Archive for September, 2011

Banana Sundae Classic IV

Posted in Timely on September 29, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Colonel Sanders once famously prophesized; “on sunday, the 25th of September, 2011, on the island of mouriel, on the roaring, sludge infested rio del laurent there will be a show. this show will be cordoned off to all but a lucky few who
will not succumb to the modern traffic apocalypse known as…the sunday marathon. for it is not a day to run, firstly. and secondly, it is the day where paying volunteers will showcase their river dance talents for a suprise cast of opinionated and seasoned sludge swillers. and there will be surfing. and there will be risk and reward. and there will be carnage. and there will appear a bucket of chicken in the 13th hour to accompany the show.” And the beer descended.

the wildcard left before his acceptance to the main event

now it isn’t everyday the pont bridge JC is closed and you are somehow re-routed along Ontario past two long-legged trannies hitch hiking and one lone shark cruising the next block. the last one was quite portly, but The Colonel didn’t
prophesize that and it was interpreted as a thumbs up to wave quality.

Smooth Operator

barring the extreme possibility that we’d somehow misunderstood The Colonel’s somewhat long-winded, Kentucky drawl of a
spiel and be forced to eat off the fat of the land, we brought a small camping stove to heat Bajan hot wings and a batch of Jiffy Pop. And the beer descended.

The layback king

points eh, well. we have a points system for girls on the bike paths, but not a bloody chance we can rate surfers. criteria eh. well. those who stepped out of their shadow were as often rewarded with whiplash inducing rail hangups as they were with brilliant flashes of speed and Curren-esque carves. “EVERY DAY SHOULD GO THIS WAY” says mad caps. And the beer descended.


The first round drew the first highly controversial judging decision…three way tie for best hair: Alberto, Oz and Thien
left the competition thin. but that wasn’t the last we’d be hearing from the wizard. And the beer descended.

Get the hair - Get the moves - Sho Nuff

Slow down. We should really kick off with the Heartbreakers takeover of the main stage. From the beginning there were 5:
Lola and Pascale even opting to paddle on one occasion. And there was Alicia who actually placed 3rd but was rewarded 4th
because of a case of misidentification caused by the judges consumation of lime tainted light beer. Andreanne absolutely
blazed the wave – top to bottom, side to side, reaching unseen speeds all the while. But, the only opponent she couldn’t
hold off was the new Queen of Destruction, Chantale. It was a combination of rail gouges and flowing bottom turns that
propelled her to the top of the podium. congratulations, it helped the beer descend.

back to the men’s side and it’s difficult to proceed without mentioning the REAL grom of the year, Nick. the kid is chalked full of grit – trunkin’ it september 25 is just the tip of the ice berg. we might as well just start calling him the California Kid since the last one vanished into surf shop heaven. Let’s just hope he mixes in with the right crew for his formative years.

Grom of the yizzo, obviously

the first round was long and with all that beer descending, only a few highlights stuck. like when I drag my vcr and my
television in front of my vanity mirror, to watch Parko surf as a goofy footer and all i see is Loc. yeah, that smoot. +1
for ripping on a borrowed board.


run 33 kilometers on a saturday, enjoy canard confit, with a side rib eye, truffle reduction poutine then maybe you too,
can lay it down like Greenwood. I really can’t vouch if Greenwood actually ate that meal for dinner, but I love canard
confit and once i ate a delish rib eye, truffle reduction poutine at the new oxford. i’d like to eat another. some just
call Greenwood’the surgeon’, but that’s after the beer descends.

Recipient of the Raftman award

some of my personal favorites didn’t advance past the first or second round. tough calls were made. hairy eyeballs and
looks of disappointment struck the judges from all angles. And the beer descended.

what The Colonel failed to prophesize was the gang of monkey’s that would eventually pearce the afternoon gridlock and
swing down for the banana’s. They swang from the branches and might have even been responsible for the first crack that
broke THE TREE. Nah, that was a straight hatchet job – gorillas in the mist prolly.

look closer - it's a Natti shape

when a double swing, flying porpoise as demonstrated below doesn’t get you past the semi finals, you just know the heat the other competitors are bringing. damn. and the beer descended.

