A Jar Factory? Pt 1. The Glowing Box.

DATE: Dec 30th

LOCALE: My couch. Waterloo. Ontario. Canada.

The room was either badly lit, or lacking any source of illumination at all, I could not tell, but I did not care. I sat down at 7:29 for the Toronto Maple Leaf game, not knowing what to expect. The 42 inches of pure LCD goodness stood infront of me, just mindlessly showing what it was told. It had no feeling, no pulse, and most of all, no taste.

If you were wondering, yes, this is a food post, and yes, this is episode one.

Back to the original story, but let us rewind a bit.

It was a warm July afternoon, I just got out of work, and proceeded to bus to the Fairview mall with my roommate Adrian, looking for things to spend our hard earned money on. If I recall correctly, the bus driver was a balding middle aged man, who seemed to resemble a skinnier Jimmy Carter.

We reached our destination, and Adrian decided to check out Best Buy, which I assumed was a gourmet novelty food market. We laid down 900 dollars for a, what I was told, 42" HD LCD TV.

I have never heard of such words before. I figured for 900 dollars, it would taste like a slice of heaven sprinkled with lust and served with a side of conscientious daydreams topped with a marshmellow sauce. We got it home, set it up, and for months, I noticed Adrian never even took a bite. He just stared at it. I just assumed he didn't feel worthy at this point, and I didn't want to be rude and take the first bite. So I waited, and Lord, did I wait.

Present day. It is Christmas break, Adrian went home. I was sitting on my couch, reaching between the pillows trying to find something to nibble on. I was hungry. I looked up, and I saw the most glorious rectangular shaped expensive gourmet novelty food product I've ever seen.

I immediately grabbed my laptop, and looked on the internet for how long LCD HD TV's had to be cooked before it was safe for general consumption. I couldn't find any answers, so I figured it was ready to eat, out of the box.

I have never been so excited. Looking forward to the first taste of this mystical and overwhelmingly entertaining box. I took a bite.


Total let down.
It tasted more like a dry blank grey dream, covered with a smathering of neutrality,

2/10.

A Car Factory? Ep. 11: Animals can marry, too?

MATT POST

Hullo! Episode 11? Its been such a long time.


DATELINE: December 27th, 2008

LOCATION: The Ford Plant, Brantford, Ontario

BANDS TO SEE: The Torcus, Kris Misner, Katie Stelmanis, Nich Worby, The Magic, The Racoon Wedding (this listing is for all you bands who like to google your own names)

My night began working at my dead end job, making money for my dead end family, with nothing in return, and i'll die poor and in debt and i'll never have a happy day in my life ever again



I got home, and caught at ride to the ford plant. Unfortunately, for once in the ford plants history, they decided to START A SHOW ON TIME. I was at my place of business until 8, and the band I was most excited to see (The Torcus) played first at 7:30. Oh dear! We arrived at at the FP at around 9. So, sorry The Torcus, Kris Misner, and Katie Stelmanis, this blog post is not about you guys, despite my wishing to get there earlier. My bad.

We arrived in time to catch Nich Worby. However, this was in the art gallery portion of the ford plant, and we were located behind the wall there, so my experience of this part of the show was me conversing with friends. However, from what I DID hear, I thought it was a mellow, easy-going sound. I'm sure if I were to go back in time and listen, I would hear lots of insightful lyrics and thought-provoking words. However, we decided to talk about how our clothes matched each other. Hrm.

I have neglected to mention the weather at this point in time. For December 27th, this weather was balmy, brisk, and generally PLEASANT. I enjoyed wearing a t-shirt as the warm breeze warranted such attire. As I should have mentioned before, this set the precedent for a chill audience not all bundled up with winter stuffs.

