Day 1- Flatulence and Turbulence; My Favorite and Least Favorite "Ences"

As a talking spider named Charlotte once said, "greetings and salutations"! After taking a significant amount of time off (see: I'm a lazy service industry employee who enjoys online gambling and watching "Sons of Anarchy" and "Breaking Bad" more than doing productive shit), my girlfriend has forced me at butter knife point to resume my blog writing.  She insists that I put down things on paper or she will cut me off. You know what I mean.  So alas, I will attempt to document Colleen and Big Sexy's (my new self-appointed name) travels over the next few months as we try to survive three plus months away from the frozen tundra that is Inuvik in the heart of winter.

Before I go on though, I quickly have to send some shout-outs to some of my old school homies; Jon Muzychka, Ian Kristman, and Ryan Lapp, all of whom have gotten engaged over the past few months.  I personally want to thank you, as I am now feeling immense pressure from my girlfriend to "put a ring on it". Thanks Beyonce, you dumb bitch for giving women this feeling that they are equal. Laughable, I know gentlemen.  I imagine this feeling I am having is very similar to that of having your nuts in a vice grip.  Back to the matter at hand though....

Day 1- Flatulence and Turbulence; My Favorite and Least Favorite "Ences"

After many months of planning anticipation, the time had finally arrived for Colleen and I to depart our glorious bachelor apartment in Inuvik, Northwest Territories.  For those not in the know, our itinerary for the next few months was as follows:

-Visit Rome, Italy for a few days
-Take a two week cruise across the Atlantic Ocean from Rome to Fort Lauderdale, Florida
-Return home to our families for the Christmas season (Colleen to Kamloops, British Columbia; myself to Bradford, Ontario)
- Travel to Asia for two months after the holidays (no itinerary planned yet)
-Return to Inuvik, broke and destitute on March 1, 2013 and hope that the employees of the restaurant have not staged a coup in my absence. Resume normal life and enjoy the seasonal highs of approximately -30°C. 

Fortunately, I've got a lot of living to do before March 1 though and a wad of money that's just burning a hole in my pocket!

After wrapping up my work commitments the night before on November 17, the day was finally upon us when we would be free of the shackles of work (at least for a few months).  After packing up the last of our belongings, I ventured out into the cold Arctic morning to round up the work van to transport the goods  to one of my coworkers places .  Within seconds of stepping outside into the -35°C temperatures, I (along with my now inverted testicles) quickly remembered why we decided to go on vacation at this time of year.  Yes, Inuvik, can be glorious.  After a quick load up, Colleen and I hopped in the van and me being the stud dumbass that I am, I promptly got it stuck in the snow bank.  This in turn led to me throwing a hissy fit, Colleen laughing at me, and in the end me pushing a big white van that resembles a sperm whale while my girlfriend floors it in reverse.  Yup, definitely not going to miss Inuvik for the foreseeable future.  We eventually did get the big ole marine mammal back on the road, albeit my feet were now frozen and some street people who just happened to be intoxicated at 9am got some decent free entertainment at my expense. 

After getting everything into storage, it was time to head to the restaurant and say goodbye to everyone and score one last free meal.  All of the wait staff seemed to have this glow about them, as if they were almost happy that their obsessive compulsive, big eye-browed manager Brent would be leaving them for three and a half months.  Fuckers.  As I was enjoying my final poutine (our main source of protein in the north)  and taking extra precautions to make sure none of my eyebrow hairs became lodged in my food, Colleen realized that she didn't have her ID, credit cards, debit cards, etc.  Being the calm person that she is, this quickly sent her in to insane panic mode as we were to be leaving for the airport in under half an hour.  She figured that they must have been placed into one of her coats that were now in storage and low and behold we could not get a hold of the young lady who was babysitting our goods.  After many frantic calls, attempts to track down spare keys, and Colleen going bat-shit crazy, we were able to obtain the crucial plastic pieces and head out of town!

