IN THE OLD DAYS "HOTMAIL" WAS LETTERS WITH SWEAR WORDS

It's been a whole week since we last rapped and so much has changed!

- haircut
- sun tan
- new jacket
- new shirt (Pierre Cardin)
- bruised (broken?) toe
- dead George Steinbrenner
- Global Reality Channel premiers

In this new world I suggest we join hands and make peace by playing more board games, the most underrated form of entertainment, not only in the new world, but in last week's world where I had longer hair.

Speaking of board games... wait, hold on, that would be a great name for my snowboard jam fest next year. Written down. This year's Ice Marshall is none other than Batman, a local realtor who likes to be called Batman (real name is Doug I believe).

G20: The Board Game: Toronto Edition HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA, right? Oh.

Speaking of board games, my friend Andy bought an old WWF (the wrestling federation, not the ape school) at a Valoo Village while we were in SARNIA on the weekend. Why did we go to the town that "Vacation Magazine" dubbed "not worth going to"? Because Liv lived there before living here to make a living living live with me. Her dad has a beachfront property and we Sea-Doo'd, tu-tubed, ate and then poo-pooed for four days straight (on and off).

We also saw shock rockers "RUSH" play at Sarnia's Bayfest. The highlight was observing local teens fighting and kissing while very drunk and stoned all set to favourites like "Tom Sawyer" and "Subdivisions".

Liv sits on her old man's Sea-Doo. OR "I see, then I do"?

When I got back to work yesterday I was more bummed than Ice-T's girl friend, the voluptuous Coco. To make matters worse, I was on my way to our writing attic when the police apprehended me for cruising through a red light on my bike. I tried to weasel my way out of a ticket by saying "I'm not gay, but you're all attractive and I think your work during G20 was pure ballet." It didn't work, but the guy ended up giving me a break and ticketing me for not having a light which will run me $35 opposed to the alleged $350 for showing the traffic light that I don't obey robots.

I WANT TO BE THE GUY WHO ALWAYS HAS WINE GUMS

Instead of flying to Vancouver last weekend to visit my pals Bob Costas and Nelly Furtado, who are working an Olympics, I decided my time would be better spent in Sarnia, Ontario. There was something about Sarnia's tourism literature, which spoke highly of its many french fry trucks, downtown flea markets and nine screen movie theatre, that really drew me in, making me forget about Vancouver's natural beauty and cosmopolitan appeal.

Oh friends, yeah right I know Bob Costas. I actually went to visit Liv's real family and we had a nice little time visiting, relaxing and going to downtown flea markets and a nine screen movie theatre.

I love flea markets, so going to them was probably better than standing around in Vancouver's downtown streets surrounded by disease ridden foreigners, annoying speed skating fans and worst of all, bleeding heart nationalists dead set on world sport domination. You can usually judge a flea market by the following factors:

1. Smell - The best flea markets smell like urine and must. Sarnia's were no exception, and one even smelled like farts thanks to an impatient old lady.

Avoid corporate flea markets

2. Staff - The staff should either be huge dicks who follow you around, asking if you're going to buy anything, or unusually nice, simple folk with questionable fashion sense and a fondness for stupid crap. Or just an old guy. Luckily, Sarnia's were employed by the latter two, except this one guy at a video game booth who looked like Mose Schrute from The Office and who sneered like a professional.

3. Stuff - I guess this factor varies depending on what kind of stuff you like, but I happen to enjoy dirty old clothes, Nintendo games, sports memorabilia, electronics that time forgot, toys that time forgot and if a flea market has its own restaurant I really smile. The Dixie Mall flea market has one, as does this one in Sarnia, which was just about the cutest thing I ever saw. It was rammed, with people enjoying fried egg sandwiches and hot hamburgers. Next time we go we're going to eat there and I'm going to take a lot of pictures just for you and yours.

I ended buying a Patrick Ewing Starting Lineup figure in package for $10 and Liv bought this constellation globe and a Polaroid camera. I should've bought this handsome Chicago Blackhawks corduroy jacket, but since there wasn't a mirror I couldn't properly estimate my sex appeal whilst wearing it.

Now lets all get scared for hockey!

PITCH IN AND START SUCKING THE MUD OFF MY HELMET

This past weekend was not about me.

I had the pleasure of being involved in my friend Stein's "best week of his life", which concluded this past long weekend in the hamlet of Sarnia, Ontario, home of Liv and also Kim Mitchell, two people who used to have stupid hair. Just joking, Kim Mitchell's hair was alright. POW. Big gag.

We ate, we drank, we jet skied, we ice creamed, Alison got offered a lawyer job by a guy, we watched Louis CK and Michael Jackson, we played Stein rules bocce ball, and we all got boat licences. That's right, if you got a boat, I can drive the shit out of it in the most legal way possible.

It was a much needed weekend - I recharged my batteries (brain, lungs, heart) and erased much of the unnecessary stress I've been feeling lately. And I found a Bob Probert t-shirt at Value Village!

We also came up with two great album titles for Stein's solo project:

"Tanned As I Want To Be"
and
"Throw A Log On That Vacation"

Critics are already calling him the "Canadian Jimmy Buffet" and the "Curly Wanderer". Album covers to follow once we find a camera and a beach to shoot at -- or do I have a treat up my pants?

That's not it, but I think it's important nonetheless.

Here we go! It's more of a poster but you get the idea.

I was planning on posting something yesterday, but I totally forgot because I was so damn relaxed. That's what happens when your cares are washed away via boat license.

When I visited my parents last night I got to eat an authentic Mexican feast and my mom presented me with a rasta wig and a Roy Orbison record. If you can think of a better way to end a weekend, I'd like to know. I was also given my fourth copy of Huey Lewis and the News' "Sports", so if you want to own one of the best records of all time, call me at the barn.