What I Did and How I am

LIVE FROM NY IT'S A RAT DYING IN A BASEMENT

2012-01-24T12:42:00.006-05:00

My hand is alllll better..........

.............if by "better" you mean "butter". My hand is all butter because to a carnivore, this thing looks, smells and no doubt tastes just as good as a bag of hot buttered kernels down at the local screens. Don't believe me? Ask this bear:

Gotta say, he's on the mark on this one. Keep in mind though, if the injured hand is like your "popcorms", then something like, say, the human ass, would be the "hot perfect beef roast", you see? Main course. Like the hand is good, but I'd rather eat your heart mixed with from-the-ground pine needles and washed down with frog-piss swamp water. Keep asking me questions though, I'm enjoying this.

We don't have time. Plus, I know it was you who took the noodles that were cooling on my windowsill. You almost ruined Chinese New Year again. We ordered pizza and my guests said "nah-uh" so I had to convince them it was Chinese by slicing it with a rollerblade. Mission accomplished, barely.

LET US DRINK TO STINK

2012-01-05T15:00:00.004-05:00

"Did you get bitten by a baby?"
"Snap into a SlimJim, brother"
"I think it's a pig"
"My penis looks nicer"
"Is that an old man's dick?"
"A professional jerker"

That there is my hand after they took my cast off. Needless to say, it didn't work as I officially require surgery, which should turn my thumb from a zig zag to a Hitchhiker Straighty.

Those quotes are simple seasoning, you can make up your own if you're bored after dinner tonight.

Since I'll be one handed for another 6 weeks, and won't be able to type up to my usual Mavis Beacon Platinum Level IV -- Silver Eagle Cadet, posts may be few and far between.

In the meantime, I'll be live-blogging daily whenever i feel the need to communicate to another human regular. Foe example, earlier I blogged to a woman at Tim Horton's, "...the one with sausage please". Check me out offline somewhere in the GTA or in your wildest fantasies.

DUCK DUCK DUCK

2011-12-23T12:03:00.000-05:00

THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERY STRING

2011-12-07T13:12:00.005-05:00

In the past I've talked about how so far, in my life, I've been immune to major injuries.

No more! I broke a bone somewhere in hand thumb area while rescuing a super model from a snake man and his family. This means I can only type with one hand, which then means I don't want to type anything. In the time it took me to write this I could've been to Lime Rickey's and back, armed with an arsenal of the season's hottest salads.

I'm not going to mope, I'm going to stay positive, as represented by this info-graphic:

Yesterday, I had a thought that if the world's smartest people got together, they could trick us so bad. Chew on that and poo it out next time you need a conversation starter.

THE KEY TO HAPPINESS IS OF COURSE A BEAUTIFUL, ORNATE KEY

2011-11-22T16:40:00.001-05:00

This is only my second post in the month of November, and you know why? That's right! I was in surgery to add an extra cage of ribs to my slender frame. First day out of the hospital I tested myself by taunting a local bully named Hot Beer, who once beat up the principal just because the principal said he liked cranberries. Anyway, the look on his face when he realized he had broke through one ribcage, only to find another was worth the three million dollars and strange shape my body now has. It's looks like I'm starving and healthy at the same time and the only shirts that fit are football jerseys. I have one for every day of the week, numbered 1-7 and each nameplate has the name of a Macaulay Culkin character. For example, today I'm wearing #3 "TYLER" jersey, after his character, Richard Tlyer, in the Source Award winning (Best Bitch '94) "The Pagemaster".

The tough thing about doing stand-up comedy, being on Twitter, writing this thing and writing other things, is that sometimes you don't know where to put an idea. Recently, I jotted down this gem, that I think will make it into the live show. Normally, I wouldn't share it until I do perform it live and no one laughs, but I'll make an exception today because I'm pretty sure only three people regularly stop by:

- peeing in someone's mouth, they go to the bathroom and spit it into the toilet

Let's shift in today's SECOND GEAR

Here's my input on the Jerry Sandusky football boy university sex scandal:

Marry/Fuck/Kill - The cast of The Flintstones.

Jerry - Marry Bamm-Bamm, Fuck Bamm-Bamm, kill uhhhh, Bamm-Bamm.
Me - You can only choose one character per action.
Jerry - Hmmm, marry that little alien boy who grants wishes and ask for Bamm-Bamm's phone number, fuck Bamm-Bamm, and killing is wrong, no comment.
Me - Just pick one
Jerry - Alright, alright, who are Bamm-Bamm's legal guardians?
Me - Barney and Betty Rubble. How do you know who Bamm-Bamm was and not those guys?
Jerry - Listen man, I dig kids.
Me - Whoa! Did you know that the Flintstone's Sabretooth tiger is named "Baby Pussy" according to Wikipedia? You wanna change your answers?
Jerry - Not unless Baby Pussy has a little brother.
Me - Gross!

Whoooooaooaoooaoaooa controversial! Let's slide into today's THIRD BASE

Comic books are very popular these days, providing source material for major motion pictures and re-igniting the imaginations of children whose brains are polluted with Internet smut, Hungry Man Dinners and female peers who start flashin' bra at age 7. As a creator of content, I gotta get in on this action. I have a mouth to feed and watches to buy, so that I'll have so many watches that someone will ask "why are you wearing so many" and I can say with a wink and nod "I got too much time on my hands". Here's my pitch:

Our Hero - "Excellent Dude" - a paper boy who can fly and puke bullets.
His nemesis - "The Woman" - a woman

If interested, contact my agent, who is me. I'd rather work with Warner Brothers rather than Universal because I like how they handled Harry Potter.

TOYING

2011-11-04T14:16:00.003-04:00

Steve "America Needs More" Jobs died a little while ago, which was very sad because he invented many things that make our lives cuter and cooler. I have to admit, he was a pretty interesting man who made billions by working hard and adding colour to stuff, and somehow, post-death, he's gotten even more interesting. Since that dark day we've learned:

- Why he wore turtlenecks all the time (he was imitating some Japanese guy and wanted a personal uniform that he could wear every day)
- Why he never had license plates on his car (he took advantage of a California law which gives a maximum of six months for new vehicles to receive plates; Jobs leased a new identical SL every six months.)
- His last words ("Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow")

The uniform idea is decent because women are known to love a man in uniform, but his uniform looks like it belongs to the Albanian Chess Team, who won gold in the 1978 Autumn Olympics in San Jose, California. I think he could've made it more stylish with a bit of tinkering:

He should have a number on his back too. He looks like a number 10 to me.

Hmm, okay. I don't really understand why he hated license plates so much. Probably because they can't connect to the Internet. Or maybe because there aren't enough characters on a license plate to fit his dream vanity - "SNAKEASSASSIN", which was also his dream nickname, which was also the original name for the first generation iPod prototype.

Those are actually pretty good last words, but I feel like he was planning them for years. It's like when someone asks you if you've ever been to Hawaii and you haven't but you want to look cool, so all you say is "oh wow, oh wow, oh wow". Then again, if he went to all the trouble to plan his last words carefully, he probably would've said something better, such as:

"God is ushering me into his tank"
"I own an alien -- here are its coordinates..."
"I always just peed wherever I wanted, and if that's what brings me to Hell, I'll accept it."
"My last name is actually 'Shitter'."
"I hid millions of dollars in the butts of dogs all over the world. Have at it."
"I forced George Lucas to make all those changes to Star Wars because he once told me my egg salad sucked"

In the coming months I'm sure we'll hear more posthumous factoids about the man TIME magazine called "..this generation's Saruman", but until then, I have some new tidbits that I gained access to by playing around with a Ouija board last name:

The name "Apple" is a nod to the Bible and the part where Jesus makes enough cider for all of Brazil to enjoy.

The first Mac computer was built entirely out of backpacks

Steve Jobs' glasses are edible and taste like licorice all sorts

The Apple logo is an upside down butt with a turd coming out of it, and the bite represents the time Jobs got bit in the hind by a famous tiger

Goin' to the Keg tonight! Wish me steak!

THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT DID

2011-10-25T17:46:00.000-04:00

I have an injury.

It's been awhile. So long, in fact, that I can't even remember what my last injury was -- probably last June's questionable haircut. I have so few career injuries, all of them minor, that I'm either UNBREAKABLE or just really cautious. Probably the latter. For example, I head in the opposite direction of every dog bark I hear, I wear a jock strap while babysitting and I pay more attention to expiry dates on food than I do firey babes on street, who, by the way, can also be dangerous depending on how much judo they know. Remember that phrase and film "If Looks Could Kill"? I haven't heard anyone say it in awhile, but I hear they're putting out a sequel to the film called "...I'd Be In Jail".

I sprained my big toe. That's the injury. It happened during a game of co-ed floor hockey, which won't impress any action sports athletes sponsored by Monster Energy Drink, Red Bull Energy Drink and/or Mountain Dew green drink, but it will give me an excuse to get out of anything I want in the next week:

"Hey, wanna go play Monopoly with my dad and his his friends who all have warts?"
"Nah, can't. Sprained my toe."

"Excuse me, do you have time to complete a survey and socks and undies?"
"Sprained my toe."

"I need you bad right now baby, the fire burns within."
"I sprained my toe, but maybe you can send me an email."

If that weren't enough to convince you that I'm the physical equivalent of a young Shirley Temple, I recently bought a tub (calling it a 'tub' adds a touch of much needed manliness. You'll see) of yogurt that looks like this:

I bought ladies yogurt. Look at this shit. It's even called "svelte". Seriously though, since when did women take over yogurt? Last time I checked, yogurt was one of the more manly foods a human could scarf; it's a delicious goo made up of bacteria, which I figure a lot of women find grossatating. But then all of sudden they put this poo bug in it that makes your dumps more regularly-scheduled, and BAM, yogurt's been Oprah'd. All my favourite man brands are extinct:

Bill's Yogurt
Flamethrower Yogurt - The Chunkiest
Heinz Brown Yogurt
The World Wrestling Federation presents Yogurt
Cousin Eli's Old Time Country Style Stiff Milk
Hooters' Restaurant's "Semen in a Barrel" (dine-in only)
Orville Redenbacher Microwavable Yogurt
Burger King Yogurt Whopper with jalapenos and a spicy Regal sauce

Halloween is almost here! The other day this equation came into my head:

Carrots + Halloween = Pumpkins

My mind has been described as "beautiful".

THE DUNKAROOS KANGAROO IS BASED ON A REAL KOALA

2011-10-18T12:10:00.003-04:00

October Checklist

√ Feed the rest of the summer corn to the man in the toilet
√ Replace racy mannequin with vulgar scarecrow
√ Dig the monthly hole
√ If we find "it" in the hole, defrost all that pizza dough and call the newspaper
√ don't bother rapping
√ stop calling those bobblehead toys 'dildos'
√ knit something for Christ's sake
√ decide on Halloween costume - either pterodactyl, mouse pad or sexy mule

I'm back from New York, and no, I didn't find Crocodile Dundee's apartment, but yes, I did bury my time capsule in Central Park, and yes the time capsule was a Pearl Jam box set. Seriously though, it was a great trip. Here are today's *sound effect of glass breaking* Quick Points *sound effect of Pat Sajack saying "spin the wheel"*

- Stayed near that building on which King Kong raped that woman
- Went to Brooklyn and decided that I prefer the other Burroughs -Manhattan, Queen and St. Louis - a bit better
- Saw first hand that "Occupy Wall Street" is just a band who won't leave downtown until someone signs them
- Went to 30 Rock, did 10 Bloody Mary's in the mirror of the NBC store and ended up with a free 'Chuck' key chain

And that's pretty much all I did minus the showers walking in between things. This has been *sound effect of jack hammer* Quick Points *sound effect of Jason Mewes saying "Snoogans"*

POSITIVE MESSAGE

When I'm feeling a bit murpy and even pizza tastes less zingy, I usually try to imagine telling my teenage self what I'm up to now, which allows me to appreciate my current stats. For example, on Saturday I got this text:

Bret Hart just told us the funniest story about yokozuna. Amazing.

If the younger version of me knew I'd be getting messages such as this AND over a mobile phone no less, he'd be very satisfied thus convincing present Glenn that everything truly is a-okay.

Wasn't that nice? Time for lunch. I'll probably eat some combination of both plants and animals.

(T)RICK "SHOT" JENNINGS - WORST NICKNAME

2011-10-05T14:39:00.002-04:00

Last weekend was one of the most hectic I've had in like, 5 birthdays.

On Friday I didn't really do anything. That's okay though, Friday aren't what they used to be. I think I've talked about this before, but the basic tenets of my hypothesis are that when you get older, an ideal party is you at your house with a lot of snacks and no work the next day, and Friday is the perfect day to make this happen because you've already worked and you're like "gotta not work". So I did. So.

Saturday.

Saturdays are for sleeping in and long showers, but unfortunately for me I was scheduled to assist in a move. Not human moving (the couple involved is very mobile and both great dancers) but house moving, like stuff, human stuff; couches and ink jet printers etc.

I just realized that taken individually, the parts of my day won't garner many "boo hoos" from you guys, so I may use some extreme language to make them more interesting. The media does this all the time according to Naomi Klein and her latest, groundbreaking work, "Go to Hell, Guys".

Next up was a softball double header against the hated Second City squad. If you'll remember correctly, last Saturday was cool and windy, like a fart from the rear of James Dean, so it wasn't exactly ideal weather for a sport that's 90% standing around. Luckily, team owner Gary bought 40 tacos and 24 beers for the team between games and this other guy Stein brought some bourbon to warm our bones and impair our judgements. If you're a regular reader of this site or you're my dad or my doctor, you'll know that I have a sensitive stomach that doesn't react well to taco meat and brown liquor, but I ate and drank anyway because I'm a fuckin' renegade.

We lost both games, but that doesn't matter because baseball is really about who can eat more grass than the other team, and once were drunk and full of tacos, a few blades were just what the doctor ordered. Most people think that grass turns your poo green, but in reality all it does is give it a low level hum.

After that I didn't have much time for much needed rest before my sister and I headed off to................. CIRQUE DU SOLEIL. You know? That human circus that French people invented that takes buskers and clowns off the streets and into your hearts? Not just buskers and clowns, but flippies who don't know the meaning of "get a real job". Anyway, it was my first time at one of these, and it was fantastic, especially this part where five or six Asian women rode big unicycles and flipped bowls onto their heads from their feet a la Helen Hunt in "Twister". No wait, she didn't do that, she was a doctor who loved wind. It's too bad I felt like I could've pooed throughout the whole show thanks to the whiskey, beer and tacos bubbling like hot magma in my core.

Normally I'd be off to bed without supper after a day like that, but instead, after that, I went to help my friends LIFE OF A CRAPHEAD with their Nuit Blanche project that looked like this:

I played the curator of the Queen West exhibits and interviewed the "artist" (the real artists were actually piloting the Inukshuks). I successfully convinced people that there existed a Scotiabank Scene Card contest on scotiabank.ca, and that the default password for Scene members is 01234. I went to bed at 4:00am and I couldn't even sleep. Mr. Sandman? Bring me some cheese if you're not going to bring me some sleep. There's probably a lot more I could tell you about this, but honestly, it's all a blur and some of the stuff you wouldn't even believe. Okay, here's a hint - naked water. Figure it out and write me a story.

The next day I wanted to lie down anywhere, all day, but instead I played floor hockey and did stand up comedy. I scored 5 goals and successfully debuted a joke about penises. So yeah, a busy, yet wholly satisfying weekend.

Pretty good little personal recap huh? Tomorrow I'm off to NYC (New York Crazy) for a few days just to see what's up with the world's top urban destination. Will I see Donald Trump? Will I kiss a navy man? Stay clicked and find out some time if I decide to tell you about it. Otherwise, live long and proper.

GOOD COP/BAD BREATH

2011-09-26T15:40:00.000-04:00

Did I ever tell you about the time in University when I had a steamy afternoon with Mavis Beacon?

I was walking across campus in early October listening to a new batch of sound effects I had downloaded the night before. Just as "Burp 3" was finishing, I noticed a group of well-dressed students filing into my second favourite lecture hall, the one that had the funny desk graffiti about John Candy. My curiosity got the best of me and I made my way over to see what was going on.

"What's this all about?" I asked an unassuming female dressed in her Orchestra/Funeral/Wedding/Job Interview outfit of a black knee-length skirt and well-pressed white blouse.

"Mavis Beacon is here today to talk about typing and maybe even teach us a thing or two about typing," she answered excitedly, while coyly eying my baseball uniform up and down.

"Play ball," I replied.

I wasn't as interested in the presentation so much as the presenter. Before my parents could figuratively afford to steal a computer from my neighbours who didn't even appreciate theirs and kept saying how "kinda dumb" they are, I'd spend time at my best friend's house looking up our favourite hobbies on Microsoft Encarta. Did you know that "Rugby" is named after the plac e where they invented it? All the while, this beautiful woman would stare down at me from the bookshelf that held software boxes and I'd get so horny that any words with "s" sounds would give me an embarrassing public erection of the dick. This woman was Mavis Beacon. Smart, beautiful, nice, rich, stylish, a girl. She had it all.

I managed to get a seat between the two ugliest people I could find, a lesson I learned from the July 1999 issue of Chatelaine, the one controversial one where Camilla Scott is on the cover with blood all over her face. Anyway, what a plan. It worked. Mavis took the stage in a black leather catsuit and before addressing the crowd she stopped, looked my way and licked her lips in way that suggested it was a natural instinct rather than a purposeful seduction. As her presentation began she couldn't seem to concentrate as I drew her attention to me by flexing my muscles for the entire three hours.

"Typing is, uh, hold on. Typing is... no, okay, the letters on the keys are the same as the alphabet and the numbers are there too, they're the same old shapes you know, that they usually are, like a 'seven' is the standard horizontal meets vertical and there are some symbols and the F keys, which are like, well you know, I mean, they do different things for different people."

With those words the presentation concluded and before I knew it I was neck deep in hanky panky with the world's most powerful keyboardist in a tiny storage room lit by an overhead projector we found in the corner. It smelled like dust at when we first entered, but we left it smelling like an old lasagna, know what I mean?

IN THE GAME OF LIFE THERE ARE GOALIES AND REFEREES

2011-09-21T13:22:00.017-04:00

FILM REVIEW

'DRIVE'

Here's a new movie starring Ryan Gosling about a guy who just loves to drive. Like that's all he does.

He has two jobs -- mechanic of cars and Hollywood stunt driver, also of cars. When he's bored he either drives or fixes a carburetor on his kitchen table. When he's a bit horny, he visits his blonde neighbour, played by presumably licensed driver Carrie Mulligan, watches TV with her son, then goes out and drives for a bit.

