Saturday, June 27, 2015

My Trip To San Francisco with Susie - 2015

Here's hoping the term "brain function" still applies to me. I know my brain is physically there, but it's up for debate whether it still works at this point. It's been a while since I've properly used it, that is, been an asshole. In that spirit, San Francisco! The trip that had about the same amount of planning that went into the KFC Double Down.

"I guess do it..."

I say that because our first choice was Mexico, but Mexico only really works if you go there for a week. The shit's more expensive if you go for less time, it's something to do with a package deal, which sounds like it makes no sense, but I price my dick much the same way. It's cheaper if you get the whole package, individual pieces are bit pricey. I'm not sure if I just insulted myself there, but in the name of dick jokes, it was worth it. Mexico was out, so we looked at Las Vegas, but given that I'd already snorted cocaine off of fake tits there last year, that wasn't the best option. Then we thought about New York, but not only is New York too expensive, it's also over hyped. I guarantee I make better pizza here, after that, what else is in New York? The Port Authority? Some bitch holding a candle? No, I didn't care to have a nuclear sewer rat gnaw off my ballsack, so we then looked at Jasper.

For my American readers, if you don't know what Jasper is, congratulations, you just took the shortcut to understanding why we didn't go there. For my fellow Canadians, fuck Jasper. What is there really, a partially frozen lake with a bear fucking mountain sheep in a tree? Ok, it's not that bad, but I wouldn't break an appointment to go there, let's put it that way. Then in the middle of wonderment, randomly my brain burped up, "San Francisco!" At best there's beaches and a prison on a rock, at worst the anal sex would at least be sensual on a bed of weed. It seems mildly tourist friendly, why not? It was relatively cheap, so off we went to San Francisco at the most inconvenient time possible, right in the middle of moving out. Just so I don't dwell on this too much, I'll just leave you with a small dose of reality. Here's what to expect when moving out: moving out sucks dick.

Moving on. This is the story of my trip to San Francisco with Susie in May, 2015. Similar to Drumheller, Vancouver, and Las Vegas, this is my odd way of preserving memories, beyond taking pictures. I'm getting old, man. My balls already look like my brain, it's only a matter of time before my memory goes. I'm sure that makes medical sense.

Thursday, May 7th, Day 1
Well wouldn't you know it, Susie and I finally travelled at a reasonable time! Unreal, I know. Normally we end up travelling when the sun is considering that maybe our side of the planet exists, but this time, we actually had a decent sleep, there were birds chirping outside, vomiting worms and garbage into their infants faces, it was magical. We got to the airport three hours early, as you're apparently supposed to before an international flight, and thus marks the second time I have been supremely unconvinced of this fact. When I travelled to Las Vegas, there was zero reason for us to be there that early. There was less of a reason this time around. We even suffered a delay thanks to my fucking passport, and we still made it to our gate with two hours to spare.

Long story short, my middle name was on the itinerary, but my middle name isn't on my passport for some fucking reason, so the airline was confused as to who this "Anthony" person I'm bringing with me is. If only they knew it was the biological twin I absorbed in the fucking womb... We were at one of those self check-ins, because there was no one at the United desk, and the process halted thanks to my middle name crashing the system. I guess most people don't have middle names, who knew? We were told to wait for a United employee to come by, but as previously mentioned, they don't exist, so we just waited in line. Eventually some lady noticed a growing line of frowny faced people, so she waved us through. We made it through Cerebro from X-Men easily enough, or should I say, obnoxiously quickly, because no one was at the fucking airport. Seriously, we were the only ones who went through security. Who the fuck were those people in line behind us?

I elected to get a Quizno's Sub for some reason during our wait for the coming of Christ, until finally we boarded the plane. I buckled up, got my Calvin and Hobbes out, got my phone all set on airplane mode and shit, still disappointed that that setting doesn't make it rocket into the sky, and then waited. Then I waited a little more, and then some more, until finally the captain blurted over the intercom, "Our water systems don't appear to be working." In other words, we couldn't flush the toilets, or wash our hands. It took them a fucking hour to fix the problem, with no one from the crew having the balls to stand up and say, "I clogged the toilet." I don't know who did it, but how they cleared security with a biological weapon like that is beyond me. But, at long last, after I'd raised my first child to adulthood, we were finally taking off.

Landing in San Francisco is interesting, because it looks a bit like the entire city clapped a bunch of chalkboard erasers prior to your landing, and instead of landing on a runway, it looks a bit like you're performing an emergency water landing. Suddenly the runway appears, and you're free to collect your bags and make your way to the taxi cabs. Now, fair warning, tourists heading to San Francisco, your taxi driver will be a fucking insane person, and San Francisco is weird. Driving into the city is nice, it's very green, but it also looks a bit like Brazil got lost. The best way to describe the housing near the airport would probably be "slums", just to sound mean but somewhat accurate. The houses are tightly packed and on hillsides, like they're in a perpetual game of The Floor is Lava. In lighter news, taking pictures in San Fran is fun, because it's like going on gay safari.

Now, the fucking crazy taxi driver. Taxi drivers have a reputation for two things: buying their licenses, and being insane. Often the two are clearly linked, and nowhere is this more apparent than in San Francisco. Holy fuck, this guy was hauling ass, and gave no shits about hitting other cars or other people if it meant getting us to our hotel quickly. He didn't actually run anyone over, but the way he was driving, it seemed like he wanted to. Then all of a sudden he took a sharp left turn and we were at our hotel. It seemed like a mistake, but I was just grateful he'd stopped. I thought our flight in was bad enough. Our plane was doing a marvelous impression of a Jackhammer being attacked by Mike Tyson, while stuck in an elevator, and now we found ourselves on the set of Death Race? Time out, America. While we're talking about the sky, if birds fuck in the sky, does that mean they join the mile high club, or does that only apply to humans? Passing thought.

Anyway, the best part about our insane taxi driver, was the fact that he was listening to slow dance music. I mean bad slow dance music, like the kind of shit your parents would slow dance to. Like the kind of shit cheap softcore porn is edited to. Elevators don't even consult this genre. Not only that, but it was on a CD. It was all different artists too, meaning either this man took the time to make himself a special mixtape, or he loves the genre so much, he bought a "Greatest Hits" CD, unafraid of a bad egg sullying his music. I'm not sure which is worse. Either way, the gentle sounds of drunken shower singing captured on recorder, serenaded his madness. I know the guy lives in San Francisco, the place is pretty tolerant, and we Canadians are supposed to be nice and all, but let's just call that what it is, that's gay as hell.

Moving on, Susie and I stayed at the Stanford Court in Union Square, or maybe it was on the outskirts of Union Square, I didn't really pay attention. If "inbetween Powell and Mason on California" means anything to you, then good for you. The elevators in that building are pretty fucking rad, and I know I should be beaten with sticks for using the word "rad", but they play great music in those elevators, it's appropriate. The only issue was that Courtney Love was advertised on the wall next to Metallica, and while I don't hold Metallica in any high regard, saying Courtney Love was "one of The Bay areas greatest musical hits" is a bit like saying bird shit is haute cuisine. The woman is only special because she murdered that asshole who inspired a generation of people to not have sustainable jobs, fuck her. But don't actually do that, that's how the zombies start.

The carpets inside the Stanford Court are interesting, in a word. They are dehydrated piss yellow, covered with optical illusions. We finally reached our room after being mildly hypnotized, which could only be further away from the elevators if it had been in another building, and there wasn't much to say about the room. It was a place to sleep and shit, that's about it. One noteworthy aspect to the room was the enormous yellow stain on the blankets, which I photographed:

Note the token pube attached to the bizarre stain that probably wasn't produced by a human. The stain was never addressed by the staff there, they just kept making the bed, staring at the weird yellow stain and thinking, "I'm sure that's supposed to be there." Now this is a weird segway, but we were hungry at this point, so we went out to find food, electing not to just eat at the fucking hotel for some reason. We walked down two hills and ended up at Nob Hill, which is right next to "Bush Street", just to go down the checklist for a dick joke, and found a little pizza place on the corner called "Uncle Vito's". All I can really say about Uncle Vito's is that Vito has watched The Godfather too much, is kind of a dick, but makes a decent Panago knock off. Then we had to climb back up the two hills we walked down to get to Uncle Asshole, and at this point, I'm not sure if it was one hill or two. It's all blurred into one big hill for me now. Regardless, walking those hills was a bit like torture, having destroyed our bodies moving just days prior. I thought Susie was going to pass out, and had that happened, I don't know. At that point, I may have cherished the pizza more than our relationship. She would have just kept rolling forever, and I vowed never to chase women again...

