Archive for October, 2011

fire & brimstone – it’s stew season!

Posted in seasonal life style on October 26, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Whilst digging through the digital cache of Senor 40D and still digesting Old Orchard beef stew 13hrs later, I stumbled uponst a most mystical day of unpublished, fair weather schralping – sun and fog combo on the flueve. Then the wheels started turning as morning champagne led to Caesar’s chased by beer and a Sunday arvo cooking mission – a beef stew.

Tools for the task:
Of course, the right vinyl starts off any cooking session. Naturally…JJ Cale <-Songwriter extraordinaire to the stars of the 70's, a bit shy for prime time, according to internet facts, but by far, my favorite accoustic artist.

Ye olde clay pot has been shelved in favor of the Smart Slow Cooker in 2011 – evolution, like getting your 1st cell phone in 2010. So many bells and whistles I didn’t even know where to start, but chanced with the power button. And presto, it worked. Speed reading the booklet, Preset 6 (Slow n Low) seemed appropriate – 10hrs to tenderize. Holla.

Raw materials list:
Caribou, gin, beef, cinnamon, sugar, celery, potato, garlic, oregano, carrots, zucchini, S&P. L’Anglais’ $0.02 on Caribou; “ah, you mean that shit people drink in Quebec City.” Interesting fact and thanks for the history lesson.

The m-e-t-h-o-d mang:
*Betty Crocker advises to brown the beef prior to stewing and I do whatever Betty says, so the beef was browned.
*A stew is no glass house, so the remaining ingredients were chopped and dumped, along with 3 cups of beef stock.
*The slow cooker does the rest and I awake Monday morning, ready to feast like the Dyaks of Borneo.
*Discipline and porridge prevailed and I set the Slow Cooker back on another 10hr, low-heat task and left to do my time as an inmate of the social zoo(Note 1).
*There are a couple more tricks that you’ll have to ask grandma about, in terms of thickening prior to serving, etc… but those are details easily ironed out next time.

All in all the stew was quite splendid. The gin and Caribou add something original and urge sharing this simple 15min of prep recipe with anyone lazy enough to employ the efficiencies of a slow cooker. PS: If you don’t save any Caribou to add, try a splash of port or sherry ya lush.

Note 1: Inmate of the social zoo – living proof of the continuing existence of humanity.

Tripoli Surf Camp

Posted in ery on October 22, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

It’s that time of year again folks. Grab 7-8 of your closest surfing buddies and join us, Instacrowd Surf Camp Conquistadores to trade the harsh realities of the wintery Canadian landscape for sunny Libya. A new location for 2011!

As you may have heard, Seal Team 69, unmanned drones or some other form of taxpayer-funded contract militia has snuffed the former recipient of billions of dollars of North American “foreign aid” which ironically helped maintain his iron fist of tyranny for decades and defer his fall from grace through several months of an ArmaLite-armed billion dollar war.

Nelly Furtado even feels icky (not about the Condoleeza Rice portraits from months ago) and is threatening to give the 1M of Gaddafi private performance money to charity. Let’s see; Canada gives 1M to Libya. Said tyrant gives 1M to Nelly. Nelly gives 1M to Charity(other name for corporation type that pays less tax than others). Charity trades money to Libya for mineral rights. Canada refunds Nelly 0.4M through a donation tax credit. I believe in financial circles they call this the full reach around.

And don’t get your panties in a knot over politics or the presumption you may have to consume “local” food and swill, we keep our fridges stocked with all the best from home: Pogo’s, the complete Hungry Man line, ready-in-five Timbits, Dinner Kraft and Coors Lite. Of course we have Occupation Double and Tout le Monde en Crack transmitting live from the motherland, bro.

Guides? We are your guides, but we also pay about $1/day between a dozen locals to do the gritty work around the resort and complete the mine-dodging, flamingo walk to the break each session. They will also pull you outside and back in onto waves with a nifty rope system they have created. Paddling is just so, umm, passe and its the Med, so we do as we please here.

Out with the tyrant – in with the foreign investment, “democracy” and disaster tourism.

Now on the coattails of a dead man [w]e’ll ride
On the coattails of a dead man [w]e’ll ride
On the coattails of a dead man [w]e’ll ride [w]e’ll ride
On the coattails of a dead man [w]e’ll ride [w]e’ll ride high!

“And the elephants are dancing on the graves of squealing mice”

Posted in Current Events Class on October 19, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Doubles round robin play resumed early Wednesday morning with the blokes in the fire red wagon finding difficulty crossing streams. Some believe they had a hex cast their way by a Neovison vison who overheard their discussion on why mink seat covers and bar wrap are all the rage on Van Horne. The line judges did, nonetheless, appreciate their enthusiastic hoots and hollers on par with the infamous Seles Grunt.

Next up, the (450) warriors came for their two run ‘n’ done sideshow and they even brought a substitute, Vic de Verger St-Bruno. Standup lads, but their doubles play borders on the edge of chaos, anarchy and Occupy St-Hubert so we’ll undoubtedly see some carnage in the later rounds.