Upon arrival at the Inuvik Airport, we were informed that our plane would be late.  Nothing out of the ordinary for Inuvik, in fact I would alarmed if the plane was on time.  Apparently, because of the extremely cold temperatures they were having to de-ice the plane at every stop that morning.  After finally making it onto the giant, frozen mechanical bird, we were southbound for Edmonton.  Shortly thereafter the flight attendant was getting us some drinks and I happened to be rummaging through my girlfriend's purse when, as if on cue, a bright red condom falls out with the words "Piranha 3D" on it.  While I like to tell people this is my penis' nickname, they were in fact promotional condoms from some club we had went to a few months prior.  Awkward nonetheless and the male flight attendant kept winking at me after that.  And then just to up the ante a bit, we hit turbulence!  Now having travelled on hundreds of planes in my time, I am very familiar with run-of-the-mill turbulence.  This was not it .  After the pilot informed us that we would be going through some "rough" skies, all hell broke loose.  The plane started shaking violently, and I'm pretty sure a few people started praying pretty heavily.  To make matters worse, there was a grown woman two rows behind us who went into hysterics and was having to be restrained by three people.  This was a perfect example of someone who should pop a few Valiums before flying; or at the very least just get trashed before the flight so you sleep through the whole thing.  And as if this wasn't already enough, the pilot's voice came on over the intercom, and I shit you not he said, "sorry about the turbulence folks, this is the worst of it I've ever seen in my flying career".  Are you fucking kidding me!? What kind of pilot says that?  Only the best for us folks in the north!  Eventually, we powered through the storm, the lady did not rip anyone's limbs off and we arrived in one piece in Edmonton.  The biggest relief for me though was just being able to fart freely.  I hate nothing more than being on a plane and having to fart excessively.  I mean, you can let the first one rip, but if that one smells I believe it is common in-flight courtesy to quench your cheeks for the remainder of the flight and just let out one gigantic aromatic fart at the luggage carousel.  Sorry citizens of Edmonton. 

 After rounding up our baggage a few hours later than we had originally intended (initial delay, plus de-icing delays in Yellowknife and Norman Wells), the wifey and I made our way to our hotel, where we would be spending the night before going our separate ways the following day and re-uniting in Rome at the end of the week.  All in all, an adventurous start to the trip that was aptly celebrated with some of that sweet nectar that you cannot find in Inuvik: draft beer.

Confessions of a Non-Outdoorsman (Part 2 of 2)

Having long been afraid and disinterested in all things pertaining to the outdoors, it should come as no surprise to anyone that prior to last summer I could not recall the last time I participated in the "sport" known as fishing (whether or not it is actually a sport is an entirely different article all together).  The only recollections I have of fishing over the past ten years or so involve my friends casting lines at their cottages in Northern Ontario while I stand by idly and work on my bicep curls with a bottle of Old Milwaukee.  Yes, it's safe to say that Bass Pro Shops will not be hiring me to promote their swag anytime soon.

As previously mentioned in the first part of this blog entry last week, I had been persuaded to give fishing a try here in the NWT, and since I had no excuse not to, I made my way over to North Mart to purchase myself an over-priced "Made In China" fishing rod.  With my newly found weapon for slaying the area's fish, myself along with three other chaps made our way outside of town to fish under some highway overpass that would apparently yield us quite the catch.  On the drive out, I enquired with Matt who has lived in Inuvik the longest out of the group about the necessity of having a fishing license.  He told me not to worry, and that in all his years up here he had never been asked to produce a license and that if we were caught we would probably be given a warning. 

So with my head cleared and not a care in the world, we readied our rods (let's be real, I had to get someone to do it for me), grabbed a few beers and cast our lines in the water.  Myself and Matt fished under one side of the overpass, while the other two blokes with us were fishing on the opposite side of the river where some gentlemen happened to be readying to launch their boat into the water.  Almost immediately, we started reeling in some pretty sizeable pike (or jackfish as they are called up here). 