After we ate, I left the hotel to ascertain exactly where the fuck we were and exactly where the fuck we wanted to go. Keep in mind I live in the prairies, I can see a dog running for three days if there isn't a building in the way, and you throw me in the middle of a city that looks like it was originally a roller coaster park? That would be like throwing Paris Hilton in the Serengeti, admittedly a good pitch for a reality show. But I found some maps and sort of figured things out, Susie then helped further, and then I passed out next to that weird stain that looks like someone cock slapped a row of lady bugs to death.

Friday, May 8th, Day 2
My day began with "The All-American Breakfast", which was some eggs that looked like someone used them for kleenex, some dry toast, and some bacon they found at the back of the freezer. Frankly, I don't think these people understand "All-American" too well. Where was my complimentary firearm, with a side of freedom? This is America, damnit! If I go to sleep, I expect to wake up racist! Anyway, I ate that breakfast that looked about as sketchy as it would to a starving man, and then we went to catch the cable car. Word of advice, eager San Fran travellers. When you get there, depending on how long you're staying, buy a Three Day Transit Pass. I can't remember what it was called exactly because I currently don't have internet and I threw my pass in the garbage, but find a Walgreens and buy one. It will save your life. Fuck walking those hills, and fuck those people who say, "San Fran is a walking city!" It isn't. It's a cable car city, so hop on one of those things like a stiff rebound dick and enjoy the ride!

Luckily our stop was right next to our hotel, we just had to somersault a little and we were there, so off we went to the Fisherman's Wharf, a place the internet told us to go. First off, supposedly there's a difference between Cable Car and Street Car, but no one knows what it is, and even less people care. Secondly, the cable cars smell like an old deli. Go there and tell me that's not accurate. Third, going to the Wharf, I could only picture one thing:

We got to the Wharf, the place that smells of panties, rounded a corner, and all of a sudden, Alcatraz. Just sitting there on a rock like a magpie on a McNuggets box, Alcatraz. It's always a bit jarring seeing something like that, you feel like you've just stepped on to a post card. Speaking of sitting on a rock, because of the sheer number of people there, and the amount of those people who like eating the absurd amount of seafood in that area, the area has become home to very brazen seagulls and pigeons. Over here, those birds look at you like a freeze frame during a jump scare, but over in San Fran? They don't give a fuck about you. You can walk right up and kick a seagull in the balls, and it doesn't care. It's just waiting for someone to drop their weird bread bowl full of boiled sea creature, so it and its brethren can swarm.

After we ate some icecream, we went to the Aquarium of The Bay. Susie and I enjoy aquariums, because the ocean is something we don't often see living near mountains and boredom. The aquarium is nice, and if you decide to go there yourself, you will be glad to hear that "The Tunnels Under The Bay" is false advertising. At first I thought that meant there were tunnels under the ocean, which never made sense to me, who wants to see a bunch of seaweed and fish shit, maybe some algae on a rock next to a drowned shoe? It's actually just a huge fish tank underneath the aquarium, with a tunnel that you can walk through, while the animals rub their dicks on the glass. Seriously, this Ray kept doing it over and over again. I called him Mr. Squishy Dick:

Rays look a lot like if you drew a face on a boob, and then stretched it out. We walked about the Aquarium, amongst loud faux-spanish people carrying selfie sticks, fulfilling at least two of the requirements for douchebaggery. We stayed to watch the otter training session. One of the otters bit the fucking trainer in the leg and then swam away. I laughed. Eventually we left, only to discover that I had lost my sunglasses. It was only a matter of time before I lost those things, and to be honest, I'm glad I lost them. I fucking hated those sunglasses so much. I just feel bad for the person who stole them. Their life is now a cavalcade of persistent misery and occasional UV protection. After lunch at some place named Johnny Rocket, we went to check out the Sea Lions. They're over by Pier 39 I think. When you get to the sea from the Powell stop, and you're staring at Alcatraz, look to your right, and walk in that direction until you hear Chewbacca and smell wet shit.

Those Sea Lions are awesome, because apparently they just straight up swam in there one day, anexxed the pier Crimea style, and now they just sun bathe there, until it's time to swim off and fuck bitches. Seriously, that's their life. There were two sea lions play fighting on a plank, battle royale style, trying to push each other off. Oddly amusing to watch a soggy sausage with flippers throw another one into the water over and over. We then decided to walk down the Wharf in the direction of Crissy Field, where we heard some guy advertising a $15 cruise under the Golden Gate Bridge, and around Alcatraz. Before this, we'd heard from a reputable person that they were doing a $30 cruise for the same trip, which made Susie and I not even question the worth, but simply ask, "What's going on here?" The man yelling about the $15 cruises through his stolen traffic cone, neglected to mention if there would be complimentary cannibalism in addition to being thrown overboard on the "cruise".

We walked along and discovered a sign that read something like, "No Stealing Dungeness Crabs". You're allowed to fish at some points in San Fran, and I guess if you catch crabs, you're not allowed to do anything to them, or else you get a $1000 fine. That would be an interesting thing to try and explain to your wife, a $1000 fine for crabs. I'll let you finish that joke. It wasn't very good, so you get to shoudler that responsibility. Anyway, turns out it was a really great idea to walk away from the Wharf, because as the smell of shitty seafood disappeared, the smell of chocolate entered our noses. We of course ended up in Ghiardelli's Square, the most amazing place on earth. Ok, maybe not that amazing, but oh my god. I can see why San Fran turned gay, the smell of that chocolate was like a boner potion. I dropped my pants and started fucking a keychain in a gift shop. After briefly losing my phone in the bathroom, we bought a shit load of chocolate, and then waited fucking forever for the cable car.

Here's another piece of advice for eager travellers. If you're going to San Fran, bring a fucking hoodie, maybe some arctic gear, one of those hats with the fur in it, and a dick cozy. Evenings in San Fran, particularly near the ocean, are cold enough to freeze the testicles of any Eskimo. All you can really do is huddle together for warmth with the enormous amount of people waiting for the cable cars, and hope that the homeless street performer is playing decent tunes instead of trying to sniff your ass, or whatever homeless people do with their free time. Also, fair warning if you're waiting for a street car, be prepared to wait longer than the last guy in line for the iPhone 6. If you've ever waited to be treated at a hospital, just imagine that wait, but multiplied by forever, and that's about what it feels like to wait for a cable car at the Wharf. Just picture the cable cars as indifferent nurses and you might not cry so much.

Saturday, May 9th, Day 3
Despite the fact that someone coated their tiny dick with mustard and slapped the bedding with it, I slept like a baby in that bed. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the stain helped lull me to sleep. It was my dreamcatcher. The morning only got better, when we turned on the TV, which was normally full of bullshit channels and no Food Network, this time it was MYTHBUSTERS! Seriously, who the fuck doesn't have Food Network? But Mythbusters certainly made up for it. They were marathoning it too. Gathering the will to leave the hotel that day was a challenge, but after a few commercials for a show called, "Outrageous Acts of Psych" on the Science channel, we decided to do tourist-y stuff before I threw the TV out the window. Fuck that show. Why is that on the Science channel? That isn't Science, that's a whole lot of people that weren't beaten by their parents as kids infront of a camera. "If people stare at you, it makes you uncomfortable." Wow, I wouldn't have called that. This really needed a social experiment to uncover the answer to a question no one was asking. Thanks for your in depth experimentation and hypothesis, now let's see your degree you fucking whack job.

