'PALM MUTING' IS A GUITAR TECHNIQUE BUT ALSO ONE YOU CAN TRY ON YOUR GIRLFRIEND

I'm a regular Sleepy Dan right now. Someone pass the pillow pills and fix me a glass of yawn sauce. I'm to blame though. Last week I couldn't sleep the night before my Tuesday early shift and so this week I got all freaked out that it would happen again and it kind of did. This time I had the theme song to the Sopranos stuck in my head -- you know, that one that sounds like it's sung by a big man who's into ribs, martinis and a game of pigskin.

On top of that, I ate chicken wings last night along with onions rings and fries and then had beans and eggs for breakfast and a mound of chicken teriyaki, heavy on the teriyaki this afternoon. My digestive system is sounding the evacuation alarm.

Here's something I hope I'll hear in a bathroom one day:

"I blame this sorry display on last night's hamburger"

So much toilet humour on here lately. And what do you find in bathrooms? Yes, ghosts of meals past AND.....................................................yes, unknown puddles to steer clear of, that's right AND....................GRAFFITI. This signals the return of possible unpopular feature -- GRAFFITI CLASSICS and GRAFFITI OF THE FUTURE.

Here's one that had the Greasers, the Socs AND the farmers buzzin' way back when:

And this one comes from the year 2099, a time when babies eat synthetics off CD-ROMs:
In 2099 you'd probably get sent to the Matrix if you were caught tagging this in the mainframe.

MY MY MY THOSE ARE SOME NICE EARS

On Sunday my dad, brother and I took our hind quarters to Rainbow cinemas for a screening of the new Trailer Park Boys film. I love those guys (both my family boys and the "boys"), but this new movie was kind of not good, especially considering it's their big sendoff. The best part was seeing a movie at Rainbow cinemas, whose pre-show entertainment included several poems about gardening.

I see Bubbles and Trinity, but I can't figure out why Tony Iommi is there.

In terms of the actual movie, they used the word "fucky" too much, and to echo the sentiment of those who hate bagels, there was a big part in the middle that was boring and pointless. That being said, Jim Lahey's shtick of being a "drunk bastard" never gets tiring, nor does Bubbles talking about cats. There was plenty of that, so my six dollar ticket didn't go entirely to waste. Good crowd, too -- so key to an ideal viewing environment -- no farts, no phones, no babies.

The last little while I've talked about autumn way too much. It's probably because when one has nothing to talk about, the first thing they resort to is the weather, thus I've exposed myself as someone who doesn't have anything to say. The other sure sign is talking about poo because it's always around. Guilty again. I gotta start fresh.

This week is catered to my likes - The NHL season is beginning on Thursday and I have Friday off. By that logic, if I stayed home all day and surround myself with hockey I'd be a 100% happy man. It's like Communism though, because in reality that wouldn't work -- I'd get so bored and I'd start talking like "hey there boys, I hear Gillsie drank 14 beer last night and got right fucked eh?"

Oh man. Before I keep elaborating on a fantasy world where I don't work and watch ice sports all day, I just wanted to say that on the weekend me and my friends watched the craziest episode of Fight Quest yet! They learned the Israeli martial art that the Zohan does I think, and by "learned" I mean they got beaten to a bloody pulp over and over again. The fighting style was developed by Jews as means to fight off Nazis in the streets. Common moves include dick kicks and eye gouges. If I had the choice between fighting a lion and fighting a Zohan, I'd probably choose the lion because there's the outside chance it'll be a nice cat or maybe a wise guy like Aslan, the Jesus lion.

NEW LINK ADDED

Check out my friend Egan's comic book at http://www.twentytworeasons.com just in case you need new websites.

HOW FIG NEWTONS HAVE SURVIVED TO THIS DAY IS ONE OF THE OLD MYSTERIES

The other night when I was inebriated, I made sure I wrote this down:

"When I found out about blue angel farts I ate beans until I farted"

True story. It didn't work though, not enough power. I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew that.

Last week I was in a really good mood because I felt a creative surge and I finally got back into alfredo sauce. Then at the end of the week I was applying for these jobs and if you've ever used workopolis.com, you may know the frustration I felt. I made my resume real nice and perfected my cover letter and then when I uploaded the darn thing (resume) it screwed up all my formatting and it ended up looking like utter bull trash. I tried and tried to fix it amidst several couch punches then finally gave up and applied anyway. So if the big wigs down at "Job X" see my resume and are like "this guy's resume is childish" then "workopolis" (the worst city in the world) is to blame.

So on Friday I was at Toby's Famous Eatery for a co-worker's send-off and the plan was to have a few gold fizzies then head to nearby Sneaky Dee's for our friend's CD release party. But the line was too long so we stayed at the Tobe-miester's and talked about Cool Whip ads.



"Now it's a dream"

That shit is made of oil and sugar.

The rest of the weekend was spend on NHL fantasy drafts and general sitting around. AND I did some homework. I think I have this first assignment by the balls. I had to go to an art store to buy some bristol board for this thing and man, I'm out of my element in those places. Put me in a music, sports, book, toy or thrift store and I'm the Pedro Marinez of consumers. Put me in an art or fashion store and I'm a regular Oil Can Boyd.

I don't what or where anything is and I always have this fear that someone in the store will be like "let's have an art jam" and I'll be like "uh okay" and then they'll find out I can't draw at all and that I have no business being in such a store, confirming their suspicions.

