November 17, 2008


This weekend was one of contrasts. Despite the God-seems-mad-at-us weather, I had a great little Saturday of eating a California Sandwich and practicing for the Toronto Sketch Comedy Festival. Wence night fell, we hosted a jamjam at our house to generally rave reviews.
Pete Wardopolus of the San Francisco Chronicle said, "Despite the lack of snacks, I had a great time overall. The guests were fun but well-behaved and the atmosphere was akin to that of a Super Bowl Game combined with a really good dog show, the kind where they do tricks."

Myself and my fake hip hop group, "Tha So Clar Crew" were the DJs and we tried to create an epic dance party much like the one we had a few months ago at our old house. Throughout the night we learned that when you have a bunch of girls who want to dance you have to play songs they know, even if the ones that you want to play that they don't know are real funky bum bum shakers. They'll stop dancing and look like they want to go home. I tried to sneak in a GWAR tune during one of the lulls and I was instantly berated by some female party goers. Once we figured this out the room started smoking and people were having sex in every nook and cranny of our apartment. Actually, no one had sex, but when you're a DJ you have to make people think that way and think that way they might have. I saw one guy licking his lips all through James Brown's "Cold Sweat".

Pure passion for parties.

Later on Elton John stopped by to tickle those ivories. No one paid attention though.

The cops showed up at 6am and demanded everyone's passports. They requested some Public Enemy then left.

I don't know how many brews I drank, but in any case I had a hangover of epic proportions the next day. I threw up some bile, had a headache and make several bathroom stops before lying down on the couch for most of the day. The worst part was that I was scheduled to perform that night on my favourite comedy show. After a nap and an apple I got a bit better and made a couple of people laugh I think.

See? Contrasts. Saturday was great and Sunday wasn't so great. Directly proportional. There's math in there somewhere. HUMAN MATH. I'm sorry for being so specific about the bile and pooing and everything earlier, but I I really wanted you, the reader, to feel that hangover. I was going to see the new Bond movie on Sunday with the old man and the younger brother, but the old man had a lazy Sunday of his own because he had just finished jury duty in an epic murder trial. You heard of that one in Brampton where the deaf guy got stabbed at the party? Oh man. Rough business. I think he was shaken up by the whole thing because for one thing he helped decided some teenager's fate and secondly because it was kind of gruesome and the jurors had to hear and see some pretty heavy stuff. This is getting too serious again. Let's turn it down a little:

I was talking jury duty and how to get out of it to with a friend of mine and he mentioned that Iggy Pop got out of the army because he made sure he had a boner when they were inspecting or something. Boners can probably get you out of anything because no one save the horniest girl in the world, or the horniest homosexual dude in the world wants to be around a boner all the time. Everyone knows that men are horn dogs all the time, but a boner is the clearest sign. If you see someone with a boner you instantly know what they're thinking. Well, actually they may be thinking one of two things:


"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah"


"Ohhhhhh man I gotta hide this thing, oh geez."

Usually the first thoughts belong to crazy guys and the second to normal guys with bad luck. I remember sometime in the puberty days someone was talking about nipples and how it's like the boner for girls and I thought they were kidding. I think it actually blew my mind. Good thing nipples aren't the exact same thing as boners. If men got boners when it's cold outside we'd have a lot of explaining to do during those winter months. Life would be different. Your dad would come inside after shoveling the driveway and said stuff like "Damn, it is boner cold outside. Check it." and he points to his wiener.

Imagine you're at the Santa Claus Parade and the guy who's Santa got one? That'd be a bad thing man. If you were that guy and you hated your boss, that would be a great way to get him back. I remember going to the parade as a kid and after it was over all I could think about was toys and my mom had to keep reminding me that Christmas was still over a month away.

I realize that the last few paragraphs here were fairly immature, but maybe the problem is that you don't talk openly about human anatomy as much as you should. Also, I had to balance out the jury duty mention and the hangover specifics, and what better way than with a solid boner analysis with nipple acknowledgements?

Did you like this one? It was all over the place, just like real life, so I guess in that regard I succeeded. There were a few incomplete thoughts though. I should've expanded on both the Santa Claus Parade and Sunday evening around the time of the comedy show. I've also considered adding a recipe to each post, but my market research hasn't arrived yet so until I get that data I'm playing it safe. When I wrote for my University's paper I did this drink recipe thing but I don't think they liked it because I chose one purely based on its name and not its flavour. I remember you were supposed to add an egg to it. EEWWWW

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