His best friend is also a mechanic and stunt driving coordinator, played by real life dad, Bryan Cranston, and there isn't much to their relationship besides their love of driving and cars (they don't kiss in the movie).

The Driver (you never learn Gosling's character's real name, but in early versions of the script it was Ford Taurus) almost always wears his white scorpion driving jacket that he manages to dry clean between every blood-splattered murder he commits and won't drive a car or punch a guy without his brown leather driving gloves. Early in the film, he also likes chewing tooth picks, but halfway through he stops, probably because he realized it doesn't have anything to do with cars. Or maybe he just ran out, I don't know.

In the beginning of the film, life is going pretty good for our hero -- he owns a car, he can drive whenever, his buddy Bryan Cranston buys a stock car using Albert Brooks' mob money and wants him to drive it, and his neighbour wants to hang out with him while her husband is in jail. If all a poet needs is his guitar and his dog, all The Driver needs is a car and his scorpion jacket.

Liv said "the only good thing about Drive is the font"

Things get "funky" once the husband is released from prison and is forced into robbing a pawn shop by this bald man who protected his punk ass while in jail. The Driver decides to help him out either because he just loves driving, or because he feels bad about watching TV with his son while he was away.

Things go wrong, but not really too wrong considering it was a heist, and the Driver has to kill everyone that knows him if he wants to stay alive and keep driving.

CONCLUSION

Expectation going in - a gritty action thriller with good car chases, the odd tit, and quotable lines such as "I'm driven.... to drive" and "I've got plenty of gas and my car loves to fart".

Reality - This baby was artier and slower than I thought it would be. That being said, the actors were all great and the opening scene was really good.

Final Grade - 583 out of 937

Notes

- I saw Yuk Yuk's Mark Breslin in the audience. All I could think of when I saw him was "this guy is so rich that going to the movies for him is like buying sour keys for me." Then I thought "I wonder if he thinks this is going to be funny?"

- The lady beside me got up twice in the last ten minutes. Diarrhea? Barf?

- The ladies behind me brought what sounded like an entire picnic dinner -- pop cans opening, bags opening, closing and krinkling, things being crunched.

THE BITCH BOTCHED

2011-09-16T15:08:00.001-04:00

TIFF 2011 ROUNDUP

Plus Bonus Blog Content Grab Bag 2011

It's almost time to close the book on another year of glitz and glamour at the Toronto International Film Festival. 78 days of films, parties, stars and submarine shawarmas (Holt Renfrew TIFF Food Mansion favourite), has left this reporter with little to no sleep and a vow to never wear heels again!

Now I'm going to go to sleep for like, ten days, and hopefully eat something other than popcorn and champagne. My favourite movie was the one that I heard about that had a mystery, and the best party was the Levi's Presents a Nabisco Production: Lights, Camera? Acting? sponsored by Perrier's Sparkling Water for Liberia International Celebrating 50 Years featuring DJ Human Cheese, hosted by the cast of Paramount Pictures' presents a Fox Searchlight film, The Big Cop with an exclusive Midnight set from Naughty Marge brought to you by Fruit of the Loom, Ages 18 and up free admission with TIFF Nabob VIP wrist chains. I got TONS of great gift bags, but the best one was so creative! It was like one of those airline sick bags, but instead of vomit, it was full of USB sticks. When you put them in your computer there were tons of high quality HD videos of people barfing. Great. Idea. Kudos to the folks at Sauce and Juice Digital Interactive for putting a great package together.

But it wasn't all fun and games. I worked with the folks at Gallop Polls to get an idea of what TIFF patrons are all about. I did some quick, street-level polling and got some great info that should help the festival gauge its audience and help steer its programming in future years:

CURRENT RANKING OF FUNNIEST NATURAL HUMAN NOISES

1. Farts
2. Burps
3. Crying
4. Sneezes
5. screams
6. talking (a lot of people elaborated on this one "lisps" and "Chinese" were popular)

That wasn't really me talking, that was a character who's a girl and who works in PR or journalism or something. Trust me, she's smoking hot and doesn't mind when her boyfriends go out with their buddies. I didn't really need to preface that with "Trust me", but when you have a gun to your head and have to type 600 coherent words in 10 minutes or else you get pencils up your nose, you don't tend to consider these things.

That wasn't real either. I really want to see that new Ryan Gosling movie called "Drive". The reviews are good, and I have to admit, that guy is a pretty good actor who, with this film, should be able to crossover from Actor Who Women Want To Rub Their Boobs Upon to Actor Who Women Want To Rub Their Boobs Upon and Men Think is Pretty Alright All Things Considered And Probably Wouldn't Mind Their Wives Rubbing Him.

January Jones had a baby and I'm pretty sure it's the spawn of Satan since she's been so close lipped on the daddy and because she looks like she likes evil men, or at least regular men whom she seduces, has her way with, then devours.

'NFL'? MORE LIKE, 'SOUNDS LIKE A DEAF PERSON TRYING TO SAY "ANY FELLA"'

2011-09-13T19:38:00.000-04:00

Let's jump right into the action today, with news of the world:

Woman bakes again and husband doesn't care

Granola Bars - the cause of divorce

Nothing is truly "giant" in this world, geez

Camera bag used as regular bag to astounding results
Subhead: Pop cans are almost the size of lenses, fit great

I don't have the proper links to these stories because my newspaper, "The Screamer" isn't online. My mom got my a subscription in grade 1 instead of a new bike and she said "One day you'll thank me" and I was like, "for what?" and she said "I just...come on man, I let you watch Married with Children".

I was once like you -- doe-eyed, innocent, full of goo, liked hats until high school, got back into hats recently so I'm still like you in that regard -- but now I know what I want in life and know how to get it. What do I want? Honestly, all I need is my guitar and my dog. How do I get it?

COMICS

I drew two brand spankers that you may distribute around your community and inside this year's Halloween cards.

Remember that Canadian hip hop crew The Homo 'sup! iens?? I went to school with DJ Hugh Mann, and he ate every lunch with a pair of needle nose pliers. Even sandwiches. Even his juice box. He only had one juice box a month. He was saving up all year for turntables. His dad bought him some in January and kept them secret until Christmas. He didn't know his son was drinking with pliers to save juice to save money. That inspired the Juno winning song....

SAD CHRISTMAS

So that's all silly, but what about me? Nothing much to report. I swear, every day is like a Hardy Boys novella - same boys, different day. On the weekend I entered a contest at some outdoor festival thing while Liv was busy trying to throw something in the garbage, I forget, I was busy filling out the ballot. Yesterday the contest calls me and says I've won a trip. I was almost excited but realized within seconds that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be since the man was obviously calling from a crowded room of other Indians calling other me's. He also wanted me to write down all the details, like how the trip started in "Orlando". Noted. Then he asked for a credit card so I hung up on him, booked a real trip, drove to India, found him, showed him my real plane ticket and said "now THIS is a vacation".

BUZZER LAD

2011-09-01T16:50:00.003-04:00

GUIDE TO AUTUMN

Autumn (or "brown time") is a season best known for boring fruits and vegetables and dead leaves. Here in the Northern Hemi-smear, autumn runs from around September to December, covering some of the world's most unpopular months including October and November.

Notable autumn-ites include the Scarecrow, Remembrance Day John, Salami Butcher, That Thing That Eats Leaves, Wiener Dog Wearing Sweater, Farmer, and Frumpy Teacher.

Your autumn wardrobe should consist of a good mixture of lightweight, necked long sleeves and heavier woolens. You'll probably want to pack a decent slicker and a Halloween costume too. If you can't think of anything good, just put everything on and say you're dressed as a traveling peddler whose wagons and horses were stolen under moonlight by a band of husbands.

Hats. Hats and Autumn go together like forks and soft buns. At any given moment it can rain or snow, so you need something versatile and warm. Rubber toques are great but are hard to find outside of Brazil, so you may want to carry around a few options in your garbage bag just in case.
Here are some good shots of good hats (thanks models! Your key chains are in the mail.)

Corby models an Ultra Bean stitched in the Memphis style.

Harrence shows off an 'Wicker Boomerang (Option B)' while on a train to get his autumn spices

Standard 'Sporting Maximizer' (rare misprint, supposed to be MY DAB)

Tony gives us a great example of a 'Natural October' just before hitting the sack before his first day of high school

And finally, here's Rhino wearing a Nancy Butterstiff original East Northern Soft Tip in Blink 182's home studio, San Diego, California

Autumn isn't all bad. It's a great time for making, baking and eating pie, or buying, warming and eating pie, or stealing, throwing, scraping and eating pie.

I'm going to take this autumn to grow back all the hair I lost in the summer. Weird, it's the first time this has happened. I guess because it's been so hot, hahahaha mammals, right? Once it grows back I'm going to get my barber to give me a Chris Gaines.

E.T. THE EXTRA TACO

2011-08-29T17:08:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I started an entry about "roofing" things, but it didn't really have the legs because there isn't much to roofing and I don't know if kids even do it anymore because they're busy with growing up too fast. I'll boil it down for you just in case you're interested:

- if you're significant other dumps you, roof their stuff
- if you have garbage and you don't know what to do with it, roof it
- definitely roof dog shit
- go on roofs to find what people have roofed

It's not a roof unless it stays roofed. Nice rainbow though, good for roofing

If I were to write an essay on roofing those point form notes would be my starting point. My intro would begin, "For centuries man has used roofs to hold up houses and jump off into snow banks, but our ingenuity has produced some surprising uses, the foremost being roofing". Keep in mind, this is the first draft so I'd probably add bigger words after, words like extinguish. My conclusion would go something like, "Perhaps we won't need roofs when we go back to teepees but we can still throw towels and stuff up there, right?". ALWAYS END WITH A QUESTION. It leaves your audience wanting more and increases their appetite and when they quench their hunger they associate that moment with your tasty essay. A+.

I've never really had a problem remembering my dreams and I feel bad for people who don't. It's like going on vacation and being asleep the whole time. Whoa that's a poignant thought I think: "A dream is a vacation when you sleep, but if you sleep through a vacation your dreams don't come true". That's the first thing I'm going to say to my baby when it's born and GUARANTEED it'll grow up to make at least $50,000 dollars a year and will have a subscription to at least one thought provoking magazine.

I'm not a perfect dreamer. I rarely, if ever, have a lucid dream and most of my sex-themed dreams rarely get sexy because even in dreams I'm like "I can't cheat" or the woman has reservations despite it being my fantasy. I'm a nice guy! Anyway, last night I had a really weird one where I woke up and found a body bag in my wardrobe. I woke Liv up in the dream and she peaked inside the bag and was like "It's Anna Nicole Smith". I called 911:

"We found a body in our place."
"Do you know who it is?"
"The actress, Anna Nicole Smith"

This must've taken place in 2007. The rest of the dream was us trying to figure out why and how someone got into our apartment and dumped Anna Nicole Smith's body. The cops didn't even question me.

As I was applying my fourth coat of mousse before work today, the dream was still fresh in my mind and I thought it might make a good TV show where every day a guy wakes up and a new dead body is in his wardrobe. He doesn't even care about the bodies, he's just pissed someone keeps doing it. People are such idiots in the morning right after a night of dreams. More robberies should happen in the morning. "Honey there's a man looking through your jewels, but I'm tired and I had a dream about Kathy Ireland".

YOU SCREAM FOR ICED SCREAM

2011-08-18T17:04:00.000-04:00

I'm going to the Scottage this weekend, but before I go I have several things to take care of. Going away for a relaxing few days in lake country isn't as easy as tying your pet to the fridge, throwing some gum and paper towels in a grocery bag and threatening someone for a ride. You gotta be organized! Let me take you through "Phase 1" of my cottage summer weekend planning package.

TASK ONE - Car Ride

Some people sleep during car rides, other puke, but me, I like good old fashioned conversation. I always aim to have a few topics ready before I get in the car and this time I think I want to talk about how Hitler didn't use the Pyramids as his base.

TASK TWO - Food

Classic cottage food is stuff like hamburgers, s'mores, beer and toads, which is easy to plan for, and execute when it comes to time to "make some poo". My dad taught me to never take the easy way out unless you're in the house of an asshole, so I like to mix it up. This year I'm encouraging my friends to make all their meals out of plasticine before making them for real. When everyone is done their models, we'll judge which one looks the best and the worst. Whoever gets picked as the worst has to eat the entire plasticine meal while the winner gets to sit on the best chair in the joint until sunrise.

TASK THREE - Activities

- someone play dead and drift to the middle of lake in canoe
- rubbing feet against stone - biggest callous at end wins. Top bleeder gets first shower in the morning
- penis length contest
- try to replace all the lake water with Coke (need buckets)
- force some idiot eat tree sap
- make up a verbal Internet
- make mosquito chamber, put man in it, see how many bites it takes to die
- play Uno
- make some art out of crud
- Listen to the audiobook of Tim Allen's "Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man" around the campfire
- pee all over the place

And that's Phase 1! Phase 2 is all about execution and making decisions on the fly. One year we didn't even make it to the cottage because we decided that Wendy's has better hamburgers so we stayed there the whole time. By my 19th Junior Bacon Cheeseburger I was so out of it that I thought my nose was a gun and anytime someone burped we would rave for 3 hours. See you next week!

SIGMUND FRAUD

2011-08-17T17:08:00.002-04:00

UPSIDE BACKWARD

A short story of neo-fiction

Mikk and Drip work for the city.

They've been best friends since the day they met, Marf 36th, 3045. Over the years they shared many interests - tubby girls, vintage silk, and finding the freshest produce in town. They'd share ripe Zengarn Apples picked fresh off the trees growing out of the side of the cat museum and talk about their future while pulling carrots from the toilet garden in the new mall powered by hugs. Back then it didn't really matter where they'd end up in life, as long as they were together.

They had originally applied to be garbage makers, but when the clerk saw they had filled out their applications using a sugarcane quill with blueberry ink, they were immediately flagged and sent to Zone West for a then top secret municipal project. Opportunities for young bucks fresh out of water school don't come around that often so the choice to stick around was an easy one.

Training took the better part of a lunch hour and by the time the fresh week began the two faux brauxthers hit the streets with new responsibilities, new equipment, new belts, and new names. Mikk took the name "Penis" after the great liberator who freed the basketball players 250 years prior. Drip always liked him name so he dropped the "D" and added a "P". The woman working down in name tags had never tingled as fiercely as that afternoon when Prip put in the request. His daddy used to say "If you make the girls tingle, soon they'll want your dingle".

Their first call came that same day when the Priest of Police himself rang their bell and alerted them to a hot spot at a nearby domed barn. It was dark. Training was always so well lit! Hearts pumped and sweat said hello as they cautiously made their way through the barn looking like Frankenstein when he went anywhere. When they smelled it they knew they were in the right spot.

Unnatural. Thick. Somewhat desirable, then very desirable. Right outta the guidebook. The Great Masters said anti-freeze tastes like a cool summer breeze, but that don't make it right. They proceeded blindly into a large chamber, whispers in the dark. A low level sizzle could be heard, but where was it coming from?

"By the order of the Mayor and all his birds, we order you to cease and turn some lights on."

Prip knew it was an empty statement, but rules are rules. Surprisingly, the suspects obliged and the chamber was alight.

Three men. Four men? No, seven. Seven men, two units, three shelves. The calculations seemed quick enough to Penis but before he knew it an eighth man had him upside down by his feet. Prip wasn't faring any better, as two men proceeded to drag him to the bigger of the two units. It wasn't rocket math to figure out what would happen next.

The shortest man in the bunch attended the active unit and removed an alloy cage from it, moving its brown contents onto what appeared to be toilet paper laid out on a platter. Penis recognized the spread from one of the visions they were fed in training - fried bird and potato fries. A Class 5 violation punishable to either death or hung feet first from a helicopter for three weeks straight. He went for his flasher but was quickly detained by his captors and led to the shelves where he saw boxes of Class 4 cocoa strips and some other illegals he didn't recognize.

They got fed fried chicken and candy (which is illegal in the future) and they loved it so they quit.

It's not done yet, but I didn't want to rob you of a satisfying conclusion. The future. Live well. The end.

I'M STUNNED BY HOW MANY WARTS SHE HAS -- THAT MEANS SHE'S STUNNING

2011-08-16T17:30:00.001-04:00

Unless you've been living inside of a dog for the last 13 cycles, you'll know that I've been working in an office for as long as this blog has existed. Like everything in life expect for water parks, working in such an environment has its positives and its negatives. On the positive you get air conditioning and a computer. On the negative you have to dress like a golfer and you look forward to going to the bathroom, a tendency normally reserved for constipates and poo champions. The number one best part? You get your very own email signature, which for all you miners out there is like a regular signature but with more raw data. Here's a simple example:

Horton Donkey
Junior Picker
The Pelt People
T: 345-345-NNNN
E: H_Donkey@email.hotmail

Since email is an office's number one form of communication, I see about six million email signatures a day from all over the world. Facts -- It's standard for Polish people to include their last dead relative's nickname on line 4, while over in China, every signature is annotated with what each word is supposed to smell like. We don't have them here, but over there desks contain tiny compartments full of smells and combinations of smells so that each signature can be read properly. That's why you'll see North American businessmen bring local soups and perfume samples when traveling to the far east for meetings. (This paragraph smells like pesto)

I thought this would be an opportune time to post some of the WaCKiEst email signatures I've ever come across, since 79% of this summer's blockbuster films were about email.

MR. JOHN McTHICK
CEO
Great Muscles Entertainment
000-346-43454
CEO@GME.ca
"Im being held captive this is the only way i can communcicate send helpp or call my kids pleas';43'"
GREAT MUSCLES named one of the 50 best employers in the North by WORKIN' Magazine

Ben Puffy
Attorney at Law
(I also play pool)
784-395-3232
(That's the pool hall's number)
8ball@snookerworld.co.uk
"Lawsuits, Corner Pocket" - The Hustler

Cyril Smench
Vice Guru of Curiosity
The WHAT IF company
Numbys - 416-000-0007
EEm - the_duke@???.!!!
We Don't Do Anything

Sarah Longshits
Model
Top Notch Bodies Inc.
I have to see you before I talk to you
Same with email
Fax - 679-888-4928
Measurements 32-25-9 Beat That

PLEASE? IN A POD?

2011-08-15T17:21:00.000-04:00

I'm sooooooooooooooooo sorry! I'm also very embarrassed. My face is red, my brow is sweaty and my pants are pissed. Next time I see you in person I owe you a wet sloppy one, free of charge and I'll even moan a bit.

