How To Snowboard (from someone who can't do it too)

If you squint really hard in Calgary, you can just about not see mountains. It's that difficult to miss the damn things, they're bloody everywhere. As such, mountains magically attract snow,and thus, idiots who enjoy it. 

What could be a more leisurely pursuit of a Sunday afternoon than rushing headlong down a mountain on what is essentialy a Popsicle stick or two. 

"Oh, but it's marvelous and fun and energetic and it makes you feel close to nature" they cry.

"I have a taser" i cry. Then they cry.

Snowboarding is the younger and slightly more stupid cousin of skiing, having been invented when long haired surfer people learned about how water freezes in first grade and wondered if their summer passion could extend to colder times. Snowboarding is actually incredibly simple. Skiing has a variety of different disciplines, styles, variations on equipment and other funny names and technical jargon designed to scare off the peasants who greedily feed on the scraps left from the Aspen banquets. Snowboarding has one fundamental rule, and no alterations to that rule.

Don't fall off.

"Oh, but skiing surely has the same rule!" They cry

"I still have a taser, and I'm talking." i state patiently.

Skiing is a complicated beast. Not only do you have to wear the most uncomfortable footwear known to man (you can't tell me that's the finished design, a boot that practically snaps your ankles when you wear it. Seems a bit counter intuitive to me, like designing a car airbag that stabs you or a reclining chair that punches your groin repeatedly) but you have sticks. Poles, sticks, kebab rods, whatever, they're there sometimes for show, sometimes for purpose. Another prerequisite is to look like a smug git while you do it, if only to mask the pain shooting from your ankles with gay abandon.

Snowboarding is blissfully uncomplicated. But there in lies the problem. Skiing, it's older, more affable brother, is very complicated, so some fools decided that snowboarding had to catch up somewhat. Of course, it would be ridiculous to suggest that Snowboarding has any real rules.

Here are the rules of Snowboarding.

1: You must not fall off.

2: You must wear winter clothing designed by a colourblind chimp. Nothing is allowed to match, and none of it can be deemed to be of good taste. Instead of your usual choice in attire, you must now look like a neon takeaway sign threw up on you.

3: You must talk as if you have suffered a serious head injury and cannot remember the basics of English. Instead of "I fell over" you must now say "I did a sick bail"

4: Sick now means a variety of things, none of which actually have anything to do with illness.

5: you must scream as if you have a colony of termites burrowing through your flesh at every small achievement or trick you accomplish. The less significant, the louder you scream to make up for it. Always describe it as Sick

6: Look down your nose at skiers. Sneer if necessary

7: Get offended when skiers look down their nose at you.

8: High Five. All the time. High five!

9: Don't complain that the lodge charges you as much for a small can of beer as a liquor store does for a six pack. Supply and demand buddy.

10: Don't fall off.

There you have it. I may not be a big fan of snowboarding, but armed with these rules, you may emerge better looking and slightly more talented at it than me. But only at snowboarding. I still rock at everything else.

Don't like it?

I have a taser.

Stop, Collaborate And Listen

Here's the deal:

Any cursory sweep of Calgary's music press will reveal a thriving alternative and independent scene humming with bands full of interesting ideas, lyrical genius and musical talent. Local radio stations like the idea of not having to play Nickleback for the six hundredth time and pay them a few cents a pop for the privilege, and so the two come together in a joyous and unholy musical union born of soul crushing corporate cynicism and the famous quote from Andy Warhol that in the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.

Check me out, i want in on some of that action

Here's where you come in.

Like the busy busy bee i am, i find time between glamorous photo shoots and hanging around outside the blood bank to write down stupid rhymes that come into my head. I then send these through the magic of the Internet and it's series of tubes to my friend over in England who converts my tuneless rambling into audible sound, and he sends them back.

I would very much like you to listen.

Here are links to several of my songs. I can't embed music into this blog because it's free and therefore lacking in features, so i had to make them into videos and YouTube them instead.

