsay and I arrived at the American Airlines Center, we met her parents at a bar that is reserved for people with "premier seats". We ordered beer and went out on the patio to drink and hang out in the 70 degree weather. After we had been there for a few minutes, a guy walked out wearing an Edmonton Oilers t-shirt and started up a conversation with Joe and I. He was hilarious. His friend showed up a few minutes later and the four of us ended up bull shitting for about an hour and a half. We all managed to miss the first few minutes of the game. I want to share with you one of my favorite parts of the conversation. There is a selfish reason for this. I want to be able to read back through my posts someday and laugh upon remembering this. The man's name was Shane. We were on the subject of the rivalry between Edmonton and Calgary (pronounced Cal-GARY in western canadian, eh. Not cal-gery).

Shane: When you grow up in Edmonton you learn to hate CalGARY. I am convinced that Jerome Iginla(calgary Flames captain), who is from Edmonton, born and raised, gave a little less effort when they were in the Stanley Cup Finals a few years ago. Just so he could say, "HA!" Like his own personal Fuck You to CalGARY when they lost.

Me: Come on, you don't really believe that. Iginla is one of the classiest players in the league.

Shane: No, but it gives me something to hang onto. He's from Edmonton. We all HATE CalGARY in Edmonton.

I hate everything about CalGARY.

I hate their hockey team, I hate their hockey fans, I hate the city. There is nothing good about CalGARY.

My wife was born and raised in a suburb of CalGARY. I don't hate her. She had no choice in the matter. I hate her parents though. They should have had the sense to move.

That last bit had me rolling. Plus, his friend would end every sentence with, "Eh."

I also have this habit of running into someone I know whenever I go to a hockey game. It happens at every Blues game. It happens when I go watch hockey at the local rinks in town. It has now happened in Dallas. I ran into one of my best friends, friends. Upon entering American Airlines Center, he was the first person I saw in a Blues jersey, walking around. This isn't the first time I have run into someone I know when I was out of town. Once, on a trip to L.A., I ran into one of my old bosses from a factory job, in the airport in Phoenix. He ended up on the same connecting flight to L.A. with me.

Now for a video of my new favorite song and a copy of the lyrics. I heard this song for the first time, on the drive down to Dallas this weekend. I have been hooked.



Time To Pretend By MGMT

I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life.
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.

This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
Yeah, it's overwhelming, but what else can we do.
Get jobs in offices, and wake up for the morning commute.

Forget about our mothers and our friends
We're fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend

I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms
I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world
I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home
Yeah, I'll miss the boredem and the freedom and the time spent alone.

There's really nothing, nothing we can do
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew.
The models will have children, we'll get a divorce
We'll find some more models, everything must run it's course.

We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end
We were fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah