i'm a really big fan of my workspace, so i decided to share with you.
specifically you, internet.
the view from here.
the bear/paperweight's name is ray bourque, the antler was found biking with my brothers and the owl hold candles. like, right in it's belly.
the coolest drawing of me ever is in the bottom-right. ollie drew himself and i ripping it up in a half pipe. i am in the green shirt, he is wearing the orange. totally radical.
i have perfected the 360 chair spin from computer desk to drawing desk. with great style too, if i may have the moment to boast.
... if i may have the moment to boast.
if i let you drink from this mug it means that i think you're pretty outlandishly great. i'm usually quite protective of this mug.
despite having lost various sketchbooks in pubs, peoples' houses, on a bus in ottawa (thankfully retrieved by cassie), trains, and in the woods, there is only one that has been permanently lost. gone, but not forgotten.
the playoffs are no time to be posting leafs propaganda,
but i don't care.
the phrase is lifted from the motto of the coat of arms of ontario. it's perhaps a bit ironic for a guy who grew up a penguins fan (and still consider myself so) until half the team was traded to ottawa, whom i spent some unfortunate years cheering for (we all make silly decisions in our teen years, allow me this youthful indiscretion).
"But we can't escape ourselves forever, and more of ourselves than we choose to admit is the accumulated weight of our ancestors. As I grew older the thought of the *Leafs began to haunt me."
- Hugh MacLennan
(note: the word Highlands was replaced with Leafs, but yeah, you get the point)
recently i received a message from an old friend of mine from guelph, mr. davey lander (a man with a beard so legendary that it is said to hold great powers. i have heard tell that the wearer of such a beard gains +14 hitpoints and strength +22).
he has been helping to organize a festival out in st. john's, newfoundland, where he's living now. the festival is called "lawnya vawnya," which is a term out there for "having a good time at a dance party with plenty to eat."
if most of these bands were foods i would eat them sans manners and head back for seconds. the opportunity to do posters for tony dekker and dave bidini was especially great for me. both of those guys have inspired countless doodles, drawings and paintings of mine.
overall i'm quite happy with these, and extremely proud to be involved in with folks like these and a festival like this.
hopefully i can make it out to newfoundland in person for this. it's the only canadian province i haven't been too, and i have a feeling it's a big miss.
so, a few months ago my buddy pilutti let us know that in february the thousand island river hockey tournament was happening:
a hockey tournament at gananoque on canada's historical main arterial vein: the st. lawrence river. it was an obvious reason to get the high school gang together, probably drink some rye and definitely gain a few bruises (maybe that should be the other way around, but for the sake of decorum we'll keep it that way for now).
first things first: we needed a uniform. after seeking through value villages and kensington market i couldn't find any matching cheap (that's the kicker) jerseys... alas, i'd had to give up and get some t-shirts from honest ed's....
but truthful edward came through again! he had some cheap hockey sweaters! what's more (for a nerd like me), i tried them on and they looked proper ol' timey. what better?
so i made up a logo and a stencil for the sweaters:
our chosen name was "hosers' heroes." i'm not sure who came up with it, maybe they can set the record straight, but it came through to me in a text message, and it's brilliant.
the most common definition of what a "hoser" is was given by one of the mckenzie brothers: "a hoser is what you call your little brother when your mom's not in the room."
among linguists however, they believe it was
a) a prairie term for someone who syphoned gas in the depression (hence its pejorative nature)
b) an ontario term for the team that loses a hockey game, and is therefore obligated to clean and hose down the ice.
... i'll let you guess which one we did more of:
"what it do, bud?"
next order of business, was to make some comedy moustaches:
cheese and beer: fuel of champions. (let the record show that the beer is labatt's 50, molson golden and sleeman cream ale)
the tourney was run by a man with a heart of gold and a head full of "something else." ladies and gentlemen, the one and only LES:
les' number one rule was "no bullshit," and his 'technical co-ordinator' didn't disappoint either. his name was roger and a few of our team saw roger dump a bottle of lighter fluid onto a burn barrel (barrels kept on the shoreline so that spectators can keep warm)... and if that wasn't enough, he proceeded to throw the bottle in:
well done, rog', wel done...
(tj held tight to the camera, but he's there on the right, so he didn't escape entirely unnoticed)
phil's so hardcore:
no one gets out of crazy bojoland alive, there's crazy bojos down there:
during our final game we took a new strategy: skate like hell, hail mary and hope for the best. it wasn't a bad strategy. that was probably our best game, despite time spent at the pub beforehand.
...if you couldn't tell, we had spirit, but didn't fare terribly well:
losing teams have to shovel the ice... which means taking up the banjo.
my thanks to the orange team, who not only were classy enough to help us shovel with us, but who also dropped the gloves with the big jerk team in the semi-finals and showed them whatfor.
...so we went back to pilutti's folks' farm and sunk our sorrows with some smash brothers on n64 and some whisky. the former stable is now a great hangout (if you have to ask what's going on in the bottom left corner you need to spend more time in the snow).
we'll be back, gan, we'll be back.... and next year we'll have rasmussen