I PREDICT THE DEATH OF THE CROISSANT BY 2012

Last night the girl in my house and I watched Bill Murray's underrated 1990 classic Quick Change. It's kind of like The Man Who Knew Too Little meets Ocean's 11 meets The Dark Knight meets Randy Quaid. Does that sound good to you? I sure as shit hope so.

According to my Palm Pilot, we're officially at the beginning of autumn, a hotly debated season. Its supporters enjoy the crisp, cool air, fresh root vegetables, the raking of leaves and the return of good sports. Its detractors scoff at the autumn theme of death, and get pissed at its dickhead cousin "Winter" who is in the bullpen heckling "Baby I haven't even gotten started yet!". Because I'm a positive man who believes in enjoying the Earth no matter what, even if you are in a volcano or a snake filled pond, I've thought up some autumn tips to get you through "The Brown Season".

Tip 1 - Jumping in Leaves

Apparently my friend Jon once jumped into a pile of leaves that was covering up a big pile of dog shit, so upon breaching the pile, he himself got covered in dog shit. Don't let this story stop you from getting a pile together for a few leaps though. Besides using a mattress as a trampoline, a leaf pile is the number one piece of homemade childhood acrobatic equipment. I guess it's not as fun for adults. Never mind if you're an adult. It's probably not that fun at all because you have to do the raking and kids do nothing but ruin your pile.

Tip 2 - Apple Cider

Tip 3 - Fall Fashion



According to culture, the fall is a time for new looks . Put away your culottes and pick up some corduroy and a knit sweater with a picture of something. I used to have one with a ball player. That's the second time I've posted that video on this blog, and I think I should probably post it more often.

Tip 4 is to watch European Vacation more. I just found out that Blake Lively is Rusty Griswold's real life half sister. Which one would you rather be locked in a sex closet with?

THE ANNUAL FOOD ISSUE

I'm scared that everyone out there hates Dan Brown and now no one likes me because I defended him so much yesterday. Don't worry, I still like most of your favourite things and I'll continue to support you even if you steal things.

Yesterday I bought:

Mayonnaise
Alfredo Sauce
Crumpets
Cheese
Bananas
Pickles

Three whites, an orange, a yellow and a green. I don't really understand why crumpets aren't more popular. They're like an English muffin, a piece of toast and a sponge in one "crumpcious" package. The crumpet is the Rolex of bread and butter snacks because they soak up as much melted spread as you can throw at them. So next time your at your local grocer's, stop by the crumpet case and pick up a few for a toasted treat that might be beat...... probably by Pop Tarts.

Back in my university days I ate Chunky Soup, meat sauce, cola, chicken fingers, fries, burgers, tuna melts (baked tunes) and eggs. I think that diet led me to the butt trouble I have today. I don't want to talk about that right now.

Today's Wednesday Silly:

INTERVIEW WITH A BEAN MAN

(not Bean man)

Why choose beans?
Every man has a path brother.

But what is it about beans that made you want to grow them your whole life?
I don't grow beans.

I thought you were a bean man.
Yeah man, I just study the little guys. What do I know about growing them?

If you study them, shouldn't that mean you know a thing or two about growing them?
"A thing or two"? Who are you, Elliot Gould?

Why don't you just tell us something about beans.
Did you know there's a type of bean called the 'Volcano Bean'?

Now we're getting somewhere! Tell me about 'Volcano Beans'.
No, no wait, that doesn't work. Hold on...

Huh?
Okay, okay, ask me what a 'Haz Bean' is.

...What's a 'Haz Bean'?
David Charvet. HAHAHAHAHA.

So is there such thing as a 'Volcano Bean'?
Is there any way we can have a conversation about Volcano Beans that will lead to a joke about David Charvet?

I doubt it.

That could be his new nickname! Oh man!

Bean man picks up his cell phone and dials a number.

Nick? Yeah it's me. How about "Volcano Bean" for the nickname? Not for my daughter, for Charvet! I know, right! Okay, I'll print the hats.

Hangs up phone

Sorry Tiger I gotta jet, destiny awaits. Eat beans.

POOR BOY BETS DAD'S CORN AGAINST RICH BOY'S NICE TOILET PAPER

I was riding my two wheeler to work this morning and passed by a "Hollywood North" film set on University Ave. While stopped at a light, a portly crew member said into his radio in a serious tone:

"There's some nice looking sandwiches coming your way"

I've never really been on a real film set, but I figure most of the day is spent discussing catering and its location thereof. This guy seemed like an industry vet, so they must have been some nice sandwiches.

On the other hand, maybe he was speaking in set codes. A "nice looking sandwich" could mean a big light or an actress with a juicy butt.

OR maybe the guy just lost a bet, in which sandwiches were the reward:

"I told you I knew all the lyrics to Ozzy Osbourne's Perry Mason."
"Alright, alright -- there's some nice looking sandwiches coming your way."



With Ozzy there's never any doubt behind the meanings of his lyrics -- in this case a crime has been committed and Perry Mason is the man for the job.

NEW TOPIC

I'm currently reading Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol, a book which smart people think is dumb without even reading it. I think these people are mad only because it got popular and their essays on "policies" and "social media" aren't. If you're going to pick on anyone, pick on Harlan Coben. Dan Brown is a regular Issac Asimov compared to that man.