For those of you who don't listen to my Sirius/XM 24 hour news channel, "A Toronto Star"(formerly "The Global Male", formerly "A Toronto Son"), I got an Amazon Kindle for my birthday and didn't share it on the Internet. To many, four months is nothing, but when you're a teen heartthrob and an internationally recognized intellectual whose expertise is Carl Reiner movies about summertime, four months is four months I could've spent analyzing the court scene in Summer School in preparation for my next TED talk.

Oh god, I'm so sorry. There's so much I could've done with this rather large addition to my life, but I guess there's nothing I can do right now; the news is simply too old according to the modern blogging bible, 1994's "Geocities Guide to Web Logging" which came with a free CD-ROM full of Under Construction animated GIFs. Back then, an 'e-book' was any book within 6 feet of your modem.

UPDATE

Talked to my lawyers, The Baxter Twins, and they said I could give a small sampling of what I would've written and I should avoid jail time so long as I don't provide a full feature or say anything bad about Queen Elizabeth. Since I'm already on parole for ruining feeding a cat some tea, I'm a little nervous to even try my luck, so I'm going to keep this bare bones.

LEGALLY CLEARED BLOG CONTENT ABOUT GETTING A KINDLE

"I love the Kindle, but the 'Print' option seems a touch unnecessary."

Does that satisfy you? I have way more material like this fake viral video where I pick a book, then buy as many Kindles as there are pages in that book, then attach the Kindles together where each one is a page, get it? I'd of course film the whole process, speed it up, put a modern, hip, ambient music track behind it, say it was an art project called something like "What's Old is Neu" and set the Internet on fire.

I know my rep has been tarnished with this blatant disregard of a major purchase that absolutely should've been shared, but I hope I made it up to you. If not, here's something that should satisfy:

EYE PLUGS

2011-08-12T16:10:00.000-04:00

FRIDAY FLIP SIDES

Welcome to Friday Flip Sides, a new and innovative feature that was brainstormed by myself, a well-respected local businessman, six drama teachers and a coupla dogs over more than a few pots of coffee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:::::::::::&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You know that they call that in the hacker-led cybertopia of the year 2050? Punk-Uation. The colons mean I'm serious, the ampersands act as a bookmark for your convenience and the exclamation points simply look radical.

If this feature could talk it'd say "let's take things slow". If this feature were an animal it'd be The Automobile (innovative, kind of annoying).

Flip Side 1

It's mid-August, the weather is warm and sunny.

BUT ON THE FLIP SIDE....

everyone like, stinks.

Flip Side 2

Toronto Mayor Rob Ford has divided the city with his politics and attitude.

BUT ON THE FLIP SIDE...

It's mid-August, the weather is warm and sunny.

Flip Side 3

The U.S. debt crisis has led to market turmoil and does not bode well for the worldwide economy.

BUT ON THE FLIP SIDE...

Hamburgers still grace the grills of the world.

Now keep in mind that this was my team's first stab at this feature. Don't forget that the first time they tried Double Jeopardy on that show Jeopardy, there were 2 casualties and several ghosts.

THE FURM

2011-08-11T22:30:00.001-04:00

The last time I honked your way I told you that I was going to London, England. I went, I came back and now that I've cleared customs, I'm legally entitled to write some stuff vaguely related to the trip as well as import 1-3 bottles of Pimm's. To all of you who were concerned for my safety concerning the riots that spread due to outrage over Rowan Atkinson crashing his McLaren F1 super car, I thank you for thinking of me amongst your other thoughts like what tomorrow's sandwich will be. Here is the aforementioned stuff, complete with punctuation:

I've been lucky enough to travel all over Europe, North America and whatever continent the Dominican Republic is in, but traveling actually causes me a great deal of stress, mentally and physically. That basically means I get diarrhea. I'm the type of guy who concerns himself with tiny things and humongous things -- in a given day I'll get stressed out about the length of my fingernails, while fascinating myself with thoughts about outer space, the biggest place in the world. I don't know where I was going with this, but be thankful, because any bit of information I hand out could be used against me in a lawsuit or game show. Anyway, I think it might just mean that I don't understand politics. Here, how about this:

I see "The Airport" as a giant challenge. I'm on time for everything because my brain is mostly clock, whereas scientists' are mostly calculators and everyone else's is mostly naked people. If flying was as simple as showing up on time and getting on a plane, it'd be easy pie, no stress, "let's do this again", but it's more like a video game -- there's a bunch of little tests and you can only pass them if you're early enough and have in your possession certain items (passport, shoes not made of bombs).

An airplane is like a bedroom full of people you don't know and instead of beds there are chairs that you have to sit in when told. Even if you are able to get up the only place you can go is the bathroom and the bathroom is as big as one human and one human only.

Then you get to where you're going and no one likes you because you're not from there. I hate tourists because they don't know any of my secret handshakes.

Then you have to go to the airport and airplane again and when you get home you get stressed because you haven't been on the Internet in a week and you're weird about that kind of thing. Chances are, all I missed were some Tweets about food, some Tumbls about Garfield and some Facebook invitations to events whose titles give no indication of what the event is, but I still end up feeling like I did when my family went to Medieval Times without me.

That being said, I had a great time! Every time I got stressed I'd eat beans and things would get funny after that. Laughter is the beans of the soul, and beans are the soul of laughter. I don't mean to slap myself on the cheeks, but that last sentence was very good, and I didn't even think about it, it just came out. Isn't the world weird?

PLATINUM USER SPECIAL CONTENT

People who haven't bought a Platinum Account won't be able to access this content. If you're seeing this and you don't have a Platinum Account, the FBI's Cyber Terrorism Team, the "Big Brown Bears" have been notified and should be at your place of computer in 6-11 days.

I tore this ad out of an in-flight magazine. It's the airline's CEO selling his music. Click on it to make it bigger.

This guy is a few lawsuits and a failed brewery away from being Frank d'Angelo. My favourite is the album "Mostly About You". It's like he had nine good songs about his lovely wife but then wrote a real slammin' track about licorice and just had to put it on. I also like the following cover of him crooning on the wing of an airplane, mid-flight:

As they say in SCUBA diving, "Swimming Rules". BUH BIIIII

RED ROVER RED ROVER WE CALL DIMPUS OVER

2011-07-28T16:45:00.007-04:00

On Sunday I'll be flying over Lake Atlantic to Great Britain to celebrate the union of my cousin and his bride. I hear British weddings aren't all that different from North American weddings, except you're only supposed to use a spoon at dinner, and traditionally, the groom isn't allowed to see the bride until their 10th anniversary.

I think I'm finally getting excited for the trip. This always happens. Maybe 28 Christmases and birthdays have conditioned my brain to save excitement until close to game time in order to lessen what doctors call "jumping the fun gun". Or maybe I'm not that excited at all because my ancestors left the same general area long ago to escape streets full of people eating old coal and rats smoking cigars. They crossed the tub and found a pretty cool place where Native Canadians taught them about hip hop and how to make out in a canoe.

I've been to London once before, when I was a fresh-faced University graduate eager to eat fried food on a different continent and then think critically about it using the teachings of Marshall McLuhan. This prevented me from eating the newspaper my fish and chips came wrapped in while my friend who took film studies ate his, but did it in an aesthetically pleasing way using tracking shots and great lighting. Anyway, this all means that I''ve seen all the major sites - London Bridge, Millennium Bridge, Tower Bridge and James Bond's gun shaped bungalow. So I'll be spending the bulk of the week off the beaten path, searching for London's best Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, and maybe some new clothes for the wedding.

I already purchased tickets for my family to tour the Buckingham Palace State Rooms, which also includes a viewing of Kate's famous wedding dress! I can't wait to see the famous HP stain up close. It's kind of embarrassing for her, but it's hard to eat a cake made of brown sauce and mash potatoes and not get any on yourself. So far this is the only planned activity, so I thought I'd take a few hours of your time and brainstorm the rest of my itinerary:

Soccer is popular in London so maybe I should try and kick someone?

Here's a group of Londoners, similar to the kind I'll be making fun of in my head during my trip. If I were to kick any of them, I'd probably start with the bottom row, because I don't think I can kick higher than that. But since they're all kids, I'd probably just like, fake it, make them cry then say I'm a street performer named "Scrumkins".

Okay, that probably won't work and besides, I prefer spitting to kicking. The British are known for their dry sense of humour, and since I'm a comedian, maybe I can try out some of my material. Here's a new joke I've been working on:

"(find audience member with drink) So I see you got a drink there, what is it? (wait for answer) I'm a gin man myself (if the person's drink is gin say "I'm a gin man too) You know what I like to drink gin with? (look for someone with a hat) DEFINITELY not that hat! (if no one's wearing a hat, use your shoe and just like, make fun of yourself a bit)

Should I slime him?

Maybe I'll just spend most of the time doing some English Surfing. Don't worry, it's a lot simpler than it sounds. It's just falling asleep on the upper level of a double decker bus, and you have to wear sunglasses. I forget who told me about it. Whoa, I wonder if they have Turkish Delight M&Ms over there?

TOON TANG

2011-07-21T13:00:00.002-04:00

TODAY IS THE HOTTEST DAY OF ALL TIME

And I'm not even exaggerating like when I said nectarines are better than chocolate bars. Luckily, I'll spend the majority of the day in a modern, air conditioned office enjoying viral videos of Torontonians cooking things on things that aren't stoves and monitoring the news for stories about people complaining.

I could tell you about 50 ways to beat the heat, but you can't beat heat like this. You can't even wound heat like this. If you took this heat out for dinner it'd order the most expensive dish, make you pay then wait to take a dump at your place because it thinks the toilet paper at your place is better than the restaurant's.

To keep things light and airy today, here are the tombstones of three people who died from the heat today. And don't worry, all three were assholes and all three wouldn't shut up about how fans "just move the hot air around".

Imagine Christmas was in the summer? Is that what "Another Earth" is about?

WEATHER AND CAKE

2011-07-20T13:45:00.005-04:00

Fashion Watch Trend Hunter Report On Clothes, Autumn 2013 Season

The award for "Silliest Trend in Most Important Job" goes to judges and barristers who wear those wigs. If it's frowned upon to wear a hat at Red Lobster, I think these guys can retire the wig and just rely upon a great haircut combined with product to suit their style and hair type. ← Those are the words of the ignorant!

The number two rule of fashion behind, "if you're ugly it doesn't even matter" is "if it's silly now, it's expensive later". That means that by the time you and I are grandpas and Grand Moffs, the cultural elite will likely be wearing these wigs. The only thing that will stop them will be judges themselves, as they are amongst the elite of humanity.

People forget that! Judges are so smart that once I was behind one at a McDonald's drive-thru and in the short time between the order window and the food window the guy managed to stick his head out the window and say this to me:

"If you're entering a store that sells doors and the door isn't very good, walk out the door, find another door store and make sure their door is good."

On the flipside, I was adopting a kitten two years ago and a judge was in there at the same time as me and she somehow tricked me into getting three guinea pigs instead while she took the fluffiest kitten I'd ever seen.

WADE BOGGS' Accessory of the Hour

Batter Up! Stepping up to the plate, the 6'9" Real Life Zorro combined with Billy the Kid, husband to the world, father to some, BIG DADDY WADE BOGGS. Glad to be back.

First off, I think a dusty old Rawlings mitt and an untied bowtie are the best fashion accessories around, but heck, they got no place in gay Pairee, right? HOHOHO I met a girl from over there who could blow smoke through her nipples. I nicknamed her "Stripes" because the French don't have that word. Did you know that in Your'up they don't throw up in toilets?

There's one accessory that never goes out of style, whether you're getting kinky with the umpire's mother or just heckling the opera -- The Dunce Cap:

I used to strap one of these on my kid Brian every time he looked at me. The only people I want looking at me are pitchers and any woman with a chest over a D Cup. And what's with all this beer with lime in these days? When I played in the big leagues we used to add tobacco and white rum to our beers. Is that a seagull sitting on my Trans Am? Hold on a sec.... killed it. Now I have something to leave on my neighbour's porch as a retaliation for asking me what day garbage day is. Who am I, the mayor?

VEST PROOF BUL,LETS

2011-07-15T17:02:00.003-04:00

I was in Lyon last week covering the Tour de France for Toronto-based cycling mag Two Wheels and a Seat when my duffel bag was stolen. All my gold, travel documents and bathing suits were in it, so I was, as they say in France, fuckéd.

I was staying at a beautiful hotel shaped like Napoleon's hat, but once they realized I couldn't pay for the room and dijon mustard shooters I'd ordered the night before, I was told to vacate or be handed over to the local orphanage.

I called my money man, Steve McNews who managed to wire me a few clams to get by on. Unfortunately, because of the bike race, most of the rooms in town were booked, even the conceptual hotel where you live like a beaver.

Now I've stayed in some nice hotels, some decent motels and even some friendly hostels. But after the experience I had that night, I'd recommend staying well away from a MOSTEL. It was all I could afford and was the second worst experience of my life next to learning "The Human Transformer" sex move from an Indian guy who claimed he was Ben Kingsley.

Luckily, I still had my JamCam as I had taped to the back of my neck to see if any girls noticed the new patch on the seat of my jeans, so I got to document my experience:

The lobby. The woman at the top of the stairs said her name was "Forever" and the whole time I was there she was in every room. Her ferrets were pretty cute but they kinda freaked me out when they joined together to form something that looked like a dog with the face of a human baby. It cleaned the whole place and did a great job all things considered. In fact, when I got to my corner in chamber 12, I noticed there wasn't a waste basket, so I knocked on the wall as Forever instructed and 2 minutes later, the amalgamated ferret showed up with a pretty decent one:

At first, I couldn't tell what the wood thing was above my bed, but it all made sense when the snakes passed through.

Here's the dining room. There didn't seem to be any food, but a seven foot tall man whose voice had a ton of reverb showed me the bucket on the shelf that contained generic suckers, all orange.

I sucked down three for dinner and headed to the bathroom to freshen up where I met Wally:

Wally said it was one of the better mostels he'd ever been to. The last one he stayed at didn't even have floors. He said the key is to get as much sleep in the tub as possible before retiring to your corner because scorpions don't like moisture.

On my way back to the chamber I ran into this group of American college students who had been lost in the mostel for 15 days. When I told them to use the stairs, they told me every time they tried they ended up at the bottom of another set. I told them they should put Canadian flags on their backpacks.

I only managed to get six hours of sleep and the continental breakfast was corn served on old office supplies. The next day the authorities found my bag and there was a not in it that read:

Do come again.
Forever

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooOoOOOoOooOOooOOOOOOOOoOoooOOoOOOoooooooooooooo

OIL EXECS LOVE FINDING "STUFFED CRUST"

2011-07-14T15:29:00.005-04:00

This image fits what you're about to read so perfectly that I don't even care if you read the rest.

Most of the world is hot right now, except those dumb places in the arctic and shit where they don't even have TVs so they don't know what's going on and who's banging who etc. The rest of us are having BBQs in swimming pools and breathing heat and farting lava. This weather is great for playing sports and providing an excuse for dumb haircuts, but I think it's more powerful than that. Here's what I mean:

What happens when you get hot? You get nude and thirsty. The popular belief is that either whales, Bono or aliens will create world peace, but I have a simpler, more refreshing idea - COLD DRINKS.

After most people take a glug from a coldy, they make the noise "aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" because it feels so damn good lubing up your hotter-than-hell throat. We wouldn't need cold drinks or cough lozenges if God had only blessed us with cool throats. Would our singers improve? Maybe that's why he did it. His favourite song is the one about pasta by Pavaroti, one of our best hot throats. Anyway, have you ever heard of someone murdering someone else while enjoying a cold glass of iced tea? If I walked down the street right now with a wagon full of cold piss I'd sell out in 5 minutes, making enough money to buy myself a drink that isn't piss but then would turn into more piss to sell, ice cold.

Instead of Earth Day lets just have Drink Day. The collective "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh" would be so loud and comforting that dolphins would get nervous.

So yeah, pat me on the back and buy me a Mr. Big for this idea, but don't start praying to me yet. I know how to save the world but I also know how to destroy small parts of it. Yesterday, we left a window open by accident and instead of a cool breeze, the only thing we brought into our house was like, 30 flies. Flies mean two things - buzzing and... flies.

I killed so many damn flies, probably 20 at least. Like, I fucked up a lot flies. All I used was a t-shirt for whipping and a can of air freshener, which makes flies die from smelling good. You know the term "dropping like flies"? I experienced that term yesterday. After I freshened a couple of hard to get butt fuckers, they'd fly around for a bit, probably trying to find a pile of shit to eat before they die, and then they'd just fall out of the sky. I almost felt bad but then I pictured them being larvae and I was like "you're born disgusting then you turn disgusting, shit-eating and annoying. No pity".

This is how I picture my opponents when I play sports or go out looking for tail

BACK IS BLACK

2011-07-13T15:07:00.001-04:00

I want to discuss how hot it is outside, but looking back, I've already written extensively on the topic. That's not to say that every hot day is the same, I mean some melt popsicles faster than others, but I don't want you to feel like I have 100 hot day anecdotes filed away in a shoe box mistakenly labelled "Polaroids of boys with silly eyes". The silly eye box actually has my collection of magazine ads with lingerie models who look like Christopher Lloyd, which I keep in case the Internet breaks so I can quench people's thirst for memes and become king of the new world. Are you confused? I hope so. Everything I own is mislabeled in case my worst fear comes true where moving companies take over the world by stealing and moving everyone's stuff to a dog-guarded, cat-encrusted mega warehouse where they'll stage a garage sale that will make them the richest labour force in the modern world, richer than the guys who clean volcanoes . If the unthinkable happens, I'm covered. Good luck categorizing my shit, AMJ Campbell.

Don't worry, I'm not actually going to stop myself from spewing out sentences about myself living in summer. I'm a mature man now. I own two bathing suits. One's for oceans, lakes and chlorine pools and the other is for ponds, rivers and streams. Just joking, they're both for water no matter where it gurgles, except that one is aimed at making blondes melt while the other gets the brunettes weak at the knees. I keep laminated copies of my phone number stashed in each suit's underpant lining just in case I meet a hot slice of Eve down in the depths.

Surprisingly, I haven't heard too many people complain about this latest stretch of heat. You know what would stop people complaining altogether? Palm trees. Palm trees looks like a reggae man's head, produce delicious palm treats (genus - nut, species - coconut) and can be found in Earth's mist acceptable hot ass places. When it's hot outside and I stop to scope out an extra-white birch tree I'm all like "you make me want to hang myself". You see, deciduous trees are just like us - they hate squirrels and they change with the seasons, so when we look at the them it's like we're looking at our frowning selves staring back at us. When you look at a palm tree you see Summer Dude who cringes at sweaters and has never even tasted snow.

