Sunday, October 31, 2004

Halloween Night

Excellent decorations, Marzipants. A shame we ran out of candy :(

"So, what are you supposed to be?"
"Uh... just some guy in a Nike sweater."
"That's it? Just SOME guy in a Nike sweater?"
"Not some magical sorcerer disguised as a normal person? Not a psycho in a Nike hoodie?"
"No. Just some guy in a Nike sweater."
"And how long did it take for you to come up with that clever outfit?"
"Not long."
"Fine. Now take this goddamn rocket candy and get your greedy non-existent ass off of my porch."
No. I didn't REALLY say that to him. But another glass of vino rosso and I pretty much would have.

P-Titty tried to convince the regazze that Canadian guys are PIGS for Italian accents. Well you know what will have them on their knees? Try listening to a girl babytalk to a cat in Italian.

Saturday, October 23, 2004

First Annual Punkinpalooza

Monsieur Bonhomme presents an oversized placard to the carvers of grand prize jack-o-lantern Grampa Sweet-Ass.

The day began as it always does at Château Nîce - with a blissful aura of pure nîceness. But nîceness soon yielded to anticipation; anticipation yielded to preparation, which ended finally in cucination -- ie some hot and juicy cooking. By 11:45a.m. our kitchen was firing on all eight cylinders; in all the annals of GroveToberFest history such culinary industriousness had never been witnessed. There were mountains of bacon to fry, scads of sausage to sizzle, stacks of pancakes to produce, and bucketsful of eggs to scramble -- luckily no one suffered any hot-grease burns from all that high-octane action.
Breakfast was served; then came the carving. And man, could they carve. Dozens of jagged blades glinted in the sultry autumn air, as our Punkinpaloozers did the sweaty, gourd-throttling work for which they had been fed. By mid-afternoon our sculpteurs du squash had assembled a veritable jack-o-lantern armada.

a veritable armada!

Amid heart-pounding suspense, prizes for top jack-o-lanterns were awarded: 3rd prize went to 'The Scream', carved by Monsieur Bonhomme; 2nd prize, 'Snotty-Faced Punk-in', was carved by Angry Brown Man and friends. First prize and first ever Punkinpalooza champion, 'Grampa Sweet-Ass', was carved by brother-sister team Beau & Desiree Von Standt, along with M. Bonhomme's brother Fabrizio. The winners were to delighted to receive their oversized novelty placard (see above) as well a slick pair of light-up devil's horns.

In short, the affair was an unqualified success, a true bonanza, a veritable smorgasborg; in short, a real hootenanny. If you didn't make it to Château Nîce for the Punkinpalooza goodness, then you missed a whiz-bang superdelicious buffet as well as a sweaty-ass and intense massacre du pumpkin. But we nonetheless hope to see you next year -- onward and upward, to Punkinpalooza 2005!
'By the numbers': 2004 round-up
-Punkinpalooza guests in attendance: 17
-guests who came all the way from Italy (!): 2
-carved entries: 10
-carved entries described as 'a macabre take on the everyday': 1
-eggs consumed: 30
-eggs consumed by M. Bonhomme, Toxic Chi and Sugarpuss O'Shea (principal Punkinpalooza chefs): 0
-strips of bacon per guest: 3.6
-average weight gained per guest (lbs): 3.6

Friday, October 22, 2004

Our house is pet-free. So say hello to other people's pets!




Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Château Nîce Punkin Partay!!!

*ahem* Let it be known *ahem*

what: party with punkins! Carve em up! Eat em up! Roll around in that slop!
who: who else??
where: where else?? (Château Nîce - in the heart of The Grove)
when: this Saturday, Oct 23 at 12 noon
why: it's Hallowe'en!

also: free brunch (punkin pie!)
also: lots of fun, hot and (possibly) single people! (wink wink)
also: special "mystery guests" ?!?!?!

"This is just the beginning!"

NB: As with every Punkinpalooza, this is a BYOB (Bring Your Own Blade). As for Jack-o-Lanterns, for those who cannot afford a punkin, we three shall provide - but if you can provide your own 'raw material' it would be appreciated. (for those who cannot locate 'un grande orange,' contact us in advance and we shall make arrangements)


Monday, October 18, 2004

Because 4PM is the best time to get dick done

Château Nîce whiteboard of DOOM and MAYHEM (and nîceness!)

S: BTW. I served that gossip columnist dude from the national post. the one with the celebrity gossip. he's kinda of a prick.

V: I don't read the national post, so I don't know who that is, but it's probably not shocking that a gossip columnist (especially from the post-can you tell I hate it?) can be a prick. Did he call you honey or shoo you with his hand while on his cell phone? I'm just being petty. I'm sure he's a saint....

he’s the kind of person who doesn't make eye contact when giving you food orders. or who'll 'jokingly' inquire:
"so is our food coming up anytime soon?"

"well, you did order your burger medium well, and we want to ensure that it is cooked exactly to your liking."

V: I know those guys well.
The worst is when you say, "hi, how are you this evening?"
and they respond with, "water, no ice"
We should put that on the blog. Top 10 customer service pet peeves

S: I'm not bitter yet.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

Dismantling Reality: Existentialism 101

Check it: Tommy Corn: Everything is Meaningless

I just don't get the point. Is this some sort of marketing thing or some dude who liked the movie just a little too much?

And he used the same format as Château Nîce.

I know. Who cares?