Seriously, why do bookworms care so much? If they hate Dan Brown because his prose isn't scholarly enough for them, then they might as well start hating on other pieces of "low brow" culture like Die Hard, The Simpsons, The Ramones and Pizza Pops. God forbid the whole world enjoy a BOOK. Not unlike Perry Mason, "Downtown" Brown tackles cool mysteries, not sentence structure and dramatic imagery. So I say to you detractors -- retreat to your loft, take off your sweater and get down with Brown -- you'll have way more fun than complaining about things like inauthentic sushi and gentrification.

KIDS WANT TO SWING ON VINES AND CHECK OUT QUICK SAND, BUT MAN, IT NEVER HAPPENS

Hey buddies -- it's Tuesday, the most inoffensive day of the week. Should I make it offensive? Yeah man:

I bet this guy's favourite food is cotton candy. That's not even a face anymore, it's a Christmas tree.

"Hey Joe, I'd like to meet your son one day."
"I'll save you the trouble -- he looks like a Cenobite from Hellraiser, and a Muppet at the same time."
"Geez. What happened?"
"I think it's because I tried forcing him into football when he was nine."
"That's not too bad."
"Also, there was this time at the zoo when an elephant shit on his head in front of a girl he liked."
"Pretty bad, but still."

NEW LINKS ADDED

www.katiecrown.com -- Katie is a true wonder.
http://tomdhenry.blogspot.com -- I saw Tom do stand up recently and this is his funny internet.

Don't forget to check out the other links too. From now on I'm going to tell you when I add them and force you to visit so everyone gets along. According to society, a sense of community is as important as waste management, law and playgrounds.

I haven't watched Survivor starring Jeff Probst since season 2 or something, but Liv and I caught the season premiere of the new one and it was great because there's this little tough guy who is crazy.

This is Russell -- he's the type of guy whose nickname is probably "Tiny".

First, he made secret alliances with everyone on his team and then called all the women stupid. Then, while everyone was sleeping he emptied all the canteens and threw people's socks in the fire and when this poor guy woke up he was like "I don't know what happened to my socks, but my feet hurt and I need socks real bad". I thought Russell would get caught, but his plan worked and everyone got mad at each other probably because they had no socks or water. Then when this nice, hot lady got a bit wise to his dealings, he convinced everyone to vote her off. What a dung!

Jokes: What do you call barnyard nonsense? A crock-a-doodle-do.

Or a "Country Crock" if you're into spreads.

Pretty brutal, but they'll work on the old folks and kids, who think farms are the best until they discover multiplexes and "the mall".

GOOBER DON WANTED HIS SHIRT BACK, BUT LEATHER JUST LOOKS SO DAMN GOOD ON ME

I remember at the beginning of second year university I got this HUGE zit that was big enough that I had to visit the pharmacy to get cream. Every September since I swear I get zits bad guaranteed. Not as bad as the original throbber, but still, bad enough that I'm like "it's September, time for fall harvest and for zitties." So if you see me in September and I'm pizza'd, don't believe that I'm like that all the time -- I just got a case of the autumn dots.

You wouldn't think it's autumn though, right Paul? Sunshine, heat, convertibles, it's a regular July out there. Unfortunately, since August ended I stopped thinking summer, thus my weekends haven't been that interesting. This one was good though.

Friday I went to a dance party that apparently got really good right after I left. The same thing happens when I go to the circus. I leave because it's all clowns and then I get outside the venue and hear dirt bikes and lion roars. That ain't true, but neither are clowns.

On Saturday me and some friends watched a homemade James Bond movie that our school's film club made in grade 12, featuring a large chunk of our class. It looks like a porno and is filled with questionable acting, but is great to see. It's like when your grandpa urges slide shows of old trips while all you want to do is play the Spirograph in his basement because it's the only toy around for miles. So we're the grandpas now pretty much.

On Sunday my friend Wes hosted a $5 backyard brunch at his house, and it was tasty, scenic and friendly -- my favourite attributes. I took photos this time:

This was huevos rancheros but I ate all of it and it was so good. The bees got at it after even though there were flowers everywhere. Eggs don't make honey you idiots.

Liv got pancakes with sour cherries and homemade cheese. The only homemade cheese I make is "farts"

I always wanted a beard since I was a kid and now I take it for granted.

What a neck!

Wes' garden
where our food was grown

Then I performed at Laugh Sabbath's Loner Show and it was a really fun night of jokers and audiences. I played a silly man named Alan Ruxpin who wrote a dumb book. Picture that!

Work is a drag today, right? Go play Game Boy in the bathroom. No one can say anything. The bathroom is like a country with no laws. Every does their thing and no one talks about it, unless you get in there with a friend and you're both lettin' rip in stalls beside each other. Toilet talk big time.

YOU CAN MAKE YOUR OWN SAND PAPER SO EASILY YOU IDIOT - GLUE, PAPER, BEACH

While gazing at the Gardiner Expressway through my work desk window, I saw a truck with 2 portable toilets on it. A job's a job, but driving toilets around all day has got to be a real soul crusher.

The toilet makers are fine because a toilet doesn't really become gross until it's utilized -- up until then it's a well-designed piece of sanitary engineering, ergonomically tuned to provide you with an ideal public shit house. And I'll bet the guys who make them are the kind that have mansions and Ferraris and when you ask your friend, who lives in the the same neighbourhood, "what does that guy do?" they go "the guy makes plastic toilets" and you're like "someone's gotta do it". When I worked at a pool store there was a regular customer who looked like the dude at the end of this Suburban Commando trailer, who mutters the famous "This is the 90's I'm going to sue you" line:



He owned a brake repair company or something and had his own island.

