And YouTube took down the video of Jesus bowling from The Big Lebowski- copyright law is such a downer sometimes.
29.6.07
28.6.07
US Elections- time to gear up
My stat counter does some amazing things- it tells me minute details about the people who come to my site- and how they look at it- lately I've been getting a lot of hits on this article from within Quebec, but the readers are looking at through the google translator. Fun! Here's what it says:
Conseil pour le Lefty- desserrant la démocratie
D'un commentaire à Todd impair sur son poteau au sujet « d'un forum sur des anomalies de vote en Ohio » - ou, en plaine parler « en ayant quelqu'un plus lisse que vous volez les procès d'élection et maintenant. »
Pauvre Todd ; J'ai trébuché sur son emplacement le jour après qu'il l'ait commencé. C'était également le jour après que je sois allé sur mon sabbatical- de Solaris ainsi j'ai été un lecteur avide (j'ai beaucoup de temps sur mes mains, copain !).
Todd !
Jésus ! ! Combien d'élections les Américains vont-ils permettre soient-ils volés de elles avant que vous ayez une autre guerre civile ?
Est-ce que n'importe qui pense vraiment les établissements à votre « démocratie » avoir assez de sauvegardes établies dans elles pour mettre les pailles dans le système politique adversarial en évidence ?
Combien d'électeurs étant privés des droits civiques est acceptable ? 1, 100 ? 1000 ; peut-être ? 100.000 tant que il n'aurait pas affecté les résultats ?
Je sais que ce conseil peut sembler venir creux d'un Canadien car nous n'avons eu une naissance pacifique et aucune guerre civile, mais les événements entourant le référendum 1995 au Québec peuvent illustrer comment fragile nos démocraties occidentales deviennent à le moment où les murs de support des élections justes et libres sont ébréchés.
Un peu d'histoire :
Quand elle vient au Québec il y a deux côtés, les sovereignists qui veulent que le Québec soit leur propre nation (qui déchirerait le Canada dans le twain, les provinces atlantiques sont au à l'est du Québec), et les fédéralistes, qui croient que la structure courante entre le gouvernement fédéral et les provinces est cruciale à l'identité canadienne en dépit de quelques pailles de la manière plaçant, puissance, et des responsabilités sont divisées (bruit semblable aux arguments faits par States ?)
En 1995 il y avait un grand nombre de votes d'une matière prédominante d'anglais ou les équitations ethniques qui ont été considérées « se sont corrompues. » Sur celui, il était très dur pour Anglophones (anglophones) ou l'Allophones (les immigrés ou d'autres citoyens du Québec qui ont parlé une autre langue en tant que leur langue maternelle) au REGISTRE À LA VOIX.
Les personnes bonnes étaient nerveuses et très émotives. L'armée canadienne (telle qu'il est) est un mélange d'Anglophones et Francophones- que la plupart des dirigeants sont requis ainsi d'être bilingues. Qui a su ce que se produirait si l'armée était requise de maintenir l'ordre dans le Québec après le référendum, l'one-way ou un autre. Où les fidélités des troupes se trouveraient ? Les dirigeants ?
Rassemblement pour le Canada 1995, place de Domion, Montréal
Les Canadiens de l'extérieur de du Québec versent dans la ville pour parler en faveur avec Quebecers pour ne pas laisser la confédération.
Les étudiants étudiant au Québec du Nouveau Brunswick ont reçu des lettres
du bureau des ministres de NOTA: les invitant à me servir ai supposé
ils ont obtenu mon adresse/nom du bureau de prêts d'étudiant.
À la fin la voix a sorti pour être 50.1% contre la séparation, 49.9% pour. Le ministre du Québec publiquement a blâmé la perte des sovereignists sur le « argent et la voix ethnique » - pas assez !
Si le résultat était l'opposé et toutes ces gens qui avaient été privées des droits civiques allaient soudainement vivre dans un nouveau pays appelé le Québec là aurait été des protestations massives, les grèves, protestations à l'ONU et probablement il a pu même avoir TRÈS violent une La la crise de FLQ dans les années '70 mais s'être inversé.