Right, San Fran. That other shit, different time, different writing. So we went downstairs for breakfast, and being Canadians, we elected to eat pancakes. Oddly enough they were on the dessert portion of the menu, which in fairness, that's right where they belong. But we figured they were normal breakfast pancakes, so Susie ordered a plate. If you're accustomed to pancakes in Canada, which are sweet when covered in syrup, but not over powering, let me prepare your palate. Or hey, if you want to do it yourself, just eat a ladle of icing sugar, after dumping it on a bed of brownies, icecream, and skittles, and actually that sounds ok. I mean your heart is liable to skip a few beats, but it's delicious. I've come to the realization that it's impossible not to sell these pancakes. Basically, after you eat them, you'll spend most of the day in outer space.

Turns out the pancakes were a good idea, as I just threw a saddle on Susie's back and she galloped us over to Golden Gate Park. Actually we took a cable car down to Market Street, found a bus, and it just kind of took us to Golden Gate Park. That's about as interesting as that gets. The neighborhoods on the way there are neat, because it looks like some asshole put all of his houses on a single property in Monopoly.

I didn't realize it until we got there, but there's a stadium right next to the park. It's almost as interesting as the horse shoe court inside the park. Come to think of it, you could put a horse shoe park anywhere really, it's not that special, but it was similar to the rollerblade park we saw later on. You don't even know you want it until you see it. I wasn't sure who was performing at the stadium to attract the same crowd that gathered outsides Helm's Deep, or why they bothered to show up. It was essentially live radio, without the commercials, but equally as shitty. Just some asshole yelling "HANDS IN THE AIR!" constantly. He didn't say anything else, he just kept yelling at the crowd, demanding they raise their arms. I'm not sure what a personality is really, so I'm assuming putting your hands in the air means you're excited. The man could have been more creative trying to hype the crowd up, my mother would wreck him at Scrabble. How about, "Place your hands slightly above your head!" or "Raise your appendages!" or "Quick, fix that pot light!"

We went to the Conservatory of Flowers, and looked at, you guessed it, flowers. They neglected to mention that flowers flourish when placed inside an oven, so my armpits melted by the time we got to those weird cup plants that eat ants. In my mind, they look like a 3D print of a vagina, but they are actually Victreebel from Pokemon, but without the chewing tobacco habit.

Looks like the guy who delivers cheese to my restaurant

After that, Susie and I ate weiners while staring at each other longingly, then we found ourselves at the Academy of Science.

I researched this trip lightly one night long before we went, and this place wasn't mentioned at any point. I don't know why, it's fucking awesome. If you want to go to San Fran, go there. If you live in San Fran, fucking go there. There's an exhibit on whales at the time of this writing. They have a fossilized whale dick, you could have 25 women sucking on that thing at the same time. You could knock a city bus over with a cock slap and get a home run with that thing. There's a big ass aquarium there, and some rain forest globe you get to walk around while butterflies endeavor to scare you and the parrot hides from you. We took the bus back to Market, and this time it was actually interesting. Thanks to my skills as a stalker and people watcher, which basically mean the same thing, I got to listen to some great conversations between these girls. I don't remember them all, but there was one in there about a guy doing acid, and texting her. It was the casual tone that sold the story for me, like this was just an average thing in her life. People come out of raves just thinking, "Shit, I have to text this fucking girl!" Then there was a black girl talking about how she has servants in her house. It doesn't matter that she's black, but it totally does. I'll let you decide how you feel about that.

When we got back to the hotel, I ordered a sandwich and some chicken strips. Had I known the sandwich was literally a live turkey inbetween two pieces of bread, I would have paused on the chicken strips. I bring this up only to ask a question. Why the fuck is a sandwich the size of the table you're eating it off of, worth more than four tiny strips of chicken and some fries? The sandwich was 13 bucks, the chicken, 16 bucks. For three extra dollars, that chicken best be jerking me off under the table.

Sunday, May 10th, Day 4
I don't remember how this morning began, just that we woke up. I think I grabbed Susie's boob. That sounds like something I'd do. We decided today was the day to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge, so we made our way down to the Wharf, and rented some shitty bikes. Saying these bikes were shitty is an understatement. You couldn't pay someone enough to steal those things. The frame was made of rolled up magazines wrapped in tinfoil, and the wheels were so thin, I think they were the inspiration for 4K flat screens. Felt like I wanted to floss my teeth with those things. They managed to survive the journey, though at a certain point while crossing the bridge, I half expected to be turned into a paper airplane. Oh, here's something no one tells you about biking across the bridge. It is freezing fucking cold. Wear a good hoodie and some gloves. Don't wear under armor and shorts because you're pretending to be an athlete, wear a polar bear. Also, why is it called the Golden Gate? I get the bridge part, but at this point they should just call it, "That Red Fucking Shit".

After you cross the bridge and you stop crying about losing your hands to frost bite, you have to travel another couple miles to get to Sausalito, which is the gayest place on earth. That's not an insult, I mean literally it's the gayest place on earth. Come on, it's called Sausalito. That's a great word if you're gay, lots of S's. Also the sun never stops shining there, that has to aid in being gay some way or another. This was the portion of the trip where we got burnt to a crisp by the sun, while not experiencing anything about Sausalito beyond the ferry back to the Wharf, where the smell of eggy sea lion ass doesn't diminish in time. By the time we got back, we were hungry, so we ate at Subway just to be uninteresting. We did so because it was quiet and not packed, until some assholes kept shooting fire crackers off in the alley. On reflection, I should have strapped some to the guy's dick, but going across the street to buy hoodies was a better idea.

You know what else was a better idea? Going back to fucking Ghiardelli's and getting a big ass sundae. I still remember it, it was called "Treasure Island", the richest thing I've ever eaten until I finally get to eat Bill Gate's ass. It's amazing. It's a brownie drowning in icecream and ecstasy, and your penis bleeds pure hot joy while you eat it. My advice is to only order one thing off the menu and share it. If you're by yourself, god be with you. Partly because there's a lot to eat, but mostly because you'll have someone there to possibly stop you from fucking the sundae, or at least offer to block for you while you fuck it. It's so good. It could only be made better if they gave you some extra chocolate sauce on the side to smear on your nipples. Then we walked up to, and down Lombard Street. Our legs had adapted to the landscape at this point, our calves were the size of watermelons, so we hulked up to Lombard no problem. Then as we were walking down, we realized that people live in Lombard Street.

Bit obvious sounding now, but when you get there, it's not as obvious. I thought it was just a fancy street, a tourist attraction, but people actually live there. Seeing people go into their garages or driveways in San Fran in general is bizarre, it looks like everyone lives in trap doors. Lombard Street though, it looks like something Martha Stewart masturbates to, it's hard to believe people live there. But those rich bastards do. May their lives forever be tainted by tourists and an endless stream of cars. Then we caught the street car back to California Street, which was being operated by some asshole. He stopped to pick up two people, and instructed them to go to the other side of the car by yelling, "OTHER SIDE!" In fairness, the man shouted AND pointed. To be unfair, you're in a city that's a huge tourist destination, and you stopped in the middle of an intersection. What makes you think these people heard you, much less that English is even their first language? No need to mutter, "My god..." under your breath, like these people caused you grievance. Just drive the car and ring the fucking bell, boy.

We got back to the hotel which is when we noticed our insane sunburns. I was happy to be far away from the Wharf, I thought someone was going to mistake us for lobsters and start ripping our limbs off and dipping them in butter. We watched some idiots on TV on a show called "Naked and Afraid" and laughed at their misfortune. This one girl in particular, who described herself as, and these are her words verbatim, not mine, "A ball of awesomeness." To no one's surprise except her's, she tapped out after like a day because she didn't realize the sun was hot. Stupid bitch.

Monday, May 11th, Day 5
The final day, the travel day. You would think there's not much to write about here, but oh there is. We got an early start, as we decided leaving this city early and thus arriving in our home town early was a good idea and ok, I can see you're not interested. We were up and out of the hotel by 7:00, and braved yet another taxi driver. This time this guy would be going mostly down hill, so this was marginally worse. While this driver didn't do anything to cloud his road rage with gentle tunes, he did have a serious phlegm problem. I can only assume he tried to eat amoeba in the morning and it got stuck in his throat, because he was just coughing up balls of glue.

