Gageo randoms

Gageo eats

Granny makes a decent 'shiksa' platter, can't complain.  In any case, better than my brekkie (granola bar and coffee) or lunch (tuna and crackers with Coke.) That, coupled with chasing birds around in the sun for ten hours a day could be sold as a very effective Gageo diet plan.  There is a fish scale stuck in my teeth.
  Speaking of Coke, I just thought of a new slogan for them: 'Coke: for people that are tired and thirsty at the same time.'
  The granola bars are from a horde I brought from the mainland.
  I'm tired and I like birds.  I'm tired because I like birds.
 

Gageo Island

Is super cool.  More soon. 

It's time...

...to go.

You are square

You are here.  I will be!  I packed last night.  Next stop: Gageo Island, birding jewel of the Yellow Sea.  Via Ottawa.  Then Montreal.  Then Vancouver.  Then Seoul.  Then Jeppuh's couch.  Then Mokpo.  THEN GAGEO!  GAGEO GAGEO GAGEO!
  Then...then...then...

Tons more snow

 

 Personally, I like snow.  I'm tired.

Back into the flying pan

It's a bird...oh fuck it's a missile!  No wait, it's a bird.

In 12 days I will be on Gageo-do, a small island in the Yellow Sea.  I will be there for perhaps a month, staring at sexy migrating birds from before dawn to post-sundown every day, before heading to another island.  I can't wait!  Birds!  Cuz I like them.
  Ratcheting up of tensions!  Bellicose rhetoric!  Yeah yeah.  Some shit'll go down, but is it wrong of me to limit my concern to the possibility of not being able to head north to Socheong in mid-May to follow the migrants?  Whatevs.

Jamaican beef patty

Yeah yeah yeah, I know I said I wouldn't put up any more pics of food cuz it's soooo 2010, but sheeit, this is different.  This is much more than food.  This is comfort in a greasy brown paper bag.  This is the taste of perfection.  The patty warms your hands before it warms your gut.  Irie.  Tastes like nothing else.  Kinda tastes a bit like cardboard, but that's beside the point.  Nothing beats walking down the street with a hot and greasy Jamaican patty in your hands.  Bite off the crimped edge and burn your mouth.
  Years ago, Rota and I went up to this sketchy little Jamaican 'restaurant' near Udisco, in a downstairs storefront that featured a small window (painted over with yellow, red, and green) covered in massive bars.  We went in and all we saw was a big empty room with massive speaker stacks blasting out reggae crazy loud. Seven dreadlocked gentleman that were playing dominoes around a small table in the corner stopped what they were doing and looked at us.  A standoff ensued.  Somehow, we managed to leave with our lives, and even better, they heated up a couple of Jamaican meat patties for us in a little toaster oven that was sitting on two phonebooks on the floor.
  This almost certainly happened to me, but it also may have just been a story I heard.

Tufted Titmouse

  And here it is, a Tufted Titmouse, just what you've always been waiting for.

  I have a plane ticket in my hands.  Well, they don't make plane tickets anymore.  I have a digital plane ticket in my inbox that I still have to print, is what I mean.  Then I will get in a taxi and go to the airport and get on that plane and go somewhere, then wait around in an airport for a few hours, then get on another plane and go somewhere, then get on a bus and go somewhere else and sleep on someone's couch, then take a taxi somewhere and get on a train and go to another place, then get on a ferry and go to a place.

Roadspoon

 

  I noticed that there's a spoon emtombed in the crumbling asphalt on my street.  How curious.
  I have an admission to make.  Yearrrrrs ago, when the gang was walking back from another predictably raucous Sunday night at Rhythm and Cues (free pool, 7$ pitchers), I surreptitiously placed a healthy coil of frozen dog shit into this guy Frank's coat pocket.  Not sure why, I think he was pissing me off in some goofy way.  Anyway, I never heard anything about it, but I bet he got a shitty and gross surprise when he woke up.  He musta been like 'Heyyyy!  Huh?  That's fuckin gross!'

E-dog Pursuit-neken

 

The Moops!

Oh yeah, two weekends ago E-dog showed up at the door with 24 (!!!!!) Heinines and we proceeded to play Trivial Pursuit like four times in a row.  It was insane.  And this is what it looked like.

O-dot-nanigans

 

Skeins of Canada Geese stacked to the horizon

Kichesippi - solid sauce

Beer goggles - definitely necessary in Ottawa

  A few days ago, Dance and I busted on out to Ottawa to hang with E-dog and Drekrake.  Good to hang with the boys, but I have two words with which to describe Ottawa: white...bread.  Or: dry...toast.  Everyone/thing is boring as shit, and it's rotting E-dog from the inside.  That, and the hobos there have organized themselves into loose, cranky packs of 5-20 that roam the streets lethargically, as hobos do.  The hobos here in the 514 have moved into Westmount in unprecedented numbers.  Thanks for tuning into the Hobo Roundup - stay tuned here for all the latest breaking hobo news.
  So we ate a ton of shitty and delicious food, drank a few pints, watched stupid movies, and played stupider computer games.  Great success!
  I feel like going to Yellow Sea islands for a month or two this spring, just to look at birds.