Pendant qu'il était, plusieurs personnes ont été jetées en prison pour la voix trifouillant le mouvement entier de sovereignist ont été critiquées en tant qu'étant cyniques et malveillantes. Aucune discussion sérieuse de elle n'a eu lieu puisque, mais les parties soutenant l'idée forment toujours l'opposition dans la législature provinciale, et a même une partie dans les élections fédérales.
Envelopper vers le haut l'IMHO que le « gauche » devrait le sélectionner est des batailles plus étroitement dans les états vous les types sont partout ! Il est comme vos DOUZAINES de barre latérale de choses à agir dehors sur mais vraiment quelle est la source ?
Quelle est l'UN question/problème/établissement que vous pourriez changer qui améliorerait l'Amérique plus ? Je dirais la réforme de finances de campagne mais les démocrates sont JUSTES COMME LE MAUVAIS aide là et d'o…
Pourquoi pas chasse vers le bas (je dis la chasse que j'ai voulu dire la VOIE) en bas de chaque dernière personne du fond jusqu'au dessus qui est responsable de N'IMPORTE QUI voix n'étant pas compté. ET LES JETER EN PRISON. Se débarasser de chaque comté, état et loi fédérale qui empêche des personnes de s'enregistrer ou de voter.
Désolé si je vais sur un peu longuement ici mais moi a voté dans ce référendum 1995 au Québec et XX% des votes de ma station de vote « ont été corrompus ». Cela signifie que n'importe qui des 6.000 peuples qui a voté à ce scrutin ne pourrait pas avoir eu leur compte de voix. Cela prive des droits civiques TOUT LE MONDE du fait la zone et ce n'est pas un bon sentiment du tout quand votre pays est en jeu.
27.6.07
june ramblings
things to write about-
the nature of groups of boys (and their clothes)
the blonde woman in black at 6PM and the front balcony
my body as levers vs. fluid thing on mdma
sense of isolation with age
anodized aluminum
modern rituals in transportation
summer food
sensuality of women who wear clothes to bed and why they are not for me
the nature of groups of boys (and their clothes)
the blonde woman in black at 6PM and the front balcony
my body as levers vs. fluid thing on mdma
sense of isolation with age
anodized aluminum
modern rituals in transportation
summer food
sensuality of women who wear clothes to bed and why they are not for me
23.6.07
New Speak
I have to say, I have been looking forward to St. Jean-Baptiste weekend for almost a month. They've closed down my street a block above my house and I have gotten my hands on an amplified bull-horn. I plan on sitting on my balcony at 11 PM this evening shouting "Bonne Fete Provinciale" into the damn thing and watch the crowd go NUTS.
Why do we use the term "nationale" to describe Quebec instead of provincial? Is it us trying to appease the separatists, or are we succumbing to their propaganda? Don't they teach history in school here? I think the British won the Battle at the Plains of Abraham. Instead of wiping out the French altogether, we let them keep their schools, language and religion and this is how we get repaid? With a simmering movement to leave Canada, to restrict the use of English in the province in commerce, in politics, in essential services communications.
So- are we just using the terms of our oppressors or are we trying to appease the rebels so they really don't try to get their own state?
And here's a picture of some chick from facebook playing maid.
18.6.07
Facebook gone WILD
With all the new applications being added to Facebook there are also now a bunch of groups dedicated to discussing technical problems associated with the new apps.
Well, one such group has been over run with people talking about pretty much everything but.
So much so that the developer of the app has said:
Well, one such group has been over run with people talking about pretty much everything but.
So much so that the developer of the app has said:
16.6.07
Superior
I love it when people judge me to be morally or intellectually inferior to them because I "use" illicit substances that they are unfamiliar with.
First sign- they keep saying the words "abuse" instead of "use"; even before they ask anything about frequency or dosage.