Marty demonstrating the double swing flying porpoise, yew!

this story is very one-sided. We shall now read some of the consolidated heat sheet remarks from the esteemed judging
panel. Paper was more scarce than local government transparency, but we made due. and the beer still descended.

Vincent and Vincent – This was a test for the judges. Two people with the same name. We failed, but the Vinny’s brought
what they had and ideally came away with more. Where was their entourage? or at least Turtle with a spliff.
Pete – the general. Never got into his rock n roll. left like a mundaka screamer.
Pat B not Brun – the second test of names. there aren’t many good sports left in the sport of surfing – next year we want
you to follow suit with a display of board punching, rock throwing, spit flying anger towards the judges – it will keep
everyone on their toes.
Raoul – laybacks as nice as his teeth! waiting for him to explore the rest of the wave.
Alberto – hella new swagger in week’s past, but didn’t bring the thunder this domingo. que pasa?
Benny B de France – nighthawk sesh master! on to some new thangs.
Seb – shoulda rocked the twinny. diggin the scene with a gangsta lean.
Thien – is it 2008? big moves from this undercover bruddah!
Nico – surfer slash model not a model slash surfer. learning quick and the ride is coming together.
Nooka – hand rolled ciggies. big hair. going for it!
Jon K – looks mean, but really isn’t. all over the place like tear gas at a riot.
JP – bottom turn madness. nice style. Quebec killa.
Eric – wave presence sounds like a slayer concert. angel of death, specifically. Ninja!

Allard delivery!

Carlos – mad man. loose as a goose. hell-bent on destruction! 7,25
John – controlled agression. opening it up some. owns an Elder.
Gilles – spent 10 minutes explaining why he should have used a quad on the outside wave. moral of the story: he shoulda
used a quad. Had some nice snaps in the warmup, but seemed to buckle under the pressure of competition.
Hugo – is Back! goin Beserk! Daredevil, Mtl surf pioneer.
Richard – Rich the rocket. Not the last you’ll see of this charger!
Gab – Frontside attack. Un soldat. Yung blood…tons of potential…needs more hunger.


Marty – Slices a wave better than a butcher hacks a side of beef! Drink blood!!! Standing wave samurai.
Alvarro – Ice cold gangsta! Ante’d up for this one. Blah!
Freddie – THE NIGHTMARE! Root beer floater king. Too nice for competition.

In the business, we call this the root beer float

Big Wave Dave – Stalwart contender. Lady killa. Gone vert.
Igor – ice cream smooth. serves up defeats like cold drinks. +1 for shouts of passion. “see you next year putos!”


Oz – high flyer. big hacks. all groms should learn from this cat! wizard of…close but no banana.

THAT is a BIG turn - very daynoldsesque

Alex – flying like an eagle. In ‘n’ out like a Hochelaga tranny!! Cat Burglar on a board…hide your shit!

Oooooh, wasssup, BLAH!

Oli – 1st place. 3 time champ. No stone unturned. Swimmer. Destroyer. Drumsticks, wings, fries…this kid has it all!!!

almost throwin a finner

Overall the day was a smashing success and when you read “smashing” please recite with a North of London accent – it will
seem more authentic that way.

thanks to all for an exciting day of outdoors and praise the good Laird for The Colonel’s best delivered with suprise
popcorn chicken, fries, wings and a smile from Pat Brun.

winner of the "shape it you ride it, beyatch" division

Beautiful times down in the sludge.

The Colonel would be proud.


Getting there

Posted in Current Events Class on September 23, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

You just know it’s gonna be a good day when you cross paths with a Ile Ste Helene renard at 5:30am.
Long, elegant strides. Perky in the right places. And a bushy tail to boot.

Fast forward 3 minutes and it’s a game of empty parking spot chess with Oli.
Yeah, it was early.

Slo mo through the fresh cut grass, slipping and sliding along the path.
Anticipation (“like the first rising vibes of an acid frenzy” HST)
Freight trains freight training. Commuters commuting.
Wish I had a head lamp.
Or a beekeeper’s helmet to ward off the freshly spun webs gathering across my face.

And there it was, 9 out of 10, agreed.
Crew followed, once dawn began to break.
But a good crew.
Great even, by my standards.