Have a listen

Tell me what you think.

There's a poll on the main page of this blog asking which you like best, so give them a listen, put a tick in the box and if you like it hopefully someone else will and it'll be on a radio station near you in the near future.

Providing you live in Calgary.

And you like at least one of these songs.

Joanna

The Heart May Beat But It's Not Your Friend

No-One But Yourself To Blame

Scream

What's out my window

As you might have guessed (and if you haven't, catch up will you?) I'm an somewhat dapper English pseudo gentleman now living in Canada. Therefore, looking up from working like a crazy man on new PR strategies and looking out the window holds a thousand hidden little treasures to me, things I'd never see in England, new sights and sounds, and experiences totally alien to what i used to know.

I'll give you an example. Where i live, in the dark, rank heart of suburbia (kidding, it's not that bad) you get joggers. Not just one or two occasional ones, upwards of twenty or thirty hardcore all weather Lycra health nuts will whizz past me on any given day during my travels. You don't really get joggers in England, people tend to take the sight of neon Lycra as target practice. Never walk your dog in England, it's always the dog walker who finds the body, who is usually the jogger.

Most of the joggers i see are ladies. That's not to say you don't get male joggers, but maybe they don't have unisex jogging routes yet. I don't know, i subscribe to Robert M. Hutchin's idea on exercise:

"Whenever i feel like exercising, i lie down and the feeling passes."

So there you go. Jam sponge all round. Coming back to reality, many lady joggers have enormous great contraptions that appear to be dragging them about. These are called, rather curiously, chariots. Chariots are basically a massive circus big top tent on wheels, which for some reason you require if you wish to take your kids out in Calgary. It's the done thing. If you want to go out with your kids, make it look like your being dragged around by a runaway Glastonbury tent. Everyone in Calgary has kids. If you're married and you're of the fairer sex, you have two kids. That, or you're working on it. Something in the water says "PROCREATE!" to all women, but once they've squeezed two out it slams the brakes on and says "CEASE! BUY A CHARIOT AND SOME DAYGLO LEGGINGS!" and so the cycle begins. First it's yoga pants and lulu lemon gear, then its two kids and a chariot.

Another thing you quickly get used to in Canada is snow. English people out there: Canada is not a frozen wasteland full of Eskimos and polar bears. Well, Winnipeg is, but the rest is pretty civilized. During the summer, the temperature reaches untold heights of boiling loveliness, and being up in the mountains, it's dry as can be so it's never that sticky hot that makes you feel like you poured jam in your pants. But in winter... Oh the winters. Temperatures fall drastically, and with them comes snow. Not just a sugary sprinkling, a full on foot at least. Snow over here is serious business, but the attitude towards it is... somewhat unorthodox. Only really major roads and arteries get ploughed, everything else is left. If you crash, it's your own fault, dumb ass. Canadians are refreshingly laissez faire about snow, its a fact over here. The trains run, people get to work, and nowhere is shut. It's crazy. In England, a light dusting shuts the entire country. If someone where to try and invade and overthrow the English government, all they'd need do is wait for either a light dusting of snow or a bank holiday.

Anywho, out my window right now are two joggers, one with a chariot, and a lot of snow. I made that last about six hundred words. Bully for me. What's out yours?

Catch y'all later, and if you're on Twitter follow me at http://twitter.com/VCspaceman

Increase the peace. Don't yell at dogs, they might be smarter than you.

3 Things

I, Nick Jones, being of unsound mind and body, do hereby give notice that i will attempt to do the following three things before the end of 2009.

1: See more of Canada

I came to this country with a dream. It is a simple dream. I am a simple man. My simple dream is to see what this country truly has to offer. To meet its peoples. To eat its foods. To drink its waters and laugh at its political humour about people i don't know. I hereby give notice that some time this year i will go see something on the east coast, i while i may not go over it in a barrel, i will post a picture of me peeing over the Niagara falls, or something as equally ridiculous.