It reminds me when I sneered down my nose at pot smokers. I stopped doing that- in general, but I won't date them. Unless they give me reason to :)
I am more than a match for you just drunk- the "e" will just level the field a bit more. You should be happy about it.
First sign- they keep saying the words "abuse" instead of "use"; even before they ask anything about frequency or dosage.
It reminds me when I sneered down my nose at pot smokers. I stopped doing that- in general, but I won't date them. Unless they give me reason to :)
I am more than a match for you just drunk- the "e" will just level the field a bit more. You should be happy about it.
15.6.07
What a Wonderful Friday
The sun is shining, a cool breeze is wafting past my front balcony, I'm not hungover and I found a fresh razor in my suitcase and got a really good shave. (What is it with sideburns lately? They are getting HUGE and I still think they look ridiculous unless you are in a rock-a-billy band... oh well...)
The women walking on the street are all wearing clothes in shades reminiscent of the candies of olde; bubblegum pink, freezie orange, and that electric pink hue that only came from the cream sodas of our youth.
I've eaten and have not drank since Tuesday. I am well hydrated and lightly dressed. I have a spare shirt, pair of socks packed (after putting away all my laundry I found that I have not worn socks in a week or more- summer ROCKS!), and swim trunks along with my travel tooth brush and comb. I have brought a second, fully charged cell phone.
I don't know when I will be home again and I certainly don't care.
The women walking on the street are all wearing clothes in shades reminiscent of the candies of olde; bubblegum pink, freezie orange, and that electric pink hue that only came from the cream sodas of our youth.
I've eaten and have not drank since Tuesday. I am well hydrated and lightly dressed. I have a spare shirt, pair of socks packed (after putting away all my laundry I found that I have not worn socks in a week or more- summer ROCKS!), and swim trunks along with my travel tooth brush and comb. I have brought a second, fully charged cell phone.
I don't know when I will be home again and I certainly don't care.
Pigeon mathematics- foiled
Remember the pigeons I wanted to kill the other week? In my back alley? Well- they had laid eggs under my barbeque. Behind it, actually, so no one saw them. But, there, one day, I saw a pigeon who would not leave the railing. I shooed him away with the big BBQ tongs, and then peered over and saw these two eggs! The miracle of life! More rats of the sky!
I soon noticed all the other little horrible pigeons had had their babies and there were even some small pigeons bopping around the quad. So, I tipped the eggs off into the driveway below, guessing the radiant heat from the BBQ had cooked the little fuckers inside their own eggs.
And I was right, the eggs didn't even break.
Yannick, my French-fuck-hippie roommate was just then looking out the kitchen window at my wanton act of destruction. I practically had to lead him by the hand to the alley to show him that harm was already done when he was roasting that corn on the grill. What a peacenik! He wouldn't even kill a spider the other day!
I am calling animal control this weekend for the birds, there are too many of them, and we also have a rather large skunk roaming about. If someone would just give this Maritime boy a good .22 carbine all this would be taken care of...
I soon noticed all the other little horrible pigeons had had their babies and there were even some small pigeons bopping around the quad. So, I tipped the eggs off into the driveway below, guessing the radiant heat from the BBQ had cooked the little fuckers inside their own eggs.
And I was right, the eggs didn't even break.
Yannick, my French-fuck-hippie roommate was just then looking out the kitchen window at my wanton act of destruction. I practically had to lead him by the hand to the alley to show him that harm was already done when he was roasting that corn on the grill. What a peacenik! He wouldn't even kill a spider the other day!
I am calling animal control this weekend for the birds, there are too many of them, and we also have a rather large skunk roaming about. If someone would just give this Maritime boy a good .22 carbine all this would be taken care of...
13.6.07
12.6.07
Dating in the 90's
Dating is very different now then it was in the 90's, when I was a young buck with big Elvis Costello glasses and a lower moral standard. Women didn't care how much you made, how many times a month you went out and got bottle service, what kind of car you drove.
Everyone was a student, everyone was poor and dressed like they were extras in a Ramones video. They drank $8 pitchers of beer and would occasionally splurge on a round of tequila- back when it was a buck a shot, before the agave shortage of 2004.
