5 August 2012
Canadians Win Gold Medal For Jumping Up and Down
It was up to Whistler for Sonja and I this morning. Her idea. Our first visit since the village built with dope, cocaine and greed hosted the winter Olympics. Any place you have to drive over two hours to that does not race horses seems like a waste of gas to me. Usually when we visit there we take the long way so we can drive the Duffy Lake road, the most beautiful stretch of highway in British Columbia. This time we went straight there. Took less than two and a half hours without breaking too many traffic laws along the way.
Parking is ten dollars cheaper than what the fucking PNE charges me at the racetrack - it is free. We walked into the Olympic village via their large public square. Footage of the Canadian trampoliner winning her gold medal was being broadcast on giant television screens. I guess Ken Kesey was right - money may make the world go round but it is dope that makes it jump up and down.
It was too fucking hot to watch the Olympics in the sun so we quickly found our way to a shady patio. We drank red wine and mango cider; ate a veggie burger and fried chicken. Before long we wished we had booked the dog into a kennel and ourselves into a hotel. Could have sat on that patio all day.
Summer is made for drinking.
Gassed at last we paid up and I followed Sonja around like a brewery dog as she visited this shop and that. In time she found herself an article of clothing she liked at a price that too was agreeable. I was invited into the shop where, once Sonja had fitted herself into the designer jeans, I was asked the question, "Do they make my ass look big?"
"Fuck no," I told her. "They are just right." No woman's ass looks too big in a hundred dollar pair of jeans. And if it does she need not worry because she will not be able to afford to eat for a week to pay for them.
We did not see a single cop in the village. Must all be undercover. Probably looking for people to fine the $10,000 signs threaten passerby with for smoking a cigarette just about anywhere in the village limits.
It is one fuck of a nice highway, I thought to myself as we raced home. (I was hoping to catch the last race at Dope City Downs. I did and lost what I thought was a dandy bet.) Too bad it cost a billion or so out of everybody's wallets. Also too bad the speed limit on the Liberal motherfucker is only 80 km. My grandmother drove home from school through the east end faster than that.