I think that's my favourite -- when people don't look the way they're supposed to. Years back I saw that band The Wrens and I just assumed they'd be these young strappers, but they ended up being fat, old normals. That's what life is all about, brother.

I guess the only job worse than driving the toilets would be the guys who clean them, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's all the same guy.

While we're on the topic of "sneaking suspicions", I have another: the photographer who took this photo:

Is the same who took this photo:

"Okay Gene, I want you to look like you're taking a dump."

Then years later:

"Okay Hulkster, trust me on this one, it worked in 1979 and it'll work today -- I want you to look like you're taking a dump."

The photographer told the other members of KISS to do the same thing but they declined and when it was all over Gene was like "that thing where the photographer wanted us to look like we were pooing was weird, huh?" and the other guys are like "you actually did that?".

We talked a lot about poo again today, but I couldn't help it, that truck was really a muse. Plus, we got to talk about Suburban Commando, which ranks number one in my top Hulk Hogan films of all time.

1. Suburban Commando
2. No Holds Barred
3. Mr. Nanny

I hope your weekends end up front page news!

MORE PIZZA PARLORS SHOULD SERVE HOMEMADE LASAGNA. I'M SERIOUS HERE.

Yesterday I got the rare opportunity to work from home -- a clashing of two worlds -- comfort, responsibility, pajamas, emails, guitar, conference calls. It was a big chili filled with exotic flavours and delicious sides. Actually, the only side was my lunch break where I managed to ride my bike to Best Buy where I best bought NHL 10, which will no doubt occupy much of the fall season. During the bike trip I applied the business technique of "multitasking" and ordered some noodles from the downstairs restaurant, which were ready when I got back, rendering my day relatively wonderful and definitely complete.

I then tried to get free tickets the the Toronto Maple Leafs exhibition match at the ACC, but I was too late. The tailgate party was still happening when I got there and I got to witness a bunch of young women degrading themselves by dressing as Coke Zero "Puck Bunnies" -- a term meaning "loose woman who bangs hockey players, sometimes several at a time". They weren't wearing pants.

Coke Zero should change its motto to: "So it doesn't really taste like Coke, but you don't want to get fat, do you?" And what in the world happened Cherry Coke?! It's probably my all-time favourite drink along with milkshakes, Dr. Pepper, Orange Juice, Irn Bru, cream soda, root beer, chocolate milk and ice cold beer. That list came out of me like diarrhea through a poo champion! That tells you I'm passionate about liquids.

Right now, the biggest decision I face is what to eat next. Our fridge is as empty a threat from me, except for a bag of carrots, several sauces and some decent milk. Imagine how pissed some guy from a third world country would be if I told him that all I had was carrots and milk? Throw in some scavenged herbs, grab a dirty old pot and you've got a creamy carrot stew and orange yogurt for dessert. This reminds me of the reality show I thought of, where you bring someone from the jungles to the civilized world, show them the Internet and see how crazy they get. It'd be called "Fish Outta Water" and hopefully Patrick Duffy would host.

Hello North America! Welcome to Fish Outta Water. Today's star is from Zimbabwe. He only eats bugs and doesn't know what a car is. Jennifer has set up a lot of great surprises in the Internet room, including a web cam and a laser jet printer. Let's bring in the boy!

WHO DO I LOOK LIKE, THANDIE NEWTON? I DO? SHE'S ALRIGHT.

Yesterday at work we had a very nice little fire drill, and while waiting to go back inside this homeless couple decided to get nude and swim in a nearby water fountain. The woman must have thought she was doing us all a favour because post-show she came around asking for money. You can't blame a gal for trying, but she didn't realize that men don't love tits unconditionally -- there are such things as bad bongos, and although hers weren't the worst, I still didn't want to see them because quite frankly, the homeless aren't sexy. It was like finding a Caramilk bar in the garbage.

I'm going to my first night class this evening (we're talking Tuesday night here), and I know that when I get home I'm going to be too tired to fully recount the experience. To make life easier for me and more entertaining for you, I'm going to give myself some simple fill in the blanks that I'll complete when I get home, thus fulfilling my obligation to provide you with all the latest news, while I get sit around and complain about homework and my "teach" all night.

1. My first impression was oh yeah, school is like this.

2. The class size is small, or as I like to call it "mimpy"

3. I'm confident that I'll dominate every facet of the class.

4. The bathrooms are surprisingly delightful! Some of the cleanest publics I've ever been in.

5. Next week I'm going to at least bring a juice box.

7. Overall I like the class and the teacher and hopefully it opens cool doors.

If the Internet wasn't so public I'd include ones like "The juiciest rear belonged to..." and "The teacher dresses like...", but I don't want to get into mischief quite yet. If you come over I'll give you the skinny.

On the streetcar I heard these two, late teenage bozos talking and one goes, "You know that scene in 8 Mile where Eminem fucks that chick? He actually fucked her." The magic of film making! Seriously, how could anyone over the age of 13 not know how major motion pictures work? Oh well, what do I care? I got an iPod, a PS3 and I can buy cigarettes and beer whenever.