(Oh, and smoking- everyone smoked, everywhere; and cigarettes were $5 a pack and women knew how to blow smoke rings in heart shapes and men could put out the butts on their palms without pain. The 90's were THAT good.)
Used to be you would meet a woman in the bar, or at a loft party, hit it off and make out a bit in some shadowed corner, go home to either one of your places and fuck like there was nothing better to do on the planet. Ever.
You would wake up in the morning- one or the other of you may have decided to slink off if they were having second doubts about their drunken choices of the night before. But more likely than not they would go to breakfast at some diner and get to know one another a bit better. Maybe laugh at how drunk they were the night before. Maybe, if they were of the romantic persuasion and thinking they would like to see this random meeting develop into something more, they would touch on when they first saw each other at the bar, what song was playing when they kissed- just so they would know what to play a year from now on their anniversary, 5 years from now- or at their wedding.
You would call the other person again that night and ask them if they would like to go somewhere. One of you would suggest your regular bar, close to the other person's place. There, one of you would be surrounded by the other's friends as you drink more cheap beer and the group passes judgment on you. Stories of the host's previous relationships are skillfully interjected into the conversation and your reactions are weighed. You pass muster and are invited to the other's apartment, less drunk, and more attention is paid to details of technique, tenderness- possible emotional attachment- and decor.
Two weeks of "hanging out" ensue, then you have the going out discussion- which is usually brought about because one or the other almost had a sexual encounter with someone new, or had one and it was terrible and you now feel you had originally made a wise choice. There may be a more general leaving of things at one another's apartments- especially toiletries.
A month or two later one of you will realize you have not been to your own apartment for more than 10 hours in the past month, or one of you may have trouble making rent. There will be a very tactful discussion of finance, pros and cons of moving in together. One person will seem to ponder this slowly and weight-fully, but they are just as excited as the other. You are, after all, in your twenties, your parents can be damned, and this person may be the one.
This living together, of course, is akin to putting two mentally challenged people in the cockpit of a jet. You are thrilled to be flying the jet, but neither of you know WHAT THE FUCK you are doing. You drink too much, you hang out together too much, your school work suffers and one of you is not contributing financially as much the other. Or worse, one of you is starting to resent the commitment this living together has forced on you and you start making life intolerable for the other. You become passive aggressive and manipulative. So does your mate.
As the end of your lease approaches, one of you becomes an adulterer- one of you is cuckolded. One person knows it is over, the other just feels lost. About two weeks before the lease needs to be resigned the bomb is dropped- one of you moves out, or is kicked out. A new person may move in within the next 6 weeks- just for fun, and the cycle begins again.
You don't ever, ever, talk to your ex. You never, ever go to their favorite bar.
Everyone was a student, everyone was poor and dressed like they were extras in a Ramones video. They drank $8 pitchers of beer and would occasionally splurge on a round of tequila- back when it was a buck a shot, before the agave shortage of 2004.
(Oh, and smoking- everyone smoked, everywhere; and cigarettes were $5 a pack and women knew how to blow smoke rings in heart shapes and men could put out the butts on their palms without pain. The 90's were THAT good.)
Used to be you would meet a woman in the bar, or at a loft party, hit it off and make out a bit in some shadowed corner, go home to either one of your places and fuck like there was nothing better to do on the planet. Ever.
You would wake up in the morning- one or the other of you may have decided to slink off if they were having second doubts about their drunken choices of the night before. But more likely than not they would go to breakfast at some diner and get to know one another a bit better. Maybe laugh at how drunk they were the night before. Maybe, if they were of the romantic persuasion and thinking they would like to see this random meeting develop into something more, they would touch on when they first saw each other at the bar, what song was playing when they kissed- just so they would know what to play a year from now on their anniversary, 5 years from now- or at their wedding.
