The Tragically Unhip

a blog with three fingers on the pulse of uncoolness.

(Fixed) Gears of War March 19, 2009

Filed under: City Living,Health,Musings,Transit — Brooke D. @ 12:45 am

 

I’m a little new to the whole “riding a bike” thing, but so far am pretty sold on the idea.  I’ve always lived in cities with decent mass transit  (except that 5-year stint in LA when I spent more on parking tickets than I did at Trader Joe’s) and never really got into bikes. If you live in LA and ride a bike it means you’re either seriously broke or all those D.U.I’s finally caught up with you. Nobody rides a bike, ever.  We drive Mercedes and HUMMERS, thank you very much. I think one summer a friend decided to start a super sweet “bike gang” but we only got as far as the matching hoodies and then kind of gave up. Maybe we rode to the neighborhood bar like, twice.  People are lazy in LA and it’s kind of hilly and spread out and we like our polluted skyline just the way it is because the haze truly makes for some “amazing sunsets.”  Plus, what would we have to talk about if there was less traffic? I also spent some time in Seoul and New York, and the subways always treated me just fine.  I swear I love the sweaty cattle car feeling and getting smushed up against strangers who think other people really must love their open-mouth-gum-chewing-spitty-bubble-blowing-smack-cracking sounds first thing in the morning (obviously a pet peeve of mine).

 

 

So a couple years ago I sold my car, started traveling, and up until now thought that I’d been doing just fine on foot/by bus/metro.  Until last fall, upon my arrival in Montreal, when I was given, quite generously, a bicycle which I’m convinced possesses magical powers.  Not only do I never have to wait for the bus or go underground ever again, but anything (that isn’t booze) which gets me not only out of the house but across town is like a damn miracle.  I’ve been riding everyday since Spring kicked in and I now look for any excuse to throw on my fuzzy slippers and bike to the market, the dep, the post office, or the SAQ with my bathrobe flapping freely in the wind.

 

Just kidding; I wear pants if I have to.

 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m kind of a wuss when it comes to traffic, patches of ice, puddles, hills, potholes and basically everything else that isn’t a clear, wide open and completely flat bicycle lane. I don’t know all the fancy names for the gears and parts and crap, and I’m more the “basket and bell” kind of girl, but I finally understand why people are so into their bicycles.  It’s been pretty wonderful and I actually feel fairly, almost, something close to… healthy? I like going fast. I like the way the sunshine reflects off my handlebars, I like the wind in my hair.  I love the sights, sounds, and smells you just don’t get from riding the bus. I love riding by people’s houses and looking in their windows. Haha. Plus dudes think it’s cute when girls ride bikes.

All images by Brooke D.

 

When I got started, a friend in Minneapolis wrote asking if I rode a fixed gear because, in his opinion, “If it ain’t fixed its broken.” And I was like, “Well, my brakes are kind of shot and really only use one gear anyway… does that count? Ooh!! And did I mention it’s pink!?”  Now, dear reader, don’t judge.  I’ve been around the block once or twice, the whole world even, and yes, I know what a fixed gear is.  I just don’t necessarily get the thing about them.  I’m pretty sure I understand that they don’t have brakes and make you… cool? Well, not so much according to this guy:

 

free-fixie

 

I like bikes, I like riding bikes, but I have no idea what this guy is talking about.  Four things I was actually able to decode from this little rant:

  • First: This guy’s messenger bag is way older than yours and ISN’T from Australia.
  • Second: Riding a fixed gear will only make you cool if you are him.
  • Third: He was the first person to do anything ever.
  • Fourth: He hates your pants. (Don’t worry, guy, I hate pants too.)

 

Nothing like some weirdo elitism to take something Super Fun and make it a Pointless Pissing Contest!  So now I’m a little confused: is riding a fixed gear really cool or really really uncool?  Is my busted up generic junker better than your Bianchi because it’s not as trendy?  Are there some kind of style guidelines I’m not aware of?  Why does this guy care if I wash my hair and what does that have to do with his bike? Are certain people just not allowed to ride bikes at all? Gee. There sure is a lot of stigma, social stratification and fashion involved in foregoing public transit, being healthy, and falling in love with your city via two wheels. I had no idea! Better start reading up to see if I’m doing this right; wouldn’t want to break any of the rules in this town. Ohwait!! I don’t give shit and I should be outside practicing my sweet wheelies, bunnyhops and gear shifting skills….

