Canadianity
Page 10
I somehow dug it too. I could feel my game get better, and it made baseball much more fun because I could compete. I wanted to affect the game at that point. I’d hit with a broomstick and he’d throw tiny rocks. He figured if I could get used to hitting that way, then hitting the ball with a bat would be a snap.
All that crazy practice is what led to my drumming ability. The understanding of refining and working on all the little things. I was a decent pitcher and player only because I practised my ass off. I got hits because I expected them and struck guys out because I felt I deserved to succeed more than the batter.
I played rep ball from the age of eight on and enjoyed the routine of weekday practising and travel that happened every weekend. Sometimes I’d go away for longer periods of time, like when I was around eleven and had a tournament in Trois-Rivières, where I stayed with one of the local team’s families. It was a trip! I took French in school every year but couldn’t understand a word, and they didn’t know much English, so we didn’t talk much. I hung out with the kid my age, and we did our best to communicate. They were very nice and took great care of me.
We played on the Commodore 64, and I would watch the entire family eat cheese curds. They would have a meal, then rip open a bag of cheese curds and crush it in minutes. I’d never had them before, and to be honest, I was never much of a cheese kid—plus the squeakiness when you bite into a cheese curd kind of turned me off after a couple. They would just rip that bag open and they’d get right into it after lunch and dinner like a ritual.
The baseball was fantastic, and they had live francophone announcers in the little stade de baseball, bringing each batter to the plate with classic local flair. It really added to the vibe of the game. So cool to see how big baseball was in Quebec. Big crowds and teams from all over. People sometimes forget the history of baseball in Canada. It’s so deep! We get so horny about hockey that baseball exists in its shadow.
My parents came for the end of the week to see a couple of games and to drive me home, and my dad almost killed himself on one of those long, swingy chain-link fences. He did that thing when you step over the chain-link mesh, but then trip on it, and then fall into it and go ass over teakettle to the ground. He wrenched his back badly, and that ten-hour drive home didn’t help it. Poor Ronnie.
When I was fifteen and living in the Finch and Weston Road area of Toronto, Dad and I would practise behind this church near the Humber River. I’d pitch, swing the bat and hit little rocks into the creek. One afternoon we were walking back to our apartment after a long, solid shift, when we heard these kids screaming and hanging out of the windows of a greasy black van ripping down Weston Road towards us. Just as they passed us, I saw an object launch from the hand of the moron in the shotgun seat.
I saw the sun reflect off it, so I was worried that it might be glass. It whistled directly into my dad’s right eye and face. They must have been going eighty kilometres an hour, so whatever the object was, it was moving. It smashed into Dad’s face and exploded everywhere. Dad dropped his glove and bat and recoiled from the impact, his arms stretched out wide from shock. Then he started screaming and rubbing his eyes.
“Fucking mustard! It’s fucking mustard! It’s burning my eyes! Who throws a fucking ham sandwich?! Fucking warmongers, that’s who!” Yes, they threw a ham sandwich at us, and all its contents were Vitamixed from the impact, directly into my dad’s right eye socket. He probably took in some calories, that’s how much of it made it into his eye. Fucking punks.
I recognized them from the metal shop class at Emery Collegiate. My brother Jetsun was just getting home in his VW Rabbit when the sandwich hit the fan. Dad raged his way up to him. Ronnie wanted to chase after these guys, with his eye all mustardy. He screamed about how he was going to get them as he ripped out the driveway and down Weston Road in a rage. We could hear him driving furiously around the neighbourhood as I explained the situation to Jet. Dad never found them, despite ripping around for a good thirty minutes. He cooled off and went in the house to clean up. Those losers who threw the sandwich were always doing dumb shit like that. On the road to dead or in jail.
Naked Ambition
Torrens
When I was eighteen, I was working on Street Cents. We’d rehearse in Halifax on Sundays and shoot in studio on Monday and Tuesday. Often on Wednesday, I’d hit the road to various parts of the country to shoot stories for that week’s episode.
I loved being on the road. Going out with blank tapes and returning with raw TV was so exciting to me. Staying in hotels and sitting in restaurants by myself, in places I’d never been. It felt so romantic somehow.
Always in the back of my mind was that my experience was so unlike what most people my age were doing. All my friends were making bad decisions and doing frosh week activities while I was at a helmet factory shooting a What’s Your Beef? segment for Street Cents.
I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but every now and then I’d think maybe I should do some things that were more age-appropriate.
It’s the same with friends. Every now and then I think, “Why don’t I have a group of close friends that I hang out with?” So I’ll spend a month or two trying to get together with folks, and then I remember—I don’t like that. I’m very social and enjoy being around new people all the time, but I don’t like to commit.
So one snowy night in December when I was eighteen, I was killing time in my room and decided I should go to a strip club. By myself. Because that’s what young men do.
There weren’t many of us, seeing as it was probably seven o’clock. I sat nervously nursing my Bailey’s and milk when a young woman approached me. This would never happen in any other environment. She sat down and asked what I was doing in town. I didn’t want to blow my CBC kids show cover, so I mumbled something about a family reunion.