AS ALWAYS, WE'RE JUST HAVING FUN ON COMPUTERS AND WE'LL LEARN SOMETHING ALONG THE WAY

The real highlight of Sunday night's MTV Music Video Awards for me was Buzz Aldrin. He was on the pre-show to give out the award for best new group or something and it took him 10 minutes to get through the list, which he read like a true grampa, adding a nice little piece of antithesis to the whole ordeal. There's a video on the MTV website, but Canadians can't watch it because we must be too real. Check out this red carpet interview I found somewhere instead:

Where were you the first time you saw the moonwalk?
The dance move? You mean the walking backwards? It must have been in Houston.

Did you instantly try it yourself?
No way. I like to move forward!

Do you have a favorite Michael Jackson video?
The Thriller from Manila. Oh no, that was somebody else.

I didn't make that up, seriously, this guy is the funniest old man since the guy who invented "bloopers".

Did you know that Buzz Aldrin's mother's maiden name is "Moon"? If you don't find that quirky and interesting then I hate a lot about you.

Names can be a really great source of amusement. Next time you're at a fair or a festival and you see one of those booths run by weirdos whose business is family trees for some reason, don't throw apples at them, but buy them a ginger beer and listen to them because names can be as neat as mummies.

NAME BITS by me

I always thought it strange that Steve Yzerman and Paul Ysebaert not only played pro hockey, and not only at the same time, but on the same team as well. Same goes for Dave Andreychuck and Dale Hawerchuk. Serendipitous!

The Canadian Football Leauge is a wealth of funny names. My favourite is a guy on the Blue Bombers named "Tom Canada" who you'd think would be a national treasure. In reality he's a surfer dude from California. That's just mother nature comedy, the purest kind.

More recently I noticed physical similarities between former football coach Jon GRUden and former ball player and lifelong hair all-star, Kelly GRUber:



Okay so they're not too similar, and any similarity is probably due to the Norse blood running through their competitive veins, but we've had a lot of fun, right? Gruber is the guy on the left by the way, not the icy babe nor the wolf dude.

I DON'T THINK PEOPLE TALK ABOUT HOW DUMB GOATS ARE ENOUGH

This past weekend was one of the first in a while where I didn't have any big time plans going into it, so I put up my sails and let the winds of destiny take me away. I love mystery and intrigue as much as the next man, but more the supernatural kind, so when I found myself wandering from activity to activity with no map, I felt strange. But like Chester Cheeto, I stayed cool and threw on some shades, and this is what happened:

My first order of business was to head to Mississauga to go for a late summer cruise in my parents' new car, a car whose top retracts leaving the passengers with wind in their hair and chicky pies in their laps. My brother and I cruised for burgers and ended up at Value Village where I bought something for a costume and a very sturdy shirt with the old NHL crest on it. I violated my own rule of not buying any more t-shirts, but whose going to punish me? Me?

When I was cashing out I saw a man of my demeanour wandering around with a nice stack of used DVDs, including Caddyshack. I was pretty jealous because normally the DVDs at Value Village only teach you how to do Pilates. It's always the worst when you see a rival in a thrift store because they're your direct competition, so you have to prioritize your sections. He managed to get the DVDs but I got the NHL shirt. Then again he didn't really look like the sporting type so maybe we weren't truly kindred spirits. Or maybe having diverse tastes is the ace up my strange smelling, ill-fitting thrift garment's sleeve.

At night time I went over to a friend's house where a raccoon kept wiggling in the trees that surrounded us kind of like the raptor pen in Jurassic Park where all you see is the trees, no raptors. The only cure for raccoons is dancing in a sweaty bar, so we went to Shake a Tail at Clinton's and did just that and no creatures interrupted us except run of the mill super apes (people).

Then of course on Sunday I saw a Wayne Gretzky documentary, which was really good, but I didn't learn anything new. I felt the way Socrates must have felt when any guy talked to him. Don't take that to mean that I think I'm the Socrates of hockey knowledge. It was an extreme example. I don't mind tooting my own pipes every so often but lets not get all goosey quite yet -- I haven't even lunch yet.

I did a lot more on the weekend but I don't want to hog too much of your day so we'll leave it there and talk more tomorrow. Invite everyone you can think of.

NEXT STOP - PANTY FIELDS

Yesterday marked the opening of the Toronto International Film Festival, which in simple terms is an organized eyeball fest -- people pay bucks to view films with famous beautiful people, then take to the streets to see famous beautiful people who are en route to parties to look at each other while the public goes home to discuss with others what they saw. Before you go watching things I think you should read last year's Regular Man's Guide to TIFF and also pack a jacket because it's getting nipsy out there.

I'm only planning on seeing one film during this year's fest -- a Wayne Gretzky documentary called King's Ransom, directed by Aspen Extreme's Peter Berg. The movie runs 60 minutes but the screening is two hours, so I'm hoping old Wayner will be there in the flesh so I can ask him, "can you think of the toilet you've taken the most dumps in?" My answer is for sure my parents' upstairs toilet. This is a good question to spark conversation because no one will see it coming and they'll have to do a lot of thinking in order to come up with an answer. I hope Wayne answers something like "The Stanley Cup. Next question."

I think by "TOP GUN On The Ski Slopes" they mean this movie is about two dudes who work together and are also best friends. If that's the case then "WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S On The Ski Slopes" would've also sufficed.

