Archive for February, 2012

mid-winter’s plight of the surf starved river sufferer

Posted in Trippin` on February 29, 2012 by SLUDGE SODA

There forms a sort of vortex in the middle of a snowstorm where headlights hamper any sense of direction at the same time nearly hypnotizing you like the opening credits of CJ Parker running in Baywatch. Consequentially, you drive 40km/h, happy that it’s a two lane road, but wishing for some sort of safety net on either side of the snow bank and guard rail.

You fidget, wipe your face frantically, open the window, drink Red Bull, eat pineapple, any-thing, anything to stay alert, but the hum of Japanese death trap construction just lulls you further into comatose.

One 360 degree spin to stall in the middle of the road is lucky. Especially in Friday night traffic. A second 360 degree spin through an inch of snow, topped with an inch of water is just scary. Thankfully, the good folks of road construction design think of these guard rail things. Strategically placed at that!

But what the good folks of guard rail construction don’t think of is such concepts as the Size Keeper™. We’ll let your imagination fill in the blanks on that one, but let’s just say it evolved from the Rapo think tank of winter surfing problems in need of solutions. Smart guys down at Rapo and I heard they make killer brie and mushroom omelets, to boot.

Saturday driving tours are the norm after the belly has been filled and we roll 4 deep. People hate that. I hate that. But it is what it is just like sideshore chop is not afternoon glass. So it goes in a mid-winter storm. At least there are friendly faces and relocated locals to hang with.

Red wine, Propeller bitter, Philly Cheese steak pizza and a bacon salad, with Caesar dressing and romaine lettuce – that is all I remember before drifting off into the deep deep end.

Gettin’ er done, Mtl style, near surf city, Tofino ainnit?


The Yardlets

Posted in Uncategorized on February 20, 2012 by SLUDGE SODA

When the east, west and fresh coasts are pancake and the river is more iced-out than a Nun’s Island jewelry box, Sludge Soda Swillers opt for the obvious…getting soaked at a Yardlets show!

They play fast & hard and make you thankful for that water caught in your inner ear!

Sludge Soda Etiquette Rule # 1: When attending any form of social gathering (concert, party, pic-nic, etc.)  always bring your own chicas. It’s only polite.

Getting oiled up for the dance floor…

Sludge Soda Etiquette Rule # 2: Always be polite to celebrities even if you’re McGruff , you don’t have cable hooked up and you’re definitely not a fan of The Office….you never know, they might buy the next round!

Sludge Soda Etiquette Rule # 3: Always thank the chicas for footing the bill for your pepperoni poutines and pogos.


Posted in ery on February 17, 2012 by SLUDGE SODA

“You can compare any vodka to any vodka. That’s the scam. Marketing vodka is like marketing water. It’s all about a fancy package and elaborate story.”

Much more to the story of Captain America and Billy and Sludge Soda supports DH Lawrence wholeheartedly.

Like Last Year, Winter Came Again

Posted in seasonal life style on February 16, 2012 by SLUDGE SODA

Between holding onto the slave reality of working a “real” job, the Rio still doing its best slurpee impression and few and far between weekend swell opportunities, winter caaaaaaaan draaaaaaaaaag onnnnnnnnnnn in this archipelago. There are options, however.

All you really need is a shred tool; XC, DH, crazy carpet, toboggan or surf de neige and a backpack full of goodies. There’s really no limit to what constitutes goodies: cheese fondue, smokies, marshmallows, LSD, Tomme, Gruyere, beef jerky, MDMA, Pep ‘n’ Ched, Jim Beam, Chat Sauvage, toots, PBR for the street cred conscious, PR’s, ipod + speakers, Bach and Bagels, Bialetti + stove and at least one good knife and 3 lighters.

Despite a lacklustre winter thus far, we still manage the best way we can, sans discrimination: No skier vs snowboard gripes, $5 100m vert hills, $90 “1%er” hills like Playa Tremblant or rustique, untrimmed bush whacking at any one of the dozens of closed ski hills in the province. Some are even known to sleep in parking lots, like the ski bums of yesteryear.

Ignoring the horribly fascist fashions of ski and snowboard outerwear, jeans and extra layers are pretty much the best way to go, unless you plan on making a camping trip out of it. If you really must have ‘technical outerwear’ (read: hideous over branded, orangutan camo print vomit) just visit any of the struggling box stores and have your pick from last season’s leftovers at a 40-80% discount. The sales staff surely knows nothing but marketing drivel, so ignore any of the “hey brah, did you know Shaun White scored a perfect 100 in the X Games?” that will inevitably come your way, of course, after the salesperson is done txting their mom’s, updating their facebook status and adjusting their beanie to the perfect angle. I fear the kids aren’t in fact, alright.

In the event that mountain schralping doesn’t suit your palette there are always ponds, swamps and baseball diamonds-turned rinks to skate on. There’s Parc Jarry and Lafontaine for classical music, champagne bubbly influenced skating with a partner or Parc Laurier to test your mettle against the testosterone-charged captains of yesterday’s Juvenile hockey dreams. Rule of thumb: the less you look like a hockey jock(leather gloves, lumberjack quilted top, crunked stick), the less chance you have to be accepted into their circle and the greater chance they will become violent when you commence skating circles around them.

The great outdoors is just that. Great. And there is always delivery beer from the dep, but that’s another type of greatness ain’t it.

Trip Report: Venison & Single Fins in St Cats

Posted in Current Events Class on February 11, 2012 by SLUDGE SODA

First, the potatoes are peeled, cubed and tossed in salted, boiling water. OG Baby Huey wails in the background. Next, he sorts through the green beans, removing moldy ones before tip and tailing the healthy few. The greens are steamed just long enough to be hot, but not lose their crunch. Simultaneously, a heavy frying pan is heated. Level 8, it seems. A artery clogging amount French dollop of butter is dropped in the pan, sizzling, but not to the point of burning brown. Venison contre filets are flipped onto the pan and sizzle with excitement. Of course, a douse of ‘Real city steak spice meets the filets and butter drenched pan. Sear one minute. Flip. One minute. Plate ‘em up. Delicious.

For dessert, a 70’s era single fin was discovered in the middle of a block of EPS foam. Tasty.