Round 1 of the Canadian Blog Awards closes today. We need your votes, if only to provide something to write about for future posts. Seriously, General Tao is tapped. Don’t to this to him. You’re probably thinking to yourself, “as if a man in a $5,000 suit is going to vote for a stupid website in the Canadian Blog Awards. COME ON!”
In this exciting new feature, Food Court Lunch takes a look at those power players on the rise and those poor bastards who have seen better days. Unlike similar features offered on nearly every other sports website on the internet, The Food Court Lunch Power Rankings are not limited to just one sport in particular (or sports in general for that matter.) Also, the rankings are gloriously unfettered by the rules of logic. We will not be fettered!
Rankings:
#1 The Toronto Maple Leafs
News of the hiring of Brian Burke as team president and GM all but guarantees Stanley Cup victory in 2010
#2 Innovative Tobacco Products
Kudos to the tobacco industry for having the foresight to come out with cigars that smell like candy and look like crayons. Now the liberals are upset about encouraging children to smoke! Well, excuse me, but exactly how are we going to fill the consumer gaps caused as a result of premature deaths due to smoking? I don’t hear the liberals coming up with any solutions.
It’s about time we recognized the plight of gay penguins. After all, who are we to criticize their lifestyle choices when, even to the trained eye, the differences between male and female penguins is almost indistinguishable?
According to this British newspaper, Batman will soon die. But how? My guess is either (i) he dies from asphyxiation as a result of confusion with Robin over a safe word, or (ii) a hoodlum suddenly realizes that he doesn’t have any special powers and shoots him in the face.
#8 City of Mumbai Tourism Department
Are those fireworks I hear, honey? They’re what? Gunshots? I don’t see anything about this in the “Experience Mumbai” information package the lady at the airport gave us. Let’s just go check into our hotel and relax for a while, okay Honey? Honey?!!
Well, we knew this day would come… First, the senseless East Coast / West Coast feud, resulting in an untold body count. Then, the Antione “Skee-Lo” Roundtree ”lifts” scandal, devastating the vertically challenged community. And now, the icon of Swedish rap, Dave “Monopoly” Jassy, has tragically lived up to the Nordic hip hop stereotype… It’s the same old story: Swede becomes an international rap superstar (of course), finds himself surrounded by riches beyond his wildest dreams, and eventually beats a jazz musician to death as punishment for slapping his new SUV at a crosswalk. We’ve heard the same story a thousand times before…
But who is this “Dave Monopoly” character, and why does he hate jazz? If history has taught us anything, it’s that Nordic rappers are notoriously quick to anger (also, they hate Slavic peoples). Dave is apparently no exception. Just listen to his lyrics:
Alright, we confess that wasn’t Dave. Apparently Dave wasn’t famous enough to make it onto YouTube (which is admittedly a tough forum to crack), so we had to improvise. Horribly. However, after significant efforts by our research department, we were able to get ahold of this underground video of Dave’s last live performance:
Ok, who are we kidding - we have no idea who Dave Monopoly is, or how he could afford to rent an SUV. As long as MC Solaar stays out of jail, the Food Court Lunch team is happy.
Okay, that isn’t entirely true. Or at all true. Nevertheless, we would really appreciate it if you voted for us in the 2008 Canadian Blog Awards. We forgot the voting opened, so we are playing from behind here. Please note that this is only the first round of voting, and this plea will be followed up by an interminable stream of further pleas if we advance. So just shut up and get on the bandwagon. We are up for Best Blog, Best Cultural/Entertainment Blog (Really?), Best Humour Blog, Best Group Blog, Best Sports Blog, and Best Accordion Solo (if you aren’t fighting the urge to kill yourself after twenty seconds of that video, you are Navy Seal-strong. Honestly, someone starts singing along a few minutes in. It’s like getting barbed cocks rammed in your ears). Vote now, vote from different computers, and vote for us. Either that or the baby gets smothered with that soft blanket. You know the deal — vote.
Up until last Sunday, I hadn’t watched a Tampa Bay Buccaneers game in quite a while. That’s almost certainly because I haven’t had a Buccaneer on my fantasy team since 2006 (when I drafted Cadillac Williams in the first round, thereby ruining both my season and my league reputation), and I couldn’t think of any other reason to watch them. Lo and behold, this past Thursday, I found myself furiously snatching Cadillac off the waiver wire (spoiler alert - I’m in last place). I of course wanted to have a look at my new pick-up, so I tuned in for a little bit of Sunday’s drubbing of Detroit, which featured the added bonus of bearing witness to the Lions’ impressive run towards immortality.