2: I will get a hair cut, and more than one.

At the minute, my luscious head of hair resembles something akin to a Bear's backside. While this is the delight of many i meet, it's starting to annoy me. It's one thing finding hair in your food, but another when it turns out it's your own, and one end is still attached to your head. I will have short hair, and i will keep it so.

3: I will personally develop myself.

Right now, I'm an overly plump, ridiculously insecure, occasionally lazy and somewhat hirsute gentleman. By 2010, hopefully much of this will change. I suffer from an almost crippling level of sporadic self doubt in which i believe myself to be not only the kind of ugly that not even John Merrick could approach, but that those around me have all spontaneously come to the consensus view that i really am an utter idiot, and now no longer wish to have me around. Hopefully, this is not actually true, and i will attempt over the next year to get over my horrendous personal hangups. 

I am now in possession of a career, rather than a job, and tying in to the previous entry, i will do my utmost to grow and develop this. I have zero idea on how to do that, but by gosh I'm going to give it a bloody good go.

That's enough for now. Expect a funnier post later, I'm tired right now, get off my porch you damn kids

Starbucks, I both hate and love you

Starbucks. From Hell's heart i stab at thee.

Starbucks, to me at least, represents everything I both am and wish i wasn't. Essentially, Starbucks seems to be this horrible sticky fondue of young/hip/urban/professional/yupee/stereotype people who all want to get together, "chillax" and drink rubbish coffee with pretentious names. I seem to end up in there a lot.

Once upon a time a read a line in a book that said "always make it easy for people to give you money". I don't want to sound like the heartless capitalist pig that I am, but Starbucks to me is the epitome of this maxim. Everything under one roof. You can get Wifi in there, so you can do your business and twitter or whatever while you drink crap coffee. You can buy a paper. You can buy festive gifts and other trash to lavish on people you supposedly care about but not enough that you'd actually go out and hunt for a gift in stores, you got them a mug with Starbucks emblazoned on it so they can get discount refills on their morning commute. You can buy yourself some music with your coffee, and get that same annoying faux-jazz rubbish in your house. But get this, not content with rubbish faux-jazz, Starbucks has now strong armed a bunch of people you've actually heard of into having their music only available from Starbucks. What's that Sonic Youth, you got a bunch of money and free Mocha Frappa-Crappa-Venti-Corporato-Wannabe-achinos for life for doing a Starbucks compilation? And all you had to trade in was your counter culture authenticity and any vestige of self respect and dignity? WHAT A DEAL!

That said, i find Starbucks a very relaxing place. Everything in there is designed to take the edge off, from the faux-jazz to the reassuring brand names and catch phrases, every little bite size chunk is designed to let you know that hey, you're in a Starbucks, but it's alright. Bombs may fall, buildings collapse and global woes continue unabated, but that's okay because you can get soy milk for an extra dollar.

I'm on the Internet a lot, and i find being able to have a hot drink while i check my daily mail (hello mum) quite nice. I have my coffee black with two brown sugars, and i can ask for that without resorting to silly words that don't really mean what they say (Grande, I'm looking at you. Since when did 'Big' or 'Large' mean 'Medium'? Guess i was sick that day)

But most of all, i like the fact that i have never been frowned at by a coffee maker in there. Seriously, I'm never in trouble, I'm never there at a bad time, and I've never had a bad word said to me. I don't give a fudge if that's happened to you, it's never happened to me and that's what matters. You're all jealous of them, because they've taken a simple concept like filling your mug with brown dishwater and made it a global success. They're like McDonald's. I bet you don't like their food massively, but you know who they are and you've been there before.

Money makes the world go round. Coffee makes the wheels turn faster

Calgary Farmers Market

Calgary farmers market is sweet. Seriously, I'd live there if i could. Aside from video games, every single one of my other interests is serviced by that place.

