Tag Archives: air farce

Simple task, epic FAIL

L: Malcolm Howard; R: Adam Kreek

L: Malcolm Howard; R: Adam Kreek

This is not just any random buttshot. There is a story behind it. Trust me. Yesterday after work I met up with Albert, Evelyn and Matt for dinner. We went to Salad King, where I proceeded to finish a Pad Thai and still be hungry afterwards. Apparently their servings have become less filling than I remember. I think shitty Waterloo Asian food has lowered my standards, so I found the taste to still be top-tier.

After dinner, Albert drudged off to his night class, Evelyn headed home, and Matt and I merrily skipped off to the CBC building to watch the first taping of the last season of Royal Canadian Air Farce. On the way, we stopped by a Dominion’s to pick up some non-perishable goods for donation. This was our first time being part of the audience so we didn’t know what to expect.

When we arrived, there was already a long line-up formed. We were lucky in that they were seating by blocks and there were only two of us, so we were still able to nab pretty good seats. Roger Abbott did the introductions and mentioned that there were some special guests present at the show: four Canadian Olympic medalists. Hearing this made me even happier that I came down (why didn’t they advertise this on their tickets page?).

The first sketch of the night was a parody of the Canadian electoral debate, which, interestingly enough, was being broadcasted that very moment. The first couple sketches weren’t really funny. The ones that stood out for me were the Wall Street one, “a special message from McCain and Palin”, and Elliot Friedman interviewing the Olympic athletes, only because Alan Park screwed up twice. Simon Whitfield (triathlon, silver), Malcolm Howard, Adam Kreek (both rowing, gold), and Adam van Koeverden (kayak, silver, also Canadian flagbearer) were present, all uniformed in their skin-tight athletic wear. No, the athletes were not funny. Also, I may or may not have been staring at their crotches most of the time.

After the show, there was about ten minutes of mingling between the stars and the audience. I must point out that Howard and Kreek are FREAKING TOWERS in real life. People were crowded around them like ants to a crumb. Since we were standing behind them, we decided to be completely immature and digitize their fine Olympic asses, which you see as today’s featured photo.

I remembered seeing van Koeverden being interviewed during the Beijing 2008 closing ceremonies and my mom acceding my observation that he was rather good-looking. Therefore we sought out van Koeverden and found him awkwardly hanging out by himself behind the two rowing giants (checking out their derrières?) so we each happily snapped a shot with him on my crappy cellphone cam. Then Matt whined for a photo with Luba Goy, his idol and unrequited lover, so he got a photo and her autograph.

We walked back to Union Station – I went to the trains, Matt to the GO buses. It was there, standing by myself among the silent buzz and stuffiness of a late night subway platform, in the glory of downtown Toronto, that I casually flipped through my photo album on my cellphone and realized the horror. There was the photo of that tight gold medal ass. I hit ‘next’. There was Matt, with a wobbly grin beside van Koeverden. ‘Next’. Matt again, with Luba Goy. Where was me with van Koeverden? And then it hit me. He didn’t save it. MATT DID NOT SAVE MY PHOTO!!!!!!!! HE TOOK IT BUT FORGOT TO SAVE ITTT!!!!!!!!! THE ONE AND ONLY PHOTO OF ME!!!!!! OHHHHHHHH MYYYY FREAKINGGGG GODDDDD WHAT A MORON!!!!!!!!!!

Lucky for Matt, YRT was still on strike and he had to take GO home. If he was standing beside me at that moment I might have been instigated to push him off the platform. I furiously texted Matt to declare my misery and anguish caused by his asininity (not really… I had to write a draft, save it, and send it when I got to Rosedale ’cause there’s no signal underground). Numb and defeated, I stepped onto the Yonge train and slumped down with a sigh. As I stared out the window, I eww-ed at my own reflection ’cause it was so freaking dark outside I solemnly mused upon what could have been: elevated moments of self-pride as I shove a photo of me beaming beside a sexy Canadian athlete under my annoyed friends’ noses when they didn’t even ask for it.

And that is my story. The end. Matt, you owe me an Adam van Koeverden.