Sunday, September 14, 2014

Week 37 of 52: Paulo #nofilter

It rarely happens but Paulo (not to be confused with Paolo my festering infected lipoma) has unearthed himself from his cave...he is on the grid for a full 9 hours and in that time he is going to contribute to my blog this week.

FYI - I do this to all people who insist on showing up in my life with little lead time around the time I have to post my weekly blog entry. And yes, calling me as your seaplane lands in Victoria’s Inner Harbour, is just not enough time for me to prepare myself mentally for your arrival or send off a blog post.
Paulo angry - so mean!

You may recognize Paulo from his portrait on my living room wall. A beautiful photo I must say (I took it), of Paulo and a smoking firecracker, moments before he threw it onto the beach, which was littered with sea lions below. The only evidence that we did spend three days terrorizing the city of San Diego together (oh and there was also that new age massage therapist we picked up, he kind of spearheaded the whole reign of terror). Sigh...good times. 
Paulo is one of my friends who has elite membership to my best friend tier. Yes there are two other tiers, simply called second and third tier. Most humans I acknowledge fit into one of those two categories. As for the rest of the rodents, they do not exist within my friendship tier structure and as such cease to exist in AndreaLand. It is better for everyone that way, I assure you.

I have been friends with Paulo for 12 years, we never lived in the same city and once we lived in the same time zone. Paulo is one of my favourite humans to travel with, mostly because our trips are so random. I mean how many times throughout your travels have you just happened to come across a mass burial site or a gay porn studio? Totally random shit that I blame on our complete lack of planning and over reliance on spontaneity as a valid way to make decisions, when we hang out together.

Paulo is what some people refer to as an international citizen, kind of like Jason Borne but without all the guns (not that I’m aware of). Paulo and I first met in the biker town of Sherbrooke, Quebec. We bonded over a ridiculous amount of $1 tequila shots we kept ordering at this skuzzy biker bar, that surprisingly did not smell of urine (note: neither the bar or tequila smelt of urine). It is still unknown as to how many tequila shots we consumed that night and some historians quote it as high as 67. I'm pretty sure it was more like 24, although I was with Paulo and stranger things have happened in his company. What I am sure of that happened that night, was the start of a beautiful friendship and that Paulo did throw up in the river. I remember the vomiting well, as I held back Paulo’s long flowing chestnut colored hair as he polluted the town’s fresh water supply for a good 20 minutes. The next day the town issued a water advisory and we have been tight ever since.
The sign outside Paulo's cave

It may seem odd that I have decided to also name my friend, the pustule, Paulo. Except I spell the pustule’s name Paolo. Why did I name my infected lipoma after my good friend Paulo? Well if you met him you would understand. And since you will never meet him, on account of him being a hermit and all, you will get a glimpse into the mind of the great Paulo via this blog post. And when you are done reading you will...likely take up bomb making in your basement or wonder what else you could have done in those four minutes.   

Thank you Andrea, for finally giving up control and letting me type my contribution to your blog all by myself. (round of applause)

Being that this is Andrea's blog I should probably write about Andrea. You might think I'm some bumpkin with no internet and no connection to the outside world surviving on pine cones and beaver meat but if you ever spend enough time alone in an area where there is nothing else to distract you, you gain a sense of clarity for all things Andrea.

First off, you find yourself thinking she is a hot piece of ass and would make a fine mountain wife but then you realize how utterly uptight she has become. Actually, she has always been uptight but now she seems to have perfected the art. I'm not sure if it is because she is turning 60 next year but she makes you want to take her down to the store and buy her a nice leisure suit so she can play Canasta with the girls and chill the fuck out slut. 

Within minutes of my arrival, Andrea suddenly became aware of the fact that she had no food fit for human consumption, as a result of her crazy rawfoodatarian diet, other than a glass of water, which certainly would be laced with chia seeds or some other nonsense. It was apparent, rather quickly, that we needed to hit up a market.  So she took me out into public where the level of mental illness and over tightened personalities roamed freely in the streets where I was defenseless from having to interact with them.  I then realized that Andrea may not be as uptight as I initially may have thought. Although, she suffers from something that more people should be able to appreciate.  That is, she “gives no fucks” about what people may think.  So when she speaks it is honest, genuine and with no holds barred.  If you can’t handle the heat get out of the kitchen.  So, with that in mind, when I consider the interpersonal interactions I have had in my life (most recently they are with wildlife, who happen to make excellent dinner companions) it is easy to see the failings of society through their lack of ability to speak truthfully without fear of what someone may think.  Society has rolled itself up into social lives, which are broadcast out into social media and in blogs, so we want to appear avant-garde or cutting edge in order to feel as though we are accepted.  Eating hemp hearts, and making kale smoothies doesn’t make you interesting, it makes you boring and the same as everyone else.  Are we all clones?
Paulo's actual guard dog (#norabies)

On our trip to the market, I saw men with more bryl cream in the hair than they have oil in the cars (hybrid of course), they had a “look-at-how-bent-out-of-shape-I-am-getting-about-not-being-served-first” look on their face. Does it really matter? Worrying in terror about what organic food they will put in their face tonight, just so they can talk about whatever trendy superfood they tried on the weekend. I didn't have the heart to tell them that organic food has a greater carbon footprint than the regular vegetables you could get form a local farmer. Not to mention the carbon footprint from the manufacturing process of their hybrid car which is parked in the closest parking spot because they just came from the gym and do not need the exercise. 

You see it all in Victoria. Over plucked, over processed bleached and over colored hair, people that look like they fell face first into a MAC cosmetics counter (and that is just the men), running around with their i-whatevers taking for granted the beauty of the world around them in every part of life. Selecting the superfood du jour from whatever birch bark magazine they read this week. I overheard a lady at the meat counter ordering candied salmon and smoked salmon due to some healthy heart diet she and her husband were trying. I suggested to her that she may want to try exercising instead to avoid a coronary. 

According to the black eye I have, my suggestion was out of line. She had a lot of weight behind that punch. 

So with the supermarket finally under control, thanks to Andrea and her fine mediation skills, I decided that the next time I leave my sanctuary of woods, pine cones and critters it will be for a much shorter burst.  Now, it is what you people call 10pm and bedtime, so I suppose I should have my seasonal shower, and hope for some real intimacy with a potential mountain wife, or the attractive neighbor with the pretty mouth.  It seems to be the one thing that puts me in the mood to contend with the approaching winter.

---Paulo # nofilter

Thank you Paulo for that very vivid description of our short time together. It will have to serve as a pleasant reminder for me until the next time you resurface to disrupt the delicate urban landscape the rest of the world calls home. And what is wrong with clones Paulo?! I would love to have clones, which I could control and make do my biding. #justsaying
Skies look like bruises when Paulo visits

No comments:

Post a Comment