If you don't know this about me by now, you should: I have a serious addiction problem. I am addicted to cheese. That's not a euphemism, or slang for something else. I cannot get enough cheese. I would eat cheese until it came out of my ears if i could, and i have tried in the past (long story) 

In fact, i love food of all varieties. Calgary farmers market scores big big bonus points because it's the only place I've found so far in Calgary that has English style sausages. They're not quite there, but it's the closest you're going to get to a meaty Lincolnshire. Ever had toad in the hole? You don't know what you're missing.

Calgary farmers market represents to me the way things ought to be. All the people there work entirely for themselves, or at least directly for the person who owns whatever business they're involved with, so you can literally see where your moneys going. I like the feeling of knowing exactly where my money goes, rather than feeling like I've tossed it in a whole in the ground. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Starbucks. What is this brown crap-in-a-mug I'm drinking anyway? And why does everything have such silly pretentious names? Venti? Sounds like you sell air conditioning. Bet you like them Franz Ferdinand boys, don't you?

Sadly though, as Robert Frost said, nothing gold can stay. Calgary farmers market is going to get shuffled off somewhere else, because apparently a valued link to Alberta's rural traditions and a source of entrepreneurial income for many hard working individuals isn't viewed as a valued addition to the community, unlike the multiple condos they plan to build there instead. This, regrettably, is not a fact we can change, but for now it's still where it is, and when it moves, wherever and whenever it ends up, even if you have to pay to get in (it's free at the moment, so what the fudge are you waiting for, go make toad in the hole, idiot) I'll still be there, and i urge you to do so too.

That's all i got. You had toad in the hole yet? Not you PVC Percy, I'm talking about the food. No, i don't want to see that. Or that. Or that. Why am i even talking to you, you don't exist. Who am i talking to?

I need to go lie down.

9.8 Princes out of 10. If this were a band, it'd be Morris Day and the Time. Yeah, Jungle Love.

Livivng in Canada

I'll tell you one thing, and i'll tell you one thing for free: The american dream is a crock of shit. There is no oppertunity there, check this out:

http://www.propertycommunity.com/forum/overseas-property-sale/11759-927-houses-usa-7-5-million.html

You can get pretty much anything you need to know about this article from the title. Yep, that's 927 houses for 7.5 million. thats about 8 grand a house. Where else can you get a house for 8 grand? Probably Baghdad.

I was born in England. I grew up drinking tea and reading the Telegraph, spitting at peasents and tut-tutting at every possible occasion. I love England. I pride myself on the fact that i talk like a BBC newsreader. I'm as English as you can be. But i don't live there. Lord no.

I live in Canada.

My girlfriend, bless her cotton socks, persuaded me to abandon my original plans of running off to Japan after university to live in the land of the rising sun and the used panty vending machine to move to Canada. She wanted to go to New Zealand, so i'm thankful we reached a compromise

"What can you see out the window this morning?"

"Sheep"

Yeah, New Zealand ain't for me. Calgary on  the other hand, is the pormised land.

No, seriously.

In one year, we earned enough to go on a crazy-shit-cockeyed-beat generation roadtrip across America for 5 weeks, we moved into a house worth more money than i've ever owned in my entire life so far, we drove around in a truck the size of a jumbo jet, we helped start up a business which will see us all lying on a beach retired and gently turning into strips of man-bacon before i hit thirty, i made a documentary, met several world famous people and had them engage my services as a new media genius, and met some of the best friends you could hope to have.

England meanwhile is in the grips of the worst financial crisis in living history, and America is selling off houses for less than the price of a family car (which they're giving away 2 for 1 i might add)

Yeah, Canada's cold in the winter. Yeah, i live in a suburb where all the houses are the same. Yeah, the people occasionally say "eh" and "aboot"

Yeah, sucks to be me i guess.

You know what the best part is? The very best thing?

I can help you do the same.

Seriously

Drop me a line. Nick@voncreative.com

That's my story. Tell me yours.