Not THE summer dude, but A summer dude

Here's a summer poem written last summer. That means it's "vintage" now and THAT means it's smellier and cheaper but more fashionable than last time.

The Weather this summer

Holy shit it’s been hot
Imagine you were a bear?

Those guys have body beards
And sweat their fair share

Hairy men suffer too
But enough with the gents

Are tits like insulators?
Are vaginas like vents?

Maybe women are like camels
Their humps keep them icy

But hot milk goes sour
Does heat make tits smell not nicey?

Picture a bear with big tits
she’d be in summer hell

Full circle poem huh?
Hot, bear, tits, milk, camels

This one is all wrapped up
So feel the damn heat

And men just remember boys
Chill out your wife’s teats

IT'S A FREE COUNTRY EXCEPT YOU CAN'T EVEN STEAL SHIT

2011-07-12T15:31:00.006-04:00

I wrote the following last week, so most of it doesn't even matter anymore. The main character, "the zit" is nothing more than a shell of its former self. Now I have bigger things to worry about like haircuts and beatin' the heat, which doesn't exist in Africa because people are more concerned with lions than sunburns. Only place in the world man, only place.

That being said, I'm not that happy with this story about my latest pimple. I don't think it has enough intrigue and not nearly enough nudity. Judge for yourself lest ye be judged by an intelligent turtle judge whom human criminals love to hate. The location of his house is a secret to protect him and him family (wife's a frog) but most people figure he lives in that mansion in the bayou.

LATEST ZIT (title added after introduction added to separate it from the introduction. If this makes you uncomfortable, simply copy and paste everything under this title and title disclaimer into your favourite word processor or text tool and enjoy)

I got a zit man. It's a big guy. One of those three-headed monstrosities at the usual spot to the right of my nose just above nostril level. When I was a teen I found that whenever I washed my face I seemed to get zits and then I watched this episode of Street Cents and they were like "actually, washing you face can lead to zits" so no wash cloths for me. What most people think is a beard is really 15 years of dirt and other people's hair, so I guess it kind of is a beard.

I'm a lifelong picker. When you got a zit and it gets a big head on it, you have to pick it (or pop it, depends on how you were raised). Despite what doctors tell you, this does get rid of zits. It's a trade-off though. A whitehead is a homing beacon, luring the eyes of your dream babe into the puss zone, and the sooner it's gone the more confident your face will feel. The only problem is that once you pick, the surrounding area turns a deep shade of zitty red. I personally prefer the red to the head, but that's just me.

People get nervous around whiteheads for two reasons -- first, they're a ticking time bomb and seem to say to the world, "I'm about ready to burst, so don't get in my way". Second, they tell everyone around you that you don't know you have a zit as most people eliminate them as quickly as possible. That makes people uncomfortable because they don't know whether to tell you or not. You might as well have a chicken wing on your face.

JUMPING IS FUN WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT IN SCIENTIFIC TERMS

2011-06-28T17:20:00.004-04:00

Dear Pretzels,

Evolve. You covered yourself in chocolate? Avoid the tricks. We all wear masks to hide our true forms.

Love yourself.

Sincerely,

Thanks to my Honk, my lead researcher for unearthing the above letter for today's edition Cory-spondence. The letter was addressed to a Mr. Uncle Cory, Pretzeldent of Rold Gold Corporation, Mordor, Alabama "Doughville USA". Sender: Unknown.

I like to pick my Cory letters personally, but this week I was too busy rating last week's Sunshine Girls.

I love the human female form so much that I'm not even gay, but I don't really look at Sunshine Girls to get zingy. I prefer to read their profiles, then cross reference their dreams and ambitions against their height, looks and style. I like to think of myself as a talent agency, the Sunshine Girls being my potential clients.

The most common girl is in her early 20's, just over five feet tall, loves the outdoors, dogs, and the Leafs and wants to be an actress/model. Most likely they'll continue to love dogs, the Leafs and the outdoors but most will probably end up being the hottest girl in East Sudbury.

Okay, hold on, I gotta get something off my chest and it's not this great shirt that's just see through enough to prove I have chest hair.

I bought these shoelaces and they keep coming undone. Shoelaces have been around since shoes and shoes have been around almost as long as feet, and in today's world, where flying to outerspace is old news, how in the name of Holy Shit are there still shoelaces that come undone?

If I have to double-knot a shoelace just so it won't come loose, then it seizes to be a shoelace, but rather a peice of reject material that is too ugly to be a Bolo tie and too slippery to be a shoelace. The double knot should only be used as a backup, and is by no means is it a primary knot. High performance athletes use the double knot, knot guys like me whose idea of exercise is wearing a metal watch.

Seriously, do people even test these things? Give me five minutes, a pair of shoes, your brand's laces and a peice of ground and I'll be able to tell you if your laces are fit for sale.

To all the fat cats living off lace money, lighting their their cigars with shoelaces that were lit with money that was lit with a Zippo with a picture of a shoe on it -- I wish nothing but zits for your babies. I wish nothing but interference on your satellite dishes, and nothing but Ringos at your birthday where you demanded your wife get a Beatle perform your favourite Beatles song, which knowing you is probably the widely panned and unreleased "Pinky's Tinky".

FOUL OWL BY THE CREATOR OF DOONESBURY

2011-06-23T16:43:00.002-04:00

Marriage doesn't really mean as much as it did back when women needed 24/7 protection from bears and horn dog lumberjacks. I don't feel much pressure to tie the knot because bears are extinct and most lumberjacks are gay.

Plus, who wants to get married? I've seen every episode of Home Improvement and no matter how much marriage advice Tim gained from Wilson, Jill stayed a bitch, Al's wife dies I think and Home Improvement sucks.

I think that was a suitable introduction to this quarter's WIFE NEWS

A 51 year old actor who had minor roles on LOST and The Green Mile, got married to a 16 year old aspiring country singer in Las Vegas. If the guy got a new, younger dick before the wedding it would make this whole thing okay? I wouldn't care if my hypothetical 16 year old son were to marry a 50 year old so long as her vagina wasn't older than 20. Tits don't matter but I doubt a young man would want a pair of old gum drops, you know?

In Indonesia, a group of Muslims have formed an "Obedient Wives Club" where the belief is that wives should cater to their husbands every whim and ensure sexual satisfaction. Around here, we call that "Texas" ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! I've never even been to Texas. How about, "The first rule of Obedient Wives Club? I don't know, ask my damn wife".

Hugh Hefner's bride-to-be, Crystal Harris, decided she didn't want to marry him after all. He must've kept that old dick of his.

THE LEGEND OF TONE LOC

2011-06-20T17:00:00.005-04:00

On the weekend I was enjoying a bike ride down one of this city's many paved roadways, when I saw a guy with a regular digital camera taking a picture down an alleyway up ahead. In the few seconds I had before I reached the alley, my mind quickly formulated the most likely scenarios as to why this man was taking a picture:

Scenario 1: Graffiti

Tourists love taking pictures of graffiti in alleyways because in most other cities in the world, what we call "street art" actually takes the form of skywriting. Germany's "The Red Baron" was actually an artist himself before adding guns to his bird, and gained widespread notoriety with popular air tags such as:

"The ground sucks"
"The Baron is airin'"
"Str8 up Ace"
"Sick of $chnitzel"

Scenario 2: Picturesque Alley

Let's talk this one out:

- A lot of movies feature scenes in alleyways where they're portrayed as dark, seedy and dangerous.
- Movies aren't real.
- Therefore, alleys aren't dark, seedy and dangerous.

It's kind of like how the Elephant Man was portrayed as a freak in that movie, but in real life John Merrick was married to nine different women and was rumored to be the influence for every Hugh Grant character.

Scenario 3: Group Shot in Alley

Webster's defines "alleys" as "the toilet between two buildings" and yet that doesn't stop tourists and narcissists from having their pictures taken within.

If you know anything about top notch storytelling, you'll have realized by now that none of the above scenarios are the correct answer. Rather, when I whisked by I looked down the alley and saw this:

I didn't even have to Photoshop that alley-lookin' industrial background, meaning that perhaps bodybuilding alleyway photo shoots featuring amateur photographers is more common than I had originally thought.

The only difference between the above photo and what I actually saw was that the guy in real life had his pants around his ankles.

YAWNS UNLOCK SECRET ROOMS IN EGYPY

2011-06-17T17:08:00.002-04:00

My assistant, Nanny Marie, is currently in Hollywood scoping out the latest trends in tacos and trying to find me a half decent belt. She was enjoying a glass of $300 water at the restaurant in the "H" of the Hollywood sign when she spotted A-Lister Ashton Kutcher having brunch with his talented wife Demi. She texted me the following:

"Ashley Butcher here wif Demo. U wan pic?"

(she knows I collect cell phone pictures of humanity's best)

I responded:

"See if u can steal his shit"

Then, 9 hours later, she sent back:

"Got hiz orginizer wif hiz summa sked. I send it 2 u"

She had it couriered via Porsche's high performance race team, The German Turbos, and I received it a few minutes later. What I'd like to do now is share some of his summer so you'll know what living large is really like.

JUNE

- wash new toes. doc says dirt can disintegrate skin.
- buy iron socks
- on the 15th - hosting all-you-can-buy diamonds at Cartier. Wear diamonds. Read up on diamonds
- on the 26th - shooting a new Nikon commercial $$$$ :) -- remember to have Donny re-insert soul so cameras pick up my image -- remove soul after and put in bacta-chamber along with Demi's old tits

JULY

- hosting July 4th beach party in Malibu - !!! Independence Day!!! (Not christmas, remember?)
- bring bathing suit that can get wet
- Brian said July is luckiest month in the world - bet Nikon cash on July's weather being hot, I think it usually is
- audition on the 11th - Big Ron Howard flick - make sure to have sex with his daughter pre-audition and for god's sake memorize something this time
- PAY MORTGAGE - I guess I still owe that guy money

AUGUST

- Renew SAG membership (poo in an envelope should suffice hahahaha)
- prepare for upcoming 2.5 Men gig - RESEARCH - rent that movie it was based on with Tom Selleck ('Three men and some babies'?)
- Rumer's b-day - maybe she's getting too old for kisses from her old man? buy her some bras I guess
- buy that bird!
- prepare for back to school - hopefully grade 16 will be easier than 15 (there was a crude drawing of a teacher licking an apple)
- renew bowling license

Wow! So interesting. My summer schedule is all "do this do that, eat this, kill that". We can't all be superstars can we? That would make a great epitaph along with a picture of a clown frowning. Do kids even know what clowns are anymore? Is the traditional circus all but extinct? Find out next week on The Big Bang Theory.

GET BUSY LIVIN' OR GET BIZZZAY

2011-06-16T21:22:00.004-04:00

The other day I decided to order food from Swiss Chalet, the legendary Canadian rotisserie chicken chain whose Chalet Sauce is so good that even a bulimic wouldn't dare barf it. I decided to order online because when I talk to a real life Chalet representative I get flustered and can't stop complimenting them due to their association with the restaurant the Ottawa Sun mistakenly called "finger lickin' good". Once I told a "Swiss Miss" that her voice sounded like what Chalet Sauce tastes like (tangy, spicy, snotty). While on swisschalet.com I was elated to discover that their "Dip 'n Win" promotion is on, meaning that not only do I get chicken and shit, but also a chance to win fabulous prizes, like a dirt bike that runs on mashed potatoes with a bun for a seat.

Liv was the first to peal her dip sticker and she won some sort of cheese loaf that's available dine-in only. Date night! We'll have two waters, a free loaf, and as many birthday candles as you can muster. Is it my birthday? Life is so beautiful that everyday should be celebrated.

Then it was my turn. I drank all my sauce before peeling as per Swiss law, and won.........!!!.......???....

A free watch battery replacement.

What?

A FREE WATCH BATTERY REPLACEMENT

I'm pretty sure that if I tried just a little bit I could get all my watch batteries for free. All I'd have to do is convince the local time master that I run the score clock at the local rec centre. He'd be so impressed with my dedication to time, that he'd feel obligated. The funny and true thing is that I do get all my watch batteries for free (sort of) -- a while ago I got a battery replaced, paid $20 and now get free watch battery replacements for life thanks to this little card. I think the guy who made up the promotion was about to get fired because when I brought my watch in later on when I needed another new battery, the guy working there looked at my free battery card in puzzlement.

Anyway, this is about as dumb a prize as you can get from a chicken contest. I can understand being excited if I lived in one of those countries where watch batteries cost more than a year's supply of gasoline, but as it happens I live in a country where watches are as common as Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Jr.

I wish I could make fun of the details of this prize, but I threw out the prize sticker in exactly 1.1 seconds, a time I recorded using my fully functioning, far from dying watch.

The moral of the story is to be yourself no matter what your gym teacher sticks in you shorts.

CUTEST GLUE BOY I'VE EVER SNEEZED ON

2011-06-10T19:30:00.004-04:00

It's Friday, and you know what that means -- half price appetizers and bottomless milks at Scoopy's and another edition of...

...ISN'T IT STUPID THAT...

Isn't it stupid that JEOPARDY's concept is simpler than even classic card game "Get the Most Diamonds", but because folk have to answer in the form of a question, everyone's all like "Fresh!". I'd much prefer it if they took their big hook more seriously. Here are some real Jeopardy questions:

Q: Bigfoot

A: What is the 80's third best vehicle

Q: Steve Yzerman

A: Who is the world's sexiest man.

Q: Overalls

A: What is the best choice of clothes for someone who hates shirts but has bad nips.

Q: Computers

A: What is in a robot's brain?

The category for all of those would be "A Teenager's Bedroom"

Final Jeopardy:

Q: Scoopy's
A: Who's got the best fried raisins in town while also offering free dominoes?

On Jeopardy you win money, but on Real Jeopardy you get a copy of Scoopy's 2011 Naked Ladies of The Grill calendar, a pretty nice bracelet and any shoes you want.

There you have it, my resumé.

BONUS TRACK

Seven, it's seven o'clock
the hottest time to rock

lyrics and music by Yours Truly

Featuring the smash hit "Baby, Don't Go Down That Hole".

AMERICA'S SKINNIEST BABY

2011-06-08T19:40:00.001-04:00

I was at the laundromat the other day, minding my own God-given business, enjoying a good read while the washer cleaned all the pickle stains out of my slacks when I noticed that ALL the dryers were taken. By default, this would make any red-blooded cool dude scream "ah shit" in his head while remaining silent and stoic on the outside, but there was only one other person there doing laundry.

THIS DAMN LADY

took up all 8 or so dryers -- towels (2) in one, what looked like 3 hankerchiefs in another, etc. etc. so I was extra piffed. I can understand the science behind separating colours and dainties during the wash cycle even though I'm a pretty standard "sexies in one machine, corduroy in the another" type of guy, but when it comes to drying, all clothes are created equal. And if you are crazy enough to separate your drying, do it in the comfort of your own laundromat.

Anyway, to end this story, while this huge Latvian(?) woman was out doing something non-laundry related I removed her two towels from a machine that could hold at least fifty towels and half a tux, and loaded my full arsenal in. She didn't care.

THEN an Asian lady dropped some panties right in front of me, and in the instant I realized it was the toughest moral decision in my life: do I pick them up and be the nice guy? Or do I leave them and be the reasonable guy? Obvisously if this lady were a Kathy Ireland type with the breasts of a teenaged Soleil Moon-Frye I would have picked them up immediately and said "The name's Klein. Calvin Klein. I made you these".

Today's garbage day on the Internet. Here's some trash you can sort through before R@s and RAMcoons get at it:

LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY PANTS

2011-05-18T19:27:00.021-04:00

I don't know what's up in your corner of the crust, but around here in Toronto it's been raining cats and dogs and water for a week straight. Even though most us of spend 98% of the day in a dry room filled with screens, our ancestors have passed onto us a feeling of gloom whenever the weather starts acting like I banged its wife. No, wait, that doesn't make sense -- our ancestors loved rain because it fed their crops, their babies and their belief that God can piss/cry. Maybe we can all just blame it on whoever wrote that song "Sunny Days". Was it Lighthouse? Blame it on Lighthouse.

I could've spent this last rainy week on a couch wrapped in blankets and freshly washed Nautica brand sleepwear (I did). But instead I was working alongside the talented team at Marf Interactive on my new iPhone app (I didn't). The new app features beautiful graphics, a user-friendly interface and first and foremost -- a whole lotta fun. It costs $29.99. Here's some of the outrageous features we developed:

The 6th edition of the Trivial Pursuit: Glenn that includes some brand new 2010 questions. As loyal readers of this blog, here is a bonus answer to probably the hardest question in the game:

Q: What's Glenn's password for everything?
A: JRRTOLKIEN

There's also a fun photo game called "Pickle Man" where you match a picture of my face with the pickle of your choosing giving me a pickle mustache, just like in the movies. This guy sorta looks like me so it will give you a good idea of what the app can do. The only difference is that the picture below features a pickle spear, while my app, at $29.99, will offer no less than full pickles.

Speaking of sorta looking like me, the app has a fun "Celebrity Chemistry" game, where you can upload a picture of your face and it'll tell you the precise mixture of celebrities you look like. You have to pay extra to use your own picture. Since mine is included in the price of the app and because I love everyone in this world more than the world loves everyone, here is my celebrity chemistry:

You'll also have access to my full stats:

Most frequented bathroom in the world? Parent's house, upstairs
Number of times eaten at Arby's? 3

Since the above are fairly well known stats they won't be included in the actual app. When you purchase the full version you'll have access to "Number of Dreams about New Shoes" and "Thoughts about aliens per hour".

In conclusion, I dare you to ask for a birthday cake for Christmas.

MACARONI AND CAT

2011-05-03T19:54:00.001-04:00

The world is changing so fast! Politics, murders, menu at the local Harvey's and just last night I went to bed a man and woke up a full fledged dude.

The last time we spoke, Osama bin Laden was like a unicorn -- no one knew where he was and America wanted to kill him. Meanwhile, Barack Obama had gone from being "The Prince of Tides", to the "Queen of the Desert" because he lacks the ability to make Americans happy every day of their lives. Only clowns and and bald cats know how to do that. Anyway, that all changed on May 1st when Obama killed Osama using a team of commandos led by a guy named Admiral McRaven. Now Obama is "The King Of Queens" while bin Laden's death becomes the most celebrated since the demise of Orbitz alternative beverage at the hands of reasonable humans everywhere.

Looking at the numbers, it took America 10 years, billions of dollars and a whole bunch of brave boys and goys to catch the man Time Magazine called a "Shithead mondo supreme". This makes me worried that if a super villain ever showed up, the world would have to spend AT LEAST that much stuff to get him or her. ORRRRR maybe bin Laden did have superpowers but it didn't get out because one of his superpowers is convincing people he doesn't have superpowers. That would be shitty for him because of all the things he would want to convince people of, not having superpowers wouldn't be very high on the list. I think I'd want one of those powers where you can throw up money.

