In honour of (belated) Fourth of July, I demand that you go read about Seanbaby’s Excellent Firework Adventures. Seanbaby is a genius and it plagues me – PLAGUES ME – that he doesn’t update his site anymore. Also he is Hott.
I moved away from Calgary six years ago and in the interim I’d forgotten how particularly fucking annoying this city is around Stampede time. Everyone walks around for two weeks dressed up like cowboys, and every available surface is littered with hay bales and cardboard cutouts of farm animals. It’s like being trapped in an episode of Hee-Haw. The worst bit is the influx of American tourists, who spend hundreds of dollars at Lammle’s Western Wear buying white Stetsons and garish Navajo-print shirts with fringes on them and then wander around the streets talking too loudly and saying things like “y’all”. I’m not planning to leave the house. Not that I have been leaving the house, but now I’m totally not leaving the house, with a bullet.
Although I am curious whether there will be a Brokeback Mountain-themed float in this year’s Stampede Parade. “Mommy, why are those cowboys wrestling?”