Tuesday, 26 April 2011

I'm A Handful

I admit it, I just am sometimes.

The Little Hunneydoo and I have just returned from a spectacular weekend in Jasper. Alberta, deep in the heart of the Canadian Rockies. It's like Banff, near Calgary, only without all the Japanese.

We spent three days shopping, eating, drinking, eating, shopping, hiking, walking around shopping and then stopping to eat and drink. And the best thing about Jasper is, it is so small, you can get absolutely shit-faced drunk anywhere in town and still be able to crawl back to your lodgings. You don't have to worry about driving! Ever!

Not that I speak from experience, mind you.

As it is, despite the non-stop beer and cider, I managed to behave myself for the most part. The only time I got up to any specific mischief was at LouLou's Breakfast and Pizzeria on Sunday morning. The Little Hunneydoo and I were seated side-by-side at the bar, as all the booths were taken up by vacationing families and these lean, earnest outdoorsy types. You know, the kind who think it's fun to cling to vertical rock walls or camp outdoors in the wintertime. That's crazy shit, yo.

Anyway, I was at the very end of the bar and happened to notice that one of the staff had started what appeared to be a grocery list. On it, in distinctive (easily forged) block letters was written


And to this list, I added


The Little Hunneydoo just rolled her eyes and shook her head. But I want you to know, adding "mushrooms" was her suggestion.

And you will be proud to note that I only had one outburst this weekend as well. I managed not to get into a fist fight with a member of the Ballcap Brotherhood, nor did I trip a child or smack a granola-crunching hippy, however sorely pressed.

No, in fact, my outburst was fairly appropriate. As we were leaving Jasper National Park, we pulled over so that the Little Hunneydoo could take some shots of the mountain sheep at the side of the road. Unfortunately, she found it hard to get decent ones because of all the FUCKING JERKS WHO LEFT THEIR VEHICLES TO STAND WITHIN METRES OF THESE MAGNIFICENT ANIMALS.

Yes, this despite very large signs written in bold letters advising visitors to the park that "IT IS UNLAWFUL TO APPROACH OR FEED WILDLIFE".

So, as we were very slowly pulling away, I hollered, "What you're doing is fucking illegal! Get back in your fucking cars!!"

One twat gave me the hairy eyeball, but fuck her; it would have been poetic fucking justice to see the ram of that flock put his big, curly horn in her fucking eyesocket. Douchenozzle. Ya don't get it, do ya? The more accustomed to stupid humans like you these animals become, the more danger they are in. But who cares, right? As long as you get that picture, what happens to one or even a flock of those beasts doesn't really matter, because by the time disaster occurs, you'll be at home burning the photos onto a cd.

You can lick my ass, bitch.

Oh, and before I forget (speaking of bitches)...

The recent departure of the Princess of Wales has left a very silent and obvious void in her former pod, made up of Yvette, the Cub (Wolf Woman's daughter, who says I remind her of Napoleon Dynamite, whatever that is) and a strangely silent man named Al. Today, Yvette went into see Springsteen and told her she was lonely without the Princess of Wales.

"Who do want to move in?" Springsteen asked.

Yvette said, "Sharon Needles," and so, after lunch, I moved to the new pod with such speed, I'm sure the dust is still settling in the old one.

I walked into the staff room to fill my water bottle while Teeth was taking her lunch and she said, "Shhhh! Don't say anything: it's Sharon Needles, the defector!"

It crossed my mind to drop trow and show her my gorrilla salad (thanks, Maven!), but confined myself to explaining to her that my presence had been specifically requested.

Pretty cool, huh?


Stone Knight said...

Needles for the win. Woot.

Pisser said...

1) My first thought was you attacked a man wearing socks with sandals.

2) I also thought Teeth called you "The Defecator." Perhaps I need my eyes checked.

Sharon Needles said...

1) It's not outside the realm of possibility. Some would say it is only a matter of time.

2) I'm sure she's thinking it, so perhaps you were intuiting her thoughts. Poor you.

Keith said...

I live for the day when the various critters score one on the humans. It doesn't happen often so I celebrate when it does. I would do the snoopy dance of joy if I were to read that a bighorn sheep tried to bunt a tourist through his car. You should see what I do when I see a video of the elk going after the golfers at the Banff golf course during rutting season.

Where was I? Oh yes, glad you got moved to a more civilized pod. And with the company as described so far, who can blame Al for being silent?

Pisser said...

I live for that day, too, Keith. BTW I just found out (via unwanted Facebook contact) that my ex, who was a vegetarian at the time I dated him, married a crazy, Deliverance, bear-killing redneck twunt. I can only hope a bear mauls her to death at some point (although of course, then they will kill the bear for defending itself.) Just like it won't be the sheep's fault the people are approaching and/or feeding them when something eventually happens. Not fair at all.

Sharon Needles said...

Keith, Pisser;

You should have seen my Snoopy dance of joy when that bull leaped over the barricade at the Canadian Finals Rodeo last November and kicked the shit out of some spectators.

Keith said...

I missed that. Pity.

Maven said...

I can't take 100% credit for gorilla salad. I believe I pilfered that word from CrankyProf:)

Maven said...

PS: I'll have you know, that a very good friend of mine who has a sheep farm "took one to the eye socket" courtesy of her ram. Fortunately it grazed the bone of the socket and didn't damage the eye. Luckily!