NEXT ACT: The Magic. Isaac cleverly pointed out that the soundboard, mixer, various electronics was now located beside the stage, as opposed to where it used to be, at the back of the room on an elevated booth. We watched the show from the booth, which was a pleasant change from standing in the crowd, behind a ridiculously tall man with a tall hat. Which has happened one too many times before. With an aerial view of the band, I could fully experience this show. Which is to say, it was MAGIC (HAHA). I think I neglected my girlfriend, so sorry Carrie, I was just caught up in the show. Anyways, The Magic were sweet and sounded complete. Very polished and professional. With the occasional dual synth, this band provided a danceable beat at some points whereas in other points hard intuitive rockout sections would break out, catch you by surprise, and make you fall in love with them. One song by theirs sounded exactly like the theme song from Doug, so that was only points in their favour. During the show, The Magic mentioned they had THREE COPIES OF THEIR ALBUM LEFT. Oh no! I needed to get one! So after the show, Isaac, Cole and I decided to get one.

"You ask them Isaac! I'm too nervous!" whimpered Cole, as he is a SISSY
"No you do it! I'm scared!" simpered Isaac, because he didnt CARE as much

"LET ME DO IT," I bellowed at them with a grandoise nature unbecoming of my own persona. I pushed them out of the way, grandly marched up, and stood there for a few minutes as I waited for a break in the main vocalist to stop putting things away so I could meekly ask for an album. They had one left! Jackpot! I bought it on the spot and was promptly beaten by hordes upon hordes of infuriated indie kids. I fled the scene, and ran to Isaac's car. He caught up, tackled me. As I lay there, my face gashed wide open by the pavement, Cole came up and took the album. Isaac punched him in the neck twice, and ripped the CD from his dirty grasp. I managed to get back up, trip Isaac and push him into his car's side mirror. Isaac's face slashed open like Wal-Mart slashes prices. In the back alley, some blessed soul left a tire-iron nearby. I was the first to spot it, and delivered to Cole's head a resounding blow, crushing his skull, leaving him bleeding in a Brantford parking lot. I left the two bodies and went back to the show to enjoy: RACOON WEDDING!!!!!!

Racoon Wedding. The Ford Plant house band. Reggie has covered them numerous times before. However, this time its PERSONAL.

Not particularly, but it was a bang-up job by Tim Ford and the gang as usual! They performed the CROWD FAVOURITES, having modified them to be slicker, cleaner, and best of all, funkier. However, it is time for my personal favourite activities, ANECDOTES

Cole was desperate to write a song. So, he starts coming up with these riffs to build songs around. One of these riffs was so pleasing, so excellent, so GOD-LIKE that it couldn't have possibly come from him. The theory arose that this was actually a Racoon Wedding riff. If so, Cole had to test any new riffs against existing Racoon Wedding riffs to check for plagiarism. So, that night, we had to find out if this riff was a RW riff. One song after another was played, and it seemed to be that Cole actually came up with something original! The second final song was played. It immediately clicked. Cole dropped to his knees, and let out a revolting "Nooo!!!" as his hopes and dreams were dashed away, providing the basis for troubling psychological problems later in life.

All in all! GOOD SHOW. WOULD SEE AGAIN!!!! A++++++++ SHIPPED FAST

A Car Factory? Ep. 10: Matt Goes Solo (with accompaniment)

This post was originally supposed to be finished a loooong time ago, but i never got around to it. Here it is, anyways

Hello chaps! Its Matt comin at ya with a guest A Car Factory? post about our favourite (and only) indie spot, The Ford Plant! This is episode 10 cause Reggie got reeeeal lazy and hasnt put up number 9 yet. But, it is on it's way down your pipes and into your display device.

Here we go! The night started out with me waiting for my accomplice, Cole, to pick me up. I stood in my driveway with a can of Mountain Dew in my hand, and a cool guy attitude in the other. Cole pulled up in his purple car, which was purple, and a car. This car was like a good dog. It was good. As we drove to the Ford Plant, Cole introduced me to Hawksley Workman. I enjoyed this greatly and look forward to obtaining some of their music.