He got us there alive, which is I suppose his primary function. We went to check in for our flight, and some dude comes up to me and says something I can't remember about my passport. I don't remember because I paid more attention to him saying, "You won't be able to go back to Canada." Oh really? You'd be fucking surprised how hard I will go back to Canada. I will Canada all over your mom's face. What the fuck was really so bad that I couldn't go back to my home country? Was I put on the fucking no fly list? Jesus. So he sent us to some ticket lady several miles away, and during the journey there I finally realized why they want you at the airport three hours before an international flight. It's for bullshit like this. We got to the lady, and she had a great, all too familiar question for me after looking at our itinerary. "Who's Anthony?" Again with this slippery Anthony character. Goddamnit, literally every other passport on earth, people have their fucking middle name on it. Not me!

So because of this discrepancy, I was allowed to travel to the United States with this mystery Anthony in tow, but was unable to travel back with my imaginary friend. Where the fuck would I be hiding an entire person, you idiots? Anthony's in my pocket, want to see? He's actually jammed in my luggage, I'm hoping the fucker can breathe cruising at 30,000 feet. Who's Anthony. What kind of a question is that? Look at my girlfriend, she exists, she's not harboring a fugitive or something, we only have two seats booked on the plane, where is Anthony going to sit? In the over head bin? Can I stash him in the fucking seat back pocket? Eventually after all this madness, she just kind of checked my ID and it was all fixed, but before we walked away, she had to leave me with a shard of wisdom. "Get your passport fixed!" Sure, let me just grab a sharpie right now and save some time.

Finally we ended up at our gate, ages before our fucking flight. Even with all of this bullshit, we were still obnoxiously early. You could chop my head off and I'd still make my flight on time. I am never going to the airport three hours before a flight ever again. That's an hour I could spend masturbating and eating. Not speaking of that, I really had to shit when we got to the gate, so I found a bathroom and had my way with the toilet. There was some weird music playing in that bathroom. I'm positive softcore porn originated there. After that, I was back to waiting at the gate, when the dude called everyone up for a "documents check". I guarantee they were still looking for this elusive Anthony character, those fucking idiots, but the important thing to mention at this point in the story, is the guy who didn't understand how lines work, who just kind of stood beside me and Susie while we were walking up. Fucking pompous asshole budding in line, I bet he plays the Ukulele and owns a share of IKEA or some shit. Then eventually we landed in Edmonton after I farted a lot on the plane, and wanting to clap the irritating stewardess's head in my Calvin and Hobbes.

And that was San Fran. A good city to travel to if you want to come home, and listen to everyone annoying in your life be confused why you didn't find the time to visit obscure places while you were busy being a tourist.

My Trip to Vancouver with Susie 2013

In my never ending quest to make all of you aware of just how awesome my life is, I'm here today to write about my trip to Vancouver with my Susie. She's my Susie. I did something similar when Susie and I went to Drumheller for the weekend (though I only managed to write about the bus ride), and when I went to Las Vegas. Now it's Vancouver's turn. Why? Because I just kind of never got around to finishing this writing until now... I could have probably dressed that reason up to make it sound funnier, but I'm actually just a lazy piece of shit.

Anyway, this is my weird way to try and preserve memories rather than just take pictures and learn how to scrapbook. Now, you may know Vancouver for their riots that stemmed from the realization that their hockey team still sucks, or for being the only province in Canada with an ocean that is only occasionally warm enough to swim in. Yes, there's an ocean to the east, but nobody likes Quebec. Susie herself knew two things: that Vancouver had an aquarium, and that she loves jellyfish. That was all of the planning that went into the trip really, so off we went on our five day voyage.

The trip began on a Thursday. I would argue that the trip technically began on a Wednesday, because as with all of our vacations, it seems impossible for Susie and I to travel unless it's ridiculously early in the morning. Our flight was at 6:00am. Maybe 6:15, I can't remember. Whatever time it was, I don't think it qualifies as "Thursday". The point is, is that technically I would have morning wood for the next four hours minimum, which would make the brief flight to Vancouver awkward. Considering we were in economy class, which is the class just slightly above "baggage", meaning the person seated directly infront of me would definitely get jabbed in the back of the head. A nice meaty, squishy, yet firm jab. During the flight, I may have knocked out a stewardess and tripped the kid heading for the bathroom.

My dear mother dropped Susie and I off at the airport, we printed off our boarding passes, I had to go through a badass rotating metal detector that looked like Cerebro from X-Men, and proceeded on to the plane. As expected, economy class wasn't the most comfortable. I suspect I now know what cereal feels like inside the box. If you are any or at all claustrophobic and got a seat in economy, you would eat yourself to death before long. It wasn't that bad, actually, even if the seats looked like they were ripped out of a taxi that was liberated by sea water long ago, and the seat belts looked about as flimsy and safe as bungee jumping with dental floss. Really though, how much good is a seat belt going to do you plummeting 30,000 feet to the ground in a fuel filled metal tube? Come to think of it, I might hate flying.

So off we went to Vancouver. For anyone else in Edmonton, if you find yourself flying to Vancouver, the plane is going to take a very interesting turn after launching into the air. It's supposed to do that. Don't worry, you aren't going to die. The only thing to mention on the plane ride over was the rejected set of The Lord of The Rings, more commonly referred to as the rocky mountains. This immediately made the travelling portion of this trip far more entertaining than the bus ride to Calgary, even if one of the buildings in Calgary did look like a dong. I pointed out the mountains to Susie, but she seemed too tired to care. I think she could actually have been considered legally dead for a portion of the plane ride over. She was oddly still and silent. Normally she sounds like a vacuum cleaner when she sleeps. Not a new vacuum cleaner either. I'm talking like early 1970's vacuum cleaner, the kind that could kill a small animal if you ran over it. She sounds like a bike skidding out on gravel, or eating a cracker through a megaphone. It's like radio static, but inside a blender. But she was just sitting there, curled in a ball, I assume waiting for her chance to startle me.

We landed in Vancouver safely, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this you fucking idiot. We made our way through the airport and eventually, hopped on a free shuttle to our hotel. The driver of the shuttle was a kindly asian fellow, who asked us if we were heading to the Sandman Signature. Upon saying yes, he immediately took off from the airport and drove us there. Fuck anyone else who wanted to go to Sandman Signature, haha. We arrived at our hotel in Richmond at about 7:30 in the morning. Even though we knew full well only math teachers would be awake at this hour, and that hotels don't check in until at least 3:00pm, I decided to ask the lady at the front desk anyway. I didn't even get the question out of my mouth before she put on her best "severely inconvenienced" look and said, "People aren't even awake yet." How the fuck do you know? Have you looked inside every room in the hotel in the last 10 minutes?

So we gave that bitch our luggage and went to breakfast at Denny's. Denny's doesn't really qualify as food, I doubt they'd serve it in prisons, but we were hungry as balls and it was there, so we went. I can't remember what I ordered, or what portion of the food could be considered real, but it was delicious. Upon concluding breakfast, we realized it was only 8:30 in the morning. We still had a long ass time to wait until we could get inside our room, so we decided to go to Shopper's and buy adorable tiny versions of shampoo and deoderent, because hygiene is awesome, and because airlines are apparently threatened by full size tubes of toothpaste. Unless you put it into your checked baggage, then they don't care. It's one of those "don't ask" areas of life.

After finishing up at Shopper's, we were disappointed to learn that it was barely past 9:00. I don't remember how we came to this decision, but we decided to walk to a mall Susie located on her phone in a place called Lansdowne. Not that we had anything else to do, so away we went, and that may have been the longest walk of my life, dear god. If Susie and I were walking for cancer then, we'd have cured it 30 times over. Along the way, we discussed jumping off a bridge to land on top of a speeding truck because I saw Morpheus do it in The Matrix. We noticed a few other things about Richmond on the walk. The houses looked very different compared to Edmonton, that is, lawns were replaced by perfectly trimmed shrubbery and concrete. The little grass that there was was stained yellow and covered in garbage. You could find healthier grass in Chernobyl. Also, there was an enormous amount of wild berries everywhere we looked. Delicious berries too. Not like the shit here like choke cherries and those little red berries that get into the grooves of your shoes. I'm talking raspberries, black berries, saskatoons, you name it. I hate berries, but if I were so inclined, I could bake so many fucking pies collecting the berries in a square meter anywhere in Richmond.