Seeing as how I am afraid of fish though, catching them proved to be problematic.  You see, it's one thing to get the fish to bite your lure, it's an entirely different game getting the fish off the hook and back into the water.  For someone like me who is afraid to put his hand in a goldfish jar, trying to remove a ten to twenty pound fish off your line that has razor sharp teeth is bordering on my worst nightmare.  Luckily, I had other people there to do the dirty work for me, while I just gloated in my great success and dreamed of challenging Bob Izumi on his show one day. 

After an hour or so of fishing and the four of us hauling probably in the neighbourhood of fifteen fish (I caught the biggest on the day, no big deal), things took a decidedly interesting turn when an ENR (Environment and Natural Resources) truck pulled into the boat launch off the highway.  It turns out, they had pulled over to check on the boat licensing, etc for the guys who were about to launch their boat, but they also happened to catch Matt and I with our fishing rods in the water.  Luckily for our other two comrades, the ENR officers did not see them right away and they were able to hide their fishing roads and just stand there as if they were just randomly drinking some brews under a highway overpass in the middle of nowhere.  After they finished checking up on the strangers who were about to launch their boat, the officers made their way over to Matt and I to have a discussion.  In the few minutes leading up to this, Matt kept reassuring me that we would probably not get in much trouble and they would probably let us go free and easy.  If only!

Upon greeting the officers up on the highway  and presenting them with our ID and what not, we were promptly interrogated as to why we did not have a fishing license.  We politely informed the officer that we did not know where to purchase one and we would be more than willing to do it as soon as we got back in to town.  Next, the ENR officers started grilling us on the illegal fishing hooks (I have since learned that barbed hooks are a big no-no) we were using and whether or not we were releasing all of our catches.  I tried to make a joke with them about how I was pretty clueless/had not fished since I was a child and barely knew what end of the rod to put in the water, but they were clearly not amused.  In the end, the two of us were each given a ticket for "fishing without a license" and told that we would be contacted at a later date by them to arrange our court appearance.  A court date!  Yes, apparently we were not allowed to just pay a fine and walk away from the matter, as all fishing and wildlife violations do not carry set fines.  Apparently, it would be up to the judge to decide how much to fine our sorry asses.  Oh, and did I mention that they confiscated my one-hour old fishing rod?  The nerve of those bureaucratic bastards!  With our fishing rods now confiscated, there was only one thing left to do; get drunk and eat cheeseburgers.  And that is exactly what we did...

After a couple of weeks passed and a few failed attempts by ENR officers to get in touch with me, they finally caught up with me and presented me with a summons to appear in court for my sinister crime.  As the officer was prepping my paperwork, I asked him what the fine would be and he informed me that it could be anywhere from $100 all the way up to a few hundred thousand dollars (whatever the judge felt was appropriate).  When I told him that it might take a few years to scrape together a couple hundred thousand dollars if they decided to fine me that he just looked at me like I was complete fuckin' tool. I felt like that awkward gay guy being singled out at an Andrew Dice Clay performance.  With my court date set and my lack of ability to entertain ENR officers firmly in place, all I had to do was wait for my sentencing (I'm being a little dramatic, I know).

A couple months rolled by before my day of reckoning arrived.  Wearing my smartest Wal-Mart dress clothes, I sauntered into the Inuvik Courthouse figuring Matt and I would be in and out in short order and that we would be in there with a lineup of people facing  charges like traffic violations and jaywalking tickets. Wrong!  Apparently, people caught without a $10 fishing license get to go to real live criminal court!  Amongst the many people before the judge that day were a young offender who had been charged on at least thirty different occasions, a man who tried to run someone off the road with his truck and presumably cause him serious bodily harm before fleeing the territory, and a male nurse (think an evil version on Ben Stiller's Gaylord Focker) who had stolen drugs from the hospital.  Shit, on second thought maybe they were already getting my prison jumpsuit ready for me.

