Self-Entertainment

When I’m not too busy eating delicious pie or screaming about horrible zombies, (which, as you know, are my two main hobbies in life) you can find me working on my basement renovation. This is a serious activity, and as such, does not typically contain - or contribute to - humourous events. That’s not to say that pie and zombies are not serious. In fact, they are two of the three most serious things the human race has ever encountered.

When your surroundings are not funny, like today, you can simply close my blog and read another. However, when my surroundings are not funny, such as when I am working in my basement, I am forced to entertain myself.

I repeatedly hear this story from my old friend BPZ (Baseball Player Zombie from 2005’s Zombie walk). I vaguely remember it, as intoxication hampered my memory retention that night. However, the story goes something like this:

BPZ, a little inebriated, was attempting to hold a conversation with me regarding noxious gas clouds threatening the lives of cosmonauts. Okay, no, our conversation wasn’t about Russian space farts. In fact, I am pretty sure I wasn’t even involved in the witless conversation at all. But BPZ tried to include me in it. Much to his disappointment, and curiosity, I could not be convinced to join the discussion.

You see, I was too busy laughing my head off, in the corner, by myself. When confronted by BPZ, I had to admit: I was telling myself jokes. Dead baby jokes. You know the ones. They’re terribly inappropriate.

When working alone in the basement, I continue my tradition of self-entertainment by whistling and singing songs in my head. But you won’t catch me singing such ditties as Beyonce’s newest piece of crap, “if you like it then you should’ve put a ring on it...” or Ms. Spears’ unlistenable, “all eyes on me in the centre of the ring just like a circus...”

Nope. I like classics.

Come visit me any day of the week and you will find me thinking, whistling and humming “Who puts the future in your hands? Robotix, Robotix! Who gives you robots to command? Robotix, Robotix!” as well as “You run, you slide, you hit the jump and take a dive!” Not to mention the classic do-do-dodododo-do-do-do-do circus tune. American's MAY be able to view it here. Us shivering Canadians are not permitted.

Yes, that’s what it takes to entertain me. Jingles like, “Eight hundred five eight eight, two three hundred, Empire today!” not only help to pass the time, but also distract me from the wretched zombies clawing at my windows. And more importantly, remind me of who to call for carpet when I finish my renovation.

Night Of The Living Dead

It's October 31st. And what makes a Happy Halloween even happier? A sweet Halloween party. And what makes a sweet Halloween party even sweeter? The Living Dead.

Zombies.

This year I organized Hamilton's first-ever Zombie walk, through a popular section of the city. I had no idea that my friends would be this enthused about it. Our success was measured by the screams, the cars that avoided us, the groups of staring, excited teens, honking horns and complete strangers photographing us.

We started right by our old house, with Tracy, the one-armed Zombie bride leading the pack. For someone who doesn't like Halloween, this was like witnessing a miracle and she truly deserves the award for best-dressed. The pack, approximately 12 Zombies strong, made its first attack inside the TD Canada Trust, and was captured on video. One driver trying to pull into the parking lot witnessed our attack, declared "I don't need money that bad!", backed out, and fled in terror.


With a larger, more powerful group of Zombies, we slowly made our way down King St., stopping to do some windowshopping along the way. Most of the stores were closed and offered no one to eat, so we continued until we came across some unsuspecting victims having a rest on one of the numerous benches along the way.

The Zombies were growing increasingly hungry during the long walk to the Snooty Fox. We began attacking random people along the street. Few were spared. Jason was not one of the lucky. The Zombies dug in, and he was turned. But this didn't quench our thirst. Dozens of us pressed against the windows of The Second Cup, our bloody smears and moans scaring many of the patrons enough to seek safety away from the windows and doors. Others laughed at the complete absurdity of it all.

The Zombies' numbers reached 25, and suddenly we realized beer would quench our seemingly unquenchable thirst. Holding up traffic, we crossed the street and headed for the bar, Shaun-of-the-Dead-Winchester-style. Before we made it to the door, we swarmed a minivan trying to make its way out to the road. The driver & passenger laughed, but I detected great fear in them. They had no beer, so we went inside the bar. As we entered, a few onlookers took pictures of us, possibly to prove to the police that it all really happened.


In the end we had about 40 participants! What a huge success, despite the media not wishing to cover the groundbreaking event (Pun intended). Thank you to all my friends, and their friends, who joined us for the Zombie walk. Without you, it would have been a bust. And thank you to Kev over at the Archies, who first put me on to this idea. And a huge thank you to Toni, and RainyPete, for photographing the entire walk. Pete even took a couple of videos that everyone is dying to see. Pun intended.

For another pic, click here
Bar Zombies here.
Radical Rappin' Rock-Star Zombies? Click here.
For more great pics, links to more pics, and the videos, click here.