and you think that you’ll never find it again.

and you send out your calling pigeons and you send out your hounds.

and you send out an SOS to the world.

and you even grow a beard so that it can collect your scent of jack n the box tacos and weed and teenagers

and still no mojo

and you think oh thats it, maybe mojo has an expiration date or it runs from the elderly and gangbangs the young

but the truth is sometimes the mojo gets lost and follows the northstar

and you might have always suspected that its in canada or oregon or somewhere

and there it is and you say hi mo

and it asks do i know you

and you get it high and introduce it to some irish girls and some local strangers and some tourists from australia and after some joints the mojo says wait youre THE tony pierce

and you say yes ive been trying to tell you all along and then the mojo totally switches back into what you always knew it was and vice versa

and then the sunshine breaks through the clouds

and the maid opens the door

and the aussie says

yes

One night only: Vancouver International Bloggers Drinking Convention
Steamworks is at 375 Water St. 4:20p-9pm
Railway is at 579 Dunsmuir Street 9pm-??

and tick tock you dont stop.

i love you.

do you know that? its true. how could you be any better? do you see this picture? do you see me smiling while talking to a pretty girl while we walk through a park while holding a beer? as great as that little moment in time was, it doesnt even hold a candle to the lunch i had, and the dinner i had, and the experience that we had buying weed from the hells angels

or the amazing fireworks, or the drinking and smoking before and after the fireworks, or the rendevous after the drinking and smoking after the fireworks

or the late night poutine

oh, poutine, i might love you most of all.

but lets talk about the fireworks. they lasted all night.

people watched from all over.

they had this barge out there. it looked like a bed of lights.

first one firework rose up and exploded gently, then another. they had these ones that twisted inside each other.

they had these others that looked like huge round tits.

with little nipple explosions.

they even had these long twisting soaring rockets which arched and peaked and fell a tad

and got silent

and then erupted into squiggly white lights in the sky.

everyone applauded.

but the tittie bombs exploded and the nipple ones and the great shapes and the varied sounds and the rapid booms at the end of each segment sent the crowd into a lighthearted and loving mood.

the fireworks happen a few times throughout the summer. every night a different country sets off the fireworks. last night was spain. holland is coming soon, then america, then canada is last.

then they all light off fireworks together on the last night, the finale.

im aglow today.

im asotired. im asore. im ahungover. im asohappy. im a little high.

because we had asked everyone in vancity where to get weed and a few people said blah blah bar, go in the back climb the stairs.

so we went to the bar, me and foxxy, who is far more foxxy in real life. and we went to the bar and i asked the bartender. and foxxy said oh i have some shake in my bag and i said shhh. and the bartender said i dont know what youre talking about

and i said is upstairs open, and he looked at the stairs in the back and said i dont know what youre talking about yes.

which is the sound of what the fireworks sounded like last night.

yesssssssssss

right before they exploded all over the bay.

even as we were climbing the stairs foxxy was digging through her bag

one flight, two flights, three flights, and we saw a room with a table, a dude, and a dude sitting next to the dude.

there was also a line of people.

the person at the front of the line would throw down one $20 bill or two.

the dude behind the table would reach into his huge bucket of weed and weigh out $20 worth, put it in a baggie, and hand it to the silent customer. the other dude took the money and put it in a box.

then the next customer would throw down his money.

everyone marched in perfect harmony like that scene from the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld. no one wanted to say the wrong thing in fear that they wouldnt get their, uh, soup.

we got our weed, walked down to the street, and started on our journey walking through town.

later we found out that we had just been served, beautifully by the hells angels.

yes.

and fellas, that was the smoothest transaction ive ever acomplished in my entire life. ive been to the 7-11 where it took more time to buy one can of coke than it did to buy that primo bc bud. this took seconds, i got a four flight work out, i scored a good deal, and within minutes i was high with a hot babe with fake boobs that feel completely real.

yesssss.

photos by duane who was a great pre fireworks host, and thnx to keira who hosted the post fireworks drinkin

im moving to canada. the weathers nice here. the waters pretty and the parking meters let you pay them off via your cell phone.

the people are super sweet. the roads are paved with gold. the liquor stores have tip jars even though they charge you $10 for a six pack of PBR.

but the best is the irish girls remember you when you take the Cambie bus up Cambie back to the Cambie.

and the super best is that they lie and say that you made em come even though you only lasted through 2 much music videos.

then they wake you up in the morning. then they say lemme see if america is awake down there.

and america is always awake, ireland.

and then they do things to you that make you say things and moan things and

i will refrain from getting into too much detail but lets just say that at the cambie the girl who i ended up taking back to the room (after getting a wee bit lost and making out in doorways and alleyways seriously considering “breaking in” alley walls

said to me, i really dont like your beard

and i said i really dont like that you dont like my beard

and she said how can i convince you to get rid of it

and i said i may have brought a razor and a buzzcutter just for this situation

and she said how can i convince you to use those things

and i said do these things work

and i looked down at her irish eyes

she said my eyes are up here

i said oh yeah well

and there i was america with the hotel window open and the lights of the city across the way and the tv bumpin some music i never heard and this very sweet girl

convincing me

while pulling down my board shorts

and this morning, my friends, im beardless.

and tonight there are fireworks.

last year i drove around the country and parts of canada and i saw strange and usual lifeforms and histronics. and i took photographs and i wrote blog entries and i lived for once in my socalled life.

female readers of the busblog promised me things that i didnt deserve and when i came to their towns to collect on their promises i was greeted with excuses and claims of new boyfriends.

my heart broke with each timezone and my secret blog flourished.

depressedblog did gangbusters among the whoah-is-me crowd and i dedicated my life to LAist, as you know.

problem is, the readers of LAist are not like the readers of the busblog, in fact its safe to say that if i dropped dead here in beautiful british canada, those readers would probably be happy.

which means, for the last several months, ive been without any female attention.

at all.

high and dry.

so for my vacation i chose to go to a country where id be loved, appreciated, and respected. sure its for all the wrong reasons, but i figured i might at least be able to achieve the thing that ive been missed so much – the touch of a ridiculously young lady out of my league, and the access to some bc green bud in a somewhat legal situation.

last night i found myself at The Cambie. it was late. i met several irish girls. i was with a blogger that some of you may know.

she claimed to have a boyfriend so i said be loyal, look at all these irish girls

and she looked at them and she said, how is it that you can come up here, and these people who dont know you or know who you are, treat you just like i do, with love.

i said yes.

she said, even with that fucking beard!

and i smiled. but you couldnt see it because my beard covers my beautiful mouth.

and this blogger had the nerve to cockblock my advances with the irish lasses.

so i said i thought you said you had a boyfriend, why are you doing this to me?

and she said, i never said i wasnt evil.

so we got in a cab and i took her to my hotel room.

for some reason bars close early here in the land of the braver. sure the round mugs of Pale Ale were going for a mere $2.75, and you could get a pitcher for $8, but shit closes early leaving me with only half the buzz i was hoping for.

got back to the room and i said let me kiss you.

no.

let me just rub my beard up against your hottness.

k.

ok now let me rub my beard across your back.

my back?

yes and i bent her over the bed, lifted her shirt and she had the most beautiful back.maybe it wasnt that beautiful to you, because youre a normal person and have probably gotten some in 2007 but to me, in the moonlight, it was perfect. so i rubbed my dirty beard all over it and tried to get a whiff of, i dont know, something. anything.

she laughed and said she had to go home.

i was all, let me see your belly. she said no. i said come on, i could have brought 5 or 6 of those irish girls back here and i coulda gotten em all to show me their irish bellies. and then some!

she showed me her belly and i wished she hadnt.