 

Hotel de la AWESOME March 6, 2009

Filed under: Booze,City Living,Neighbourhood,Nightlife — Brooke D. @ 2:56 pm
drinks2

All photos by Brooke D. (Please don't steal, just ask!)

 

Montreal is full of gems. There are tons of places to drink beer, sip espresso, listen to music, browse the wares of independent artists and designers, and work on your slightly aloof (but hopefully not entirely unapproachable) super-engulfed-by-whatever-I’m-reading/writing/drawing demeanor while covertly checking out the cute girl in leg warmers or sensitive musician-type in the fuzzy sweater. It’s good like that. Well, at least The Plateau is.

 

However, dear reader, should you choose to venture just south of your comfort zone (I know it hurts), there’s a big wide world of even more Awesome waiting for you. Now, normally when I think of Downtown, I picture a wasteland of commercial consumerism (the Crap, Suburban Outfitters) and gaggles of Juicy Couture- and Ugg-sporting college kids. Am I right? WRONG!! In our very own city, amongst everything that is cheap and trendy, there is a complete throwback to the lavish lifestyle of bountiful booze, men in pastel suits, high-class hookers, quality service, and perfectly garish decor. I’m talking, of course, of the one and only Hotel de la Montagne.

chandelier

 

Picture this: grand white pillars; enormous crystal chandeliers; a bubbling fountain complete with dramatic and slightly awkward rotating fairy statue; Art Nouveau (knock-off) nudes; stylish “mature” call girls; traveling business men; a skilled piano player tickling the ivories, banging out instrumental versions of bad 80′s Pop and Easy Listening; and, most importantly, a Happy Hour offering 2-for-1 drinks and $2.50 cheese and pickle plates. (‘Cause nothing says class like a jar o’ pickles.) Oh, and complimentary hand sanitizer in the Ladies’ Room. And a rooftop pool and bar during the summer months. If you’re really lucky, you’ll happen upon the hotel bar in full swing, when all the middle-aged divorcees come out in full force to bump and grind to all your favorite hits. I’m not even joking. This place rules.

 

Now. Don’t all come running at once, and by no means should you abandon ship from your fav neighborhood coffee shop/dive bar. I’m just saying that there’s more out there. If you need to call it Ironic or Kitsch or whatever else to justify leaving the Mile End, that’s cool. Do it. Maybe I’ll see you there! (Or at the dangerously amazing karaoke bar up the street. But that’s a post for another day.)

 

pillars1 

 

Strictly Forbidden: Kijiji HATES Fun February 14, 2009

Filed under: Advertising,Manifesto,Shopping — Brooke D. @ 3:54 pm

Phew! Wow….I sure have been busy writing lately!! What with all the food, art, and music reviews; travelogues; memoirs; photo essays; clever daily observations; snarky social commentary; and assertions of unhipness, I feel like I’ve been contributing to society on a pretty consistent basis, all while being a great team player for this very blog!

 

PSYCHE. Just kidding.

 

I’ve been holed up in my dark apartment writing and posting Craigslist and Kijiji ads 24 hours a day for the past three weeks.  Mostly because I am broke and also because Craigslist and Kijiji are like the poor man’s (or Tragically Unhip) Facebook.  I stalk, I flag, I’m obsessed.

 

I have also perfected the art of the repost.  As you may or may not know, Craigslist and Kijiji will kill your mother for reposting the same thing over and over to “top” your ad.  Jerks.  Therefore, I have been forced to finely tune my writing tactics in order to evade their stupid restrictions and  completely flood both sites with desperate advertisements for useless crap.  I see this as an exercise in Creative Writing for Commercial Appeal. (Yes, I just made that up. No, you cannot use it unless you pay me mad royalties.) A thesaurus, if I had one, would have also come in handy, but in times like these who the hell would spend money on a dumb book? Anyway, what is posted once as “Vintage” in Montreal is reposted as “Retro” in Parc Extension, etc.  Also, listing one thing in the title and including keywords for other stuff in the body works too… tricky.