And who should immediately appear on the front part of my television machine? Why, none other than L’il Jonny Gruden a.k.a. the primary reason, I quickly remembered, I’d been avoiding Bucs games in the first place. Yes, there isn’t a more signature facial expression in the league than Gruden’s scowl, which almost certainly gives him more pride than his Super Bowl ring. Because there is not a doubt in my mind that he has spent immeasurable hours, nay, days of his life standing in front of a mirror, just practicing looking mean.
The good news is that all that practice has paid off, in the form of a series of perfectly punchable portraits. We proudly welcome your faces to the club, Chucky. Here’s hoping it’s another two years before I see another one.
The “Spaghetti…no, Lasagna for Dinner”
The “Upskirt Peep”
(Not pictured: Rachel Nichols sitting in front row)
Wondering what Cee-lo, that joyfully pudgy alumnus of the Goodie Mob and Gnarls Barkley has been up to the last few months? We wondered the same thing. That is, until I accidently turned on the 2008 Grey Cup while flipping through infomercials on Sunday afternoon.
Nice tackle, number 42! Hey! Did you see the name on the back of that guy’s jersey? What does it say? Labinjo?!?! That’s got to be a pseudonym. Well, no wonder! Look at the guy. That’s clearly that black fellow from the Charles Barkley cover band!
The resemblance is uncanny.
And in case you were wondering, Cee-lo didn’t just sneak into Canada’s most treasured football game; he completely dominated it. 4 knockdowns*? A sack during a crucial drive by the Alouettes**? Crazy! He truly was, as we say in Canada, un Faiseur de Difference***.
It’s difficult to say whether Cee-lo’s contribution was what enabled the Calgary Stampeders to overcome the Montreal home crowd and the Alouettes’ vaunted passing game, but one thing’s for sure - nobody’s laughing at the short pudgy guy with the squeeky voice anymore.
Sarcasm Legend:
* For our American readers, “knockdown” is not a quaint Canadian way of saying “sack”.
** Yes, an “Alouette” is a non-violent songbird with easy-to-pluck feathers.
It’s wintertime in Canada, folks, and it fucking sucks. Awful, freezing cold? Check. Missing an entire day’s worth of daylight because you are at work? Check. Random suicidal feelings caused by Seasonal Affective Disorder? Check. Welcome to the winter wonderland. And do you know what the topper is? What really put me over the edge over the last few years? The fact that women wear Uggs during the winter. Christ, just toss me in a coffin and wake me up in April.
Uggs are the epitome of cock-shrivelling footwear. These things look like safety boots for Eskimo retards. Completely shapeless, bulging around the ankles, flattened moonboot soles — they could not create something more horrendous. In their own fucked-up way, they are absolutely perfect. You combine those with a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and the seduction is complete. I’m sure all of the Inuit Napoleon Dynamite fans will be all over you. How hasn’t this trend ended yet? These things are the “Frankie Says Relax” of footwear. I guess looking like an Ewok never goes out of style.
My favourite little twist to Uggs is when they are worn out in the snow on a winter day. The Uggs are quickly stained by the slush and salt and they end up looking like the feet of a homeless person who has some sort of circulatory disorder. Bingo, ladies — way to sex it up. I have been told that they are warm and comfortable, and that’s why women wear them. Well, I hope they are as warm and comfortable as your empty fucking bed, because no one wants to be with you when you wear them.
This weekend I observed that there are now new short Uggs. I suppose that’s an improvement, but an improvement along the line of dating someone that’s pigeon-toed instead of clubfooted — there is still something inherently fucked up. Thanks for fucking up my winter, ladies. If you want me, I’ll be sitting under my light box plotting my own death.
Do you know what will solve the problem of teen drunk-driving? Beyond forced judgment-transplants, me neither. But I can pretty well guess that a new bill introduced by the Liberal government in the Ontario legislature isn’t really going to make a scrap of difference. Then again, my son didn’t die in a drunk-driving accident, thus giving me the moral authority to blame everyone but my son and promote legislation that will have little to no impact on the actual cause of my son’s death — teenage stupidity.