In other movie news, I took in a screening of Quentin "Qu Qu Bird" Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds last night. I really liked most of it, especially that rude rude scene in the bar and all the Nazi kills.

This lady beside was eating a Happy Meal or something and she was the loudest scarfer of all time. McDonald's fries are sort of crunchy, but somehow she amplified the crunch to deafening heights beyond scientific explanation. Then she scrunched the bag up a million times and made really dumb comments to the man beside her, like when one of this character's name is flashed in cool letters on the screen because he's a bad ass, she goes "that's sooooooo Tarantino". That's the kind of thing that only a true butt hole would say. Then when one of the good guys died she started cheering, which I suppose means she sides with Nazis. Actually, it's more likely that she had no idea what was going on because we're already under the assumption she's an idiot, right?

Also, I wanted to hate Brad Pitt so bad in that movie, but he was the cat's ass! If there's one acting trait I really appreciate, it's the effective delivery of the word "fuck" and "Bra Pi" nailed every single utterance.

See you later and bring me some treats!

MORE WORDS

Yesterday's post was tough man. It took me like 2 hours to write and it wasn't even very good, which is how Liv must feel when she tries to cook anything other than an egg bagel sandwich. Huge burn.

I was in one of those moods where I felt like doing absolutely nothing and eating a lot, but I didn't have any food and doing nothing makes me feel worse because I'm a go-getter who feels uncomfortable with idleness -- I guess I'm pretty much a shark then and I'm fine with that because I'm certain that "sharks" show up in most animal top 10s. So there I was in what's called a classic "CATCH-22". The way to escape? The premiere of the new Melrose Place!

I didn't really watch the old one much, but I do remember thinking that Andrew Shue was cool and that Heather Locklear was a hot sex object. I think my favourite part of the new pilot was the shot of Dr. Michael Mancini lying awake in bed with a menacing look on his face, as if he never sleeps because he always has to be one step ahead of his enemies (every human). Also, Ashley Simpson-Wentz should stick to bad singing because her bad acting isn't nearly as funny.

I was in a store today looking for a new brush to wash dishes with but all I could find were toilet brushes. There was a mid-sized one that I thought might be suitable but then I saw that the tag said "toilet brush" and I immediately thought "gross" and put it down. That brush didn't deserve that kind of treatment. Until it actually meets a toilet, it's on the same level as more distinguished brushes -- tooth, hair etc., but once contact is made, all bets are off. It becomes an outcast, shunned by all until someone poos hard all over the place. So to you toilet brush at Zimerman's -- I apologize. But I regret nothing.

PERSONAL UPDATE

Yesterday I took a huge step toward adulthood by getting rid of some old t-shirts and jackets I've had forever. This shows I'm serious about finally updating my wardrobe and I think you should all praise me. The next, and probably toughest step will be replacing these pieces with more modern ones. It's going to be an uphill climb though, as I can't seem to stop bidding on black logo tees on eBay, such as this recent win:

One of the most criminally underrated films of all time.

IT'S 9/9/09 - SUCH A COOL DAY MAN

I hate to break it to you "beach bums", but summer is pretty much over. Kids are back to school, bears are eating a lot of fish and honey, and Halloween has kicked off in retail outlets around the world. Thanks to the magic of the brain, and the phenomenon of "memory" I will now briefly reflect on the summer of 2009 in Toronto as it applied to me.

His favourite is DEFINITELY the one whose butt is pressing against his abdomen.

If summer '08 taught me anything, it's that weather in June, July and August is by no means obligated to be fantastic. I spent the majority of last fall, winter and spring (cold, cold and wet, cold and damp respectively) licking my chops and practicing various sports serves in preparation for summer '09, which statistically couldn't be any worse than its predecessor.

But just after summer officially started in late June, our outside workers union decided to go on strike because a bunch of rich garbage men got pissed that the mayor was threatening to make them slightly less rich, even though all they do all day is toss around the worst stuff that no one wants.

That means the other half will not be any better than standing on a ferry for 10 minutes.

The strike ended in late July, which didn't really matter at all because in a cruel twist of fate it pretty much rained all the time anyway. Explaining all this might be dumb because I think most of you are from around here. I'm having trouble with this entry man. It's Tuesday night and going back to work after a wonderful weekend is tougher than leather hats. Let's conclude:

I didn't let the bad weather and trash filled streets figuratively dampen my spirits. The theme of this summer can be summed up with our cottage '09 motto of "dip while the dippin' is good". I tried to make use of every sunny day and ended up with good outdoor experiences, including tennis matches, swims and raisin roasts . I think the only think I didn't really do was camp, which isn't too bad because camping is really just vintage sleeping. Total throwbacks guy.

Stay tuned tomorrow when I debut my new fall schedule, with flagship entertainment news program...
We play a couple named The Sandwiches and we go to events like the Calgary Stampede.

PITCH IN AND START SUCKING THE MUD OFF MY HELMET

This past weekend was not about me.

I had the pleasure of being involved in my friend Stein's "best week of his life", which concluded this past long weekend in the hamlet of Sarnia, Ontario, home of Liv and also Kim Mitchell, two people who used to have stupid hair. Just joking, Kim Mitchell's hair was alright. POW. Big gag.

We ate, we drank, we jet skied, we ice creamed, Alison got offered a lawyer job by a guy, we watched Louis CK and Michael Jackson, we played Stein rules bocce ball, and we all got boat licences. That's right, if you got a boat, I can drive the shit out of it in the most legal way possible.