As if that news wasn't enough to get your hair crispy, Canada had an election last night and Stephen Harper won the majority.

PROS

We won't need to update Canada's Wikipedia page
At the annual U.N. awards gala we'll win the staring contest and baby frightening no problem
Possibly better corn?
Good to see vampires represented at the Federal level

CONS.
(hahaha?)

Would you rather shoot a puppy or french kiss your own baby?

If you answer the former you're a serial killer and if you answer the latter you're probably a heck of an angler!

GET THE BABY, THE MILK'S EXITING MY EAR

2011-04-20T10:56:00.018-04:00

420 BONUS PACK

Today is April 20th, or "420", the day marijuana users go on the Internet to let everyone know that it's April 20th. It's only fair since alcoholics have St. Patrick's day and heroin addicts have Christmas.

Anyway, since pot makes funny things funnier, and colourful things more delicious, I've put together a little package of stuff to take you on a trip, man. This is for potheads everywhere in this Waterworld of ours.

Heart of Gold is the most beautiful song

A cake made of pancakes

Since there are an infinite number of numbers, there's a number that's your name

Is your doggy the alien?

What if Wired Magazine is right?

We're all going to die someday

Your ancestors would not think highly of you

Feel your heart beating. What if it stops?

We're all just specks of shit on the universe's starry rear

EVER SEEN A BROWN HELICOPTER?

2011-04-16T16:37:00.003-04:00

Last time we spoke I was on the cusp of turning 29, and as I type to you now that cusp has turned into whatever comes after a cusp, which in this case is me being 29.

29 is great so far. In the last week I've eaten two frozen pizzas, watched several hours of NHL playoff hockey and come to terms with my age by acting smarter and stronger than everyone else around me. Instead of locking up my bike I carry it wherever I go and when I see someone doing a Sudoku I give them a "psssshhhh" and throw a calculator at them. If it's a small woman who can't hurt me, I add "it's solar powered. Look it up".

To all my old friends, don't worry. I'm still the same guy you last saw at whatever age it was you saw me last. For example, I'm in the middle of a beard right now and I still pick at it like it were an extra crusty scab, as I've done to every beard I've grown for as long as I've been old enough to vote. The pubic quality of my beard hair allows this, and also helps exfoliate of all the beautiful faces I've been smooching. I only smooch one face, but that face is so damn smooth it might as well be Ryan Gosling covered in Cool Whip oil based topping while Peabo Bryson sings in the corner dressed up as Lando Calrissian.

With a new age comes a new set of responsibilities. Luckily, I've read enough Tom Clancy novels to know what it's like for an adult to function in adult society. Now here's Tom Clancy to introduce a new segment that relates to this introduction:

Welcome to Questions and Answers, a new feature where Glenn answers questions that he asks himself. I use this method all the time, which has guided me to wealth beyond human comprehension. For example, "what do I want to eat for lunch today?" Books. BAM. Million dollar career. "what's my wife's favourite word?" Espionage. BAM. 87 consecutive NY Times Bestsellers.

Question - When is the right time to buy a house?

The time is never right to buy a house because a house is the stupidest thing you can buy. Houses don't move and don't have anything to do with computers, so why would a modern, dynamic, tech saavy new adult like me even want one? I mean, a first generation iPod is more powerful than a house. The only thing you can plug into a house is a charger to charge your computers. Cut out the middle man, man! Until houses come fully wired, I'd prefer to avoid them altogether.

Question - Should I buy, or lease a car?

Neither. No one needs to leave their computer anymore because of the Internet. If I want to drive to say, Cairo RIGHT NOW, I can so with a quick image search in my favourite search engine. Hmm, let's see...I'm hungry! Typical human problem. I guess I should drive my Pontiac over to the farmstead for some onions. The problem? It'll take a full hour. With my computer I can order Pizza or chicken right to my door.

Question - When's the right time to have kids?

The best time to have kids is when a historical moment happens. That way, you'll never forget about your kids because you associate them with something totally special. If my partner's eggs were ripe enough, I'd take full advantage and fertilize her in time for the Royal Wedding coming up in a couple of weeks. When he or she or it is born and starts pooing all over your stereo, you can still manage to crack a smile because you remember that it was born on a wonderful day.

Isn't it beautiful seeing life being handled with such ease? I feel like Parker Lewis over here!

PART FART, PART GARTH

2011-04-07T11:26:00.000-04:00

In exactly one day and forty nine moments, I'll be turning the ripe age of 29, the final year of my childhood.

I can grow a beard, I don't have all my hair, I own more than two pairs of shoes and I buy all my own bread. Also, just last week my family experienced a medical emergency. Is this a pivotal point in my life? If I were a Quantum Leap episode, is this where I'd get Bakula'd?

The answer to this question lies in the toilet of Mount Scary, due north of the Plains of Pizazz. The toilet is really just a small pond just path the main cave, but still.

So far, in 29 years I...

- can cook
- know about computers
- can drive a car and a small truck
- still have shirts from grade 11
- never learned any really good guitar solos
- got over my fear of dogs by barking back
- traveled to some good countries, avoided shitty ones like Poland
- still haven't seen 2001 A Space Odyssey
- haven't met a bra that I haven't sniffed

Okay, that last one certainly isn't true, but will probably kick in around age 65.

Upon reflection, if I were to go back and tell the little me what I'm up to these days, he'd be pretty cool with it all, especially when I tell him I own a remote-controlled tank. He's won't be too happy that McDonald's hasn't named their fries after him yet, but I still have time. And lots of campaign work to do! Here's what I have so far:

- everyone serves fries and they're all called fries. Call them Golden McGlenns and create a new character that's me but I'm a potato and you've got yourself a million dollars right there.

- My body is shaped like fries

- I smell like oil before I bathe and like herbs after. Your fries don't have herbs...yet

- At the end of the day, you are what you eat, and I eat a lot of fries

THIS DAY IN LIVEJOURNAL HISTORY
Birthday Eve Edition

It's that time again to pat my own bum bum and show you what life was like for me in the early days of the 21st century, a time when cars were fast and women were faster. Here's a sampling of feelings I had going in various birthdays over the years:

April 7th, 2002 (1 day until 20 years old)

Man did we get drunk last night. I had fun until neil and andy got into a fight about NHL 2002 that ended up with neil slapping and choking andy. But like males do they made up after five minutes and we watched top guun and went to bed.

Well tommorow I'm 20 years old thats nutso. I haven't done too much in 20 years so that leaves a lot to look forward to later i guess.

What does a boys locker room shower and (name of friend we used to gently rib) have in common?

When its knob is turned by naked men hot liquid expels.

April 7th, 2003 (1 day until 21 years old)

Well, school's just about over. I decided to miss this afternoon's classes because I feel it is snowing too hard.
I wrote some questionable stand up about names of diseases and I know that life-threatening disease jokes usually aren't very good but I think there's some potential.

Roger Exact and The Precise Calculations ahaha just thought of that one

Extreme tangy salsa doritos are A+

April 6th, 2005 (2 days until 23)

Does anyone want a free 13 inch (i think) colour tv? FREE

I;m done school forever! (unless i go back one day)

MEAT SAUCE

April 6th, 2006 (2 days until 24)

I invented a new hair style where you grow your sideburns long enough to gel them so that they look like they're attached to your eyebrows.

GOOD OLD FASHIONED CHALK SALE

2011-03-24T15:41:00.016-04:00

MOVIE REVIEW
❤❤❤❤VALLEY GIRL❤❤❤❤❤

The film is about a girl from the Valley who falls in love with a man not from the Valley, which spells bad news for the girl's social status but good news for the man's boner index. I don't know what happens in the last part of this movie because I fell asleep. While I was awake, I had trouble understanding the dialogue, not because I don't understand Valley, but because the sound on this DVD was horrendous. It didn't help that I've been trying really hard not to hear lately because this goddamn bird keeps chirping right outside my window every morning at 8:30am, so it was hard for me to go back into 'listening intently' mode.

There were quite a few shots of bare breasts, and some good old fashioned 80's fun, but as a whole I didn't really like this movie. Nicholas Cage is supposed be this bad boy hunk, but he comes across as more of a gawky brush-headed weenis whose teeth were unfortunately still years away from being veneered. The ladies of the film do a good job being naive, sexy, 25 year old looking teenagers, but the aforementioned is as easy to come by in movies as wet pavement and angry police chiefs.

But who am I to lambast a movie aimed at teenaged girls that came out almost 30 years ago? Actually, if you were to ask anyone who's played the "Movie Game" with me they'd tell you that's one of my areas of expertise. So eat shit and die Valley Girl. You wasted and hour or so of time I could've used to compile a list of local nerds I plan on laughing at.

Since I don't know how this movie ends, I'm going to guess:

The guy and the girl decide to keep seeing each other because of love. Then she realizes he's actually poor.

Everyone dances at the mall, even the pretzel guy with the mustache who is at first all like "hey!" then some babes grab him and he's like "hhhOOOOhhoooookay!"

Nic Cage gets a Valley makeover but no one recognizes him anymore so he moves to Texas and raises beef

Cage teaches the girl the word "menial" and she won't stop using it

The last line is Cage saying "That's why you're the Valley Girl and I'm the Mountain Dude"

The high school is playing a big football game and Cage runs on the field, eats the ball, then grabs the girl and spikes her in the end zone.

There's a spaghetti eating contest

The girl realizes he was one of the original Grousekateers and takes him back

I realized I haven't been sharing very much personal information with the Internet lately, so I gave you that tidbit about the bird to keep all the gossip hounds off my IP address.

HOW TO DATE A COP

2011-03-16T16:01:00.001-04:00

ST. PATRICK'S DAY SURVIVAL GUIDE

I'm not going to celebrate St. Patrick's Day this year because I think it's in bad taste to celebrate a Saint who drove all the Japanese out of Ireland considering what's been going on. Don't let me stop you from having a good time, especially all you real Irish out there who are excitedly finishing off the last of their Advent Sausages in anticipation of tomorrow's festivities. Deep down in my heart and in my soul I am a teacher and so despite my apprehension I've compiled some tips and tricks to ensure your St. Patrick's day is safe and fun, like having sex with jean jackets on.

Fashion-wise, don't get all huffy puffy, tearing your wardrobes apart looking for green things. Most Irish people dress in greys, tans and blacks to match their souls. The best part about these colours is that they act as a canvas for the barf you're going to spray all over yourself at some point in the night. I recommend experimenting with different coloured drinks -- a bit of green beer, some black Guiness, and maybe a touch of Purple Leprechaun Explosion would make a fine paint.

Not all Irish love to puke, which is why they eat potatoes all day. Irish people are a lot like ducks in that way, and though many an Irish have eaten stones because they look like Nerds candy, most stick to potatoes to aid in digesting and absorbing their breakfast beers. If you don't grow your own potatoes you can find them at your local grocer in the produce section. Look for potatoes that don't have any cobwebs or blood on them and cook them according to package instructions.

When people get drunk and pretend they're Irish, they tend to have sex with one another even though sex was banned in Ireland in 1987. If you're going to have sex with something do it as the Irish do -- in a government-sanctioned procreation kiosk. Since we don't have any in our country and because I made it up, you might want to try having sex in a bush or maybe even ditch. Just pick some place that's bound to be covered in throw-up for an authentic experience and try out an "Irish Condom" while you're at it -- a Guiness soaked U2 CD booklet tied your dong with sheep intestines.

And from the WIDAHIA vault, here is last year's St. Patrick's Day poem, copied and pasted below for your convenience:

A poem for St. Patrick

Oh you green man, your day is here

When lasses and lads drink purple beer

Haha, you're smart, you caught my lie
Now let's all eat some apple pie

What's that? No pie? Not today?
I don't think I get this holiday

This is the one where people chew
And give small gifts to their nephew

They swat at bees and swim all day
While sisters bake their cassoulets

We all wear ties, even the misses
And each give our legs 100 kisses

Don't give me that look you stupid shit
This is St. Patrick's Day, isn't it?

I guess my parents lied to me
Cause we celebrate with pies and bees

Green beer, dumb hats and leprechauns?
I think I'll pass and head to Don's

My dad and me will kiss some legs
And eat St. Patrick's Easter Eggs

And I can't wait until Christmas Day
When we eat a bear and pretend we're gay

THE BIGGEST NAME IN BACKPACKS

2011-03-10T17:27:00.001-05:00

QUESTIONS OF TODAY

Are trains expensive to buy these days?

Do those who own rope companies worry that the Internet will somehow render their product obsolete one day?

Just who are the Ladies of the Circle of Perfection?

I saw this sign at a hotel I stayed at recently. When I strode past the Gateway Ballroom I smelled baby powder and heard what sounded like a cat purring over a microphone. My best guess is they're working on some way to give men a period. Oh no wait, that was already an episode of the X-Files. Mulder blames aliens, Scully blames herself and in the end it has something to do with the chemical makeup of a new deep fried sub that everyone in town goes crazy for.

If you have answers to any of these questions please keep them to yourself until my new science show "What's That?" starts next quarter.

JUKE BOX GUMBALL MACHINE WITH WHEELS

2011-03-08T15:34:00.010-05:00

Here is the lecture at delivered at last night's Trampoline Hall, in the heart of Toronto's oration district. I wore current fashions and had my hair and beard cropped short.

Unfortunately, in this text-only version you won't be able to experience my signature intonation and body language, which actually makes the whole thing seem like 8 gold ribbon lectures in 1. I once told the story of Return of the Jedi to a bunch of deaf soldiers using just my nose.

BEING AN ASSHOLE

I am not an asshole. I’m a nice, smiley, easy-going guy, who doesn’t get mad very often. The odd time I do get mad it’s usually because of assholes. It’s not just their actions that bother me but the frustration in not being able to comprehend the reasons behind these actions. Thus, I’m taking this opportunity to gain expertise into the mind and behaviour of assholes so that maybe I’ll be able to tolerate them in the future.

A North American asshole is a creature who spends its life frustrating non-assholes by acting unbecoming in a given scenario. Depending on your own vernacular and the region you’re from, an “Asshole” may also be known as a:

Butthole

Butthead

dick face

dick hole

shithead

fuck face

dick weed

shit brain

poo face

dick wipe

ass wipe

poo smear

ass head

dick lick

or simply, jerk.

For the purposes of this discussion, I further define a real asshole as someone who cannot provide a reasonable answer to the question “why are you being such an asshole?”, a question assholes are faced with every day. Most of us are temporary assholes, in that we occasionally display traits associated with the common asshole, and can probably answer the question with simple reasons such as “I had a bad day”.

Looking at my own experience, I realized that when I am an asshole it’s because someone else is being, or was an asshole to me first. In some cases I’ve acted this way in order to survive being around other assholes, and in other cases I’ve acted like an asshole because it seemed like a lot of fun. As an example of being an asshole to survive other assholes, I have a habit of being aggressive and greedy when food is available to a group. This isn’t a trait I was born with but rather something I’ve developed over the years to survive other assholes acting in the same fashion. It started in my youth when I was forced to compete with my brother and father for an equal share of a rare box sugary cereal my mom would treat us to. Ofttimes the box would get polished off in a day, so to get my fair share I’d have to force myself to eat over two bowls in 24 hours. It didn’t even matter if I was hungry or not, I demanded fairness even though my dad and brother are my physical opposites and were therefore mathematically entitled to more. But I took their aggressive eating as an asshole move aimed directly at me so I needed to act like them to ensure they didn’t beat me.

When I was a teenager pizza flowed like wine because all the moms knew it was easier to order us a pizza rather than have us raid her well-stocked fridge and pantry containing the elements of the week’s planned meals. Teenagers are naturally hungry creatures, so the competition for slices was fierce. It got so bad that some would go as far as to lick certain slices just to ensure future ownership, and so to this day when someone lays down a hot fresh pie, my competitive juices instinctively start to flow and I attack despite my competition or my level of hunger.

The asshole in me also comes out during intramural co-ed sports, where assholes are surprisingly common considering the lack of stakes involved. Recently, I was playing floor hockey when a player from the other team pushed one of our girl players and refused to apologize. I’m the most non-confrontational person around, but something about this asshole’s behaviour turned me into an asshole. I demanded he apologize and when he didn’t I took the next opportunity to slash at him, which he didn’t like. We got into a bit of an argument that eventually led to me saying “At least I don’t push girls”. I could hear the other team’s bench saying stuff like “he’s just a sore loser”, as we were not winning the game and all of a sudden I felt like a real, honest to goodness asshole, a feeling I didn’t want to feel again.

Professional sports, hockey in particular is governed by an asshole vs. asshole mentality -- if a player on one team is being a particularly big asshole to a player on the other team then it’s up to that player, or one of his teammates to be a bigger asshole back. In fact, professional hockey teams actually seek out assholes to fill the role of “agitator”, which is someone who is willing to be a huge asshole in order to get the other team to act like assholes enough to hopefully get them penalized for it. As a guy who grew up playing sports, I can tell you that many of the best opponents I faced were assholes because in physical sports athletes are continually told that the meaner they are the farther they’ll get. The business world isn’t much different, as one must be willing to screw over the other guy in order to get ahead. The recent financial crisis basically boiled down to a bunch of assholes being assholes, while Donald Trump, one of the world’s most famous businessmen, has made millions with his catch phrase “you’re fired”, a phrase typically linked with assholes.

So acting like an asshole is a way for us to survive other assholes, but it’s also a way to have fun. Satan is probably the most famous asshole around, and he or she seems to have a lot fun, like Al Pacino’s Satan in The Devil’s Advocate or Elizabeth Hurley’s in “Bedazzled”. Children are especially susceptible to these “being bad is good” messages, and I was no different. When “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles the movie” was released in 1990, I was just 8 years old. At that time I was both fascinated and terrified by neighbourhood assholes who would steal bikes and hockey sticks and hog the Street Fighter machine at the pizzeria. I would watch at a cautious distance, curious as to what age I would automatically start being bad. The Ninja Turtles film features a gang of asshole teenagers who make up the lowest tiers of Shredder’s ‘Foot Clan’. Shredder knows exactly how to treat these assholes and provides them with a warehouse full of arcade games, hip hop music, skateboard ramps, cartons of cigarettes, booze and gambling so long as they keep being bad. To a non-pubic eight year old this was my Xanadu -- a place filled with stuff I wouldn’t have access to unless I had irresponsible parents, or was of age. It never looked more fun to be an asshole, and luckily I was too much of a wiener to actually do these things, and my neighbourhood didn’t have a warehouse full of fun shit, so I went about my life wondering when I’d get the chance to try smoking.