Another thing I noticed is something that I would soon discover would be a common theme in Vancouver. There's no way to say this without sounding racist, even though I consider it more of an observation or data point, so I'll just throw it out there. There is a massive asian populace in Vancouver. Everywhere we looked walking through Richmond, asian restaurants. Everywhere else we looked, asian people walking and biking around, including one particular girl on a bike who pissed off Susie because she didn't have a bell on her bike. Don't tell Susie this, but I don't have a bell on my bike either. I don't have a reason not to have one either. I just don't feel like buying one, much less using it, because I think I'm invincible on my bike and better than everyone. Seriously though, asians. I went to sleep that night and woke up racist.

We finally arrived at Lansdowne mall. I had hoped to finally discover a shitball mall worse than Bonnie Doon in Edmonton, but nope. Lansdowne was kind of awesome. There wasn't much to do there though. I went to the bathroom next to a man with a very vocal asshole, who also didn't wash his hands after. Susie looked at the Lego in the Toys 'r' Us, and then I bought us icecream cones, because I'm romantic like that. I guess in our minds, we thought walking to the mall would somehow teleport us to 3:00, but I think it was only 11:30 or something. We figured it would be a good idea to hop on this mysterious Skytrain that my mother mentioned, and learn about the city so we'd be better prepared for tomorrow. We bought our tickets, and then proceeded to the opposite side of the tracks, thus missing our train to Waterfront. It should be noted at this time that this is what happens when you follow a woman's directions. For shame. For any ladies offended, don't worry, Susie will drop kick me shortly after reading this.

We hopped on the train to Waterfront, and my mother wasn't kidding. The Skytrain is the easiest shit to figure out ever. Even though the name was misleading and I was kind of disappointed, it was still awesome. We spent the entire train ride wondering where the conductor was and debating whether or not it was a robot train. I voted for robots, because y'know, there were asians everywhere. No disrespect, you guys just know your way around a robot. We then found ourselves at Waterfront looking hopelessly confused. Exploring a new city for the first time is like trying to find the clit in the dark. We must have looked hopeless, because a very nice lady came up to us immediately and asked if we needed help. I've never had anyone do that before. Here in Edmonton, there's mostly crazy people and/or teenagers yelling about stuff. The angel gave us maps and pointed us in the right direction, and then disappeared into the ether.

We promptly ignored her directions and the directions my mother gave me, which were simply, "Follow Granville Street to the Seawall". I could fucking see "Granville St" to my right, but we decided to walk towards Pender Street instead. As the buildings became weirder looking and the scent of the sea started to disappear, we realized we were probably going the wrong way. We found a 7/11 though, I guess that was cool. I was far more thirsty than I should have been, so 7/11 was a welcome sight. It makes me realize I would just be dogshit in the desert. I would kill a camel in under 2 minutes. I hear they have water in those humps...? Anyway, we walked back to Waterfront station, avoided eye contact with the angel lady, and found ourselves in Granville Square next to a sphere of water. A sphere surrounded by hipsters and people pretending to work. Seriously, it's a fucking ball with water coming out of it. It's kind of a big deal.

Then we found ourselves at the seawall, finally, wondering why we ever struggled with this in the first place. We walked along the wall for a while, until we ended up at a hotdog stand that was playing happy ass latin music. There was a latin lady dancing it up with the owner of the hotdog stand, who definitely gave her his fat frank later that night. I bought a hotdog for Susie and I. When I went up to get the hotdogs, the guy said to me, "Bringing a hotdog to your lady like a gentleman, hey?" You have no idea how true that is, my friend. We ate our hotdogs sensually, staring at each other the whole time, then we walked along the seawall some more where we discovered a giant fucking bird just hanging out by the water. That's really as exciting as that story gets. He just kind of sat there chilling. Couldn't do something cool like grab a child with his enormous bird talons and drop him from 500 feet in the air, huh?

We found ourselves on the edge of Stanley Park, where we threw rocks into the ocean, in the vicinity of a lady who seemed oddly determined to drown her unenthusiastic dog by repeatedly throwing a ball into the water. It was finally nearing 3:00, more or less, so we decided to head back to the Skytrain and check into our hotel. We discovered a great system of travelling in Vancouver. Take the Skytrain directly to the airport, and then free shuttle to the hotel. Enjoy driving, suckers! I just spent like, two dollars to get back home. I could get back home for free if I beat someone up for their tickets! Anyway, we checked into our hotel room, and immediately collapsed on our king size bed, then we showered together. Ooh, sexy. Actually, don't get too excited. After a while, showers become more economical than sexy. There was no time for sexy, I had a serious case of salty nuts after all that walking. My balls were so salty, if I jumped in the ocean we were sleeping next to, it would have thrown up.

Speaking of salt, we looked into room service and saw that only the restaurant connected to the hotel was doing room service. They would only deliver $30.00 steaks to our room. We said "fuck that" and went to the pub instead, called The Shark's Club. We ordered chicken strips and fries and nachos, as Susie and I have subsisted entirely on nachos for the duration of our relationship. They were delicious. Susie totally got drunk too, then she took advantage of me. Then we went to sleep, and before drifting off, I can't remember where, but I somehow learned that Finland drinks the most coffee in the world. The more you know, huh?

And then it was friday, and yes, I'm only on day two. This article is unnecessarily long. You could graduate high school in the time it takes you to finish reading this. Anyway, I woke up in the morning to discover that Susie had a terrible sleep. Apparently, the room was cold enough to hang meat in, or it was too hot, I can't remember. There were loud ass people being loud at obnoxious hours in the night, slamming loud ass doors. I felt bad, even though I didn't really understand because I slept better than a hibernating, dead bear. Then I heard someone open and shut the door directly outside our room. It sounded like Jason Bourne driving off the roof in Ultimatum. No wonder Susie was paranoid that someone was trying to break into our room. The fact that I didn't hear that amazed me. So much for the strong male defending his female trope. Someone could have put Susie in a burlap sack and walked her out of the room and I may not have noticed. Thankfully that didn't happen, I've grown fond of her over the years.

Susie and I, bellies full of more Denny's because there was nothing else to eat again, leapt on to the Skytrain, as I feel I've used the word "hopped" too many times for some reason, and made our way to Waterfront again. We got on the bus to Stanley Park, as I remember seeing it on Pender Street when we were walking in the wrong direction. Look at me, remembering landmarks and shit. I could survive in the jungle. Also, at some point on friday, we purchased bus tickets from a very friendly man at 7/11. The only thing to note about that is that he wasn't brown. In that moment I experienced culture shock within my own country.

Y'know, because brown people work at 7/11, and the guy who helped us was asian, and there were lots of asian people in Vancouver... Gosh, what a disaster this is. I didn't even get to the part where I said there's no black people in Vancouver. Anyway, we got on the bus that Susie was certain didn't exist, purely because I said it did. She didn't believe me that I had seen it. She had a lot of questions and concerns, which she voiced while I dragged her down Pender Street, trying to reassure her that I knew what I was doing. Any questions she had were suddenly replaced with more questions when we got on the bus and the bus driver said something along the lines of, "Stripe towards the door." The dude was one letter away from a show! Strip? I would have jiggled my sweet ass for him.

Susie was as baffled as I was. We are only used to our stupid transit system in Edmonton, the one where we stuff a piece of paper into a plastic box while the driver scowls at us. I thought maybe we had to succumb to this man's strange demands to get on the bus. It took a bit of puzzle solving, but both Susie and I figured out how to work the bus tickets and got on the bus successfully. It's awesome. The machine eats your fucking ticket and then spits it back out. Susie jumped. I giggled. We soon found ourselves in Stanley Park, which I still think is a beautiful park, despite hearing about people getting murdered there. Stanley Park's slogan should read, "There are worse places to get murdered!" We ventured to the aquarium, where we actually spent the bulk of our day. Of course, the majority of the time spent there was waiting in the enormous line to get in. Correction, we first had to wait in a line to get into the line to buy tickets, and then had to wait in line to get inside. It took a while, but the little girl slipping and rolling down the muddy hill next to us helped pass the time. I really shouldn't have found that as funny as I did, but she just fell so funny, like a sack of raw chickens.