 

Example:

Search for a Drink Mixer and you will find exactly 10 completely unrelated ads all by me!! Mwaaahahahahhha…Victory!!!

 

world domination

 

Easy, right? WRONG! This is actually quite exhausting and labor intensive when you factor in the time it takes to photograph each item (taking into consideration appropriate lighting and backdrops); edit photos; upload photos; write ads; edit ads; enter titles, photos, emails, phone numbers; skillfully solve the often poetic “Captcha” puzzles; agree to terms; confirm email addresses, and finally publish each ad.

 

I managed to post 90 (yes, NINETY; I told you I was obsessed) different ads between the two sites, in categories ranging from clothes and furniture to DVDs and appliances for basically all the same crap, before actually getting busted for attempting to repost.

 

Kijiji red alerted (not a real phrase) one ad and sent me this List of Restricted Items, telling me that I had violated their terms by posting ads for one or more of the following Restricted Items, but not specifying which:

(I’ve highlighted the really good ones so you can just kind of skim them; we’re almost done, I promise.)

 

* Alcoholic Beverages

* Baby Walkers

* Blood, Bodily Fluids and Body Parts (What. The. FUCK. Why not? I mean, if I don’t need my kidney and am asking a fair price/O.B.O.)

* Burglary Tools (Which would be totally sweet.)

* Counterfeit Currency, Stamps or Coins

* Counterfeit Products

* Electronic Surveillance Equipment deigned or used primarily to illegally intercept/record the private actions or interactions of others without their knowledge or permission

* Embargoed Goods

* Escort or Accompanying Services

* Government and Transit Uniforms, IDs and Licenses

* Illegal Drugs & Drug Paraphernalia (You mean I can’t buy crack rocks on Kijiji? WTF?!)

* Illegal Services

* Hazardous Materials

* Fireworks, Destructive Devices and Explosives (So I can’t list my red faux alligator shoulder bag as EXPLOSIVEly awesome?)

* Identity Documents, Personal Financial Records & Personal Information in any form, including mailing lists

* Items which encourage or facilitate Illegal Activity (Hmmm…a little help here?)

* Lottery Tickets, Sweepstakes Entries and Slot Machines

* Massage Services (Heh heh. “Massage”.)

* Obscene Material and Child Pornography (SHIT! I have so much of that stuff to get rid of!)

* Offensive Material (Not at all subjective.)

* Pesticides

* Pictures or Images that Contain Nudity

* Police Badges and Uniforms

* Prescription Drugs and Devices

* Prostitution or Ads that Offer Sex, Sexual Favours or Sexual Actions in Exchange for Money

* Recalled Items

* Satellite Products that Violate the Radiocommunication Act

* Sexual Services, including camming

* Solicitation of other users except by placing an Ad

* Stocks and Other Securities

* Stolen Property

* Tobacco Products

* Used Cosmetics (Darn…I ‘ve been looking for lipstick that perfect hue of Herpes for FOREVER!)

* Weapons and Related Items, such as firearms, firearm parts and magazines, ammunition, BB and pellet guns, tear gas, stun guns, switchblade knives, and martial arts weapons (What if it’s a “Vintage” or “Retro” I.E.D., hand grenade, rapier, etc.?)

 

This is really disappointing, I mean how can they hate FUN so much? Plus, I have a huge collection of films made with illegal surveillance equipment of massage therapists with fake identity documents violating the Radiocommunication Act and scratching off lotto tickets. It’s pretty hot stuff; I guess I’ll have to set up shop elsewhere.

 

Thanks for nothing Kijiji.

 

Where Beyonce At? January 27, 2009

Filed under: Art,Books & Mags,Booze — Brooke D. @ 12:50 am

I’ve had a lot of (ahem) time on my hands as of late, what with being unemployed and all, and so I am constantly entertaining myself with really important things like: porn; researching graduate programs; looking for a decent tattoo parlour; perusing Craigslist hourly, daily (I swear looking for jobs); and living vicariously through friends in various parts of the world who are gainfully employed or at least seem to be super-motivated, happy and productive, which is both inspiring and really annoying.  And, of course, there’s always reality TV. Lots of reality TV. (Tragically Unhip or just tragic?)