Usually, if I got in trouble in school it was because I wanted to imitate other assholes around me. In one instance our school hosted a district-wide softball tournament and me and some friends happened to catch a game during the girl’s round robin. Someone noticed that a girl on the other team had developed further than most girls our age and after gawking and giggling, we started muttering “jiggle, jiggle, jiggle” every time she ran the bases. I would have never started such a chant, nor would I have even thought to have said it if I were by myself, but since my friends were being assholes and having a good time doing it, I joined right in and was reprimanded shortly thereafter by our French teacher whose face was a shade of deep red, commonly associated with embarrassment and pure fury.

Still though, I like to think that assholes find being an asshole a lot more effortless. Real assholes don’t necessarily need someone to be an asshole to them first. So are people simply born assholes?

This holds water because I feel to be a true asshole you must be one for most of your life. Maybe the world needs assholes to ensure we humans don’t progress too far, too fast. The 1993 Stephen Spielberg film, “Jurassic Park” explored the subject of scientific progress and its inherent dangers. Analyzing the film now, I realize that all it took to halt the progress of the Jurassic Park and make the heroes realize that it wasn’t a good idea to remake dinosaurs, were the actions of a single, greed-driven asshole (Seinfeld’s Wayne Knight). According to Chaos Theory, the park would’ve failed regardless, but at least he made them realize it before it officially opened for business. Perhaps God is apprehensive about awarding the human race another Eden after what happened to Adam and Eve, so he stocked the world with snakes, the original assholes, to keep us on our toes.

If Wayne Knight’s character in Jurassic Park was driven by greed and was thus an asshole. Is a greedy person automatically an asshole, and are all assholes greedy? Not necessarily, but they’re certainly related. It brings to mind the personal experience I had with an asshole sometime around grade 9. I don’t truly hate many people, because to hate is to be an asshole, but this one guy made it personal between us this one day he came over to my house. He was with another friend of mine and they had just finished a poker game at a different location. At some point during the visit he excused himself under the guise of checking out my brother’s pet lizard. When he got back he and the other guy left shortly after and I didn’t think much of it. When I returned to my room later on I noticed my wallet wasn’t there and I automatically remembered that there had been an asshole in my house. It was then that my friend who had accompanied the asshole showed up at my door and returned my wallet saying that the asshole had taken it and that he felt bad and brought it back minus the fifteen dollars that I knew had been in there. Being a nice guy, I was shocked to learn that someone I knew would openly rob me, so it was quite the shock to the system. I retaliated by telling the guy’s mom what had happened, and then me and my friends took a bunch of shoes from his family’s sun porch and distributed them around the neighbourhood. I eventually got the money back and had a minor altercation with the asshole during a game of road hockey, which closed the case. Now, was the asshole acting purely out of greed? No, I don’t think so. First of all, I know that the day he took my wallet he had lost bad at poker and was embarrassed by this in front of friends who he continually tried to impress. I think part of him wanted to save face by pulling off this stunt and knew that because I was the gentlest in our group of friends, that I was the easiest target. So I think it was the combination of trying to look cool in the face of embarrassment as well as his decision to prey on the weak, that truly made him an asshole. Greed was certainly sprinkled in there, but if fifteen dollars was all he wanted, he could’ve probably just asked his parents, or stolen it from them, as they were fairly well off judging by the Porsche they owned. So greed, along with preying on the weak may indeed be the main characteristic of a certain asshole, but I think it’s more a symptom than an actual cause.

It’s obviously hard to pin down what actually causes someone to be an asshole, but I do believe there’s one simple characteristic that makes one the real thing. True assholes are what they are without any regard for the people who are affected by their behaviour. This is what makes one a true asshole -- a total lack of empathy. A true asshole doesn’t know that he or she even is one. A true asshole will answer our question “why are you being such an asshole?” with a blank stare, a roll of the eyes or even a punch to a sensitive area.

And this is why I don’t understand assholes. It’s obviously never right to make someone else’s life miserable, but when it’s done without an ounce of empathy, whether before, during of after an incident, it’s simply inexcusable. I’ve done some asshole things in my life like petty vandalism and theft and getting mad at a significant other for a dumb reason, but no matter what I’ve done I always feel bad at some point because most of us know right from wrong. As an empathetic person, I do my best to understand how other people are feeling, but I’ll never understand an asshole and an asshole will probably never understand me.

You’ll notice that I didn’t provide much recent experience with assholes. I tried to think of why and it’s either because I’m now an asshole and I just don’t know it, or I’ve naturally surrounded myself with non-assholes only. Also, I realized my definition of a true asshole means that there probably aren’t many of them out there. Can you think of any, or is my definition too narrow? Just the other day I read a Tweet from a guy I always thought of as a true asshole, juice magnate Frank D’Angelo, that I think proved his authenticity based on my definition. His tweet read “Two kinds of people in the world -- Good Souls and Assholes”. Clearly he didn’t write that thinking he was the latter, despite his record of sexual assaults and police corruption. I ask of you to consider these things during the Q and A.

In conclusion, I ask of you this, you asshole -- do your best to obey the Golden Rule. It’s called the Golden Rule because it’s the most valuable rule we have. Since the rule is so golden and valuable it only makes sense that assholes of the world would seek to take it for their own or simply destroy it.

MAN MOM

2011-03-04T14:56:00.003-05:00

WIDAHIA EXCLUSIVE

I bring you a never before seen, on-set photo of CATWOMAN from Christopher Nolan's upcoming Batman film, Being Batman slated for a 2012 release:

The film is currently shooting in Chicago and my spies tell me that Nolan has rented out Wrigley Field for two whole days. This means we could possibly see the 'Batman pitches a no-hitter' storyline from BODACIOUS BATMAN #43 in the film!

GRAB A HOLD OF ME AND TWIST WHEN I SAY 'SPICY'

2011-03-02T11:30:00.004-05:00

There's no way in mom's apple pie that I'd let this blog go one whole month without posting SOMETHING. I could just stop here and it would count you know, but I'm not that type of guy, I'm more of an emotional giver with got both style and substance and a basic understanding of the Monkees. Admittedly, I've been distracted with other stuff thus far in 2011 and don't feel I have much to tell anyone in this forum. BUT, there are several ways to make a blog post seem substantial even if you have nothing substantial to talk about. First, you can plug stuff:

I'll be doing this on Monday:

Trampoline Hall is a lecture series where men and women give lectures on things they're not experts on. It's also the name of the grandest indoor structure in the Frog Kingdom, paved with crystal and a dressed in a rare moss that sings if you give it steam.

My first reaction I had when I was asked to do this was "I'm not an asshole" so I'm lecturing on assholes and I never fight my first reaction unless I'm sure my second reaction is going to be a funny sounding barf. I'm pretty nervous because apparently this is a tough crowd, but I know how to beat tough crowds -- dress neutral, smile, but not too much, and when the audience clearly doesn't like something you say, use body language to agree with them. "That's the only advice you'll ever need, kid" - The Movies.

Secondly, I'd like to direct your beautiful eyes over to my new Tumblr page where I post pictures I've taken of still pictures on my TV. This day in age, if you don't have a Tumblr, a pair of sneakers and a Smartphone, you might as well dunk your own head in the toilet because someone's bound to do it for you, you sniveling yellow smear.

You can also talk about pop culture. Here are some quick jokes to tell at your next book club meeting or sex-related key party:

Charlie Sheen is publicly, pubic-ly, and publicity crazy

What's with Libya these days? Are they old-fashioned or what?

The Oscars were shitty again this year... try telling that to Natalie Portman

A computer beat some humans at Jeopardy recently which makes sense because computers don't have dinner and sex on their mind

Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of posting more bloggies like I did when I posted every day. I'm getting a new computer soon, which will either help, or distract, depending on how smooth the new edition of Garageband is. I thought of a killer new melody today that's equal parts funk, soul and John Williams.

I COLLECT AUTOGRAPHS OF MY CO-WORKER'S DAUGHTERS

2011-02-03T16:15:00.001-05:00

♪ It's snowing, not raining, the old man is painting ♪

And what is he painting??

The Juice triplets! The only married, polygamous triplets in the world. Jan Juice first noticed she had feelings for Jenn Juice in Grade 11. THEN, at a pool party in 2nd year university, Jake Juice saw his sisters in matching Corona bikinis and his wiener wouldn't stop singin'. The next day they went to go see Harry Potter and the Mug of Harold and couldn't keep their hands off each other.

"I know what my sisters are thinking and I also know how to turn them on, sexually -- usually by staring at them the same way a kid stares at a parrot in a pet store. Polly may want a cracker, but Jake Juice wants his twin sisters in a tent wearing nothing but hand sanitizer."

Law enforcement officials in the Juice's hometown of Crab Stew, Nova Scotia aren't quite sure how to handle this situation, but Captain Harley Jolie-Pitt of the Police Team, issued this statement:

"It's not that I don't understand Jake's motives -- every man dreams of having a sexual relationship with twin sisters, and some men, myself excluded except for once, have feelings for their own kin. It's just that Jake is my dentist and Juice Country Spreads occupy 60% of my breakfast table every morning. If I look in the mirror before heading to the station and don't see gleaming white teeth and a few smears of Spicy Green Bean Scream in my beard, I won't be able to do my job at a professional level, so throwing him in jail won't do anything to improve my life. And heck, their wedding was the best time I've ever had. They had beef AND dessert. I think there's some illegality in there somewhere, but last time I checked, the tenth commandment is "Love Conquers All", and I'm not about to go against the laws of Abraham Lincoln, R.I.P."

CBC is planning a TV movie about the controversial triumvirate, starring HNIC's PJ Stock as Jake, and archival footage of the Dion Quintuplets as Jenn and Jan.

DON'T TELL MOM THE BABYSITTER'S HERE

2011-01-28T15:58:00.002-05:00

When I got sick after I got back from my trip I was freaked out because being sick is not ssssick. After a couple days of staying home, drinking liquids and playing Ouija Board by myself to try discover new swear words (you bloot) I decided it was time to check in with my doctor friend, my doctor. He was all like "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you feel bad, there's no drug for shitting and having the flu", but he gave me a note that allowed me to cop some antibiotics just in case.

Well guy, I still felt like a wall of slaves on Monday and keeping with my family's motto of "By Any Means Necessary" I started taking antibiotics, even though the good bacteria in my body was screaming in my ear, "We have activities planned this week!". I don't like modifying my body as much as I don't like modifying people's perceptions of the Smokey and the Bandit series (it is what it is), and the side effects of 'shitty taste in mouth' and 'greater risk of watery d's' aren't my cup of rum, but I ate them anyway.

The Point?

This was all leading to something about me never getting Bacterial Vaginosis, but that's obvious considering I have one of the most talked-about dongs in North America due to its perfect symmetry. If you plug my the dimensions of my hose into the Pythagorean Theorum you end up with a picture of the Eiffel Tower.

What's happenin' in Egypt? If I lived in the country that invented paper, big pyramids and the concept of "babes", I'd be smiling more than the Cheshire Cat at Christmastime. Of course, the Cheshire Cat would be considered a God if he lived in Egypt, which probably means that cat sales and evening pettings are skyrocketing as we speak. I don't think the country is in big time trouble until we see herds of dogs chasing all the cats into the Nile. If I name my next kitty "God" will you be made at me? I once had a Nine Inch Nails shirt that said "closer to god" on the back and part of me was worried that if I wore it to school I'd get in trouble, as if "god" was a swear word. I'm naming my next t-shirt "closer to shit". I would've had a case had that been the case.

Dear Egyptians,

Clam down. I meant "calm". But you might also want to clam down. I'm pretty sure the Mediterranean (that big old salty bitch at your northern tip) has a bounty of fresh seafood, and I know that when me and my dad get into it, nothing calms us more than a clam down. Take your biggest pot, filled it with clams, potatoes (you guys have potatoes? Don't use figs), corn, garlic, white wine and maybe a splash of water and hot sauce, and just boil away while you watch the sun and talk about sports you might want to start ignoring. I'm no expert on the Red Sea (that skinny bean to your right), but it's probably good for something considering your cat gods decided to start your country on its bright pink shores. Surely there's some fish worthy of a cookout in there somewhere.

Love,
Canada

GUNK WILL SEE YOU NOW

2011-01-24T16:39:00.024-05:00

The Oscar nominations are in!

I got 0 nominations but that curly-haired, beady-eyed, nice belly-buttoned Jesse Eisenberg got one?

I used to make him eat old bird nests out of the toilet when we were growing up together in Las Vegas. He kept crying "I didn't do nothin'! My father whips me with his ties and my mom makes me play giraffes with her every day after tea, life is hard enough."

Enjoy it, asshole. Say hi to Tom Hanks for me. Knowing you it'll come out, "Hi Tim! I mean...Ron...do you have the time? Oh, I have a watch....no, it's just a nice bracelet wawawawa".

I'm not too worried. The play I'm acting in premieres February 1st and should garner me at least one Tony and probably a couple of Source awards. Everyone in the play rules, and will do a great job entertaining you and your guest(s). "Your gues(s)t(e)(s) are (is) as good as mine!" HAHAHA. Seriously, bring that girl you're trying to bonk.

Here's a poem about lunch:

When you don't make your lunch you have to go buy it
Explore your area, pick a restaurant and try it

Subway has sandwiches, cookies and chips
Edo Japan's teriyaki will stiffen your nips

If there was a half decent burrito place in this area, I'd eat so many that my hair would start secreting burrito slime instead of essential oils and my skin would turn to tortilla. Sure, the birds would peck but my tongue and sense of satisfaction would raise to levels not seen since my dad installed a Wendy's in our house instead of a bathroom by mistake in 1994. We got tired of it and the staff wasn't very friendly.

SCREAM UNTIL YOUR SCREAM IS ALL BASS

2011-01-24T12:00:00.016-05:00

I know it's been awhile, but I've been working behind the scenes on something HUGE and now I can legally announce that this blog has been named the Heinz Blob Blog of the Decade. This new partnership means I have FULL ACCESS to the Heinz online Sauce Vault as well as hosting rights to their popular online games Hot Dog Frisbee™ and Picnic Panic!®. Details will emerge as the week goes on, but in the meantime head over to the Heinz homepage, create an account for just $37.99 (and 100 proofs of purchase) and start creating your Avatar-tar. I gave mine a beard made of relish, but until you reach ninety thousand Squirts you'll only have access to a few dijon wigs and some branded caps.

Yeah right, though, right? Most bloggers can only dream of typing the above paragraph with total honesty. In reality, I've been sick the whole month of January, and not just one kind. I've had:

Headache
Running Nose
Stuffy Nose
Night Wets
Snoozies
Cough
Phlegm Tubes
Diarrhea
Light headedness
The Shivs
Knuckle Nose
Satisfaction with last haircut
Sore Throat

Last time I typed and you read, I gave myself a Pat on the back because I deserved it and because I'm physically unable to kiss my own lower back, which is how I usually congratulate people. Now I've never claimed to be magical (unless I'm around the fondue pot), but mere days after I Patted myself in the virtual world, I was able to get the real thing:

It seems that whatever I say in here comes true in real life, so if you'll excuse me, unlimited hot tub buffet dinners warm apartment diamonds nicer chin.

Don't get all antsy Toronto, the above shot wasn't taken at CNE, but in fabulous Los Angeles, CanIaffordit. Me and the fellas went on a trip to Obama's west coast, and I can't tell you too much about it because I don't feel like it, but I would caution studio execs to prepare thy selves for Captain Ron 2 - Shipwrecked in Vegas, which should be sliding across your desks later this year in script form.

The script will be in 3D (three duotangs), -- first act, second act, third act. Blue, red, purple, respectively. Page numbers? You bet.

Synopsis

Las Vegas -- 2:00pm -- Captain Ron crashes onto to shore, tired and injured. A strange new land awaits...

For the first time he must adapt to life on land. Hiding from the pirates who shipwrecked him, he takes a job as a blackjack dealer at Treasure Island hotel and casino and makes friends with the young casino staff who teaches him to love and laugh again. Will he ever get back to sea?

THE SABRE-TOOTHED MAN HAS HIS DAY IN COURT

2011-01-06T10:50:00.039-05:00

It's been quite a good week for the homeless.

By now you've all heard about Ted Williams, the homeless man with the voice of vanilla ice cream with Jesus on top. He got a new job, a new haircut, a new house, and the kind of buzz that that every Hollywood starlet dreams about while lying naked on the furs of rare animals, covered in powdered drugs and various goos.

On top of that, there's a bounty of fresh seafood and poultry that's literally falling out of the sky. You see the Apocalypse, I see buffet.

Let's go back to that guy Ted. What do I think about this man and his Mike Sorrentino?

Obviously, this is real great for a guy who last week was eating worms and wondering why anyone would buy cologne over a nice pillow and a Gatorade. His obvious talent was wasted on the deaf ears of Old Deaf Harvey, the smelly ears of Stinky Greg Polstansion, and non-existent ears of All Nose Rudolph who shares a corner with the ugliest dog in town (instead of a tail she has another butt). Thank goodness he's able to get out of Columbus, where you can't buy a belt downtown according to one man who was asked by my friend Chuck where he could get a belt. Could it be the abundance of jails and courthouses as opposed to department stores or does is the elastic waistband a mid-west thing? It's too bad that he got a new job in Cleveland, which movies and TV have taught me is a horrible place where no one but Drew Carey wants to live.

The biggest issue that I, and the members of my Judo club have with this is that the media and other for-profit entities and taking advantage of the whole thing. The guy definitely deserved a job in the speaking industry, but did he really deserve all that other stuff? He's now the most employed voice guy in the world, prompting every veteran announcer in North America to say smoothly and eloquently, "what the Hell?". It's not like the Nazis blew up his farm or something.

Knowing humans, we'll try to take advantage of the situation further by combing the streets for other talented people without home. For all you scouts out there, here are the easiest jobs to fill:

Chef - Jamie Oliver has an empire of restaurants whose cooks are all disadvantaged teenagers, or as anthropologist call them "pre-bums". Homeless people have far more life experience than a teen whose mom hides the crisps all the time, so he throws her TV out the window, and they're already well-versed in the culinary arts from years of eating our garbage. They know how to roast a raccoon, so why not a Berkshire pig?

Sex Actor - All you really need to do is find someone out there with a powerful dong. Besides home ownership, there's not much difference between a homeless person and a porn star -- they smell weird, they eat goo, they're prone to disease, they wear horrible clothes and their parents hate them.