When we finally got inside, we watched the Beluga Whale show. They're the happiest looking creatures with a single titty on their heads that oddly remind me of my grade 7 english teacher. We watched the dolphin show after that, which was intensely awesome. I had no idea dolphins were as fast as they are, dear lord. Fucking thing launched itself out of the water a good eight feet into the air, landed on its back, and swam across the entire pool in the blink of an eye. If I land on my back in the water in a pool, I have to take a second to say something that includes the words "oh fuck, my back", then do that thing you instinctively do to not die, which takes me a good few seconds to clear the pool. Watching that show made me appreciate how much humans suck at everything.

That's right, bitch

There was a funny seagull that stayed to watch the show and continually interrupted the lady. Kept squawking everytime she tried to speak, like a shitty boyfriend. We got lunch at this tiny junk food hut place in the aquarium, where we had the pleasure of sharing a space in line with the loudest, unhappiest child in the world. I legitimately thought the parents were tazing the child while trying to choke it. I didn't get the full story, something about his baby brother stealing his money? I'm sorry, but if a baby steals your money effectively, then you fucked up. We went to sit down for lunch next to a crow that almost took a shit on someone's head when they walked under it. After lunch, Susie got extremely pissed off at a girl who rudely walked directly infront of her, but it was ok, because she got to see jellyfish 5 seconds later. So. Many. Jellies. Dear god, they were everywhere. We had timed our arrival in Vancouver at the start of "Jelly Invasion". The aquarium was full of them. Literally, people were getting stung everywhere. I didn't have enough pee to piss on everyone, but I tried. I satisfied at least three fantasies at once that day.

We walked around some more, and as we were walking through a particular section of the aquarium, there was a giant cylinder in the middle of a very large, round, winding room. We didn't notice anything swimming in there at first, until I saw a giant fucking fish in the tank called an Arapaima. I think this fish is quite seriously in the class of, "giant fucking". It's larger than these three grown men:

My dream is to one day have a dick so big, I need to hire 3 grown men to hoist it

Susie's reaction was rather timeless. I believe I saw her mouth the words "OH MY GOD" as her eyes bugged out and her mouth fell to the floor. How that thing managed to camouflage itself in the middle of a room is beyond me. It's important to note, we only knew the name of this fish thanks to River Monsters, the greatest show ever made next to Man Tracker. We actually managed to walk around the entire aquarium in a day. We got to hang out with a badass octopus as it was doing its best Japanese porn impression by repeatedly suction cupping the glass with its sexy tentacles. We also got to check out unsettlingly small, extremely poisonous frogs. Look at your thumb right now. Imagine it's a frog. Now you're dead. Nature is like a creepy stalker letter with a pulse. We also saw the happiest creature ever that looked kind of like a dolphin. It swam up to the glass and smiled at us. I can't remember what it was called, just that it looked like a sleeping bag with a fin and a happy face.

A Porpoise, as I later found out

We had a lot more day left, so we decided to walk around the seawall. I had to go pee first, and instead of peeing in the multitude of bushes in the area or in the readily available ocean, I decided to pee in a bathroom. A murder was definitely committed in that bathroom. I'm pretty sure the tiles were stained with blood, and I'm almost positive I saw what looked like scratch marks left by the person who was last dragged in there. There was a tooth in a spider web too. Just outside the bathroom, there was a time machine. That's right, a goddamn time machine. It was a dumbass piece of shit, however. Wouldn't even work. Just a couple fans and a bit of a bouncy platform. I was only a few seconds older after I walked through it. At least it was free. We then walked by what looked like a spray park where a drug deal was going on. Easily the most wholesome activity I imagine when I walk past a spray park. I think one of the teenage children in the deal was wearing an "OBEY" hat, while also seeking monetary gain. I feel like his internal struggle should have been more visible on the surface.

The seawall was quite lovely, despite there being nothing but construction work and piles of colored dirt in the distance to look at. Susie and I wrote on the shore with sticks. I drew a penis, and the ocean failed to wash it away before children saw it and screamed. We saw a water mammal of some kind just a little off shore as well. We're still not sure what it was. My best guess was seal, because I definitely saw whiskers, though I was secretly hoping it would be Lochness. It would be appropriate, Big Foot definitely lives somewhere in Stanley Park. After checking out a big ass spider on the seawall for a while, we decided to catch the bus back into the city and take the train back home.

Saturday morning began as most mornings do when you sleep next to me. I wake up and you're on the other end of the room with a face full of sneer. I mentioned the spider on the seawall, because whenever I see a spider and go to sleep, I suffer from a unique condition that Susie likes to call "dream spider". In that point of delirium when I'm about 95% asleep, I imagine that there's a spider in the bed and I have to get that fucking thing by suddenly rapidly slapping the mattress, and then pausing, hand at the ready. Somehow Susie is always awake when this happens, either because I wake her up, or because she waits for me to do it so she can laugh at me later. I have done this so many times, she does nothing more than look at me and wait until I pass out, likely making a note for later to never leave scissors next to the bed. I didn't manage to get the dream spider, so it will be bothering us again. The chess match continues.

Now, as the aquarium was our main objective for the trip, we had to come up with other stuff that sounded cool to look at. The Telus World of Science seemed like a good idea, so we decided to go there. I didn't have occasion to mention this before, but we didn't have a mini-fridge in our room. What kind of hotel room doesn't have a mini-fridge? How did mankind live any length of time without refridgeration? So, ever resourceful, I bought some tiny cereal from 7/11, and bought some milk from the tiny cafe in the hotel in the morning. BAM. I don't need your fucking fridge anyway! I also bought this greasy ass chocolate muffin from the cafe. It looked like an Italian man's hair, but it was delicious. I ate it infront of Susie's face and shamed her for her lackluster breakfast. Thank god we didn't do the threepeat for Denny's, I would have shit a black bear.

After breakfast, Susie needed a new card for her camera, so we went over to Best Buy at Lansdowne mall to get one. On the way there, we decided to walk through a neighborhood that I can't remember the name of. It had ominous signs all over it saying, "We watch our own!" All of the houses literally had fucking moats, and the most bizarre vegitation I have ever seen. Like if a giant pineapple had a baby with a giant artichoke. I felt like we were walking around the set of Jumangi. Anyhow, sometime around the turn of the century, we arrived at Lansdowne, and found ourselves at Future Shop instead. I think Best Buy failed Susie, but I managed to find a new screen protector for my phone there, as my old one looked like a welcome mat with fertilizer on it.

When we got to Future Shop, a very nice man helped Susie find the right card. While he was ringing it in, he asked us, "Are you guys going to the fireworks tonight?" When we said, "What fireworks?", that prompted him to get out his phone and show us where the fireworks were taking place and when. It was at this point we noticed a trend in Vancouver. Everyone there seems to be powerfully nice, dear god. It was one thing to pretend to be nice and helpful because that was the guy's job, but to take the time to show us where the fireworks would be? What a guy. I didn't even mind when he pinched my ass and winked at me. I think Susie made out with him a little bit too. He earned it.

As always, we took the train to Waterfront, because there's not a whole lot to do in Richmond. We then took a different train straight to Science World. I have to say, neither of us went into the science centre with extremely high expectations, but the more we walked around, the more we enjoyed it. It's really fun in there. We managed to spend most of the day there, learning all kinds of fun facts that we would soon forget. Seriously, I can't remember a goddamn thing. There was something about ham filling up a bath tub I think. It makes more sense if you actually go there.