You would call the other person again that night and ask them if they would like to go somewhere. One of you would suggest your regular bar, close to the other person's place. There, one of you would be surrounded by the other's friends as you drink more cheap beer and the group passes judgment on you. Stories of the host's previous relationships are skillfully interjected into the conversation and your reactions are weighed. You pass muster and are invited to the other's apartment, less drunk, and more attention is paid to details of technique, tenderness- possible emotional attachment- and decor.
Two weeks of "hanging out" ensue, then you have the going out discussion- which is usually brought about because one or the other almost had a sexual encounter with someone new, or had one and it was terrible and you now feel you had originally made a wise choice. There may be a more general leaving of things at one another's apartments- especially toiletries.
A month or two later one of you will realize you have not been to your own apartment for more than 10 hours in the past month, or one of you may have trouble making rent. There will be a very tactful discussion of finance, pros and cons of moving in together. One person will seem to ponder this slowly and weight-fully, but they are just as excited as the other. You are, after all, in your twenties, your parents can be damned, and this person may be the one.
This living together, of course, is akin to putting two mentally challenged people in the cockpit of a jet. You are thrilled to be flying the jet, but neither of you know WHAT THE FUCK you are doing. You drink too much, you hang out together too much, your school work suffers and one of you is not contributing financially as much the other. Or worse, one of you is starting to resent the commitment this living together has forced on you and you start making life intolerable for the other. You become passive aggressive and manipulative. So does your mate.
As the end of your lease approaches, one of you becomes an adulterer- one of you is cuckolded. One person knows it is over, the other just feels lost. About two weeks before the lease needs to be resigned the bomb is dropped- one of you moves out, or is kicked out. A new person may move in within the next 6 weeks- just for fun, and the cycle begins again.
You don't ever, ever, talk to your ex. You never, ever go to their favorite bar.
7.6.07
Morning Nightmare
Blowing snow on the Trans-Canada highway as I am making my way from Saint John to Rothesay with my twelve year old daughter sitting beside me. Some sort of new sedan with black leather interior. I am forty four or so and we are talking about her grandparents who we are going to visit.
The front end of the car lurches left unexpectedly. My car grazes a mini-van that was overtaking us and spins in my own lane. My head is thrown against my window and all I see are flashes of white snow on the hills raising up on either side of the highway, then the black of the road, then white.
The On-Star is beeping in alarm and my daughter is screeching at the top of her lungs- I'm wrestling with the steering wheel, the gas and the hand brake all at the same time like some yachtsman fighting a gale.
There's a sound of metal screaming and a deep noise that wipes out every thought from my mind- I open my eyes and I am lying in a snow bank beside the car- it is twisted around the bridge support, passenger side crushed inward all the way to the drivers console.
There's blood everywhere, covering the snow and I can't hear my daughter screaming anymore.
I'm glad I don't wake up alone.
The front end of the car lurches left unexpectedly. My car grazes a mini-van that was overtaking us and spins in my own lane. My head is thrown against my window and all I see are flashes of white snow on the hills raising up on either side of the highway, then the black of the road, then white.
The On-Star is beeping in alarm and my daughter is screeching at the top of her lungs- I'm wrestling with the steering wheel, the gas and the hand brake all at the same time like some yachtsman fighting a gale.
There's a sound of metal screaming and a deep noise that wipes out every thought from my mind- I open my eyes and I am lying in a snow bank beside the car- it is twisted around the bridge support, passenger side crushed inward all the way to the drivers console.
There's blood everywhere, covering the snow and I can't hear my daughter screaming anymore.
I'm glad I don't wake up alone.
6.6.07
Buy me whiskey tomorrow night
And i will say these words:
I wish my blog was as banal as yours and as widely read
Futility
When I did this the first time around I had 40-50 repeat readers everyday. Now, 15- with some other 50 keyword readers.
So- do I try to sleek up and "cross post" myself to other blogs or do I not give a fug?
To those of you who read this when I post- Basil, Andrea, Alston, Misstress, Septima, B2B Ontario, Lise, Tiff, Villa, Anna, Ronny and Raymi- thanks. And I ask you- should I be looking for a wider audience or focus more on my craft?
