29 January 2007

Martini Liberation Army

My mom invited us over for dinner next month to celebrate Hunky and Kitty's birthday. She talked to Sonja on the phone. She said, "You tell Beer to make that bread Hunky likes so much. What kind of bread was that anyway?"

"It's your mom on the phone Beer," Sonja said as she covered the receiver and made a drinking motion with her free arm. "What kind of bread did you make at Christmas? She wants you to bring a loaf or two over for the birthday party."

"Tell her it's Beer bread," I told Sonja. "Hunky likes it because I make it from hemp seed beer."

My mom is making a brief appearance in town. Mom and her man Reggie like to travel like Willie Picton liked to skin hookers and fuck them. My mom used to drink too much and occasionally cause a disturbance on airplanes. The, "What do you mean you don't serve triple martinis?" incident comes to mind. Reggie had to give mom a good talking too after nine-one-one. My mom is in the Martini Liberation Army. She met Reggie at one of the MLA meetings.

Canadians are big on travelling generally I guess. Used to be we had a tremendously bad reputation in the border towns of the USA. I suppose our bad reputation south of the border must still be current given the increased security measures aimed at us wild motherfucking Canadians lately. People down there figure all we ever do is get pissed and destroy shit. They got us figured right and so do their police who spend more time watching Canadians than their own people.

Our reputation in other countries is a little better. Presently, we are trying to fix that.

If we are not travelling internationally we are travelling our own obese land. Canadians are proud to able to drive across several provinces in a single day. Sometimes we wait to get where we are going to have a drink and sometimes we don't. Sometimes we are carrying several pounds of dope, sometimes it is just a couple ounces.

We travel well.

Be seeing you.



Anonymous said...

what is more thrilling than to be pulled into 'the little room' at customs (whilst headed to Whistler)along with 6 litte jabberwalky Koreans.

Then be grilled by the nazi TSA beeotch about my one lousy DUI three years ago. The Koreans got out in an hour... Took me SIX effing hours....and a promise to apply for Canadian citizenship. SALUTE!

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!"

- Lewis Carroll

Anonymous said...