Friday, October 15, 2004

pumpkins pumpkins pumpkins

"I didn't buy a pumpkin – I bought PUMPKINS!" And it only cost Voula $7.
Little ones and itty bitty ones. We have to save four for her because she's going to make something scrumdiddlyumptious with them. The mouldy one, we can throw at the slower children.
"That's HORrible" says Flavio.


I am free, halleluja, I am free.

2:59 pm

How far do you think you'd have to stick a pen up your nose before it poked your brain?

11:20 am

Why is it that when you wave your pen in front of your monitor it looks like 5 pens?

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

My First Post

I just spent all that time filling out my profile and now I'm expected to come up with a post? That's nîce.

Monday, October 11, 2004

wither wet waste?

As some of you may or may not know, this is the Château Nîce blog (well, all of you should know this, if you can read, and if you can't read, then you are quite possibly a squirrel who accidently tripped on the computer keyboard with your eager rodent paws, and navigated to our web page while searching for autumn's bounty of stray acorns or nuts, and so I salute you, Mr. Squirrel, and good luck come the frost!). And being a Château Nîce blogger comes with a few expectations. For example, our basic mandate on this site is to: 1) kick some blog butt, 2) rock the competition's socks off; 3) all the while maintaining a veneer of nîceness. The nîceness is crucial; in fact some would call it fundamental, though I maintain it is nothing more and nothing less than pivotal. But I just bought a thesaurus, so yes I am biased.

Now, being 'nîce' in the face of all this competition (see expectation 2, regarding competition and the need to 'remove' its 'socks' by acts of 'rocking') is not so easy. For example, I must tell you right now that our friends (enemies) over at Freedom is a Cupcake are absolute loons, destined for the silly-house, flophouse, rehab clinic or any number of maximum-security institutions. Now, this does not mean we don't love FIAC. In fact, we don't love FIAC at all, but "this" doesn't mean we don't. Because the three denizens of Le Château de Salade Nîcoise (as we are wont to call our beloved abode) are sticklers for nîceness, and also sticklers for the orthographicological insubstantiability of demonstrative pronouns ("this" and "that" being two exemplary examples), we can get away with the above silliness. Life is so much nîcer that way, yes?

But I digress. What I want to talk aboot is a little thing I like to call "wet waste."

That's right, "wet waste" is causing a right stir around The Grove these days, and for reasons aplenty. Allow me to digress:

Throughout the 1980s and 90s, residents of The Grove - a societally conscientious lot if there ever was one - were barely kept busy recycling their dry waste, semi-arid waste, non-gelationous waste and also somewhat foamy waste. This two-bit program of "not-so-wet"-waste recycling was part of the city of Toronto's half-hearted attempts at ecological responsibility, and it was a slap in the face of serious environmentalism, it was. Wet (known as "gooey" or "smelly") waste was kept off the radar for reasons both political and, more important, olfactorial.

The simple truth is that wet waste stinks to high heavens, and if you collect enough rotten egg shells, banana peels, coffee grinds, and used tampons in the same plastic bag for over a week, you are going to have a bit of a conundrum on your hands, regarding which members of the house should have to remove said waste out of doors to the large green plastic bins that the city workers then remove wearing their large plastic anti-radiation suits (this last measure necessated mostly by the tampons). Forget the meagre kitchen space of Château Nîce - your average plastic cylinder of wet waste stinks of enough malignant poopiness to evacuate the entire Grove neighbourhood in the middle of GroveToberFest (and for more about GroveToberFest, see next week's post titled "GroveToberFest: Château Boredom, or Château Bonanza?")! Clearly both storage and removal of wet waste present a true pickle of a dilemma, upon whose horns the denizens of Château Nîce are destined to be utterly stuck, if an answer does not appear.

Well, what is the solution to this stinky problem, you ask rhetorically?

Answer: a little fellow I like to call "Captain Wet Waste."

Captain Wet Waste, while currently a mere figment of my imagination, could one day be a key player in the Château Nîce environmental dynamic, and could solve all our waste removal issues. Sounds too good to be true? Well, allow me one last extrapolation!

Imagine, if you will, a house in the Grove where, each successive week, a different house member was nominated to 'become' Captain Wet Waste. That is, someone, each different week, would have to take the plastic wet waste baggie from out underneath the kitchen sink, back out the door and behind the garage where the green bins are kept. Now, further imagine that the above mentioned house is actually Château Nîce (you saw it coming didn't you!). Basically, the way the algorithm boils down is that we, the proprietors of Château Nîce (also, the authors of this blog, all of whom are conscientious enviromentophiles) would "take turns", "sharing the load"as it were. One week, I could do the wet-waste-removal, then the next someone else could do it, and so on and so forth, until all the Grove were in thralls at Château Nîce's shining example of communitarian inter-housemate wet-waste-removal mechanisms. Sounds too good to be true? Actually, it is easier than the naysayers think (also easier than they say-nay).

Now before you rush to judgment, let that idea sit in a plastic bag for a week and begin to rot and decompose, and then tell me what you think. It's a lil something I call Captain Wet Waste: don't let the dream die.

That is all for now. I, Monsieur Bonhomme, aka the Week One "Captain Wet Waste", salute you all, and wish all our readers a happy Thanksgiving!

Saturday, October 09, 2004

Bloody finger

There was an inexplicable scab in my ear and now my left pointer is stained with blood — trying carefully not to dirty the ergonomic keyboard.

Time to stir-fry.

Miss Crankypants