by Greg Johnson | Jun 19, 2018 | Blog
Local student Janie Jones, finding herself drunk and alone at 3 am on the streets of Waterloo, decided that the only way she could make it home safely was if she found pizza.
Ms Jones was heard to be repeating the phrase “you are my fire, my one desire” over and over as she stumbled down the sidewalk with the grace of a crippled swan.
It was several agonizing seconds later that Ms Jones managed to find what she assumed to be a pizza place, an assumption reached through what can only be described as Sherlock Holmesian deductive reasoning: “The door was open and it was, like, 3 am.”
In her heavily inebriated state, Ms Jones disclosed to us that she vaguely recalled speaking to someone inside, but was unable to specify anything beyond the word “cheese”.
The next thing Ms Jones recollects is chewing. Ms Jones admitted the slice was both chewy and dry, and had a similar consistency with cardboard, but noted it “wasn’t exactly a deal breaker” for her. She wisely added, “Pizza’s pizza.”
We caught up with Ms Jones the next morning to see if she had reached any conclusions. She hadn’t, but she did add “I’m actually hoping it wasn’t pizza now. I forgot I’m off gluten.”
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | Jun 6, 2018 | Blog
In an eye-opening report, top researchers at the Institute of Science in Toronto have found a correlation between alcohol consumption and the ability to sing. According to the discovery, singing while intoxicated adds at least five octaves to a person’s vocal range, as well as the ability to recall every single lyric ever composed.
The news has brought relief to the millions across the world who sing karaoke and then have to hear from their friends the next morning they were a mess.
“I know I definitely sounded better than when I do in the shower. Maybe it was the audience?” questioned one young woman who definitely didn’t cause any ears to bleed during her silky-smooth rendition of Titanium by Sia.
In addition to boosting your vocal chords, those that consumed alcohol also reported they momentarily became fabulous dancers, despite many of the participants being notably caucasian.
“I could tell everyone on the dance floor was totally vibing me. I don’t know where it came from, but suddenly I was lord of the fucking dance,” said one man in khaki shorts.
Analysts caution they still have much to learn from the data they have collected and want to remind readers that although their karaoke may improve, “consuming too much alcohol can also lead to nausea, vomiting, headaches, and in severe cases, explosive diarrhea.”
Always use caution operating a microphone after the consumption of alcohol.
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | May 22, 2018 | Blog
Suits fans across the world were shocked to hear Meghan Markle, the 5th billed star of everyone’s favourite legal drama, secretly eloped over the weekend. Fans are absolutely crestfallen, as now that she is a married woman, her husband will not be permitting her to pursue her career as an actor anymore. She will instead be forced to join her man’s reality show about a quirky British family.
“I can’t think of a single person that’s happy for her,” said Wanda Smith, self-proclaimed #1 Suits fan, “How could she leave her character Rachel hanging in the wind just so that she can join some English reality show? Who’s going to want to watch that?”
Indeed, it is a sentiment shared by many fans of the hard-hitting, expertly-plotted courtroom thriller that Ms. Markle has been a part of since the very beginning. But what is most disturbing is the bizarre family that she has married in to.
“I heard they tell her what to wear under her clothes,” said another fan who wished to remain anonymous, “It’s just sick!”
Although Suits is expected to continue, fans are reporting that they’ll “still feel lost” without the paralegal-turned lawyer Rachel Zane’s sardonic wit and legal know-how.
As to whether or not Ms. Markle’s fans will follow the actor as she works on her new reality TV show, they are apparently feeling skeptical.
“I don’t think it’s going to be that successful,” said #1 fan Wanda, “I mean, they just got married and nobody even knew about it.”
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | May 16, 2018 | Blog
After decades of research and investigative journalism that truly “left no stone unturned,” male researchers at the University of Waterloo have finally discovered the reason why the women’s line is always longer for the washroom at every establishment besides Chainsaw.
Staff and patrons of Chainsaw alike have often been baffled as to why the men’s line is longer for the washroom than the women’s when it is exactly the opposite at near every other bar, eatery, and rest stop in the world.
According to the recent study, using the washroom at most establishments is a far more complicated problem for females. Any ladies entering the facilities must be prepared to face a series of intellectual and physical challenges that range from algebraic equations to full-on combat scenarios.
“We discovered this is the reason women will often go to the washroom in packs,” reported lead researcher, Jon Dough, “They need to make sure they have someone qualified to face each task. A healer, a warrior, an archer…”
The bombshell revelations point to the fact that the walls in women’s washrooms are hollow and hold creatures such as flying monkeys with razor-sharp teeth, Voldemort-like wizards, as well as homicidal robots. Each must be bested if the ladies wish to use the facilities.