 

I think the internet is giving me shitty self-esteem and sucking my will to live. Regardless, my days are jam-packed and I rarely leave the house unless armed with my magic travel mug filled to the tippy top with hot coffee, brown sugar, a touch of soy milk, and a couple shots o’ the Jameson. (I sense a pattern amongst the Tragically Unhip staff writers, hmmm?) I figure if I absolutely MUST leave the office (my bedroom), put on “real” clothes to face “real” people in the “real” world, I might as well be warm and comfortably buzzed.

 

Now don’t judge. Being drunk all the time is completely justified because:

A: I’m a fucking Girl Scout. It’s like, negative 120 degrees outside, and didn’t those big, burly dogs used to carry little barrels of booze around their necks to save people from dying of hypothermia? There you go, I’m using basic survival skills.

B. It’s a good distraction. Waiting for the bus in said stupidly cold weather is a lot easier on the soul when you have a little something to do/drink while you stare longingly in the opposite direction of traffic willing those two big, bright headlights to appear through the sludge and the shit.

C. It makes me a better person. Everyone knows that basic interactions between human beings are much, much more pleasant when you’ve had a few.

D. I’m unemployed and kind of feel like Tom Hanks or Will Smith in a drama about an average family man who hits a rough patch, loses his job and turns to the bottle while his wife is having an affair with his best friend and his kid gets all hooked on crystal meth and the neighbor girl is trying to seduce him but it’s semi-awkward because she’s only like thirteen and is really just looking for a father figure and there’s lots of slow motion camera pans of perfectly manicured lawns and automatic sprinkler systems and general dystopic suburban scenery… or something. It’s like an indie film. Anyway. He’s drunk a lot.

 

However! (I’m getting to the point, I swear….) Dear reader, last night, after a long night of revelry (yes, out in the real world, not The Real World), in a fit of creative inspiration resulting from a horribly misunderstood conversation with my roommate, something really, really amazing came out of the constant state of boredom/buzzed up stupor I’ve just described. It didn’t happen on The Hills or Facebook or in any other weird, diluted dimension of reality; something physical and concrete manifested from what has been the long dormant part of my brain that I like to call PURE GENIUS.

 

Let’s take a look:

 

2:30am. Checking the answering machine after stumbling home exhausted from carrying magic mug around all day and night to various bars, openings, shows, and late-night souvlaki joints.

Me: Hey, your sister called. I think she’s picking you up at the train station tomorrow?

Poor Soul Who Has To Live With Me: Yep, she and Will are going to be there at 11:15.

Me: Who?

PSWHTLWM: Her fiancé.

Me: Oh my God! BEYONCE!?

PSWHTLWM: No, her fiancé.

Me: Yeah, but what if Beyonce picked you up?! Half-whispered between fits of giggles Holy crap, what if Beyonce was just, like, everywhere? What if she was the bus driver and the checkout girl at Loblaws and what if she was, like, covertly in every issue of National Geographic in every picture peeking through the reeds or something? Holy crap, I have an idea….

PSWHTLWM: I’ll get the glue.

 

Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you, in full color, the World Premiere of:

Where Beyonce At?

 

Beyonce1

 

 

beyonce2

 

 

beyonce3

 

 

beyonce4

 

 

beyonce5

 

Now, don’t be jealous that you didn’t think of it first. I just happened to have a completely useless Liberal Arts degree, a bottle of booze, and a little too much time on my hands….

 

You Are Gorgeous December 17, 2008

Filed under: Advertising,City Living,Culture & Society,Neighbourhood,Photography — Brooke D. @ 4:16 pm

When I moved recently to my new neighborhood, I immediately noticed all the great hair and beauty ads in the shop windows along Jean Talon and the diversity of human beauty proudly displayed behind its panes of glass.

 

I went walking the other day and decided to take a few pictures to chronicle the variety of faces I saw peering back at me from the inside, looking out. Some were really striking, some were extremely cheesy, and some were a little straight-up creepy (e.g. mannequins of small children with dirty, matted hair is a little… I don’t know… ew?).