Marvelous morning of the earth it was.

night train

Posted in ery on September 22, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Membership to the sunrise board of directors group has multiplied – Inclusive gang they are.
With the sun rising over formula 1 corner 10 (L’Epingle for the initiated) and not the casino, pre dawn is the only answer.
The how is the question.
Flood lights and a generator – been there done that, no dice.
Plenty of carrots can only carry your vision so far – not far enough.
I got a molotov cocktail with a match to go” – sorry Axel, you burnt me in Van, 11-7-2002.
I hear talk of light emitting diodes concealed in board construction. Lame.
Lame on me for using the word lame.
I hear talk of glow sticks. I like, but remain skeptical concerning utility.
I dream of roman candles and a proper light show for H67 residents. Cops prolly show up and tell us the parking lot’s closes at 11.
Maybe a homemade hot air balloon rigged with flares?

Fuctifiknow, I’m just another river sufferer suffering through the occasional crowd.

Pas de Choix

Posted in Trippin` on September 21, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

with a name like Katia, there was never any doubt we wouldn’t follow.
and here are some looks from various nooks.

but the heart of the matter.
is more complicated.
confused because i thought the only reason to go to church was the cookies and free wine.
according to Eddie, Quebecer’s are shitting and pissing and camping at one particular church.
i bet nobody else in the entire history of the bay has relieved themselves discreetly, but i’m not a gambler.
thankfully, Eddie is the only one holding onto the Brazzo-as-scum-of-the-earth argument and wise opinions are shared and the author does not pass judgement.
but i take this to be a challenge to prove locals wrong with regard to the respect Quebecer’s can possess.
especially when our only option is to travel for waves.

and luckily, L’Anglais is the true Quebecer they’ll rake over the coals and I’m just another lousy immigrant.

post script 9-22 addition.
what i’m really trying to say is it isn’t the capability of the surfer that makes one a kook, it’s the respect one shows toward, the waves, the land, the spot, the art and the other surfers that differentiate the lot.



the $287 shopping spree

Posted in ery on September 17, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Confusion slapped the RCMP officer’s face like sparkle-encrusted titties at the Solid Gold.
“You are speaking in English?”
“Yes I are (English – We Speak)”
“Did you ugh, notice, the ugh, speed limit dropped to ugh, 100 back there, ugh?”
“But ugh, you were driving 133?”
Green horn retires to car, calls mother to help with decision-making process, consults internet for how to write in lower case, scratches region formally known as nutsack before he joined the ranks.
“Well, I clocked someone going 144 km/h…”
“Ha! This is a family car – lucky it could break 120 – is there interest accruing on this ticket?”
“And what happens when I don’t pay it?”
“Ugh, I don’t know ugh…the next time you get stopped, ugh…”
Trails off, feeling silly and of course, still resembling a mental midget packing heat.
“oh, have a good trip!”
Yeah. Right. Eat a dick buddy.

court date with a photograph

Posted in Trippin` on September 16, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

the prosecution:

land is freedom
property is theft!
us 3 lacked cajones
to charge this left

the defence:

closer inspection reveals
whitecaps where there might be seals.
and the presence of half submerged rocks
mighta made for some hard knocks.

the verdict:

You can’t fly like an eagle if you hang with turkeys!!

Posted in Current Events Class, Dark Chamber, diatribe on September 2, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Surfing is hard…even when it’s easy. That being said, if you wanna improve, you have to approach it with an open mind, and, more importantly, you have to start surfing with cats that are better than you and that are willing to pass some of their knowledge along to you.  Easier said than done. Surfing, like kung fu, is replete with charlatans. Choose your sparring partners wisely.

Luckily for me, I’ve managed to link up with a few righteous kings who were more than willing to share and share alike. A couple that stand out…Joe Louis, Mount Real surf pioneer extraordinaire and down’n’dirty Texas creeper, was the first to show me how not to get bet burnt on Chinese soup. I passed that little tip on to, and only to, that party animal we all know as…McGoon (pictured above). Little did I know that that would be one of the few lessons I had for him.

Luckily for me…indeed. Joe Louis and McGoon are like the Fischer and Kasparov of surfing. Meaning…they’ve got life by the hangin brain and are always a few steps ahead of everyone else.  At this point, I’m just trying to keep up.  My point in all of this is…there is no point, just like there is no spoon.