Confused? That’s because I’m a terrible writer using awkwardly vague examples. Let’s see if the Globe and Mail can do any better:
Psychology has identified five stages of grief: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But Tim Mulcahy knows a sixth: Action.
The father of four became a father of three one July morning last summer, after the Audi S3 driven by his 20-year-old son, Tyler, plunged into Lake Joseph.
Speed and alcohol are believed to have contributed to the accident.
Like many family members of the victims of tragedy, Mr. Mulcahy soon sought to lend meaning to his son’s death. He started a petition and published a letter to Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty seeking to tighten the laws that regulate young drivers.
Mr. Mulcahy is unusual in that his efforts were successful. Yesterday, Ontario’s Transport Minister, Jim Bradley, introduced a bill that places tougher restrictions on them.
Flanked by the family of a young friend of Tyler’s who was also killed in the accident, Mr. Mulcahy sat stiffly in the legislature gallery, wringing his hands with anticipation, while Mr. Bradley took the floor.
The new measures would affect drivers 21 and younger, enforcing tougher demerit point penalties, requiring a zero blood alcohol concentration, and limiting the number of young passengers they can carry.
“I’m really happy, hopeful” Mr. Mulcahy said in an interview from his Hogg’s Hollow home shortly before heading over to Queen’s Park. Seated on a stiff grey couch in a sparsely decorated corner of his sprawling home, the entrepreneur and CEO of two companies said a confluence of factors, including timing, connections and a widely circulated petition with more than 7,000 signatures came together to bring the revisions to the legislature.
Wow, thanks, Mr. Mulcahy. However, I think you missed something in your pet legislation. If only it included something that would make driving while intoxicated illegal. Oh, wait, hold on. What’s this “Criminal Code” thing that’s lying around?:
253(1) Every one commits an offence who operates a motor vehicle or vessel or operates or assists in the operation of an aircraft or of railway equipment or has the care or control of a motor vehicle, vessel, aircraft or railway equipment, whether it is in motion or not,
(a) while the person’s ability to operate the vehicle, vessel, aircraft or railway equipment is impaired by alcohol or a drug; or
(b) having consumed alcohol in such a quantity that the concentration in the person’s blood exceeds eighty milligrams of alcohol in one hundred millilitres of blood.
That legislation worked like a charm, didn’t it?:
On July 3, Tyler Mulcahy, 20, his girlfriend Nastasia Inez Elzinga, 19, and friends Kourosh Totonchian, 19, and Cory Mintz, 20, spent the afternoon drinking 31 drinks over a three-hour period at a restaurant in Port Carling.
They left that evening in Mulcahy’s Audi, but they never made it home.
Tyler Mulcahy was driving when he crashed the car into the Joseph River.
Only Elzinga escaped the sinking car with her life.
Huh. Maybe if there was legislation that made speeding illegal, that would help. To be clear, the four of them drove to a bar, drank approximately eight drinks each over a three-hour period, and then drove home on rural roads at a high rate of speed. Tyler Mulcahy knowingly broke the law and put his own life and the life of his friends at risk. If he had been caught by the police before he crashed, he would have faced severe legal repercussions for his DUI and traffic violations. Yet somehow this is about everyone and everything else except for Tyler Mulcahy, his flauting of the law, and his incredibly poor judgment. I’m sure that Mr. Mulcahy would have made completely opposite decisions on July 3, 2008 if faced with increased demerit points and a possible license suspension. Although the threats of jail and the loss of his own life and the lives of his friends didn’t work, maybe this time it would have stuck.
Christ almighty. I look forward to further strokes of redundancy from our nanny-state overlords. Now, can someone help me off this soapbox?
Never mind the crippling economic meltdown that is gripping North America; what about the crippling writer’s block that is gripping this blogger? Seriously, I’m tapped. Perhaps our loyal commenters could oblige?
You can understand why the police are confused. After all these years of beating up Irish people, all of a sudden they’re supposed to stop kids from kicking the gingers? Next the bleeding hearts will want them to stop profiling.
Here’s my guess: The divorce judge ruled that by marrying Madonna, Guy Ritchie demonstrated that he did not have the requisite mental capacity to warrant sole custody of the children he shares with Madonna.