Reality TV star - Homeless people are adept at screaming nonsense, drinking heavily and fighting, which are all prerequisites for being a reality star. Heck, on Wednesday Skooki told Ellen that "passing out in a garbage can sucks". Replace the word "sucks" with "rules" and that quote could have come from any number of street people.

In conclusion, I used the word "goo" twice today and I think that deserves a pat on the back:

COVERING MY LIFE SOURCE IN FUDGE AND WHIPPED CREAM

2011-01-03T15:38:00.001-05:00

This marks the end of the second longest blog hiatus I've ever had. The first longest was 12 years ago when I temporarily lost use of my brain because I ate 39 Twix bars in 46 seconds. It wasn't a dare, I just thought it might look cool and I was trying to impress this new kid at my school named Dino who had his own table saw. I may not have written anything, but I did play the best checkers of my life during that stretch, that not only captured the hearts and minds of the local media, but of Dino, who you may know today as Paul Rudd.

I feel rusty. It's the same kind of feeling one gets when it runs out of chewin' tobacco so it has to chew rubber bands instead. Then it realizes that chewing rubber bands is actually better because it's like chewing gum with built in floss. Dentists know this trick but they won't tell anyone because if they did they'd all be out of business. And what can a dentist do besides be a dentist? Pearl cleaner? Sure, but good luck getting one of those jobs. You have to know someone. And dentists only know other dentists. A dentist who knows a pearl cleaner is the ultimate human.

Since I last typed words into your zone, I had a Christmas and a Christmas vacation, a New Year marked and a New Year holiday and I went bowling once. I'm not ashamed to admit that I spent most of the time watching television, playing a video game where I get to pretend I'm a pro hockey player and thinking of local restaurants I haven't been to yet. In fact, I watched so much TV and love it so much that I even took pictures of it, as if it were my new pet bird who if real, would be called Jaspin.

Sometimes I can't wait until my digestive tract processes apples for a nice, long apple dump. Thankfully, Turner Classic Movies has me covered during the wait.

Please watch "Toronto's Talent" on Rogers Cable. This guy Memphis played a very simple blues riff for seven minutes and I think the song was called "Rockin' All Night"

Do you take Smike to be your lawfully wedded husband?

Before you start accusing me of being a lazy old mint who not only watches TV but takes pictures of it so he can post them on the Internet, which he does while he watches TV, please know that in January I'm acting in a play that will prevent me from watching TV and taking pictures of TV on a regular basis. Since I knew I was going to create entertainment come the new year, I thought I'd finish off the old year by consuming entertainment so that everything evens out. If a pizza master knows he's got a gig coming up where he's cooking up a couple hundred hot pies for a landlord looking to trap a bunch of Italians hiding in the wall, he's probably going to spend all the time leading up to the big day pigging out. He knows that when he's baking up all those cheesy babies he's going to want to eat them but he can't because of the laws of business, so he pre-stuffs, extracting all the satisfaction he can before he knows he'll be tempted. That's just mathematics 101 with Professor Commonsense, 2 classes a week for four months in the Obvious Building, South Lecture Hall, Main Campus.

Stick with me this year! There'll be tons of fun, brand new instructions on how to live better and eat longer, and hot pics of things that make you shiver. The year Twenty EGlennven. The year of putting my name into regular words.

JEEP JEEPS

2010-12-22T13:00:00.001-05:00

Year in Review - The Year 2010

Technology

"Wassup girl? Just shootin' a vid. My man covered himself in dead mice and my snake is chasin' him around LOL. Pizza later sounds good."

How can you begin an article on this year's technology without mentioning the iPad?

There, now, I still have a 30GB video iPod that Liv gave me after she won an 80GB video iPod from an office Christmas party three years ago. I've finally got around to putting podcasts on it which I listen to on my way to work and when I'm doing aerobics. I don't have one of those armband things so I just stick it in my tights where my penis usually goes, then I wrap my my penis around my leg. Maybe in 2011 technology will come up with a better solution, like maybe something that turns your balls into speakers.

The headphones I use are falling apart, and most days I end up with little pieces of rubber in my ear. I put all the little pieces together in a mug, and on New Ear's day I'll brew up some rubber tea with mint that, if all goes to plan, with also have a nice, earwax essence, a perfect start to the y'Ear.

Email

The best email I got this year was actually an embedded video forward. The last thing I "embedded" was a drunk girl who only agreed to embed because I lied and told her I was a set decorator on Avatar. She wanted to know what James Cameron's phone number was and I said "Uh, we all call him Jimmy" and it was on.

Anyway, I can't find the video, but it was shot in some hick's living room. The floor was covered in cheesies and this guy comes in wheelbarrowing his dog and the dog eats all the cheesies and it's all set to the SCTV theme song. Unfortunately, the video was lost in the fire, so using technology I'll attempt to recreate it:

The Rogers Centre roof is still workin', cars still have radios and zippers haven't changed a bit. All in all, 2010 was a great year for technology. Next year you can expect to see:

Instead of fridges that have doors, expect Fridgidaire launch a line of doors that have fridges in them.

Scientists in Australia are close to revealing "Dry Water". It's basically sand with a bit of soap mixed in, but they can't seem to get the smell right.

In the 2nd quarter, Richard Branson is expected to reveal A trampoline that will take children to space. The latest prototype improved greatly with only 6 splats out of 50 launches. It's powered by rock n roll!

I LIKE ESPIONAGE AND ANYTHING CRISP

2010-12-20T17:18:00.007-05:00

Now that my Christmas shopping is all done, I can get an early start on New Year's barfing and Family Day kisses. Liv and I generally like to keep our New Year and Family Day celebrations low key, so we generally combine them on January 27th and just sit around in our pajamas kissing while also barfing into each other's mouths. I usually drink a lot of Coke and eat lots of Rolos beforehand, while she chugs Gatorade and eats chicken wings, so that we each get our favourite kinds of puke. The couple that sprays together, stays together until one of them finds someone normal.

I have to work this week so I won't be telling you about lazy, fun holiday stuff like baking movies and watching cookies. Instead, my week will look and feel like this:

Whoa, check out that highlighter!

You guys know me pretty well by now, but if you don't because you happened upon this post by searching "barf kisses" in Google because that turns you on because your parents neglected you and your best friend was your dirty old dog who barfed all the time, you should know that I'm antsy. I got ants in my pants and an itch in my ditch. Combine that with my love of Christmas and being on holiday and you get one full dude who can't stop shakin' his leg anytime he smells pine boughs or sees a jolly old Sants in the local mall. So what's a boy to do?

My guru, who would like to remain nameless because his name is Lardy Puffsmear, recommended I try to forget about Christmas and instead concentrate on work and extra-curricular activities, while avoiding heavy screaming and extra cheese on things. I immediately got to work on a new political cartoon:

As per usual, I got great coverage, including a sweet spot on the front cover of the New York City News Machine Daily. Unfortunately, most readers were distracted by this month's FunShine Girl:

Mona, 35, was never the same after she returned from outer space. Her breasts started producing fruit punch and she claims she understands what birds keep chirpin' about. She loves to ski and hopes that there's a big technological development in scissors in the next 10 years.

Full disclosure, I was quite taken with Mona myself, and as soon as I was done wiping the sweat from the brow after picturing me and her hand in hand, shopping for jam at the market, I turned the page and saw a full page spread advertising a big Christmas sale -- 50% off all rubber -- and I was right back to being excited.

Last weekend I went to a party that served a whole pig and I also put together a treadmill.

HAVE A NICE TIME AT THE SANDING

2010-12-13T15:14:00.001-05:00

Baywatch could've/should've been called Broad Daylight for its sunny depiction of broads. I don't normally call women broads unless I'm in the presence of construction workers or writing a post on Baywatch. I don't normally hang out with construction workers unless I'm in a crowded food court and I go to food courts every time I go to the mall.

"My beach-side bathing suit biz continued to thrive even after my model Mary died."

Food courts are some of the best places in the world because they're like little towns where fries are found on every corner. No matter how bad your mall is, its food court usually can't lose. If it doesn't have the major players it usually has some form of popular mall cuisine, like if you can't find a Manchu Wok, you'll probably be able to find a Tiki Ming etc., or if you can't find an Edo Japan you'll be able to find Lou's Teriyak etc.

The best food court was Sherway Gardens'. I haven't been there since I mistakenly bought bras for every broad on my Christmas list in '06, but I'll assume that its still filled with all-stars. It used to have Taco Bell, New York Fries, KFC, some Creole place, Arby's, Subway and many more. A lot of these places didn't exist in Mississauga when I was boy because Mississauga's meat standards were greater than the surrounding area according to school-yard lore, so going to a place just outside our borders where you could get everything was truly fantastic. Also nestled within this food court was a Grade A movie store and an arcade complete with a virtual reality machine. Best place in the world? It needed a water slide.

I was so damn busy this past weekend that I barely had enough time to check out my nose in the mirror. I finally got some time Sunday night and everything is okay, including my award-winning nostrils, that were the basis for Benjamin Button's age 56 prosthesis from last year's hit film. First up was a surprise curling birthday party. Here's me and my team:

We all did surprisingly well considering curling is a sport that only Scottish grandmas excel out. Just kidding, I'm not ignorant, just silly and there IS a difference despite what Robin Williams says or does. We all decided that we're going to curl again, even though we run the risk of being labeled either "dweeboids" by the hipsters or "hipsters" be the dweeboids. Now I know how singer/actress Jennifer Lopez feels. Two celeb references in one paragraph, geez, who am I, Joel McHale? THREE.

On Sunday we got up early for our annual outing to Buffalo (who's new motto per my friend Scott is "Grey Skies, Wet Ground") for a Buffalo Bills game. The weather couldn't have been any shittier. It rained the whole time, and even though I wore three layers I was still very damp by the time we headed home, allowing border guards to detain me, just in case the dampness was smuggled American simple syrup. It was also cold, but not quite cold enough that the rain turned into beautiful Buffasnow. Despite all this, I think we all had a good time because we're not babies and normally if you have beer and sausages a day is good by default.

WHO DOESN'T LOVE A GOOD DOOR?

2010-12-10T10:12:00.006-05:00

THE ART OF SWALLOWING

Real swallowing. Not the kind (well, sort of) teenage boys think is hilarious and not the Australian tradition of capturing swallows, blending them up with orange juice and cumin and serving them to the national surf team for good luck and nutrition. Regular swallowing.

"I played the hamburger in grade eight band"

Chances are you swallow no problem. It's just one process that's part of eating as a whole along with smelling, chewing, churning and shitting. Apparently at some point, probably when I was doing some late-night scarfing, I started thinking about swallowing, and then I found I couldn't do it right anymore. Any professional joust coach will tell you the minute you start thinking is the minute you end up with a lance in your butt. This swallowing problem has happened before:

October 6th, 2009

The problem is that I don't chew enough because as soon as bite 1 hits my licker, I'm already ready to take bite 2 and so on and so on. The day after I chow down I feel full the whole day and my throat gets swollen. I guess it's because there's a mound of un-chewed, pre-poo food sitting down there and my throat is tired because I stretched it good.

According to medical journal Wikipedia, "Eating and swallowing are complex neuromuscular activities consisting essentially of three phases, an oral, pharyngeal and esophageal phase." Phew. I would've been pretty bummed had it read "Eating and swallowing is so easy that babies can do it right away, no problem." Let's take a look at some of these stages:

1) Moistening

Food is moistened by saliva from the salivary glands (parasympathetic).

No problems there. I may not have the wettest mouth in the kingdom, but I'm no cottonmouth either. If I ever own a bar I might call it The Saliva Gland because bars are fundamentally in place to wet mouths. It wouldn't be a good idea to highlight the fact that they're also there to poison brains. If people didn't care about that I'd call it Computer Games. Either The Saliva Gland, Computer Games or J.J. Micky O'McFlanarourke's.

2) Mastication

Food is mechanically broken down by the action of the teeth controlled by the muscles of mastication acting on the temporomandibular joint. This results in a bolus which is moved from one side of the oral cavity to the other by the tongue. Buccinator helps to contain the food against the occlusal surfaces of the teeth. The bolus is ready for swallowing when it is held together by (largely mucus) saliva , sensed by the lingual nerve of the tongue. Any food that is too dry to form a bolus will not be swallowed.

I do tend to eat way too fast, which is a symptom of my motto, "Just Eat It". Perhaps I don't get enough spit into my food. I don't know though, I did self-prescribe several more chews ever since I noticed I can't swallow right anymore.

3) Trough formation

A trough is then formed at the back of the tongue by the intrinsic muscles. The trough obliterates against the hard palate from front to back, forcing the bolus to the back of the tongue. The intrinsic muscles of the tongue contract to make a trough (a longitudinal concave fold) at the back of the tongue. The tongue is then elevated to the roof of the mouth, genioglossus, styloglossus and hyoglossus such that the tongue slopes downwards posteriorly. The contraction of the genioglossus and styloglossus also contributes to the formation of the central trough.

I think I'm having trouble forming this trough. It's a lot like real life -- if a guy orders you to make a trough and you don't think about it, you'll dig that trough no problem. But if a guy orders you to make a trough and you do take a moment to think about it, realizing that there's pools to dive into and hardware stores out there to discover, you'll decline the order.

I'm basically trying to skip the step because my thinking brain likes shortcuts, while my unconscious is a rule-following bore.

The goal henceforth will be to distract myself while eating, so I can allow the wiener part of my brain to take over from the not as wienery part. Let's brainstorm:

Picture myself naked
Try to recite an entire Simpsons episode in my head (I've tried this before while waiting for things)
Get a tattoo every time I eat and the tattoo will be of whatever I'm eating. This will also force me to eat totally awesome, esthetically pleasing food for the sake of my skin canvas.
Pretend I'm a car. Food is my fuel. Feces is my oil slick to thwart would-be chasers. My nose is my hood ornament and my yelling "DUUUUPHH" is a my horn.

Luck-pdate

Last night on my way home from work I was walking up through the PATH system, window shopping Andrew's Ties and Fruits & Passion as usual, when I found a pair of Leafs tickets on the ground. I don't usually find treasure so I didn't really know what to do. Do I notify PATH security, sell them to a scalper, go to the game, give them to a homeless teen? Since I lost my wallet a couple months back and someone was nice enough to return it, I decided I was karmically inclined to return the tickets to the box office. They said no one reported them lost or stolen so I could just go to the game, but if the season's ticket holder showed up I'd be asked to leave. They never showed up but the game kind of stunk anyway, still, this was probably one of the luckiest things that's ever happened to me.

CHEZZNUT BOASTING 'BOUT HIS DOPE ON FIRE

2010-12-07T22:14:00.001-05:00

I never really delved too deep into the details of my employment over the last five years, mostly because I feel that work should never get in the way of poo jokes. But I can now safely announce that I no longer do that thing I used to do, which was reading press releases all day. Instead I now listen to webcasts. I tell you this not to draw out congratulations but so you can adjust your fantasy sequences of me accordingly. Hopefully this new position won't mean less critically acclaimed blog posts, but if they do I have a back-up plan where I just start copying people.

This April, not only will I be celebrating the 9th anniversary of my 20th birthday, but HBO's Game of Thrones will premiere to the screams of millions of teenage girls across the world. Did I say teenage girls? I meant middle-aged freaks. Just kidding. I'm a big fan of the books and I consider myself more of a wimpy smiler who still thinks he's a young adult.

I've been reading the books since June and I'm still going, so when I'm an old man, telling my grand kids about the years 2010 and 2011 while they feed my milk and energy crisps, I'll be able to tell them that it was mostly me just enjoying stories about dragons. I guess it's better than two years characterized by weight gain or jail time. I'm no longer scared of years dominated by hair loss because I've had time to accept it. I believe I first noticed my hair leaving in first year university. What a ride it's been. Anyway, here's an exclusive Foot Locker® Sneaker Peaker Insider Peak™ that debuted after the new Taco Bell commercial debuting the new Nine Cheese Mexi-Shake that debuted during the second warm-up of last Thursday's NBA game between the Denver Nuggets and the St. Louis Battlebirds:

Kudos to the art department, who will no doubt be Emmy bound this year.

I truly am excited for this damn thing that will actually look like this:

To some of you, namely the ignorant ones who don't read books and have no sense of adventure, this will look just as silly as that fake footage. But you'll be sorry once bearded guys with swords who wrap themselves in fur become the new vampire, igniting a worldwide craze. The porno parody will be called Game of Thongs, Brad Pitt will play a guy in a movie with a name like Grogoz and horse traffic will increase to levels not seen since Henry Ford realized that burned gasoline smells a bit better than manure.

REINDEERS GAMES ARE FUN UNTIL SOMEONE GETS PREGNANT

2010-12-02T20:30:00.002-05:00

HOLIDAY GIFT GUIDE

Since I'm almost done all my Christmas shopping, I thought I'd help all you saps out with a helpful gift guide that will make your loved ones cry tears of greed as they ungratefully rip open each package without any regard for me, the guy who made the gift guide that led to the gift that led to the tears.

$10-$30

The Internet

Grandma might be good at making jam, but she knows nothing about the world's most popular everything, the Internet. Since she probably already has the hardware -- your old computer that's full of malware old university essays -- you should be able to get away with the most inexpensive subscription your provider offers. Plus, she won't even be able to tell if it's slow or even if it's working. In fact, you can can probably just get away with giving her a flashlight with some loose wires taped to it.

Batteries

The world is quickly being taken over by electronics, which will inevitably lead to PETA-approved, ethical cyber-zoos that will lead to robo-kid surrogates because no parent will want their child on the streets with the ever-present threat of escaped ape-bots. What do these life forms run on? Nope, not vinegar, and not even blood, but BATTERIES. Buy as many as you can now, because in 10 years they'll be worth more than go-karts. Plus, if there's a nuclear war I'm pretty sure batteries will become a form of currency along with old trophies and decent pens.

Shares in laser company

I'm not even joking about this. Look at the facts - tattoos are more popular than ever right now. What people don't seem to realize is that tattoos last forever, but most relationships and bands you think are cool, don't. I bet that in 10-20 years, the tattoo removal business will be so big that even Steve Jobs will get in on the action with a laser that can not only change colour, but also automatically download the latest Feist track to play while your skin gets burned off.

$31-$73

Beach Pillow
(image not available)

I've spent years developing my only invention, THE BEACH PILLOW that will make going to the beach a pleasant experience for once. I can't say too much because I haven't secured the patents yet and that no-good idea thief Weasel Lemky was spotted recently at the beach with a feather pillow glued to an umbrella, so I gotta watch out. When this thing is finally released, the demand will be so high that it will probably cost around $700, but if you pre-order this Christmas I'll give you a voucher for ONE beach pillow that will only cost you $50 and I'll throw in an autographed 8x10.