Then there was a game where you had to hold on to a gun-like thing that shot water, and you had to hit the targets that lit up. It was meant to illustrate how much water is wasted in British Columbia every 10 seconds or something. The best part of this game, was the part when Susie walked up when it was her turn, held on to the gun and waited, and a small child then ran over and tried to body check Susie's arms off of the handles. The child couldn't have been more than four years old. It actually tried to yank the thing away from Susie. I'm calling the child "it" because it seemed more animal than human. It stared up at Susie with a face full of scowl and yelled, "IT'S MY TURN!" Susie just looked down at the zoo creature and very calmly said, "It's not your turn." There was a bit of a chuckle in her voice when she said it, I imagine out of disbelief. Neither of us could really comprehend what had just happened, and it was only about to get more awesome.

The child took a few steps back, glared at Susie, leaned forward, flexed her tiny arms and fucking growled at Susie. A full on growl, like when you try to take a bone away from a dog. It was the funniest yet most pathetic thing I have ever seen in my life, to the point where I almost pointed and laughed at the child. In the midst of all this, I thought to myself, "Where the hell are the parents?" Right on cue, the father of the growling wildebeast came over, completely stone faced, emotionless, and they walked away together without saying a word. Not even an apology or anything. Is this really what you're teaching your child, that it's ok to body check people and growl at them? If I caught my kid growling at a stranger, he or she would go right in the garbage. Anyway, the rest of science world was cool. Susie and I failed at solving puzzles, we enjoyed some optical illusions and some cool science-y games, then we visited the sex exhibit.

The sex exhibit was a little underwhelming. I didn't even get to watch any porn. What a jip. However, they did have a wall of men, ages 1 to like 80, all naked, so you can see how your dick shrivels up and becomes nothing over time. Nice to know there are things in life to look forward to. I'm not sure where these people got there subjects from. When I'm 80 years old, you'll be able to find my dick hoisting a flag, or with a bunch of children crowded around it playing tetherball. My balls should be saggy enough by then. I'll still be playing guitar solos with my dick at that age. Fuck you, science world. Anyway, Susie and I sat in what I think were called "seduction chairs". We put a pair of headphones on each, and were given instructions on how to seduce each other. Sadly we sat in the wrong seats, so I was being fed bizarre instructions from a woman. I should have known something was up when she told me to, "run my hands through my hair and stick a carrot in my vagina." And when I say something was up, you know what. I think there may have been a bean bag in there shaped like a vagina too.

We sat outside the science centre for a while, eating a pack of mini-oreos that I don't remember buying, and laughing at the child who became a wolf. We then decided to go visit the Chinese Gardens which were apparently right down the road. Although I personally feel that the entrance fee to the gardens is a little pricey, even though the place is kind of small, it is calming and pretty, like taking a nap between a pair of tits. We were checking out the cool little rock formations, all of the nifty arcitecture, all of the water lillies and the gigantic fish. At some point, Susie kneeled down to get a closer picture of this bright ass orange fish, when we both looked over and noticed that the rocks she was standing beside weren't rocks at all. They were actually ducks. To be more precise, the calmest ducks in the world. They didn't move an inch. They were the most adorable things in the world. Look at this face:

Aww. That guy kept slowly opening his eyes to check and see if we were still there, then he'd shut them again, then open them again. He seemed perfectly at ease with us being there. His friend certainly wasn't. I have never seen a duck bug its eyes out before, but that thing was ready to go rambo on us if we came any closer to it. So we walked about the gardens for a while and found ourselves with a couple hours on our hands before the fireworks. We decided to walk into town and find dinner somewhere. We were going to get chinese food, since we were right next to China Town, but there was a massive festival going on there, so it's doubtful that we would have gotten in anywhere. I'm not sure why we didn't just take the train back. The alternative was sketchy as fuck.

We ended up in an exquisitely beautiful park just across the street from the gardens. Nice little pools and a cool waterfall, nice stepping stones everywhere. It was lovely. Then we got to the top of the hill and for the first time in my life, I saw a pole with a fucking "Biohazard Warning" on it. Susie and I came face to face with our first Needle Disposal Site. It only just now occured to me that it was kind of weird that there was a shirtless screaming man in the park, and three people with extra holes in their faces staring at us. It didn't really sink in just what kind of neighborhood we were in until we made the mistake of walking up Hastings. I don't know if this particular part of Vancouver is a geographical anomaly, and sunshine never hits that street, but the further we walked, the darker it got, and the rustier it got, and the sketchier it got. People standing under scaffolding just staring at us as we were walking by. Literally needles in the gutter, and Lindsay Lohan peeing in an umbrella. I'm glad none of the food in the area looked appealing.

Luckily we found ourselves back on the seawall, away from the area in Canada most likely populated by cannibals, and had a nice dinner at a place called Mahony and Sons. At least, I think that was the name of the place. After dinner, we went to go buy icecream bars from 7/11, and then we took the bus into Stanley Park to go see the fireworks. The kindly fellow at Future Shop told us that the fireworks would be happening at English Bay. Whether he was talking about the naked threesome he casually suggested, or actual fireworks, was yet to be confirmed. Now, it was evident after walking down needle avenue, that Susie and I had no fucking clue where English Bay was, so we just followed a small crowd of people and hoped for the best. Based on what we'd seen that day, we were either heading in the direction of fireworks or a massive drug deal.

On our way there, we ended up on a dirt path next to a lagoon. That was its official title. It was a lagoon. Up to this point I just called small bodies of water "lakes" or "ponds" or "cesspools" or "the bathroom" or "convenient body disposal site". I'm not sure what qualities lagoons have that separate them from other bodies of water. If there's just more shit in it than regular ponds? What was interesting about this particular lagoon, wasn't the enormous amount of ducks and geese hanging around, or the big ass swan we saw swimming around, but the fact that we had apparently walked into the bat cave. At first I thought they were birds flying directly at our faces and veering away at the last possible second, but they were in fact bats. I was either getting shit on or having my blood sucked during that walk. Thankfully neither of those things happened. I don't know how Batman has such steady nerves.

So we ended up at English Bay. It felt like I had walked on to the globe in my room. You always see the shore on maps, you know there's an ocean there, but it's kind of surreal to actually see it in person. We'd already technically seen the ocean, but this was the portion of it that would fuck you over if you swam out into it. I must say, finding a spot to sit and watch fireworks in Vancouver, at least from that one experience, is far and away easier than finding a spot in Edmonton. Edmonton fucking sucks. They put the fireworks display in the worst possible spot so at least 50% of the display is hidden behind foliage, and all of the ideal spots to watch them from are either closed off because of the possibility of debris, or you have to pay to stand there. Our money funds the display, and we don't even get a good spot to watch it from? Assholes. Everyone in Edmonton should have a free helicopter.

Anyway, we found a good spot to sit, not really knowing where the fireworks were going to be set off from. There was also this weird fish and chips restaurant nearby that I couldn't figure out how to mention earlier. It was just beyond the bat infested dirt path next to One Swan Lagoon. If I describe everything in clear detail, maybe I can waste more of your life while no one reads this. So we had bought icecream bars from a 7/11 earlier, which had been sitting in Susie's purse for what felt like a year. There's a ticking clock on icecream that isn't in a freezer. Once we got to them, surprisingly they weren't bad, so we started eating away and giggled at our genius. I was quietly amazed at the preservative qualities of Susie's purse. Then an icecream cart walked right infront of us. We just watched him slowly walk away, like if you were walking to your car, and you just saw someone drive away with it and give you the finger. We laughed ourselves silly and just ate our icecream anyway. It's not like we weren't going to enjoy icecream.

Then the fireworks started, at least 15-30 minutes late, and goddamn, they were being shot off a ship in the middle of the bay. We had the best seat in the house, next to all of the drunk people on the boats surrounding the fireworks ship. Those fireworks lasted a good long while too, I was impressed. Lest we forget, all of this was made possible, because of the kindly man in Future Shop. He made our trip that much better. I'll blow him if I ever meet him again. Not sure if that will be good for anyone involved, but it's out there now. The fireworks concluded, and we made our way back to Stanley Park to wait for the bus. I'm really glad people didn't tell me about the murders there until after the trip, though after the bat barrage, I was pretty numb to the possibility of werewolves, or heroin addicts with knives. We hopped on the bus, and made our way into a traffic jam for the ages.

