Well surely this is as good as it gets, cruising down Waxatike on a water run with your friends. Four people to do a one person chore, three more to swim in the beaver creek, cold and reedy and clean. The gold truck, hardhats and shovels rattling around your feet, windows down, music loud, the… Continue reading Is this real life?
Here’s the way to live life- Upon being asked if you can drive a school bus, whilst the answer legally is ‘Yes, if it is empty,’ the logical answer is ‘No, I never have before.’ Technicalities. You end up veering down highway 11 in a bus with no brakes, filling up with diesel at Pepco… Continue reading Bad bitches don’t need no men
Ordering $16,000 worth of Sysco products to feed 100+ people in remote bush camps makes line cooking a 700 cover brunch look easy. Sticking to budget, providing morale, meeting nutritional needs and generally knowing that if you forget something it isn’t a 2 minute walk to the cornerstore to pick it up are all contributing… Continue reading Dispatches
The week, in a nutshell Get a Husky Rewards Card. Go to use the free WiFi at McDonalds to activate it. 500 free Husky Rewards points=10 freeeeee truck stop showers. Climb through a muddy ditch. Beat your dog off a beaver carcass. Send boob selfies to your besties & eat beans out of a can… Continue reading In a nutshell
We’re trying to find a bonfire on a piece of Crown Land our bush camp has set up on in the Hearst Forest. It shouldn’t be that hard- it’s pitch black other than the dim glow coming from the mess tent, which we refuse to go into (its too yellow!) and we stand on top of… Continue reading Strollin’
I used to manage a disaster of a cafe in the east downtown of Toronto. It was an escape for me from Burrito Boyz, a desolate hellhole of drunks and assholes and two straight years of weekend ‘overnight’ shifts that ran from 6pm-5am. I used to get off the bus at Main and Gerrard at… Continue reading Food service, hookers and bodily fluids.
I am reaching for another wrapped candy and am on the receiving end of a reproachful glare, the potential to be pulled aside and privately shamed hinging on whether or not my hand takes away another Werther’s Original. I am ten years old, and I am ashamed of my body. I am on a hike… Continue reading Traitor Body