 

I was greeted warmly with waves and smiles in some shops, actually kicked out of others, and had the pleasure of meeting one man who stood proudly by a photo of himself taken some 40 years earlier (see the black and white number).

 

This is my ‘hood:

 

3114652464_5bdb09983a

 

 

3113823869_21aee513a7           3114635848_3522757909          3113826695_b822fec540

 

3113826069_5233bf3a761 3113819639_f18c222d51 3113816595_cdd63f2e7c

 

 

3114648326_42ba530629

 

 

 

3114652168_1582d04cdf           3113815969_d9b49cfae6          3113820719_7612e303a1

 

3114638152_c311200a38 3113823235_77276c39b3 3113825637_1054430825

 

3114653308_85eafa2c24           3114645340_e9878fc15e          3113822125_91433dcbd5

 

 

3114649910_1bbf354502

 

 

3114645820_1c099fa68a3113815435_c9b5ab2403

 

Dear Bar St. Laurent (An Open Love Letter) December 16, 2008

Filed under: Booze,Hipster Culture,Manifesto,Music,Nightlife — Brooke D. @ 6:16 pm

Dear Bar St. Laurent,

 

I know we just met and haven’t known each other long, but I wanted to discuss something really important with you (out of pure love and sincere concern for your well-being). We have some mutual friends and I plan on visiting from time to time, but you guys gotta step up your game. Seriously.

 

Last Sunday I stopped by to check out Cresting and Postcards. I was instantly charmed by your impossibly large bottles of beer (the fastest way to this girl’s heart), free pool, super-friendly sound guy, and the amazing lineup. (OK, one guy is my roommate and the others I’d never heard of, but still.) And, of course, zero cover at the door is always a good way to start any long-term, committed relationship.

 

Granted, the sun seems to set around noon these days and everyone has started hunkering down for the long winter ahead, but you’ve got the capacity to accommodate the population of a small country—yet virtually every barstool and chair was conspicuously empty. The entrepreneur in me immediately began brainstorming grand PR schemes I would have employed to promote the show because I’m a capitalist and it’s fun. If you need me to stand on the street wearing a sandwich board and ringing bells, I’ll do it. For a dollar.

 

Another thing: You kind of smell like lemon Lysol. I’m all for personal hygiene, but it’s a little overwhelming. Like the kid in 8th grade who doused himself in Cool Water,  leaving distinct trails of cheap cologne in the hallways. It’s a bit much.

 

Lastly, and most importantly, who are you kidding by charging a whole dollar for Galaga!? C’mon. That’s just plain extortion. And a little insulting. Considering I suck royally and it’s humiliating enough to announce to your friends at the bar that you’re off to Conquer The Universe only to return 45 seconds later, I really don’t need to pay a dollar to lose my dignity. A quarter, maybe.

 

That said, the show was great (the sound crisp and clear even in the vacuously empty space) and I’ll be back, lured if only by your delicious grosses bières. I haven’t given up on you yet; what self-respecting hipster would turn her back on a decidedly unhip bar to hang out in? Isn’t it our job to foresake other crowded, more popular, mainstream venues?

 

The era of legit dive bars is fast coming to an end, with every hole in the wall quickly becoming popularized for its cheap beer, rude bartenders, adolescent bathroom graffiti, and tragically (un)hip patrons. It happened to Little Joy and Mars Bar. It could happen here. So just don’t go getting too cool on me, Bar St. Laurent.

 

Love, ME.

 

How Not to Throw a Pancake Party December 16, 2008

Filed under: Food,How-To — Brooke D. @ 9:41 am

1. Hypothetically suggest at some point in a crowded room that it would be “awesome” to make pancakes for all your friends and lovers the following Sunday.

 

2. Talk it up all week, reminding everyone and inviting strangers off the street.

 

3. Sleep in really late on said Sunday. Begin watching the Britney Spears documentary in bed, half-asleep.

 

4. Be jolted back to reality by roommate calling your cell phone from the next room to announce, “Dude. We have to go to the store …”

 

5. Stumble to dépanneur in pajamas to debate the difference between “baking powder” and “baking soda.” Throw caution to the wind and do paper-rock-scissors to decide.