We arrive, and my driver parked in a spot that wasn't the parking lot. This set the precedent for the rest of the show as being some askew version of the place I've been going to for some bit now. We waited around outside for a good bit, sitting on the curb as Cole described how to cut a pizza in different ways, but failing spectacularly. The show started with Hey Brother playing. The drumset, manned by Sean Boyle, was one of the most elaborate I've ever seen at the Ford Plant ever since Easy Meat played. I was dazzled by it as the lead singer, Josh Levesque, made witty banter with the spartan offering of an audience. 10 people at the beginning of the set, including Cole and I. This was slightly disappointing, but it WAS an unadvertised show (the Ford Plant should update it's schedule). A humourous moment came when Tim Ford came in, and Hey Brother told him to tell everyone outside to pay and get inside the show room. Tim retorted that only 6 people had paid so far (I was the sixth!) and looked around at the 10 people in the room. HA

The Tragically Hip, as all good Canadians know (in-joke), has two sides. A folkier side, gentle with sweeping lyrics about lost loves and misadventures, and a rockining side, hard with a cutting edge that leaves you bleeding, but asking for more. Hey Brother could be described as the latter, only without Gordon Downie. Julian Hache (I liked your sweater) provided the guitar melodies as the hulking Russell Cook slammed down the bass lines with expertise. They rocked, and rocked hard, and it was hard to resist dancing (y'know, i need to maintain a rep) as they pumped out the songs, one after another. The only criticism I have for Hey Brother is the seemingly out of place singing. This background of catchy rock rhythms was nearly ruined by the weak, ineffectual vocals. However, this could be blamed by the faulty sound systems at the Ford Plant that night, as microphones had to be switched and and vocals were still very quiet. Unintentional feedback marred the experience as well. Evidence to the contrary of the bad vocals is provided by the band's MySpace page, where the song Strawberry has strong, powerful vocals leading it on. So, I am assuming my only criticism of this band comes from mere technical difficulties.

Cole and I exited the room, satiated with the first performance of the night. Could this be beat?! Depends if you like Albert Hammond Jr...

The Baker (movie review?)

Right, I think this is around the time I usually post something of random excellence and never do it for another year or so. Not like anyone's really going to see this. *glares at random people*

Soooooo... To start, yesterday was a fun day.. Sort of. Went to the local Christmas Parade, went on a nice walk and.. that was it. As I found out later, there was absolute crap on TV last night. So I decided to rent a movie down at the local movie store thing. I was looking on the shelf for a movie to rent (not really I already had in mind what I wanted) when I stumbled upon a familiar face. It was striking and.. ginger. I saw the handsome face of Damian Lewis (Life, Dream Catcher, etc.) staring back at me with a pan of cookies and guns. The title was The Baker (epic I know) and it was about a hit man who doesn't want to be a hit man and the company he works for is trying to kill him. Yes, I'm pretty sure I've heard that story before too. Anyways he gets help from his friend named Leo (Michael Gambon) and is sent to a small little village in Wales (at least I think so) where he takes refuge in a Bakery. Now being a small little village, people know everything about everyone in about 5 seconds. The people of the village find out he's staying at the bakery and they insistently think he is the baker. Long story short a whole bunch of shite happens. The movie was funny, witty and had the best sex scene (next to Shoot 'Em Up) in a movie as far as I've seen. So that was my movie review, perhaps if I feel like I'll post laters.

Have a good one,
Cheers,
Aric

Tricowinc

Tricowinc. A suitable name for a blog.
OR IS IT.
Let us delve deeper into this name that we all just understand is and always will be there.

Tricowinc.
Tri, cow, inc.

Tri, usually means three. But obviously there are more than three writers who participate in writing for this blog. I'm pretty sure in this case, tri means "total recordable injuries"... Which you wouldnt think would fit a blog. Naturally, you are an idiot when it comes to pretty much anything. Thats why I write the articles, you just sit there sipping on your Blue Raspberry Fanta and goin "fuhh fuhhh fuhhh" over and over. Yeah, thats why your girlfriend left you, not the terrible hygiene or occasionally getting caught eyeing the neighbours mother, but the "fuhhh"'s.

Trust me, I'm smarter than you. And am obviously psychic. Yeah. Thats right. Like Jean Grey.

