10 October 2009

Our Olympic Winter

For a town that thinks it is shit fucking hot, Dope City sure does empty out fast on a long weekend. The highway out of town was snarled this afternoon just like it is every long weekend. It made me happy my hard working Hockey family is staying home instead of being up north drinking our faces off and slurring, "Happy Thanksgiving," with the people who hate the idea of living in Dope City almost as much as they hate the fucking government.

The Hammer was waiting for me at home. The best part of having a dog is being welcomed home. During the short periods I have not had a dog in my life, I have found the hardest part of not having a dog to be the lack of a welcome home when the dog house is empty. I like my dogs alright. I think my friend Henrik likes dogs even more than I do though. During our recent fishing trip I had to endure listening to him talk about his dog in his sleep. "Puppers! Puppers! Puppers!" He did not say much else. The fucker talks more when he is sleeping than when he is awake. No wonder his old lady sleeps in so late.

Sonja says the only thing I ever say in my sleep is, "Eat me."

After my dog and I exchanged greetings and I opened a Carlsberg I lit the first fire of our Olympic Winter. Expectations are high. Back when the NDP first proposed an Olympics for Dope City the idea was that holding such a high profile event would help strengthen the non-resource based components of our economy. Dope City and the rest of the province used to be strictly boomtown economies. When lumber prices are high we eat a lot of fucking steak. When lumber prices are low we eat a lot of Newfie steak. The timing of the Winter Games could not have been better if a boost is what we are going to get for our province's fortunes in these less than ideal times. I hope it works.

The dope industry already softens the sharp edges of hard times around here. Now we are going to expose a whole lot more people to what helps us keep on keeping on.

We are going to have a real good time together, motherfuckers.


mollymew said...

Do I dare to ask Beer, what is 'Newfie steak' ? Reheated codfish bones in a spoiled potatoe soufle ? Fort McMurray leftovers with a side dish of old green Greyhound tickets ? To be serious, I am curious.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

I guess you handsome Manitobans don't know much about fine dining. Newfie steaks are fried bologna. A Newfie roast is a big round of bologna often made even more tasty looking by toothpicking candied fruit all over it. Get cooking!

mollymew said...

God damn, I'm at my stove right now to get a little culture. Us Manitoba hicks never get to eat right. On the other hand, being originally from Saskatchewan, I CAN eat soup with a fork.
Eat your heart out Julia Childs. What wine is it served with ?

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Most Newf's favourite wine is Screech, goes with everything, even a Maple Leaf steak.

Anonymous said...

HEY! ...Motherfucker!...EAT ME!...I'm Gonna eat that BIG ASS Trout I caught fer ThanxGivvin.Ya fergot ta menchin ya tak aboot screammin... "ANNE blow me" in Ya sleep allnite.Gobble Gobble.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Maybe after you eat that big ass trout you will start saying shit like, "Here fishy, fishy, fishy," in your sleep.

Jon said...

I have not had a dog in years. No time. I'm looking forward to the day when I can have one again. The Newfie food that I was given was a bit different. My Grandma left Newfoundland for Brooklyn in 1929. She fed us beef roasted until it was dead grey and tasteless, boiled chicken, potatoes and turnips mashed together with margarine, yorkshire pudding and a small can of peas because my mother insisted that kids should have green vegetables. Desert was coffee cake from Entemanns. Compared to roast bologna it was quite a feed. We never had cod fish or any other kind of sea food. To tell the truth, I never heard grandma say a good word about Newfoundland. She thought Brooklyn was Disneyland. My spinster great aunt, Helen, missed Newfoundland and went back every year until she died.

An old punk rock girlfriend told me that I ground my teeth and said, "You motherfucker, I'll kill you" over and over in my sleep. I've mellowed out since and more recent bedmates tell me that I snore but don't have anything to say.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

If I was dreaming of Anne and talking in my sleep about it would be more like, "Gum me."