 

6. Peel an old recipe off the refrigerator, then realize you have absolutely no means of measuring what may or may not be the correct ingredients.

 

7. Disregard all prescribed proportions, declaring a penchant for improvisation.

 

8. Experiment with one half-burned, half raw pancake. Delegate all cooking duties to roommate’s best friend’s girlfriend.

 

9. Attempt to redeem yourself by proudly serving store-bought cookies straight from the box at the end of a delicious brunch lovingly prepared by everyone but you.

 

10. Sit back and enjoy the company of friends, regardless of your complete failure.

 

Cool Fest December 14, 2008

Filed under: Music,Nightlife — Brooke D. @ 8:35 am

Hi Montreal. You’re nice, and guess what? I like you. Like, I really like you. I have a crush on you and all your argyle sweater-wearing, drum-banging, feedback-blaring, microphone-eating, clarinet-screeching boys and girls. Especially the kids at Cool Fest.

 

I’m kind of a sucker for blatant self-promotion and unabashedly declaring oneself “Supreme Master of All Things Rad,” so when I stumbled upon a brief description in the Mirror this week I fell in love with just the title of the festival itself (no “Sony/Redbull/Nike Presents” crap—just Cool Fest) and decided to check it out. I had the apprehensive expectation of a bunch of pretentious indie/noise/experimental bands playing a venue packed with cooler-than-thou underground know-it-alls, but what I found instead was an open loft space scattered with comfy chairs, coffee tables, couches, and a even kitchen serving up sandwiches. The crowd was definitively 20-something, though not exclusively, and one instantly had the feeling of being more than welcome to wander in and stay as long as you like.

 

I managed to catch a solo artist on a xylophone, four guys who sounded like pterodactyl deathmetal, and two friends—one on upright bass and the other alternating between fake strumming a badminton racket and playing the clarinet—sing-humming and moaning to complement each other. Not everyone’s piece of pie, but if nothing else can be appreciated for the diversity and support of people doing what they do best: hanging out and making shit happen. I had a taste last night and am going back for more today.

 

You can read about how and why the festival (slash weekend-long houseparty?) started, who’s playing, and what it’s all about here.  Now, wasn’t that refreshing?

 

I recommend:
Cool Fest
La Brique
6545 Durocher, #402
Dec. 12-14
Doors at 5 p.m.
BYOB

 

First Things First December 14, 2008

Filed under: City Living,Hipster Culture,Manifesto — Brooke D. @ 8:24 am

Hi. I’m new here. And I have a confession to make…

 

But I have to whisper it real low and quiet-like so no one can hear me. Maybe I should just mouth the words into a glass jar and bury it … or maybe I should write it on a piece of paper and burn it or see a priest or create a cathartic piece of short fiction about a girl whose name is “Brook.”

 

I think I’m a hipster.

 

I’m writing now from a mid-century modern teak chair drinking coffee, chainsmoking in the flannel shirt I bought at Beacon’s Closet in Brooklyn, listening to David Bowie. I like cool shit and my friends like cool shit. I have bangs. I work in a coffee shop on St. Viateur (just kidding) and my boyfriend plays the tambourine in a noise band (that’s not true either)—is that really such a crime?

 

There. I said it. Like, WHOOOOOOaaah. That feels GOOD! I feel oddly empowered, like I’ve Taken Back the Night or reclaimed a dirty word. Like “cunt.”

 

Now that that’s out of the way, this being the Tragically Unhip blog I’d like to offer my services as in “insider.” I will shamelessly accept invitations to cool parties, art openings, record releases, and film screenings as a conspicuous consumer of pop culture (with, of course, an appropriate measure of humility and self-effacing awkwardness in my reporting so as to blend in). I’m new in town and need all the play I can get. So bring on the free booze, no-strings flings and Cobrasnake-style fame and fortune, so that I’m not stuck at home watching re-runs of the “The Hills” on a Friday night. Wait…. er, I mean drinking pisswater PBR and doing mad blow with Steve Aoki at Cinespace.

 

Hearts, Brooke