Showing posts with label Beaver. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beaver. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Hullabaloo Quebec, Quebec

Quebec, Quebec. Where Canada's at its coldest, snowiest, and Frenchiest. None of that may be individually or collectively true, but what is true is Quebec, Quebec is the home of the BeaverTail: Canada's contribution to the global obesity arm's race. Watch out America, they got Nutella on their funnel cake. Which they then smashed out and flattened with an iron... 


 If it's two-dimmensional there're less calories right?

Perhaps just as imporant as beaver tails in ensuring Quebec's eternal awesomeness, though, is the Carnaval de Quebec. In part because they have an ice castle, in part because they have Caribou liquor in hollowed out plastic canes, and in part, a very large part, because they have human fooseball.

She kicks like a French-Canadian girl

No, excuse me. Human fooseball on ice. Just in case strapping children to metal poles in freezing wheather wasn't already a good enough idea, they then make them dance. And if they don't want to dance, that's fine. They can feel free to dangle limpy from their chains. Unfortunately we only got to play human ice fooseball twice -- and the second round was prematurely ended by a family from Bufallo who play ice fooseball as if the life of their family pet depended on it -- but it was quite possibly the highlight of my year. Regular fooseball will never again provide the same joy.

A few brief moments struggling to stay upright while people kick balls at my head is not where the Carnival de Quebec ends, however. No, no my ignorant angloophone friends. There're also ice sculptures, toboggan rides, innertube slides, late night dance parties, maple syrup on ice, hottubs on ice -- which I guess are just regular hottubs -- broom hockey, regular hockey on TV probably somewhere, fancy crepes, psychadelic light parades, and snowball castle attack -- where you throw plastic snowballs through each other's ramparts or just at each other. It was awesome because instead of saying, "brrr it's snowing outside, lets stay inside and watch some curling," they said,"brr it's snowing outside, lets strip down and roll in it!"

Lest things get too sexy...

This isn't to say the Carnival de Quebec was all fun and whiskey, though. It also involved showers without shower doors -- why do Europeans insist on this insanity? -- long lines at the border, a few surely Quebecois restaurant owners, escargot, sleeping on the ground using hotel window curtains as blankets, and an indomitable, French-Canadian snow-king-man.

Juiced by a Caribou-fueled rage.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

No Dogs Allowed

My favorite movie as a kid was a toss up between Garfield's Halloween and Snoopy, Come Home. The first was and always will be great even long after Garfield ceased to be amusing to me. The second is possibly the saddest movie I have ever seen. Or, at the very least, the saddest animated movie I have ever seen. The most glaring memory which seems to daily reinsert itself into my thoughts, however, is the line, sung slowly in a deep voice, "No dogs allowed!" sung just about whenever Snoopy tries to go anywhere or do anything in the movie. I will likely go to the grave with that as the chorus in the back of my mind.

This last weekend I felt Snoopy's pain. I was thrown from a swanky Houston club, the Drake, for no good reason at all. Officially it was because of my lack of shiny shoes, but I believe reverse racism somehow played a role. Either my awesomeness or my excellence were clearly being discriminated against here, perhaps both. Although I could not hear it over the thumping base emanating from the club, I believe a distant baritone could be heard saying, "No tennis shoes allowed!" I had even specifically put these not shiny shoes on (and a button up shirt and pants) per the request of my friend, Ro, who I thought had been properly informed specifically to avoid such discriminations from happening. After failed attempts at then going to see a movie and renting a movie -- they were both closed -- we ended up spending the night playing two man Trivia Pursuit until Ro experienced trivia fatigue and began feeding me the answers in order to bring the game to its long delayed conclusion. Clearly the people of the Drake missed out.

In other news, I finally stopped at a Buc-ee's (the Beaver) Gas Station on the drive home just to see what there was to see. It was nice and clean and full of jerky and various Texas themed knick knacks. Oh, and about 3,000 people. I have never before and likely never will again see so many people in an isolated gas station in the middle of nowhere. Although I am not sure, I think this to be a good thing.

"Arrr, I think you be havin' a bit too many peg legs there, matey!"