Devil Spawn, Thy Name is Bronx Mowgli Wentz. It must be disheartening to grow up with the nagging suspicion that your parents are talentless idiots. Also, being called Bronx Mowgli Wentz would probably suck as well.
I just love the fact that in this day and age it is still possible to open a business called Steak’N'Shake. In my opinion, the ‘N’ is still vastly underused in restaurant monickers.
Despite all the recent hooplah and foofarall and hullabaloo about the Bills moving to Toronto, we’re starting to feel less and less confident that we here in the Canadas are ever going to get an NFL team. I mean, if we are having this much trouble stealing one from Buffalo, a town that once elected A HOUSECAT TO CITY COUNCIL(!),* then we probably don’t deserve one in the first place.
So who are we supposed to cheer for once the Bills move to L.A.? Why, the future franchise of our former rulers, of course! Yes, while an NFL team in London is still a ways from becoming a reality, the fact is they’ll probably get one before Toronto does. And since we still have the Queen on our money, it’s only natural that we adopt them as our de facto home team.
There’s only one problem - as you may have noticed, they talk a funny brand of English in them there parts. There are all sorts of tricks to the local dialect that non-locals can easily get tripped up on. So if we are going to fit in with all the other Little Lord Fauntleroys that we’ll be sitting with at Wembley, we’d best learn how they speak.
Fortunately, one of our correspondents used to live in England, and another was embarrassingly ripped off whilst trying to buy weed in Piccadilly Circus. Therefore, we felt eminently qualified to compile the following translation guide for common British words and phrases. We hope it will serve you well as you cheer on the London (Bridges? Big Bens? Beefeaters?) to victory.
* Probably.
_____________________
Apartment = Flat
Elevator = Lift
Washroom = Loo
Subway = The Tube
Suitcase = Garment Lorry
Shoes = Foot Puddins
Gloves = Hand Puddins
Watch = Wrist Ticker
Scarf = Throat Snake
Tie = Chest Snake
Belt = Trouser Snake
Condom = Cock Wallet
Car = Motorcar
Taxicab = Turkish Livery
Airplane = Cloud Barge
Grocery Store = After Farm
Bread = Yeast Biscuit
Flour = Powder Grass
Orange Juice = Scurvy Block
Eggs = Shell Hens
Carrot = Potato
Broccoli = Potato
Spinach = Potato
Potato = Jesus Fruit
French Fries = Chips a.k.a. Christ Bits
Plum = Hydrated prune
Water = Lake Milk
Bar = Pub
Night Club = Foppish Pub
After Bar = Emergency Room (credit: Craig Finn)
Wingman = Chloroform and Rag
Jail = Rascal Bin
Policeman = Bobby
Doctor = Pokey Looky
Dentist = (no translation available)
Soccer = Football
Football = Pushy Punty
Tailgate Party = Car Park Social
Scalper = Tout
Gay Scalper = Rainbow Tout
Rat (animal) = Cheese Weasel
RATT (band) = Cheese Weasell
Jay-Z = Dizzee Rascal
L’il Wayne = Dizzee Rascal
Kanye West = Dizzee Rascal
Eminem = Mike Skinner
Bush X = Bush
Beverly Hills, 90210= Coronation Street
I’m hungry = I’m peckish
I’m horny = I’m feckish
I forgot my wallet. Do you mind getting this one? = I’m Welsh
You fuckin’ suck, ref! = The vaunted Lord Denning you are not, kind sir! Now good day to you!
Excuse me, where is the washroom? = Shine your boots, guv’nor?
Please, take me to a doctor. I’ve been very badly beaten = Shine your boots, guv’nor? (Note: very handy phrase)
That’s a lovely tan you have = That’s an alarming shade of pink you’ve turned
Look at that beautiful woman = Look at that woman that would be considered moderately attractive in most other countries
Hey! That British guy stole my girlfriend! = Um…you won’t be needing this one. Unless, of course, you’re from Scotland.
DISCLAIMER: In the event that you are inexplicably confused by our site, this is parody (poorly executed, but parody nonetheless). For the sake of clarity, however, please note that the opinions expressed in the Comments section of this site are NOT moderated or endorsed in any way by the authors of this site, who do not understand HTML and can scarcely manage to post items themselves
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