“I’d like to hear a guy complain about ‘performance anxiety’ after going toe-to-toe with a Water Closet Dragon,” said one woman interviewed.
However, the question remains, how have the men of the world managed to remain oblivious to this when women have to face these bizarre and dangerous situations multiple times a day?
“Is that a serious question?” asked literally every single woman surveyed.
With this new data, researchers can finally dispel the fringe theory that the women’s line is always long because the washrooms were designed by men both ignorant of and indifferent to women’s needs.
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | Apr 24, 2018 | Blog
Through the many ages that have passed since Chainsaw’s inception in 2009, patrons have gazed slack-jawed with befuddlement at our sign.
“2009-2012ish?” they ask, eyes alight with confusion, “But that was years ago.”
Indeed, loyal patron; your powers of deduction clearly know no match. What you don’t know is that the world as we know it was almost lost to us in that fateful year, 2012.
You see, back in 2009, Chainsaw had not yet officially opened. After having acquired the bar through a dangerous game of chance, we were eager to finally realize our dream of opening the first Chainsaw-named karaoke bar in Uptown Waterloo.
After a long afternoon spent trying to remove the stickiness from the floors left by the previous owner, we engaged in a spirited round of karaoke.
But unbeknownst to us, we had an audience.
We spotted a most peculiar creature watching us from the shadows.
The small blue fellow was horned and had eight legs. He looked like the product of a passionate, consensual three-way romance between a Smurf, a centaur, and a tarantula. The eclectic love child told us that his name was Diane and that he had a message for us.
He looked like this but also completely different.
He spoke of impending doom at the hands of extraterrestrial nuclear fire. Diane told us that his people, the Ryangoslings (no relation) had been fighting a desperate war for supremacy of the Milky Way galaxy against their fierce enemy: The Galgarumps.
The Galgarumps were bulbous, bloated, boisterous, and blasphemous creatures with orange skin that knew no decency and had nought but a semblance of morality.
Diane said he had been tasked by the Ryangoslings with the protection of Earth. He had spent much of his difficult life living in the shadows as he went about his near-impossible task. But at last he had been drawn out of his solitude by the sweet sound of music, specifically, a karaoke version of Journey’s beloved ballad Don’t Stop Believing.
Diane said that he related to the song immeasurably. He’d been feeling a little blue lately (no pun intended) and the song had reminded him of the depth and talent of the human race.
Diane then told us that the Mayans had been right. They too had heard tell of the infamous Galgarumps, and knew that they planned to launch their attack in the year 2012. The Mayans had thought the Galgarumps arrival in force would surely mean the destruction of the planet. The Ryangoslings had shared this belief and had dispatched several sleeper agents to prevent this terrible act of violence.
But one by one, the Ryangoslings had been hunted down and taken from the world.
For twenty years, Diane had wandered the world alone, in a perpetual state of dread over the inevitable arrival of the Galgarumps.
But the music had cracked his steely visage and brought him forth from the shadows. In his desperate state of loneliness, he chanced an appearance. And now, meeting all of us and hearing the hallucinatory poetic lyricism of Journey, Diane’s soul was renewed; once again, he believed.
Journey in all their kinetic glory.
For the rest of the night, we sang him the best humanity had to offer: Oops, I Did It Again, Lose Yourself, Teenage Dirtbag, Sweet Caroline, and the immortal, Stacy’s Mom.
“My friends,” he said in his baritone brogue, “You have given me the faith to stand on my own eight legs. I will fight for humanity. When the Galgarumps arrive in and around the year 2012, I will fight and die for you.”
“What are your chances, Diane?” we asked.
“I’d put them at about 50/50.
“But whenever you sing those songs, I shall hear, and it shall give me strength. And remember, I’ll… be… right… here,” he said, jabbing each of us where we can only imagine he thought our hearts were.
And with that, he was gone.
To honour Diane’s wishes, our sign reflected the open-ended, undefined nature of the future. Yes, we knew the world might end in 2012, but we chose to have at least some faith in our furry blue friend. The brave Ryangosling deserved, at the very least, an “ish”.
And here we are. Still alive to this day. We like to think he’s out there somewhere, still riding that midnight train, going N…E…where…
Pictured: Artist’s conception of Diane’s soul.
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | Apr 11, 2018 | Blog
In a move that is being described as “refreshingly honest” and “forward-thinking”, local post-secondary institutions Wilfrid Laurier University and the University of Waterloo have announced they will no longer be grading end-of-term exams.