So- do I try to sleek up and "cross post" myself to other blogs or do I not give a fug?
To those of you who read this when I post- Basil, Andrea, Alston, Misstress, Septima, B2B Ontario, Lise, Tiff, Villa, Anna, Ronny and Raymi- thanks. And I ask you- should I be looking for a wider audience or focus more on my craft?
4.6.07
From Natural to OMG I'm a porn star
From the fine and catty ladies over at Go Fug Yourself comes an expose on a nice young acttress from The Hills who has gone from this:
to something you are more used to seeing on The Playboy Channel. Of course, they blame it on the bad influence of her boyfriend- and from what I've seen of the guys on the Hills I wouldn't bet against it.
to something you are more used to seeing on The Playboy Channel. Of course, they blame it on the bad influence of her boyfriend- and from what I've seen of the guys on the Hills I wouldn't bet against it.
Art for Everyone- where you'd least expect it
Sinbad Richardson and his large comics
There's a group of fine folks over at indyish.com (who's website takes for ass-long to load...) have arranged a little project where artists and various others put up work in random spots around Montreal (and hopefully this will mean not all up on the Main)- and this is the big week!
Get locations and give feedback on the art at THE SECRET COMMONS, which I guess isn't so secret anymore.
3.6.07
My RSS feed seems to be taking a LONG time
Other things of note-
*********************************
My parents are THOSE people you hear about on the internet who sign up for $100 for some marketing thing that makes no sense. I never would have thought- but then again they did try selling Amway back in the eighties.
*********************************
The little things my roommates do that don't fit into my perfect, idealized, ordered little universe are starting to drive me nuts a bit. They are also exerting something my therapist says is their "free will", whatever the fuck that is.
All of which has been severely damaging my calm.
ie: "This hook is for the wash cloth, this is for the tea towel. Fuck it up again and you will loose all kitchen privileges."
"-Who am I to make these rules? You question my correctness and authority? (Insert low guttural, wet giggle raising to a full maniacal laugh) You'll see, you'll see..."
*********************************
My new job sounds a lot more interesting when I describe it in detail than if I just say, "Sales."
*********************************
A woman I just met on Easter weekend and have partied with a bit, Marie, seems to know everyone I do, and not through me. And she isn't even on facebook. Today she was at an art studio open house that I went to with a friend I hadn't hung out with for 2 years. This is freaking me out a bit.
*********************************
The thing I think about most while walking the plateau in the sticky hot weather is Black Books- the episode "Fever" where Bernard is lamenting that he needs a "summer girl"- with summer friends who know how to be out of doors...
Yes- I will eventually get locked up if I don't get an air conditioner. But if L. Lohan is still walking the streets I think I'm far enough down the list that I can enjoy myself this summer.
*********************************
My parents are THOSE people you hear about on the internet who sign up for $100 for some marketing thing that makes no sense. I never would have thought- but then again they did try selling Amway back in the eighties.
*********************************
The little things my roommates do that don't fit into my perfect, idealized, ordered little universe are starting to drive me nuts a bit. They are also exerting something my therapist says is their "free will", whatever the fuck that is.
All of which has been severely damaging my calm.
ie: "This hook is for the wash cloth, this is for the tea towel. Fuck it up again and you will loose all kitchen privileges."
"-Who am I to make these rules? You question my correctness and authority? (Insert low guttural, wet giggle raising to a full maniacal laugh) You'll see, you'll see..."
*********************************
My new job sounds a lot more interesting when I describe it in detail than if I just say, "Sales."
*********************************
A woman I just met on Easter weekend and have partied with a bit, Marie, seems to know everyone I do, and not through me. And she isn't even on facebook. Today she was at an art studio open house that I went to with a friend I hadn't hung out with for 2 years. This is freaking me out a bit.
*********************************
The thing I think about most while walking the plateau in the sticky hot weather is Black Books- the episode "Fever" where Bernard is lamenting that he needs a "summer girl"- with summer friends who know how to be out of doors...