Following a couple of very entertaining hours of watching all these scallywags present themselves before the court, Matt and I were finally called up to plead our case/receive or fine.  Originally, the judge decided to hand us each fines of $250 (she said that was the standard going rate these days) but I was able to talk her down to $200 after making up some excuse about attempting to purchase a license.  Unfortunately, there was also a 15% Victims' of Crime Surcharge tacked on to the ticket, which brought the grand total up to $230 for each of us.  No jail time, no having to get my parents to remortgage their house for me. Minor win.  And the way I see it, I just paid $230 for a few hours of entertainment and got to experience my very own episode of Law and Order: Inuvik.

The moral of the story is simple kids: If you are going to fish without a proper license, make sure you do it where there is no chance of you being caught.  Or, option number two is to make sure you are a chick with a fantastic rack, some low morals, and are willing to do some favours to get off on your charges.  The second option always seems to work in movies, I cannot vouch for it in real life scenarios, although I imagine it would be effective.

Until next time, don't hold your rods too tight,

~Brent~

Confessions of a Non-Outdoorsman (Part 1 of 2)

As all my dear friends know, from the minute I was brought into this lovely world (complete with my rat-tail and purple track pants) I have long been a practitioner of all things relating to the outdoors.  Whether it be camping, hunting, or hosting mud wrestling matches with grizzly bears and aging strippers in my backyard, I have always been one with NATURE.  Well at least that is what I would tell the Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad if we all happened to be trapped together in some remote location.

The fact is from the time I was birthed I have been afraid of everything outside of the comfortable confines of a brick and mortar house (and many things inside those walls).  From a very young age, my mother actually thought I was going to grow up to have some serious mental issues (seriously!).  She could not take me out of the house without me screaming and crying as every little critter scared me.  Mosquito. Brent cried. Ant. Brent Cried. Grasshopper. Brent Cried. Bee or wasp. Brent went into hysterics and probably had to be heavily sedated with whatever drugs happened to be nearby. Brent sees a black child. Proclaims to his mother that he must have drank too much chocolate milk. Add to this the fact that the sound of a truck on the road behind our house would send me into a fit/hysterics, well let me just say that my mother and father would have every reason to think that they were going to have to admit me to some kind of home for kids who are pansies.

This fear of all things NATURE is something that still plagues me to this day.  My favourite story is one that takes place a few years after my initial introduction to insects and black people, and is a tale my father still loves telling to this day.

So the story goes, one day after dropping me off at pre-school, my dad, not normally one to notice the acute things in life, noticed that all the other kids were chasing me around the playground and I was hustling as if my life depended on it.  Turns out, they were chasing me with a worm, which in turn caused me to cry like the little Sally I am.  Now, just imagine, seeing your son being hightailed by a gang of 4 and 5 year old hooligans holding a worm on a stick and your offspring running and balling his eyes out as if he were being chased by a pack of rabid hyenas.  Well, I guess my old man found it as funny as the kids, cause he left me there to presumably die a slow and agonizing death at the hands of that slimy 4-inch invertebrate.

Somehow, I managed to survive that dreadful morning some twenty-something years ago, although I must confess I have never overcome my fear and hatred of all things pertaining to NATURE.  As I became a bit older (and no more wiser), I discovered more things that I am afraid of.  When my sister and I would go on frog and toad hunting expeditions, I would make her do all the "hunting" as I was petrified that the little toads were somehow going to cause me bodily harm if I came within three feet of them.  When I would go fishing at my grandparents' cottage, I would never do anything aside from hold the rod in the water.  Put a worm on the hook? Forget about it! And what about if I actually caught a fish?  Well thank god someone else was there, cause there was no fucking way that me and my sweet-ass mushroom cut hair-do were going anywhere near that half-pound sunfish!  And how about swimming in any kind of water that is not a chlorinated pool?  Forget about it!  Maybe you like getting your toes bitten off my guppies and tadpoles, but I happen to like my metatarsal bones to be intact, thank you very much!