Victorious in this morning’s crossover exchange are the lanky bloke and Coco Beach boy duo. Though they didn’t bring the heat via a Fraulein Forehand and generally speaking, their performance was rather bunk, for lack of better terms, they did exhibit improvements in their short[board] game and even swapped rackets at one point. Dollars to donuts these guys listen to Fleetwood Mac pre surf or at least the New Born Reggae Ting FM 90.3 Wednesday’s 4am – 7am.

Well that’s all for now folks. Stay tuned to Sludge Soda for more riveting highlights from October Sessions Doubles action at H67. I’ve been your host, Jacques Racquet reminding you to keep your board white and your teeth whiter! Toodles.

Happy as a clam at high tide

Posted in Trippin` on October 17, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Of course, we all know the tide eventually drops and that happy clam is dug up, boiled, battered, fried and served. And like a good ol’ fashioned game of Russian roulette, you never know who’s gonna get the toxin-saturated one, until you’re keeled over attempting to regurtitate your entire stomach lining mucous reserve and a side of bile.

You run to the bushes to puke, but forces unknown have got you bracing for an extreme blast of diarrhea, which doesn’t come because you’re back on your knees chucking more guts.

You think to yourself, I’m certain cold, salty water will calm the stomach, if I can only get my wetsuit on without upsetting the bowels. Success. Down the path, 6’2″ under the arm and into uncharted waters with adrenaline overpowering nausea.

A delicate combination of ego and impatience set me free into the chilly waters to a count duck dives too high worth mentioning. Finally outside, bobbing around, listening to drunks honking on the bluff and my stomach rumbling like a ’86 Datsun, I puke some more. Hysterical laughter in my head countered by gut-wrenching pain in the abdomen and semi-flawless sets rolling by, I slowly gather composure.

I then manage to nab a few in the time my lips go numb and mouth begins tasting like a full Dura Race cogset, post Paris-Roubaix – grimy and metallic.

The real highlight comes towards the end of the session, post-sorta-cover-up-to-sand-dredge-bottom-tour, my head began feeling a little light and simultaneously as I dove under a crunching set wave, my mouth filled with puke. Blaaaaah! More guts. More mucous. More pain. Less glory. Sparkling lights and mild hallucinations set in and I decided to call it a day.

Two hours later it was all over, along with my desire to eat clams for a while.

Fucking bi-valve, bottom feeder, mollusk mother fuckers, I’m going Vegan. Peace.

chief mojo rising aka l’anglaistradamus has spoken

Posted in ery on October 14, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

yesterday i had a question.
today it was answered.

“Saw a Peregrine Falcon at the Blocks two days ago. Flew a path straight in front of me, about 15ft above the water as I was nearing the shore. The Medicine Man in me sees it as an omen that we will be surfing into January.”

Who doesn’t like good news?

DRAMA AT THE INFAMOUS H67 HANG OUT

Posted in Ghost Writer on October 11, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

The joust hath begun, the knights are out in full gallop, halberds erect. It is A WAR!!!!

Traffic at the wave suddenly came to a halt in the late hours following the chaste and friendly banana sundae.  IS THIS THE END OF INNOCENCE? THE ERA OF TRANQUILITY IS GONE, THE SWELL IS ON…

In the deepest hours of the night; as the inHabitant lot was resourcing their cortisol levels; the revered yet congested take-off landscape was mercilessly getting slaughtered with a table saw…you read me possums…a table saw.

Faultless blood was shed..violence lingers in the air since that dreadful night..just a few weeks before Halloween might we add.

Comments and bad thoughts gushed for days as all souls expressed their discombobulation at the macabre sight of the …stump; some camouflaging their real thoughts under a bouquet of eco-minded comments, or blaming it on the dangers of letting surf-infants play with the rope..

Prior to this age-defining incident both sides of the rope subliminally defended their turf away from the rink of frank discussion. Hence for lack of words, the sword fell on the innocent tree.

As an unbiased source tried to explain, for the purists the rope is a heretic blow to authenticity…

For the ropies, it was just an ingenuous way to avoid frustration and unwanted loss of energy. Little tree was a friend, almost animate, who gave it all helping riders on the way to bliss.

Anyway, rebuttal never got to the tectonic layers of the debate. Perhaps , as some witnesses comment, it was all about the surcharge and the smell of foot decay.

Expert demographer and war expert once commented, citing Hum-the-wise: “exponential population growth without corresponding carrying capacity will eventually breed violence. Peace usually comes back in time. So do trees.

THE SUSPECT(S)

Nobody …almost nobody … is above suspicion in this unfortunate event and all stick holders now unhealthily gaze at each other wondering “did he do it?”, was it a blonde..? Does he have a short stick? Maybe he (or she) tortured his (her) hamster when he (she) was a kid…

Although suspects were reported fleeing from the scene by disquieted residents, no formal accusations have been made. It is also unlikely any formal investigation can be triggered without an appropriate in-kind budget.

COLLATERAL DAMAGE OR LIFE WITH ROPE PTSD

Expert shrink  Dr. S.F. advises not to engage in heated discussions on the topic until waters recede. It is likely that the culprit was trained to the wave, as some of us, in a harsh and psychologically taxing context where life hangs from the thin rope of fear: “you can take da rope n drown or i can drown u right now…..swim motha focka” (reference will provided upon request).

Moral of the story? the message is loud and clear and reads as follows:

Now lets just get back to surfing and other earnest matters.