She asked if I wanted her to dance for me. I gulped and said yes.
She produced a milk crate–like object and stood up on it right in front of me, in an almost empty room. She started to disrobe and I. Did. Not. Break. Eye. Contact. It seemed rude to look.
The song finished and she asked if I wanted her to dance to another song. I said, “Sure, but can I ask you something first?”
She shrugged and nodded in the neon light.
“Does your dad know you do this?”
Buzzkill, right? She sat down beside me and I thought, “Here’s my shot. I’ll never get this chance again.” I went into full Linden MacIntyre Fifth Estate mode:
“Do you practise?”
“How many outfits do you own?”
“Does the club pay for them?”
“What do you think about while you’re dancing?”
“Has doing this desensitized you when it comes to intimacy?”
“Has a classmate or relative ever walked in while you’re onstage?”
“Do you ever get cold?”
“Are you using your real name?”
“Can you call in sick?”
“Have you ever dated a customer?”
I was fascinated. Turns out she was not using her real name. Can you even believe that?
Not surprisingly, she confessed that my line of questioning left her feeling not much like dancing anymore and she asked if I wanted to grab a bite somewhere and talk.
Sure, I said. What else was I doing?
So she talked to her boss and asked if she could leave.
Canadianity Strip Club Playlist
When these tracks were recorded, the artists may not have known that they were destined to be disrobed to by a Canadian stripper with a name like Louise Lake or Titsou.
“Rockstar” (Nickelback)
“Buzz” (Haywire)
“Insensitive” (Jann Arden)
“Try” (Blue Rodeo)
“Heaven” (Bryan Adams)
“What Does It Take” (Honeymoon Suite)
“Dream Come True” (Frozen Ghost)
“Eurasian Eyes” (Corey Hart)
“Dangerous�
�� (Kardinal Offishall)
“Wild Horses” (Gino Vannelli)
“Perfect” (Simple Plan)
We went to an all-night diner and talked all night. She told me that what she really wanted to do was be a flight attendant because she loved to travel. The problem was, the money was just too good at Super Sexe (okay, guys, d’accord les guys!). I listened and encouraged her to chase her dreams.
In the morning, she dropped me off at my hotel and kissed me on the cheek. It was like a weird, reverse date that started naked and ended fully clothed.
I keep waiting to get on a flight and see her because, to optimistic me, that’s how things work.
Honeymoon
Taggart
I love Quebec City. It’s a great place that’s so close for me in Toronto that my wife, Lisa, and I had our honeymoon there. We stayed at the Auberge Saint-Antoine, an incredible five-star spot in the old part of the city, surrounded by art galleries and cafés. It’s like you just got off an eight-hour flight to Europe.
I have so much respect for the province of Quebec. The people really understand the importance of culture and maintaining their own history. From musicians to painters to actors, you can be successful and never have to leave the province. I don’t know why other places in Canada are in such a hurry to catch up with American culture. From pop-culture icons to fast food, so many cities are blurring into a standard Western existence. Not so in Quebec. André-Philippe Gagnon could fill theatres for a month there, and Corey Hart could sell out arenas for shits and giggles. The Quebec people lead the country in terms of loving their own icons.
Growing up in Ontario, it was the complete opposite. We can’t wait to move on to the next big thing in Ontario. It’s a total bummer. I don’t understand why we tire so quickly of our own, or like something more because it’s American or whatever. Some people even find it embarrassing that Quebec and some parts of the East Coast embrace their roots and their popular artists. This is a shame and completely ignorant. I wish the people who share that greener-grass mentality would get on a Monsanto rocket and move to Mars.
When I started with OLP, we did small tours in Quebec. Places like Sherbrooke, Trois-Rivières, Jonquière and Drummondville were the places we cut our teeth and grew a following. In fact, MusiquePlus was the first network to really push us. Our first actual show was in Montreal at a bar called Backstreet. We were opening for the Tea Party on a small tour that was arranged by a mutual friend and upstart promoter named D.J. Williams, who went to Ridley College in St. Catharines with Duncan and Raine.
That show we played at Backstreet had to be the absolute worst show ever by any band. Somewhere in the middle of playing our song “Naveed,” we went right off the rails. Like, off-the-cliff-and-down-the-mountain style. Nobody had a clue where we were, and we couldn’t get it back. We had to stop playing. So bad. We were so embarrassed that we got off the stage. Fucking classic example of live and learn, bahds. It was impossible to do any worse, so the next show was great, just because we made it through the entire set.
The Bifteck on Boulevard St-Laurent is a great place to get banged up. Great vibe of old-school Montreal, and there’s always a bahd from a local great band hanging there. Poutine anywhere is always a good move after crushing a late-night round with your bahds.
Bahd Ambassador
Jared Keeso
Jared Keeso is one of those rare actors who can pull off dramatic and comedic roles with exacting proficiency. We first noticed him in the lead role of Don Cherry in the CBC mini-series Keep Your Head Up, Kid: The Don Cherry Story and Wrath of Grapes: The Don Cherry Story II.
