Scratch That + Soulsucking PNE!

While I wrote that last entry, the Mighty Mouse underpant owner switched her laundry and someone else with better timing than me waltzed in, ignored my overflowing bag of dirty clothing set pointedly in front of the washing machines and put his own load in.

Yes, I have decided it was a ‘he’. I have further decided to do my loads of laundry tomorrow so’s to avoid the escalating irritability stemming from periodic trips downstairs and back up again.

Yesterday on our way to the Soulsucking PNE, we encountered a large group of zombies on Hornby Street. My favourite was the one banging on a computer keyboard, moaning, “Download brains… Download brains.” Today it occurred to me to check the internet for why we encountered a large group of zombies on Hornby Street at 4 pm on a saturday. Vancouver Zombiewalk 2005, of course.

We managed one shot of the last moments of this ill-fated Robson Shopper:

I had the best smokie in recent history not, as you might expect, from the Soulsucking PNE but from the vendor at Robson and Burrard (southeast corner). While it cooked, the vendor chopped away at the smokie so that it was essentially pre-masticated. This is not as gross as it sounds. The juices flowed and the dog rested on a soft bed of fried onions. When I added various sauces, they nestled in the crevices and when I took a bite, not one morsel was lost to the ground or my clothes or my hair. A minor miracle.

At the Soulsucking PNE, the crowds were tight. We arrived by the west gate (near the Looney Tunes Hollywood House of Fun!) to ambulances and people on stretchers. We noticed a 10-15 square foot sign announcing the Looney Tunes Hollywood House of Fun! lying on the ground where it had apparently fallen from a significant height. We averted our eyes and kept walking.

The Jack Russell won the competition but the sheepdog won my heart as he leapt over barrels and through tubes to “Pump up the Jam.”

SA ate a $3.00 taco that was practically ornamental.

The Miracle Shammy Man was at his post when we arrived, when we passed by a few hours later and still there when we left at 11 pm. He did not break a sweat.

I observed the following t-shirts:
(on a very well-endowed teenage girl) Who needs brains when you’ve got these?
(on a hunched male senior) I quit the band. Now I play with myself.
(on two separate 20-something men) I’m a Keeper.
…and a guy wearing the shirt me & SA own one each of:
Ah Munna Eat Choo!

…as well as a gentleman who was inexplicably shirtless (it was not a hot afternoon) and who had a hairless back, save for the patch which, when described by SA as a “treasure trail” prompted an alternative comparison by me to a well-constructed map. I believe my exact words were, “that’s not a trail. There’s no fucking mystery there, man.”

We went to the Safeway Farm Country barn, where the highlight is the really big bull (overheard: “Now that is a ball sack!”) and the store that sells country market type things. Last year we bought amazing garlic honey hot sauce. Yesterday we bought more. Oddball Organics makes it. We also fell prey to an espresso-bean infused chocolate sauce and some Lemongrass soap. I love soap. And chocolate.

Then a quick ice cream for me from Casa del Gelato – lemon sorbetto and chocolate grand marnier – and some pulled pork for SA:

I was lulled into complacency by my ice cream and he tricked me into watching the live entertainment entitled “City Rhythms.” I saw this last year and nearly had a stroke; I swore I would not watch it again. Trickery!

The set is a cardboard Vancouver complete with Harbour Centre spinny tower, a “Granville Island” sign and some mountains as a backdrop, plus frequent blowing of the noon “o canada” horn, which just served to make me salivate because that means LUNCH.

It starts with three dudes in patterned shirts drumming on a platform up top and then two guys come out and do fancy BMX bike tricks (is this cool? I think not.) Then all these kids come prancing out to the most deplorable music, this nasty, cult-like, rah-rah crap about “the rain might fall…but that’s not all…we’ll do it all…just wait and see…it’s up to me…VancOUVER!!!” But they’re not singing, they’re lip-syncing. Most of them. The little ones aren’t doing anything except smiling for mummy and daddy and the digital camcorder.

First there are friendly bike couriers (what? the? hell?) and and life guards dancing with pretty young things in sundresses. Then they play that sound clip of Red Robinson announcing The Beatles are in town. Then they play the sound clip of the Queen announcing Expo ’86 is open … then closed. Women in suits with coffee cups and cell phones strut around and a high-pitched chattering noise fills the air; signifying the fabulous ’80s and shoulder pads, I guess. And then there’s a sports montage with the BC Lions song and the Vancouver Canucks song and then, and you knew this was coming, that fucking IOC guy announcing that Vancouver will host the 2010 Olympics. There was a sudden spurt of silly string into the cheering crowd. And more insipidity to cap it off:

“We’ve got it here! The best around! so sing it loud! and sing it proud! VancOUVER!!!!” (not verbatim)

It’s like Jesus Christ Superstar mixed with Fame mixed with Star Search with a solid sprinkling of the very worst of the unpublished musicals of Satan.

It makes SA laugh but it makes me angry enough to…

…drink $6 plastic cups of Pale Ale! The band playing in the beer garden (“Masque: a New Orleans Adventure”) was actually a pretty good blues band. There were some very drunk young men (more drunk and less young than they thought) with broad shoulders carrying plastic inflatable hammers who did their version of a mating dance for the many preening girls who wanted prizes won for them. Later we saw the same group of young men attempting to kill each other with said inflatable hammers while riding the Wave Swinger (you know, the one that has chairs and you swing and it’s pleasant for kids and their parents?). They got kicked off the ride.

We did a bit of beerbuzzed wandering through Playland while SA tried to pick a place to put down his money and try to win a fuzzy hat. Eventually we settled on a game where you point your gun at a target and shoot while a balloon inflates. The first balloon to pop is the winner and the person who shot that target gets a little stuffed unicorn or Care Bear. We didn’t realize until we’d given our money over that we had picked the game with The LAMEST prizes at the whole damn PNE. Luckily, we didn’t win.

Then it was time for FIRE IN THE NIGHT: A Pyrotechnic Rock Spectacular! Rumoured to be in its final year, (please?) the only difference between last and this year’s show was a distinct absence of volume this year. Also, I swear to Jebus that last year there was ‘Bat out of Hell’ but it didn’t show up last night. Ah well. Trooper, Bryan Adams, Queen and Bill Idol were all well-represented, as were random fireworks, balls of fire that rose above the treetops and terrible, terrible air guitar and repetitive pseudo-rock choreography which didn’t bother me as much as the “City Rhythms” probably because at least the music was real and also I was on my 4th $6 plastic cup of Pale Ale by then.

Eventually you just stop caring and give over your taste. The Soulsucking PNE does that to you.