There you have it, I am afraid of NATURE.  I admit it, and must say it feels good to get that off my chest.  Last year, I tried to reverse this trend by taking part in the "sport" known as fishing.  I figured since I had moved to the NWT, which is one of the greatest places on earth to fish I should try and reconnect with NATURE.  To say it was a fail would be a massive understatement.  But more on that tomorrow.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes I am still petrified of bees, wasps, hornets, and anything that flies really and am still actively trying to figuring out life's other great mystery; How come I'm still so pale after drinking thousands of litres of chocolate milk?

New Year, New Blog Format, Same Boy-Man

Well, I made it! And by made it I mean I have officially survived a year living in Inuvik, Northwest Territories. Some men gauge their level of success on how much money they make, graduating from elite schools, or solving world problems like hunger and cancer. Unfortunately, I am not one of these overachievers and have thus resigned the high point of my life to this: I can now list on my future resumes that I worked for over twelve months as an "Arctic restaurant server". I'm not sure this will get me very far career wise, but then again I'm not sure I could really digress any further from my current situation. As I write this, I cannot see more than a few feet out my window and The Weather Network informs me that it is currently -34°C outside with wind gusts of 83 kilometres an hour. Oh, and I did I mention that it is dark out in the middle of the afternoon? Yes, it is safe to say that living this close to Santa Claus' headquarters is not for everyone.

Having said all that, I must say that the last year is one I will remember for a lot of good reasons.  First and foremost, moving to the Northwest Territories led me to my current "romantic" situation, with my girlfriend of over half a year, Colleen. Without getting too sappy, I will just say that we both worked together at the restaurant I am employed by, although she now currently works at the bank in town. We get along quite swimmingly (kind of scary, actually) and my life is the least dramatic it has been since I started sprouting pubic hairs. Some people might call this boring, well I prefer to think of myself as an aging veteran who has rounded the corner on his sometimes over-the-top past. Gone are the days of constant public urination, blacking out in public for half the night (prefer to do it at home now) and not knowing why I'm sleeping on my parents' front steps in a t-shirt in the middle of winter. Yes, I am a reformed citizen of the socialist nation of Canada. Well, for the most part at least. I still have my moments, as anyone who has seen some of my girlfriend's scrupulous pictures of me can attest to.

One of my other goals when I first moved here a year ago was to attempt to save some semi-serious coin for the first time in my life. Well I have had success in the past saving in short spurts, this was usually to fund trips to places like Europe, China and Australia, where my capital quickly evaporated living life in the fast (and sometimes sloppy!) lane. Upon my arrival here last January, I was debt-free and ready to save. I did find that I was good at saving, but I also found that I was still pretty good at partying. I also took a month off in April, where I went back home for my friends' wedding (amongst other things), which cost me about $6000. Factor into this the fact that I was not working for a month, and well ya, you kind of get the picture. Having said all that, it was a great trip and it's always fun to catch up with old friends. This was quickly followed by some more saving through the summer months upon my return. At the end of the summer, my girlfriend and I decided to take another trip down south, which saw us visit a slew of exotic locales in the Yukon, British Columbia, and Ontario. The month off work cost me around the same amount as my previous excursion, but again it was fantastic, with memories I will cherish forever.

Since Colleen and I returned from our last trip in mid-September, I started to focus on saving money much more than I did before. I put aside a set amount each week into my savings account, which I have so far not touched. While I do not live frugally by any means (very hard to do up here with the high cost of things), I have definitely cut down on my "public drinking/fraternizing" if you will, and allow myself a beer/alcohol allowance each week (still more than I spend on groceries!). With all that in mind, I feel I have done a fairly good job of saving money the last few months, and am eagerly optimistic that I can keep the good vibes rolling!

On that note, I will say that I will be blogging a lot more regularly this year, although my posts will be significantly shorter than they have been in the past. I have discovered that at this point in time I do not have the discipline to write lengthy entries, and will therefore instead focus my energy on writing shorter pieces on a more frequent basis as opposed to posting a long, rambling blog after every other lunar eclipse!

All the best to everyone in 2012 and remember to stay classy.

~Brent~