It was a much needed weekend - I recharged my batteries (brain, lungs, heart) and erased much of the unnecessary stress I've been feeling lately. And I found a Bob Probert t-shirt at Value Village!

We also came up with two great album titles for Stein's solo project:

"Tanned As I Want To Be"
and
"Throw A Log On That Vacation"

Critics are already calling him the "Canadian Jimmy Buffet" and the "Curly Wanderer". Album covers to follow once we find a camera and a beach to shoot at -- or do I have a treat up my pants?

That's not it, but I think it's important nonetheless.

Here we go! It's more of a poster but you get the idea.

I was planning on posting something yesterday, but I totally forgot because I was so damn relaxed. That's what happens when your cares are washed away via boat license.

When I visited my parents last night I got to eat an authentic Mexican feast and my mom presented me with a rasta wig and a Roy Orbison record. If you can think of a better way to end a weekend, I'd like to know. I was also given my fourth copy of Huey Lewis and the News' "Sports", so if you want to own one of the best records of all time, call me at the barn.

GUMBO DINGER AND HIS GATOR BAND

This is the best weekend to go to the Canadian National Exhibition because this weekend is the Canadian International Airshow.

A shark plane with a gun in its mouth -- ladies in gentlemen, I give you my favourite thing

Unfortunately for me, an avid fan of awesome things, I'll be out of town, but I still get to enjoy seeing the planes practice from my window at work, which overlooks the Island Airport. I've heard a few people on various social networking sites complain cynically about the noise of the jets flying around, to which I respond -- fuck you.

There's plenty of room for cynicism in this world. Oh shit, just as I wrote that I giant bomber just flew over my building. If you think that a bunch of gigantic steel birds and supersonic flying guns zipping around at mach speeds isn't the coolest, then I think you probably have trouble with cool things in general, because my friends, jets rule. And now a jet fighter is doing spins while flying straight up. And now there are four jets in perfect formation and one is totally upside down. Not cool? Go back to grandma's pantry and slow cook me some beans.

HEADLINE NEWS WITH JOKES

One man bit off part of another man's finger when a health care reform demonstration turned violent in Thousand Oaks, California.
When reached for comment, the victim was in a surprisingly good mood, stating, "I came here to give the current health care system the finger and that's exactly what I did."

The Lingerie Football League and the Chicago Bliss make their local debut at the Sears Centre in Hoffman Estates Friday, and an announcement regarding possible Mike Ditka ownership is planned for before the game.
The announcement is expected to be brief, as Ditka feels no obligation to justify buying a LINGERIE FOOTBALL team.

Michael Vick will be reinstated into the NFL in week 3, when his Eagles face the Kansas City Chiefs.
The decision was a deliberate one, as the NFL wanted to avoid having Vick play during the dog days of summer.

Barry Shell, who won $4.4 million dollars in a Lotto 6/49 game, was unable to reach a deal in court yesterday to resolve an outstanding theft charge.
The frustrated judge spent most of the proceedings attempting to explain what a bribe was without actually saying it.

A Florida man who cracked open an ice cold can of Pepsi "indeed" found dismembered remains of a frog, the US Food and Drug Administration said on Thursday.
Despite the strange taste and texture, the man finished the can because it reminded him of his other favourite drink, Mountain Dew.

Michael Jackson was unable to father children after a painful operation to improve his sperm count failed.
If his other surgeries are considered "successes" then this one must have been really bad.

I MADE A MOVIE WITH MY DAD CALLED 'PALS'

Have you ever got the feeling that you're due for an award?

I have a spotless driving record, I visit with my family all the time, I praise my friends for their accomplishments, I buy cancer lottery tickets, I know my basic dinosaurs, I support gay marriage, I'm good with money, I have a steady job, I can cook, I love birds, I play the guitar, I shower every day, I'm nice to strangers, I appreciated the night sky, I don't dumb down things when I talk to children, I feel bad for old people, I only mock those who mock others, and I ride a bike.

So please nominate me for something. I don't need a trophy, but a gala dinner would be nice.

Check out this buried treasure:

This blog is going to have a lot of different features and fun interviews with your favourite celebrities.

I’m the author and I’m 25 years old. I’m going to use this blog to make you think I do more with my life than you do. I’m also going to use it as a hangout for my thoughts. It’s going to be the Wendy’s of the Internet, but instead of cheeseburgers you get Times New Romans and instead of paying money you pay me with attention.

I found that on my computer's "Documents" folder. It's from when I was first formulating this blog a couple years back, along with a new kind of cola that also works as a marinade for lamb. Turns out kids don't like the cool taste of oregano.

My prophecies were true! Tthis blog truly IS the Wendy's of the Internet, and we've all had a lot of fun with some great celebrity interviews over the years, haven't we? Who can forget this classic with Survivor's Jeff Probst:

WIDAHIA - Hi Jeff, I noticed you're not wearing your signature khaki adventure wear.

JP - Yeah, weird! No big deal though. It's my daughter's wedding today and as they said in Survivor Australia, "Different pants for different evants".

WIDAHIA - When's the wedding?

JP - We're about ten minutes in now.

WIDAHIA - Shouldn't you be there?

JP - Who says I'm not, Buster Brown?

WIDAHIA - Okay, even if you are there, you're wearing a old t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Where's your tux?

