It has been so long. Obviously, you can tell Uncle Duty has started early this year. Little man is playing some Harry Potter on the wii asI type. Let's get up to speed.
The 4th of July is what it is every year for the last 5 years. Irene works and SummerMan and I work on music. This year though we treated ourselves to some 2 for 1 sake specials in an empty Dokebi and talked trash until we decided to go back and work on music. I don't think that lasted very long but I believe it was productive. I think we worked on 1956. But the day was better than the work I think, cause it was a good old time. Then I think I went home. I could swear I did something after that, but at the moment I can't remember.
Then on Thursday things got masculine. 4 men. 1 SUV. traveling the open road up north cause thats how you do it. Decent weather, some good sammiches and some CD's (no ipod shit on this) made a fun ride up to Montreal. This was masculinity at its best. Hamill. Hess. Gentile. DeSanto. Keeping the MOGpac traditions alive in the finest of ways. We got up there with relative ease. Even here...
We checked into the hotel. We drank beers and ate some Veggie Thai. Not bad. Then Matt went to the park to do what he does while myself, G and Kidd went out to the burbs to the Cinema Guzzo (which is the best movie theatre/entertainment complex I have ever laid my eyes on) to take small yet much taller nephew to see the atrocious piece of shit called TRANSFORMERS. Oh sweet god this is a bad movie. The worst in a summer of bad movies. I can't even explain it. But the Kidd loved the chick in it and well, I fell asleep. I drove all day and not even the bombastic bullshit of this film could keep me awake. It was worth it obviously to see nephew, but man, this movie was bad.
We went back to St. Denis and had to salvage the night. Us men took refuge at the bar known as BILY KUN (http://www.bilykun.com) which was pretty sweet, served up good and reasonable drinks, had good beats and a nice atmosphere. After a long day, this was a good way to end...especially when it was discovered Mr. Gentile had purchased supplies for the Kidd to cook with the next day. Danny was kind enough to take the cot, leaving your hero the luxury of having his own bed for the first time ever on a MOGpac trip. Meanwhile, Matt threatened something about an industrial club...
Danny pranced in with the red bag of croissants and it was time for the Kidd to cook. And boy did this fucking Kidd cook. Gruyere Omlettes the size of your forearm (a weird thing that happens only in Montreal) with some Canadian Bacon is a nice way to start the day. And yes we were staying in the same suite as last year, with the sweet balcony, the nice kitchen and of course, the free morning fresh croissants. Super.
And the day began. We successfully avoided the rain, played some frisbee, hung out and then did things the MOGpac way and found a place to start drinking at. And we drank. All day.
Till Ash, Justin and Carlos L arrived. Then we drank more. and the weather stayed nice. And we drank more at the hotel, and we listened to music. I liked Justin's new songs. Ash spun some old aggression. The vibes were good. And now none of us can remember what the hell we had for dinner that night. NOW i remember while editing we ate at some place downstairs on St. Denis that was good! We chilled on the balcony, we rolled through town, hung out in the park, Matt struck up a friendship with a woman in a wheelchair, briefly saw some of the worst boobies ever placed on this planet, ate some great pizza (not Pizza Dany) and then we watched Live Earth. The Durans were good. Brandt, who was absent, pulled a sweet Australian rib, which I hope he will detail here soon. Hence the title of this entry. Eat your Kangaroo burger, boy.
Saturday was skitzo weather. Hot one minute, cold the next, windy the other. Canada is weird. Anyhow, we had some crepes at that crepe place and then took the Metro (led by Matt, superstar) to do the mad GOKART thing. As I was trying to explain to someone, this is fucking RACING. The serial shit and man was this track cool. It was huge. We had to wear helmets and all that.
We rocked out on this shit. We had the track to ourselves and it was the serial business. Some men were fast and others, such as myself, were not as fast. (see previous entry for visual winner evidence) But man it is fun and extremely physically taxing. We shoulda done Laser Tag (they have that shit there too). I'm kidding, but our asses were kicked. There was only one thing we could do after that, grab some cheap ass Thai food and beers and sit on the balcony again. We learned a lot about ourselves here, but we really learned a lot about Ash. I'll leave that one hanging.
THEN it was for the meal of MEALS at La Prunelle. My god it is still the best. Matt was on this "order one of everything gimmick" and that's pretty much what we did (except with main courses) but the apps and desserts were treated like dirty dirty girls found in an ipod on the balcony. This was an awesome meal. Ash picked a shit hot sweet bottle of wine. Then we tried to go to the fun skater bar we got kicked out of last time but now it is some trendy bullshit so it was off to BILLY KUN for the Mojito action. Then I won't even get into the industrial club Matt dragged us to (it was actually right across from the hotel) other than to say I think Ash and I both agree there is a dead genre in need of some serious help and we might know the band to save it...
Sunday morning was the boy with the red croissant bag action yet again and we watched some Wimbeldon and Live Earth. But time was awasting as it was a holiday weekend and there was traffic to beat. Matt joined the Chasmobile posse to make room for us to have nephew and sister in law (who supplied the smokey bacon chips) and dog join us for the ride back to NY. And after a fine trip to Wendys we got going....
And then we got to the line to Customs at the border. And had to wait.
For 3 hours.
THREE FUCKING HOURS. Thats how bad the traffic was!! At least we coulda gotten busted for SOMETHING. ANYTHING other than to sit and fucking wait. This might be the most godawful driving experience of my life. I won't even bore you with this. It was terrible. This sucked so horribly. And the kidd's roaming charges for the weekend was $294.00. Thanks Leigh. Really.
Anyhow, as long as this sleveless douche was happy, then it's all good;
And now we are home. And nephew is here and coming to LA with me to see his grandma. Then we will have our fun month of August after comic con.
Posts will be sporadic in coming weeks, as is usually the case this year. I won't even tell you about my new friend JOKEY the bassman, yet.
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