"You throw your hair back and laugh as we bicycle around the Cotswolds in a taxi. You flick the cherry off the pie and only eat the cream because that's what Aunty Nibs used to do."-I especially want to have sex in the grass this year. And in the water somewhere- in the Atlantic most of all. And in nightclub washrooms and on rooftops. In my apartment elevator while the damn thing is jammed up betwixt floors- no!!!-better yet my ex's elevator, which actually has those waist high rails that give you such a good leverage point... I wouldn't really count out public transport, either.
Yes- I will eventually get locked up if I don't get an air conditioner. But if L. Lohan is still walking the streets I think I'm far enough down the list that I can enjoy myself this summer.
2.6.07
It's June and my patio bar is calling
Gabby and I tried to go 737 yesterday after work only to find the bar doors (elevator) open but no one inside, no booze behind the bar and no staff to be seen anywhere. I don't know what the owners are thinking but now are the weeks when we start building our summer routines. And if they don't want us drinking on Varga's patio all summer they had better be open next week.
737 is a bit over crowded some weeks, and their no jeans policy on Thursdays is a bit of a turn off for some of my friends who don't even own an iron, let alone know how to press a pair of slacks.
And the no sandals rule sucks when it is 27 degrees in the shade. But the cheap beer and office babes make up for it. And it is fun to pretend, even for a few hours, that we are responsible adults. Sipping beer out of plastic cups and leaving our ties on so they whip around in the wind 737 feet above the streets of downtown Montreal.
Varga's has food, though, and their beer specials are just as good as 737's but you get served your drinks in pre-frosted mugs the size off your head. Bonus-their bar whiskey is cheap with your mix on the side in those little vases. There's really no dress code but the staff get wary when we show up there. We get loud and drunk by 8PM and only have one round past happy hour. And we never stay for a full dinner (who can afford to pay $40 for a steak?? Not me yet).
There's no music at Varga's- and dancing is strongly discouraged. But you are at street level with decent traffic so the people watching is a bonus. Unfortunately I see a lot of my ex-coworkers there that I really have no use for. And the washrooms have those tiny little towels and good lighting in case you need to get something small out of your pockets and into your body (which is also looked down upon by the staff LOL but fug 'em).
On any random night at 737 you can buy coke in the washrooms and maybe get some VP of Short Skirts from a tony law firm to do some with you in the VIP lounge. Then maybe down to her office for a scotch and a board meeting (wink wink).
I think 737 is going to win the summer patio war this year. There's enough time to drink at Varga's in the winter.
737 is a bit over crowded some weeks, and their no jeans policy on Thursdays is a bit of a turn off for some of my friends who don't even own an iron, let alone know how to press a pair of slacks.
And the no sandals rule sucks when it is 27 degrees in the shade. But the cheap beer and office babes make up for it. And it is fun to pretend, even for a few hours, that we are responsible adults. Sipping beer out of plastic cups and leaving our ties on so they whip around in the wind 737 feet above the streets of downtown Montreal.
Varga's has food, though, and their beer specials are just as good as 737's but you get served your drinks in pre-frosted mugs the size off your head. Bonus-their bar whiskey is cheap with your mix on the side in those little vases. There's really no dress code but the staff get wary when we show up there. We get loud and drunk by 8PM and only have one round past happy hour. And we never stay for a full dinner (who can afford to pay $40 for a steak?? Not me yet).
There's no music at Varga's- and dancing is strongly discouraged. But you are at street level with decent traffic so the people watching is a bonus. Unfortunately I see a lot of my ex-coworkers there that I really have no use for. And the washrooms have those tiny little towels and good lighting in case you need to get something small out of your pockets and into your body (which is also looked down upon by the staff LOL but fug 'em).
On any random night at 737 you can buy coke in the washrooms and maybe get some VP of Short Skirts from a tony law firm to do some with you in the VIP lounge. Then maybe down to her office for a scotch and a board meeting (wink wink).
I think 737 is going to win the summer patio war this year. There's enough time to drink at Varga's in the winter.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