The Listowel, Ontario, native co-created and stars in Letterkenny Problems, one of the funniest shows in Canadian comedy history. It tells the story of three groups coexisting in a small town: the hicks, the skids and the jocks. From the moment it arrived on the internet as a series of shorts, fans (including us) were rabid for it. It stands up as a half-hour hick-com in a big way.
But it was the exceptional cop series 19-2, which airs on Bravo, that took Jared to Montreal, which he now calls home.
Here are just a few places he’d suggest you CRUSH a pint:
•Pub St-Paul in Old Montreal. Building went up in the late 1800s. Great spot. They have cover bands every Friday and Saturday night.
•Taverne St-Sacrement in the Plateau. Trendy Montreal rocker bar. Small stage in a far corner of the room. This place is always packed.
•Les Torchés in the Plateau. Another favourite, always packed too.
Okay, Guys, D’Accord les Guys
Torrens
Somehow on TnT we started talking like Quebec roadside strip club DJs. If you’ve ever driven through Rivière-du-Loup, you’ve seen this kind of place. It’s a motel. It’s a grocery store. And—if you can believe the sign—it’s a destination for “XXX Danseuse Nues” too.
We decided our fictitious club would be in Sherbrooke, and Jeremy came up with the name Popular Girl.
There are a few things that struck us funny about this. Who are the people that would end up working there as bouncers and DJs? Like, the minor leagues of adult entertainment. Couldn’t even make it on Rue Ste-Catherine in Montreal, the Broadway of barenakedness.
Two, the song choices. Taggart always picks strange tempos like “Conga” by Miami Sound Machine. How on earth could you peel off the gear to that track?
Then there are the theme nights, like “Sexpos de Montreal” night with feature dancer Hairy Carter.
The real danger of Popular Girl is in the rowdiness of the imaginary patrons and their desire to throw “les loonies et puit les twonies” at the dancers. Understandably, this results in real friction between the performers and the crowd.
We love Popular Girl so much, we briefly entertained the notion of trying to open one. But then we felt gross about ourselves.
Canadianity Stripper Names
Jann Harden
Nelly Furtaco
Bendy Mesley
Sarah McCocklan
Pamela Cansderson
Rita McFeel
Joan Candy
Avril Vagigne
Ay Ma! Joe Took My Brio!
Torrens
For some reason we also started doing a sketch on the pod called “The Vannelli Brothers.” Born out of the idea of Gino and his brother Joe as kids growing up in Montreal, tormenting their maaaaaa from the basement.
The fraternal tension was largely rooted in which one had stolen the other one’s Brio. Our version of the Vannellis somehow imagines Gino and Joe still living at home long after Gino has had huge hits on the radio. This is an animated series just waiting to happen.
Meanwhile, two Vannelli games were born out of this concept.
Play for yourself and see how you do!
Vannelli or Vannelli’s?
The first game is Vannelli or Vannelli’s, where we take turns reading a review and the other guy has to guess whether it’s from a review of a Gino concert or of the food court staple Mrs. Vannelli’s.
1.“I was sweaty ’cause it was hot but the taste was amazing here. What a night!”
2.“The guy should smile more.”
3.“It was really good and definitely helped keep my hangover at bay—which is enough to keep me coming back.”
4.“Not too long of a line!”
5.“I got my gut busted. Blown away again!”
6.“Filled with skill and passion.”
7.“You may even get free demonstrations of people jamming to music to keep all the crazy line moving and people in high spirits. Don’t worry, they got a dude at the door late those evenings to make sure those folks that think they’re about to cut the line, don’t.”
8.“It was a good mix!”
9.“I wish I didn’t have lage or I woulda had a better time here.”
10.“Slightly generic.”
11.“What power and flavour. I can’t get enough of these guys. Always a family favourite.”
12.“A real gem.”
13. “I think they’ll be in big business for a long time to come.”
14.“Surprisingly, it was not overdone!”
15.“Not too expensive.”
Vannelli: 1, 6, 8, 13 and 14. Vannelli’s: 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 15.
Rio or Brio?
The original inspired our second Vannelli game: Rio or Brio. During the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, there were lots of complaints about the venues, the safety and the hospitality to visiting athletes. Our favourite story was of a canoeist reportedly hitting a partially submerged couch in the water during time trials. See if you can guess whether the following reviews are of Rio or Brio:
1.“Both speak to living with vigor and vivacity, to being spirited and alive and to exhibiting one’s life force.”
2.“It’s excellent but sadly underrated.”
3.“I’ve seen that names somewhere so next time I see it, I’ll be looking for it.”
4.“My eyes are stinging.”
5.“There’s actual shit in the water.”
6.“I haven’t tried it but I’d like to someday.”
7.“It isn’t great but it isn’t bad either.”
8.“To be honest, I almost vomited.”
9.“There’s so much garbage in it.”
10.“Even now, I’m still amazed I’ve got this thing in my hand.”
11.“Best water in the central zone.”
Rio: 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 and 10. Brio: 1, 2, 3, 6 and 11.
Quebec Gotta Do’s
HANG in Old Quebec, with its galleries, restaurants and historic fortified walls.
RIP the Laurentides on a bike.
CRUSH the sights at Montmorency Falls Park or Forillon National Park.