I've seen smoother traffic in the Transformers movies. Felt like we were stuck behind a train, but forever. Benoit Lecomte swam across the Atlantic faster. The bus stopped moving all together at some point, which eventually prompted the bus driver to leave the bus for several minutes. I actually thought he'd just given up and left. Good news, he eventually came back, I still couldn't figure out why he left though. I assume to go beat off in the bushes for a few minutes. We made our way back to Waterfront, and caught the train to the airport. I can't remember if this was the train that attempted to eat Susie by jamming her inbetween the doors, or if I've already mentioned that. This article is so long, I'm experiencing memory lapses. What I do remember quite clearly, was the stupid people on the train.

I heard some commotion behind us at some point, some guy getting really amped up about something, and another guy totally enabling him, with the two girls they were with whispering, "No, don't do anything." I was waiting for something to explode, and sure enough it did, but it just left me sad and unfulfilled in the end. I heard what sounded like fighting behind me, so I casually turned my head to look, and I think some kid grabbed another kid and they tried to happy slap each other for a few seconds before the one guy got off the train. It was the most uncoordinated, pathetic, yet honest thing I've ever seen. It looked like a couple of toddlers trying to juggle eggs. One guy on the train yelled to the guy who ran off, "I know where you live!"

So the guy gets off, and now these two guys on the train have no way of letting that adrenaline out in a productive manner, so they took the senseless route. They were just kind of spewing gibberish. "I'm gonna fucking kill that kid", "I know where he lives, Imma get my knife", "Yeah, dawg." Good for you, white guy who still says dawg. I really wanted to know the story. I heard something about a girlfriend at some point, which makes me think the guy who got off the train may be the dick that random girl deserves, but not the one it needs right now. Then there was two guys sitting infront of us, one guy crying saying stuff like, "I'm fucking done with those people! I hate them!", while the other guy comforted him. This train is fucking bananas, what is going on here? So much free entertainment that night! Susie and I can communicate telepathically, and we quietly made a note to each other to make fun of these people later, because we're secretly terrible people. And we did. Those people would be devastated if they knew.

Sunday began with me being informed of a brief dream spider moment in the middle of the night. This one I don't have the faintest memory of, but I think I remember being told that I woke up, pretended I was being a DJ for a few seconds, then passed out immediately. What Susie doesn't understand is that I'm just trying to protect her from the dream spider. She'll come to appreciate it eventually. Now by this point in the trip, we had walked the diameter of the moon, if I'm using math terminology properly, so our legs felt like they needed a vacation. It was like trying to lift a car with each step. All I wanted was to have a rest day. Watch TV half naked all day, and I would only move for shower or food purposes. If Susie fell and couldn't get up? Sorry honey, you wanted to leave the bed, this is what happens. It made sense to have a rest day. This was our last day in the hotel, we could use it to rest up, go see stuff tomorrow, and when we're done seeing stuff, just hop on the plane home.

Yeah, that didn't happen. We decided to go to Suspension Bridge Park instead. It made absolutely no sense to go, just like how going to iHop for breakfast made no good sense, but we did both. The pancakes at iHop aren't that good, just wanted that on the record. It's hard to refuse pancakes and a giant suspension bridge 200 feet in the air though. It's a lot like having sex when you're tired. You think you don't want it because you're tired, but then it starts, and you're like a dog when it sees a leg. We managed to be right on time for the free bus to the suspension bridge, which was a lot like a microwave on wheels. We arrived, and eventually we kind of just walked across the suspension bridge.

I was doing ok with the height aspect of the bridge, and even the rickety feeling. Susie was doing pretty well with it also, until this little fucking shit head kid behind us started jumping up and down, stomping, and trying to shake the railing as much as possible. All in an effort to alarm his sisters, which is always a noble endeavor, but it had the adverse effect of irritating Susie. Susie is a very non-violent person, but if you manage to annoy her, I don't know of any limit to her reaction. When she was in University, her purse was full of art tools at all times, which mimic the tools you'd expect to find in a dungeon. A kid kicked her seat in a movie theater during that time period, and I almost felt her wanting to reach into her purse, and stab the child in the eyeballs with pencils. In this particular circumstance, it wouldn't have surprised me had she grabbed the kid, and threw him off the fucking bridge. She'd only be upset because there wasn't a pile of fence nails for him to land on, or some helicopter blades circling below. I'd have stood and watched too, while peeing in the dad's screaming mouth.

Exaggeration is fun. Susie isn't actually an insane person, but she does elbow her own seat in theaters when someone kicks it. The kicking stops in a real hurry, goddamn. She gave the kid a look, very similar to the movie theater look, but of course the kid didn't stop. Eventually I turned around to look at him, and I think that stopped it, at least long enough for us to reach the other side. Thank god, because I really didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to have to deal with the dad, who I'm certain was an asshole. Probably would have given me the whole "Don't talk to my son that way, he can do what he wants! Mind your own business!" speech, instilling good qualities in his children. I'm waiting for someone to deliver that line to me, so I can whip my pants off, snap the speedo to my glistening ass, and walk on all fours while farting at the guy behind me. Oh, does this make you uncomfortable? Well mind your own business! The world be changing, you fucking prick! I got that one locked and loaded. I'm excited.

Suspension Bridge Park was really cool. We saw a giant bird in a tree, some dude was holding a falcon, we walked this cool path in the trees, and we walked along a cliff. That sounds really underwhelming like that, but it was fun anyway. We didn't get to eat icecream though, that was balls. There was a sign that was warning people to not bring small animals to the park, because fucking owls could steal them away. I wish an owl could have snatched that kid up, impaled him on a tree, and repurposed him as nest material. We got on the last shuttle back to Waterfront. I assume the people left stranded eventually became food for wasps. We got some more fucking nachos at The Shark Club, then we went to the pool inside the hotel. I was delighted to disturb everyone there with my disgusting body that has more folds in it than it did 10 years ago, and my incessant cannonballing.

Monday was a mostly uneventful day, and thank god for that. I never want to exercise again in my life. There's something to be said for giant people on tiny scooters. We ended up going to Dairy Queen though, which was amazing. Kind of shitty, actually, because it's Dairy Queen, and because the weather was obnoxiously good. Warm weather is a miracle, but it doesn't compare to artificial cooling. We stayed in the hotel and made fun of shit on The Food Network. Specifically, that douchebag Guy Fieri, and some guy who was struggling to eat spicy food. We ordered some pizza and I played with my balls for a while. I'll let that imagery stir in your head and create questions.

It was finally time for us to go to the airport, and go home. The airport was notable for one reason. There was a bat stuck in there. I felt bad for the bat, but the fact that it chased a lady into the bathroom made it all worth it. Straight up chased a squealing woman into the bathroom, then it flew up into the rafters to spend a few confused hours, before some qualified person threw it in a bag and released it into that weird lagoon. The plane ride wasn't too bad, if I was to ignore the earthquake that occurred in the sky while we were trying to touch down in Edmonton. Susie gripped my hand so hard, I had to pry it off with a crowbar. A stewardess flew out the window, it was amazing.

To cap off the trip, the revolving door in the Edmonton airport tried to kill Susie by randomly stopping, and jamming her foot underneath it. If a maintenance worker at the Edmonton airport is reading this for some reason, fix that motherfucking door. For anyone who's looking to fly out of Edmonton, which, responsibly, should be all of you, you're going to have a bad time with the revolving doors. Fair warning. Then I came home and my house was demolished. I could tell. Miley Cyrus was still dangling off the fucking wrecking ball. The kitchen was gone, and the living room had been replaced with an IKEA aisle. I later had to vacuum plaster dust with our shitty shop vac that doesn't have a filter, so it just kind of redistributes the dust in the opposite direction. My mom cleaned my room though, that was nice.

In closing, I have to commend Vancouver on mixing heroin and beauty so harmoniously. I would like to go back one day, to the place where students hate living, and see how well Susie's nerves hold up on Grouse Mountain. If nothing else, I'd like to see if those water guns at Science World point in the opposite direction, and maybe we could hose down insane growling children. Or just children in general, that might be fun.