JP - Up your butt and around the corner. You know where I first heard that retort? Three Rivers Stadium, Pittsburgh, 1976.

WIDAHIA - Can you tell us anything about the new season?

JP - Autumn?

WIDAHIA - No, your show on CBS - Survivor?

JP - Baby, that's real life!

Mr. Probst then exited, leaving behind an autographed 8x10 of himself and three packages of unopened Upper Deck baseball cards with a note that said "In your dreams big guy".

HIGHER EDUCATION BLOWOUT SPECIAL

Exactly eight years ago today I started university -- one of the bricks of life that has helped build my memory hut. In the hut, this blog represents the "accoutrements" in the twenty-something sitting room next to the sports experiences fireplace. Are you with me so far? Don't worry, we'll now leave the abstract behind and head toward the...THE MEMORY HUT AHAHAHAHA. Okay, so university...

It was a really weird time for me because unlike most people, I actually had a great time in high school and was totally "cheefed" that it was ending at the height of it all. Most of my friends went to other universities in packs, so I felt extra nervous, even though pop culture had assured me that post-secondary institutions were home to the easiest, most buxom babes in the world and all you can eat fries and gravy on every corner.

Looking back, I was justified in being upset, but I did overreact a bit, thinking that we'd all drift apart and I'd miss all sorts of fun stuff at the other schools like lobster chugging contests and tuxedo beach volleyball. If you look at my friend line-up today, nothing much has changed, so if my past self is reading this somehow, don't worry, things are fine and you end up living in a big place with an actual girl - no dudes.

Here are some unearthed THIS DAY IN LIVEJOURNAL HISTORY'S from that fateful first day, Sept. 2, 2001

Big cheap beers were popular with students and so were nouveau lamps

In this first snippet from 1:45am (the night before I left) I was being overly sentimental and really eulogized the shit out of my high school years:

I'd like to say thanks to everyone in my life these past four years because they have been the funnest ever. For the first time in my life I felt genuinely comfortable around my friends and I felt like I was myself. It was like in the Blind Melon video for no rain when the bee girl finds the other bee girls in the field.

I'd post more from that entry but it's highly embarrassing, and I don't want to undo any of the hard work I've put into not being a wiener over the last ten years.

I got to McMaster and met my new roomate. Here are some passages from 2:35pm:

Then I met my roommate, who is a nice guy. He likes good tunes and plays guitar. He's pretty shy like me so conversation is a little awkward.

I really don't know what to do with myself. I think I wanna take a nap but I;m scared I'll miss some big event or something.

Boring. At nighttime I summed it up:

I've never been so overwhelmed with spirit in my whole life. It was like a fucked up daycamp. I'm so tired right now I spent the whole day doing cheesy games and cheers, which all in all wasn;'t that bad.

I wrote for the McMaster paper when I was there, which is a seed of this blog along with the website we used to have and a desire to be the next Dave Barry. I lost my faith in journalism when an editor removed a Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase joke from one of my articles, which I don't really remember except it probably had something to do with money and/or the Intercontinental Championship belt.

Next time I'll recount my first trip to a farm and the first time I tasted a "chicken strip".

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS COOL

"Tell me your fantasies and I'll eat a peach"

Today I was in line at the local grocers, and there was this fit lady in front of me who was wearing little shorts and a sports brassiere. Predictably, she was buying a shitload of fruit and when she tried to fit a bushel of peaches into her little, already stuffed backpack they spilled all over the place. One such peach disappeared somewhere under the checkout conveyor belt table (?), lost forever amidst pennies, dust and maybe a lost world where tiny dogs dress in silk caps. Not one to give up, Ms. Sports took it upon herself to get down on her hands and knees and search for the outcast peach with me standing awkwardly behind her, wondering what I should do while waiting for a register to open up.

It occurred to me to help her find it, but I had already retrieved one for her, and as mentioned, I didn't really support the expedition to begin with. I'd like to think my lack of participation sent a clear message that the search was in vain and that 6-8 surviving peaches remained intact and ready to be eaten, pied or hollowed out for a traditional Malloween (First Wednesday in September. Have you painted your jelly beans yet?) decoration. Plus, I doubt her little bag would've supported an additional peach, so unless she was planning on a post-shopping chow down, transportation most certainly would've been an issue.
But I felt weird just standing there at her feet doing nothing. Also, since this woman was wearing barely any clothes, I was aware that perhaps my standing over her could be misconstrued as "pervy", leading to heightened anxiety. I pride myself on my ability to scope babes without them, or anyone around me noticing and the situation I found myself in seemed almost like a test of these abilities, like a guy on a diet who finds a pie or a hamburger cooling on an unattended window sill.

Just as I was reaching the point when I had been standing there longer than I felt comfortable, I was summoned to the next available cashier and the pressure was relieved. In conclusion, if you drop a damn peach and you can't get it - give up, because peaches DO grow on trees and your backpack probably isn't big enough anyway.


Did anyone else watch the Degrassi Goes Hollywood TV movie? It was no School's Out and unfortunately no one died, but it was dumb enough to be entertaining, but not dumb enough that it was unwatchable. The best part was how easily it was to predict what was going to happen next. It was essentially one big cliche with a few totally crappy cameos thrown in for good measure - sounds like my ill-fated sweet sixteen masquerade, hosted by Alfonso Ribeiro with musical guests "Mr. Mister".