Now, cow. Usually a farm animal which gives us such dairily delicious delights such as milk or cheese. Cheese. But, again, I don't see any cows hired at tricowinc. Actually, I don't see anyone hired at tricowinc. Except for maybe that Portuguese immigrant. I'm pretty sure he's making more money than I am. But then again, I don't believe in currency. Since coming to Canada, I've determined money isn't actually real. Seriously. Holograms.

ANYWAYS. Cow in this specific case, according to princeton, is "a large unpleasant woman".

IS THERE ANY OTHER KIND? AHAHAHA.

So we have large unpleasant women who seem to record their injuries.

Inc. Ink. Squids. Calamari. Fried Calamari. Deep Fried. Oil. Oil Tankers. Ocean. Squid. Ink. Inc.

I feel that is the thinking that the dude (who came up with this name. Pretty sure it was Prince.) went through in coming up with the name. Inc means inc!

But after googling inc, I find out it means incorporated. But it also stands for the Iraqi National Congress. Which is much more exciting than incorporated (but much less exciting than fried calamari).

So after hours and hours of research it turns out tricowinc really stands for the injuries reported by a bunch of fat chicks who are a part of the Iraqi congress.

And as we all know Irans motto is "no fat chicks". Its the foremost point which the countries differ in opinion. If they agreed on fat chicks, they would be one giant country in the middle east.

Iranq.

As the public relations spokesperson for Tricowinc, I will give my support to Iran. There truely is no point or reason for fat chicks in the middle east. Iraq should consider disbanning their fat chick congress and shipping them to USA. Its where all the other fat chicks are.

You heard it here first, Iran and Tricowinc will formally sign an agreement banning fat chicks from the middle east. A coalition against fat chicks, if you will.

And as the official PR spokesperson for Iraq, I will curse Iran and Tricowinc for their ridiculous agreement!

MASHED POTATAHS!

I'm James and I approved this message.

lulz

AWESOME VIDEO OF A KANGAROO MAN IN FRANCE


http://www.break.com/index/one-crazy-kangaroo.html

Response, and Drinking Game

Well, my excuse is that being an engineer is fucking time consuming, when im not working, im drinking, and therefore dont have time to write for this blog that much anymore. Dont get me wrong i would love to make usual entries but i find myself pressed for time most nights.
Now, you want stories? Here are some stories.
New drinking game: Bey Blades, how it works: you bet on which bey blade is going to win (you bet with drinks) and you drink however many drinks you wager. Then if you win you get to hand out twice as many drinks, unless you bet on "galvatron"(not intentionally named after the transformer). He is a bey blade that fucking destroys and he rarely loses in a one on one fight, infact he usually loses because he flies out of the ring or gets stuck in a corner. His drink ratio is 1:1, so you drink as many as you hand out if you win. There is no limit to how many drinks you can wager, basically as many as you can handle. Now in the rare ocasion that the bey blades tie, you double the drinks you hand out for the refight, or triple the drinks if you tie on the second match. This game will get you fucked. The last part is making and naming you're bey blades, names we used include; chuck norris, the compationator, galvatron, coat hanger abortion, the shocker, etc, so go drink and have fun.
Story: um there are probably some good ones, but i was probably drunk and consequently I can't remember them, oh well

Following up on the departure

So. It's now been around 2 months since university/college/high school has begun. And what of Tricowinc?

It seems as though academic excellence has killed this blog. So it goes.

I thought once university began, and everyone split up, tricowinc would be a good way to keep people together and posting about what crazy wacky stuff they're doing in their respective big cities. I suppose facebook does a better job than writing original content, however

Life in Toronto

So I got stuck in an elevator for 35 minutes with 11 other people. The elevators maximum is 16, with the suggested highest at 12, so there was no excuse for the elevator to not work. Boo! Whatever, Friday is soon, so it'll all be good. Oh also, my professor sat on me. Looooong story.

-Lucas Thurston

FTP Issues

Just checking to see if i can post.