In a joint press conference, leaders at both universities stated that “We feel this better illustrates the futility of existence that each of our students will face once they leave the warm confines of the university walls.”
Students will still be obligated to study and complete the exams, making sure to write with black ink and not blue, but they will no longer be graded. Rather than pass off their exams to the professor upon completion, students can instead deposit them in the trash on their way out the door.
“We’re trying to demonstrate to the students that although life is truly meaningless and nothing they do here matters, they still need to get a job and show up to it.”
Before this initiative launched, students were graduating thinking that hard work and perseverance at school would one day pay off in the form of a fulfilling career. While a career might be in their future, professors want to remind students that the best days of their lives have already past.
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | Mar 21, 2018 | Blog
Seeing the crowd of over 15,000 students that partied on Ezra Avenue for Saint Patrick’s Day, local Waterloo Police were said to be “ecstatic” that their recent marketing campaign had been an astounding success.
After hearing that local students had been planning on a more low-key St. Paddy’s Day event, limited to friends and fellow students that actually live in Waterloo Region, Chief John Smith grew concerned.
“Everyone knows the Ezra St. Patrick’s Day party is the biggest rager around. Where are all those kids travelling up from the States for St. Paddy’s going to go if not here? Guelph? Not on my watch.”
Police then worked tirelessly with local government to come up with a plan, until finally, University of Waterloo researcher Rosamund Butterworth made a genius discovery.
“Over the course of my research into what makes young people tick, I came across an old N.W.A song that gave me an idea. You see students, and especially inebriated ones, don’t actually like to be told what to do. And what’s more, they might do exactly the opposite of what you tell them!”
Local police and government officials were baffled by this shocking and completely unheard of information and were quick to act. They immediately issued a press release saying that they would not be permitting Saint Patrick’s Day festivities on Ezra.
This achieved exactly what they were after — a collective shrug from the entire student body of Waterloo Region. When asked for comment about whether or not they would heed the warning from police, local students had this to say: “Woohooo!! EZRAAAAAAA!”
On March 17th, Chief Smith was positively beaming with good cheer as he surveyed the massive crowd of students and tourists. “This is just the beginning. Imagine what we can accomplish next year when we ban the colour green!”
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | Mar 11, 2018 | Blog
Still reeling from the news that police would be closing down Ezra Ave for St. Patrick’s Day, local student Cathy Gibbers is urging fellow revellers to remember that leprechaun bites can cause golden measles and temporary insanity.
“I know everyone is upset,” Cathy was heard to say, “But we need to keep in mind that there are some students that have yet to recover from the savage leprechaun attacks from last year.”
Indeed, emergency rooms in Kitchener-Waterloo have been getting steadily fuller each March 17th, despite repeated warnings that Ezra Ave is a hotbed for leprechaun aggression.
“We keep trying to notify students of the growing problem,” said Police Chief John Smith, “But they refuse to listen. It’s almost as if getting publicly intoxicated surrounded by their friends has somehow impaired their ability to think rationally.”
Or it could be that myths of kindly leprechauns eating Lucky Charms by the bowlful have endowed this generation of students with the idea that leprechauns are not dangerous.
Citing cultural misappropriation as the reason for their repeated attacks, the KW Leprechaun Royal Thinktank (KWLRT) has claimed that they are well within their rights to defend the theft of their heritage.
Regardless of this most recent move by the KWLRT, the student protests have continued in full force, with students loudly proclaiming, “Kiss me. I identify as Irish.”
But fearing the ravenous teeth and razor-sharp claws of the leprechauns, police will not be permitting students to party on Ezra.
Pictured: the honey garlic limbs of leprechauns.
Local tavern Chainsaw has been a vocal opponent of the recent surge in leprechaun-related attacks, going so far as to advertise a deal on ‘leprechaun limbs’ so as to discourage any of the toothy green demons from entering through its doors to sing karaoke.
Chainsaw will be open, and leprechaun free, Saturday, March 17th from 11am-close. Live music will play from 3-7pm and karaoke will commence at 7.
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | Oct 14, 2015 | Blog
Being that our fair city of Kitchener-Waterloo houses an abundant amount of students, the sight of drunken mobs stumbling down the street shouting at cabs isn’t new. But this week you may find a little more vomit on your front lawn. And whoever’s lawn that was, I’m sorry. The sauerkraut didn’t taste any better the second time.
It’s Oktoberfest! The nine-day festival where Germans (and KW’s Funny Hat Clubs) can celebrate their heritage. I know that when I think about the history of Germany, Oktoberfest is the first thing that… well, almost the first thing that comes to mind.
