Gallery of Canadiana

I popped over to the Weather Network for a moment to check on tomorrow’s forecast for Canada Day. I live in the nation’s capital, and as such, there’s always tons of patriotic parties and one huge blowout of music and fireworks on Parliament Hill, seat of our good nation’s government. It’s quite the event if you’re into crowds, heat, road closures, Blue Rodeo, sunburns and moderate public intoxication. I’m actually not into any of those things (Blue Rodeo excepted; 5 Days in May is a favourite song) so I tend to stick pretty close to home come Canada Day, but it still bums me out to see that tomorrow’s forecast is calling for thunder storms and rain. Take it from a person who may have spent a bit of time doing precisely this, but there’s nothing worse than trying to get your public drink and sun stroke on in a humid downpour. Heh, although one year when Mr. Finger Candy and I lived just a few blocks away from Parliament Hill, we stood on our balcony and laughed uproariously at all the red and white-clad tourists ineffectually pelting down the street to avoid a massive rainstorm that just sort of spun itself out of nothingness. I’m not sure we come out looking so well in that story, but at least we stopped short of taunting, right? Because we’re polite Canadians like that.

This little gallery encompasses some of my more patriotic posts and manis, from the traditional (redwhitemapleleaf) to the not-so traditional (Mr. Dressup’s Tickle Trunk and the Trailer Park Boys.) There’s also a bit of nail art that never fails to make me laugh, last year’s attempt at beaver nails, which I joked at the time really came out looking more like dogs with conjunctivitis. And indeed they still do!

Nice One, Mustard Tiger!

I’m no rocket appliance, so I’m not sure how popular or well known they are outside of Canada, but here in the true north strong and free we stand on guard for a comedy troupe/television phenomenon by the name of the Trailer Park Boys. The Boys themselves are rum-swilling meathead Julian, the “brains” behind their many, many, MANY criminal endeavours, Ricky, quite possibly the dumbest human being on the planet, but a whiz at growing dope and mangling the English language, and sweet, kitty-loving, near AND far sighted Bubbles, who will follow the Boys anywhere (including to jail at the end of nearly every season) because they’re his family and he loves them. The Boys live in the Sunnyvale Trailer Park, a down-on-its-luck mobile home community in Nova Scotia, and spend their days scheming of ways to retire rich (“rich” being a relative term in the park, where $30,000 is enough to retire on), while getting drunk and high and trying (unsuccessfully) to stay out of prison. Despite the fact that the show contains some of the FILTHIEST language you’ll ever hear and routinely (like, every episode) concerns itself with seriously divisive topics like gun violence, prostitution, incarceration, alcoholism, drug addiction and mental illness, it has, amazingly enough, a terrifically sweet heart and so much love for its thoroughly weird and broken characters (of which the Boys are only three), you can’t help but be charmed. Make no mistake, though, unedited for TV (which in itself is an experience, given that the NSFW language flies at a rate of about two “fucks” and a “cock” every six seconds) it is SO filthy, both in terms of content and language, so if you’re especially sensitive to that kind of talk…well, you’re probably already offended! I’d be; the residents of Sunnyvale are gre-eee-easy.

Anyhow, I was sitting around the other evening in my three-doored car watching The Littlest Hobo on a 16 inch television, eating barbecued chicken fingers and drinking rum and Coke out of a sawed-off 2 litre bottle of PC Cola when I thought it might be high time to tackle some Trailer Park Boys nail art. I’ve been meaning to do a series of manis befitting the Boys and their friends (Sarah, Lucy, J-Roc) and enemies (Randy and Lahey), but before I head too far down that rabbit hole, I thought I’d whip up a bit of nail art featuring one of my favourite gags from the mid-years of the show, the Mustard Tiger.

So there’s this man who lives in the trailer park? Named Philadelphia Collins? (And this one time? At band camp?) Anyhow, Phil is no fan of the Boys, particularly when they lure his grown son, Jacob, into a life of low rent crime. He confronts the Boys about their involvement with his son, which could have been a powerful moment had he not been wearing a way, way, WAY too tiny, mustard-stained tiger tee stretched grotesquely across his ENORMOUS round belly, obliterating all rational thought and prompting Bubbles, MUCH to Phil’s displeasure, to bestow upon him the nickname of Mustard Tiger. The name sticks, too, much like the stains on Phil’s overburdened t-shirt and the scratches on Ricky’s car after the Mustard Tiger, enraged by his new nickname, beats it to death with an old hockey stick.

So here, for my first Trailer Park Boys nails, I looked to the Mustard Tiger for inspiration, capturing Phil’s mustard-stained, red tiger tee, if not the man behind it (’cause there just ain’t room enough on anyone’s nails, let alone my little ones, for all that belly.)