It’s like St. Patrick’s Day, but rather than saying “Kiss me I’m Irish”, you can say “I’m German, try my sausage.” And instead of everyone pretending they’re a little bit Irish, a number of us in KW are actually a little bit German, somewhere down the line. The German population is very large in our area – it’s because of this that KW is responsible for the second largest Oktoberfest in the world. Wondering where the largest one is? Go back to school.
Oktoberfest began in the early 1800s when Prince Ludwig married Princess Therese. The whole of Munich was invited to the 16-day party the crown threw in anticipation of the wedding day. Two hundred and some years later, the massive party has continued nearly every year. It’s only been cancelled due to things like war and cholera epidemics.
Did you know that Kitchener was once known as Berlin? The name was changed during World War I. Since Canada was an ally/bitch of Great Britain, a vocal anti-German minority wanted to change the name. Anyone who wanted to keep the name of their town the same was considered a traitor to Canada. After a vote virtually no one participated in, the town was named after Britain’s Minister of War, Lord Kitchener.
Fascinating, eh?
Since the German population of Kitchener was so large, they were able to keep the Oktoberfest tradition going after leaving Europe; traditions such as Uncle Hans, Miss Oktoberfest, the parade, and of course the German outfits – the Dirndls, Lederhosen, and those hats with the feathers. Can you believe that this celebration of German culture/drunk fest has been going on for over two centuries?
Sure, what you’ll become most familiar with at the festival halls isn’t German culture, but over-priced beer and food, half of which seem to end up on the floor – judging from the state of my shoes. But hey, who doesn’t love a little tradition?
When you get tired of the chicken dance, remember that you can spill beer on your shoes here at Chainsaw, and for much cheaper.
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
by Greg Johnson | Mar 11, 2015 | Blog
People often ask us: “How your beer so good???”
And we wish we could tell you. Yet each time we have to ask ourselves if you’re ready for a secret as closely guarded as this one. Is the world? We face this question every time someone takes that first sip of Chainsaw Lager, and the all-too-familiar look of absolute enjoyment washes over their face.
But after some discussion, and much argument, we have decided to unveil how Chainsaw Lager came to be…
Chainsaw Lager was first discovered deep in the salt mines of Argentina, around three hundred years ago. After using dynamite to grind up a large block of table salt, miners mistakenly discovered a dormant volcano, and subsequently caused an eruption. Although no miners were injured, many shovels were damaged beyond repair.
And so it was that 19-year-old Diego “Chainsaw” Sanchez Domingo set out to explore the aftermath of the volcanic eruption that had left dozens of Argentinean homes salt-less.
As Diego approached the site of the eruption, he discovered bubbles rising out of a fissure in the earth. In a matter of seconds the bubbles became a geyser that soaked him in what he assumed was old milk – the kind found at the bottom of a bowl of cheerios. But after tasting his shirt, his life was changed forever.
Diego “Chainsaw” Sanchez Domingo kept the secret of the lager-spewing geyser his entire life. Every night he would return to the beer fountain and every night he would collect enough to sell at his local tavern. The full-bodied lager was an instant hit, and soon Diego was transporting vast quantities across the sea, to an unknown source in the foothills of Southwestern Ontario.
The brew has always been served in secret. If Chainsaw Lager, as we like to call it, is served anywhere else in the world, the location is unknown to us.
No one knows what happened to Diego “Chainsaw” Sanchez Domingo. But his memory lives on in Argentina. In honour of pioneering this ‘globally’ renowned lager, Diego’s shapely profile adorns many of the more expensive commemorative Argentinean stamps.
Since Chainsaw Lager isn’t “brewed” in any conventional sense, it is impossible to bottle and store; the atomic force of the carbonation will oftentimes shatter glass. As a protective measure, Chainsaw Lager may never be served in a container with a lid. Which, in a happy coincidence, only adds to its mysterious flavour and, dare I say, remarkable aroma.
Chainsaw Lager is an elegant drink, reserved only for truly discerning palates. It takes an educated tongue to recognize the subtle notes of hops, barley, and original Cheerios. Experts will often cite differences in the method of tasting Chainsaw Lager with that of tasting wine. With wine, a taster will generally take a sip, swirl it around, and then spit it out. For Chainsaw Lager, experts suggest that ‘guzzling’ or ‘chugging’ is the only proper way to appreciate the distinctive, zesty flavour.
And so the secret has been revealed. Chainsaw Lager is not brewed, but spurts forth from Argentinean soil as the result of a freak volcanic eruption.
The fountain has sometimes been mistaken for the fountain of youth, since those who drink from it often revert to the joyful ignorance and frequent vomiting of childhood.
This article was written for Chainsaw by Greg Johnson