Earmuff

A lot of dudes dig ears. A lot of dudes dig girls. A lot of dudes dig sex with girls. Add that up and you have the ultimate male fantasy - the earmuff. For just $45.99, you get two pairs of earmuffs, a full-bottomed panty for the office and a g-string (pictured above) for the nights when you force your woman to wear something sexy for once.

$74 - priceless

Cat Chauffeur

I know, I know, you can get a cat chauffeur for way less than $74 nowadays, but most of them don't know how to work the horn and they rarely change radio stations, even during commercials. Today's premium cat chauffeurs know how to smoke and read magazines while waiting for you to finish dinner at the restaurant, and some of them can even say the word "hi". Buy now and receive a free chauffeur's hat, an adorable little Bluetooth earpiece and a 2 month subscription to Sirius/XM satellite radio.

Human child

Pregnancy is absolutely gross. Your favourite chick gets fat and starts whining all the time and then all this shit comes out along with slimy baby who won't shut up. When you want a new TV, you don't pull one out of your wife's privates, you go to the store, so why not do the same with a kid? I don't really know where you can get a kid for a decent price but if I were you I'd just ask around because most parents are looking to get rid of one or two around this time of year as the price of toys is utterly ridiculous these days.

LAND LINES AREN'T BLAND, GUYS

2010-11-30T21:00:00.003-05:00

The Christmas countdown has officially started at my house! The cats have been released, the hog is in the kiln and due to a strategically placed piece of holly, I'll have the pleasure of kissin' my mailman for 30 straight days.

Before I delve into telling you stuff that doesn't matter to Third World countries, I want to plug some things that may matter to Third World countries depending on their likes and dislikes.

Last Friday I attended my buddy Egan's comic book launch party. Go over here and do what you do on websites. You know, click around, discover some links, read some material, and hell, if you like what you read you can even bookmark the damn thing! I've worked with Egan for five years and have followed the progress of this piece of "lart" the whole time, so I'm very happy for him and the process has inspired me to write my own graphic novel about the fascinating and oft times vile world of windsurfing. As a nod to the man who inspired me, the comic will be called "Egan Steven" because the main guy Egan always wants to get even with this other windsurfer named Steven who keeps getting all the waves....and the girls.

Four great bands played the launch party and I'd like to highlight one of them, BLOOD CEREMONY, whose guitar Sean player I also work with. God must've liked my musk when he was handin' out co-workers, eh? I can't say enough good things about the man himself and the band he controls. Seriously, go see and/or buy all their stuff before music becomes illegal.

STOCK TIPS

I came across this press release yesterday and at first it just seemed like a run-of-the-mill quarterly report, until this part jumped out at me: "The Company is very fortunate to have three new and highly experienced directors join our Board - Lord Howard of Lympne, Robert (Bob) Wigley and Beer Van Straten." INVEST, INVEST!!! I would trust this board with all my money as well as my body. Here's how I picture them:

LORD HOWARD OF LYMPNE

Cunning. Chivalrous. Rich. Good cook. No man in the realm can make claim to these traits but one Lord Howard. Pictured is the good lady Gina meeting his Lordship in the lobby of HQ. They were off to the Keg.

Robert (Bob) Wigley

The inscrutable Robert (Bob) Wigley, is a former spy for the Team of Terror Dudes, an evil organization hellbent on producing the world's scariest buildings. He agreed to switch sides when Lord Howard held a blade to his throat during the takeover of Bosworth Energy Ltd. So long as he continues to use his powers for good, the world shall remain safe and company shall remain profitable and LEED certified.

Beer Van Straten

And here's the glue the holds the whole raft together, the man they call "Beer". Here he is during one of the company's famous impromptu drum circles. Right after this shot was taken, the drum exploded and doves flew out. Wigley was spotted with his orb behind a nearby fern.

THE RIGHT OF WEY

2010-11-24T13:20:00.006-05:00

If you're having trouble insulting people these days because you feel that most common insults are passe, try my new insult generator. This was inspired by two things, the first being one of my favourite books of all time, Beavis and Butthead's "This Book Sucks", which included a delightful band name generator game. The second is my own feature "Graffiti of the Future" where I introduced the world to new slang terms that you should expect to see by the time cars run on human waste. All you have to do is pick one italic from each category, starting with A) and you have yourself an original burn to try out at this year's Christmas party that's bound to turn smiles into puke.

A) Hey you...

Tube
Dip
Bit
Coat
Map
Leek
Screw
Fork
Smoke
Trunk
Smear
Note
Tape
Dana
Wheel

B) Why don't you...

Snip
Sniff
Cheer
Trap
Dock
Churn
Sweat
Nip
Pinch
Mock
Chuck
Snare
Mop
Write
Smoke
Split
Sip
Dip
Smear
Blog

C) a...

Girl
Swear
Plate
Tub
Clot
Weed
Boot
Oak
Book
Leak
Church
Nude
Nap
Pud
Tree
Rod
Chunk
Knob

You can interchange sections A) and C) and even some from B). Like I have no problem calling a guy a Trap if he's acting like a real Dock, you know? I included "Smear" in two categories because it's my word of the year. If you're big date is coming up, I'd recommend breaking it out, because 2010 is dwindling down FAST and most girls are looking to lock up an engagement before their parents pester them during the holidays. So if your waiter is being a smear, let him have it, don't hold back.

CAR 54, WHERE ARE YOU AND HOW ARE YOU?

2010-11-23T14:27:00.001-05:00

Last weekend me and my female property hosted our first ever adult-style dinner party. Can you blame me? Look at the facts - I'm 28, I enjoy cooking, I know how to chew, I like friends and I currently rent my very own apartment. With those kinds of ingredients we were due to fry up a cooking party of epic pie-portions. I didn't make the pie. One of my guests did. It was delicious and covered in caramel sauce, a sauce I've grown to appreciate as I approach death.

I don't have any pictures to prove any of this, but here's a dramatic re-enactment, all the way from preliminary cooking to after dinner conversation:

So yeah, overall everything went smooth!

I saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One last night at the gorgeous AMC Yonge Dundas theatre here in Toronto. Despite the fact that most of the movie is like this...

Harry - I don't know what to do next!
Hermione - Let's run around some more
Harry - Oh look, I found an artifact in another forest
Hermione - And I think I've solved another mystery
Ron - You git!

...I enjoyed it because I love adventures more than I love money, but not as much as I love peaches. You think I could get an Internet date with a profile like that? I'd be bad at Internet dating. As long as a girl says she enjoys Swiss Chalet on Sundays, I'm all over her.

PERSONAL UPDATES SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO TALK TO ME

I think I'm back into Coca-Cola again. It's hard for a guy to ignore the universe's most popular drink and 2nd most popular brand next to God. For awhile there I cut caffeine out of my life like it were an obsolete hobby because I thought it would improve my overall well-being, which I guess it did. But I just couldn't stay away from that sweet crisp taste and I felt so damn left out. Coke goes with any food except breakfast but it's not illegal like beer is.

And I'm finally into podcasts! Years ago, when my butt wasn't a problem and I was experimenting with beards, I kept hearing about these things and they sounded so cool, like a euphemism for C-3Po's dick. Then I found out that they're just people chattin' in mp3 format, shattering my expectations and leading me to ignore them for several years. And as someone who can't sit still, rides a bike, can't write while people are talking and doesn't work out, I couldn't figure out when I'd be able to devote an hour here and there to just sitting and listening. Who do you think I am, Tony Dow?

Then some buddies started one and my friends started talking about various "poddies" and since none of us watch the Simpsons anymore, I needed to start listening in order to be able to talk to them about things. And so here I am. Podcast listener, teeth glistener, name not Christopher, merry Christmas.

WE HAVE A DECENT UNIVERSE

2010-11-17T12:10:00.002-05:00

Here we go guys, another day of ruling the world as humans. What will you do today to assert your dominance? I've already chased three pigeons and ate Captain Crunch cereal. The only food a rooster ever invents is its own shit. When we make up new cereals we're basically playing God, so we really shouldn't get too upset about stem cell research and abortion. If you're going to protest all that you might as well protest gummi bears as well.

"If you have to do research it means you don't know anything"
- Glenn

Last night I "worked" with LIFE OF A CRAPHEAD again. I put "work" in quotations because it makes it look like the word has wings. Fly like an eagle, to the sea. Fly like an eagle, let my mommy carry me. We did a show with these's and I got to meet Dan Deacon, who was very funny along with the cast, many of whom looked like people I know from Canada, our home, a big land. What a crazy world! In the show I played a half Medusa, half man in bathrobe whose house was on fire, and if the pictures ever reach the public domain I'll put them up so you can complete your sticker books.

Half my face looked like her 100% face

"Treat your feet like you treat your own mother"
- Glenn

I haven't talked about my stomach in awhile. Rest easy party dudes, lately I've been drinking beer no problem. At this time last year I couldn't drink that sweet shit unless I was armed with a bottle of Pepto, a stomach full of potatoes, and no worries, because unfortunately, worries make us poo our pants and throw up sometimes. WEIRD. Anyway, I'm not totally cured, I still wake up every morning and burp like crazy. Some doctors would diagnose this as a case of being hilarious if you enjoy the sound of burps as much as I do. Others may call it Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Your choice!

"It's a damn shame Choclair never got big in the States"
- Glenn

And lets up heap praise toward Pat Thornton who raised over eleven thousand buckerdoos to comabt AIDS in Africa by doing stand-up for 24 hours straight. I was there for the first few hours and helped write jokes about popular topics like Luba Goy, marmalade, a six year old named Tristan, Rap Grimace and Kevin Sorbo. Here's Pat:

I've never even come close to raising that much money for anything. Once I won a prize when I was in Cubs for having the best basket at Apple Day, where you go door to door selling apples. I won because my basket said 'Thank You". Since then, I've wrote "Thank You" on everything I own, and even though I haven't won a prize for it since, I probably get more high fives per annum than most.

MONEY DOES GROW ON TREES, BUT IT'S THE ART THAT MAKES IT VALUABLE

2010-11-15T22:01:00.001-05:00

HOW TO RUIN MY DAY EVEN WITH ALMOST PIZZA

What I'd like to do now is tell you about Sunday, specifically yesterday's Sunday, the second of this month, which, say it with me, is called "November", the lowest rated month of the year according to Popular Cheese. Everything started off fine, as I woke up wart-free, ate some cereal, ran a comb through my beautiful hair and headed off to my ball hockey game with dreams of goals and butt pats.

I had a pretty good streak of feeling pretty good about everything up until this point. Maybe it was the rain that washed away my feelings of 'yeah dude', or maybe I was just due for a saddening. Even the happiest millionaires get pissed that their clothes aren't rare enough, you know?

Anyway, during my ball hockey game this girl on my team got into a bit of a spat with this man on the other team. I was on the floor at the point and asked him to simply apologize for what she claimed was a push on his part. He didn't seem to think that what he did constituted a push so he went about his business. Because "justice" is my favourite name, I took offense to this and aggressively slashed his plastic stick the next time we came together, which he really didn't like because this is apparently an illegal move. I felt no need to apologize after what he had just done to our girl, so we started arguing a bit. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I definitely ended it with "Well, at least I don't push girls", accentuated with a pushing motion on my part, which I was very pleased with. Huge burn.

But shortly after I was all like "oh man, that was embarrassing, I'm turning into the kind of butthole I call a 'buttman'." You see, I'm an advocate for not taking recreational, co-ed sports very seriously, so when I thought about it and realized I'd turned into the loud mouth serious taker that I despise, I got mad at myself, and I'm the only guy who can get mad at me. Except that guy who I slashed. I'm a sweetheart! This is quickly turning into a children's book - "I was upset but when I got home and saw my dog marbles I felt a lot better. Ma, Pa, and Aunt Bee Deeds were waiting with supper, which was cabbage and cracker soup." Anyway, I put the issue behind me and went home for a scheduled apartment cleaning.

Cleaning truly stinks. I can handle vacuuming because it's futuristic, but every other facet of cleaning goes against our natural human tendencies of throwing old bones everywhere. I thought to myself, "If I'm going to clean, I might as well eat pizza while doing it", just like every Italian house wife who ever put on an apron. It was the only thing keeping me going, like a chocolate bar dangled in front of a walrus during a company picnic at the zoo. So I get this sweet zit faced dough baby in the oven and go back to soppin' up grease. Then my oven broke! I kicked the oven so hard. Then our mop broke! So I made a sandwich. By the end of the day I was so cheefed that I was about ready to call my mommy. LIES. It didn't get that bad, but still, no pizza, fight with old man and a broken mop is enough to make this man turn into a Mr. Hyde who doesn't kill anyone but just pouts and watches the CFL.

MOD YOUR MOM

2010-11-09T22:21:00.001-05:00

I can sort of characterize the last five years of my life as a series of ruts. I'm not always in one, mind you. Sometimes I crawl out and go on vacation or enjoy a healthy string of partying, sunny weather, juicy foods and creative excellence. I think this how most people's lives go, which is something I failed to recognize until I became a man and started washing my own undies. Anyway, 2010 has been pretty cool for me, and I think I've sort started accepting the things that happen to, and around me. I guess you could say I'm in a rut now because I'm not too different from the bright eyed young man who began his independent life five years ago, but I've evolved to a point where I can be a productive dude whilst here.

I got a good rhythm going now

I wake up and cook breakfast and dinner simultaneously. Eat your heart out computers -- you're not the only noun around here that can multitask.

Today I over-spiced my stir-fry though, but not enough to not eat it. My wet tickler was on fire while reading a fantasy book whose characters suffer constantly, so I choked it all down, enduring what doctor's call "lava teeth" and thanked the Lord of Light that at least I wasn't covered in mud and surrounded by wolves and rapists. That George R.R. Martin likes two things - graphic sex and constant bummers. Quick. Imagine what the author of an epic fantasy series looks like.....got it? This is what you were picturing, right?

"My name is George Martin, and yeah, I wish dragons were real"

After my meals are prepared I hope on my little car on go to work. Nothing much has changed on that front, and I could probably write volumes of silly things, introducing you to a wacky cast of characters and ridiculous situations, but if HR caught wind of it I'd be canned faster than gran-gran's homestyle slop. I can safely disclose that I bought new pants.

Gap Khakis, the original pant. These babies are far more comfortable than the inexpensive ones I usually buy. A king would laugh at that because to him, Gap is the peasant's store. His pants cost three emeralds and a strong goat. I guess I should take this opportunity to take the new pants oath:

I swear to wear and and always care
Avoid grease and blood and blood drenched mud
Wash, dry, iron, repeat
I won't eat beats or bloody meats

When I get home I try to get some writing done, which is tough because once the working day is done, dudes just want to touch buns. Currently I'm working on a TV show about Heaven and I still find time to touch buns.

I'm realizing more and more that life isn't as complicated as you make it out to be. All you really need is family, friends, pizza and vacations, while turning your nose up at the dung that gets hucked your way. Or better yet, take that dung and grow some damn yams or something.

I COME IN PEACE AND IN VINTAGE DIOR

2010-11-02T19:41:00.002-04:00

Whoa dollies, we bought so much post-Halloween discount candy that my new name should be "The Honey Bear". The mainstream media always associates Santa Claus with toys, but don't forget, the guy fills stockings with candy as well. So you can call me Santa Claus too. ORRR...

The Pezident of the United Treats of Sugar
The TerMINTator
Kyle Reece's Pieces
The Crash Test Gummy
John Candy
Caramilk DioGuardelcious
And...

My favourite Aqua song just in time for Remembrance Day. The only difference is that this is only the beginning, not the end, for me, the sweet sugar candyman.

For all you history buffs, here are some bonus Halloween photos for your scrapbooks. Look at that jersey. PERFECT. I'm giving myself the chills just looking at and I'm not even cold because I'm wearing thick ass corduroy, which I think will be one of the first textiles to go extinct.

On Sunday I performed with LIFE OF A CRAPHEAD, and to thank me for doing it Jon brought me some meat last night. This isn't the first time I've received meat as a gift. One Christmas my dad got me a box of steaks and at first I was like "unconventional", which quickly turned into "great gift", because lets face it folks, meat is expensive and I'm not made of dimes. I cooked Jon's tenderloin to perfection and had some fried onions along with it that were absolutely drenched in butter. For desert I had candy. My snack today was candy. My desert and late night snack will be candy.

A LIVING ROOM WITH A MOUND

2010-11-01T21:29:00.001-04:00

My breath smells like chocolate, I keep finding rockets in me bum and I got pumpkins on my feet. This can only mean thing - it's the day after Halloween, which I believe is called Mother's Day in India. You know who told me that? The Headless Oarsman who sculls up and down the Credit River every Devil's Night and just cleans things up as best he can. This year he found a rusty old shopping cart that he's going to turn into a mobile for a children's hospital. We had a great chat over some local, organic fruit.

I spent my Saturday night at Comedy Bar, which was transformed into Comedy Bar with spider webs for the big party. I was really happy with my costume and made it to the top 3 in the night's costume contest, but much like my Fuji Hakayito from a few years back, I felt I didn't get enough respect. Is this dumb of me to be so full of myself? No. I was real from head to toe. The only thing I didn't do was give myself the signature Ricky Vaughn hairdo, mostly because I was wearing a hat the whole time. Plus I didn't feel like looking like an idiot for as long as it would take for my hair to grow back. I was absolutely fine with losing to the always creative Hepburn sisters who for sure had the best 'stumes of the eve:

An Asshole and Dark Helmet, all homemade. If Halloween were the show Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, Guy Fieri would call these costumes "money".

Here's Liv as old lady from "Grey Gardens", or as the old man dressed as Bruno at the party kept calling her, "Muslim Lady". Surprisingly there was another woman in the same costume and the two became best friends forever.

Lacey, as Queen Elizabeth II

Sarah in an excellent Uhura, and Andy as a Future Shop Employee showing off the iPhone 3GS

Bar owner Popeye cleans up some barf or something while a pig dressed as a human law enforcement officer makes sure no one steals the mop. No one stole the mop.

Scott on the right encounters Bizzaro Superman. But wait! He's smoking so they're both shitheads.

Scott and Vinnie G with some very non-heinous Bill and Ted outfits. A very impressive midriff considering how much beer that guy drinks.

And finally, here's professional pal Nikki who I didn't party with but deserves worldwide accolades for Wayne/Garth.

I'd also like to give a huge shout out to Charleston Chews minis that I sampled at the Laugh Sabbath Halloween show on Sunday. I've been a huge Charleston fan my whole life, but eating one takes 2 hours and really does a number on the teeth. All these problems are solved with these bite-sized bits! Pick some up next time Halloween stops by for brunch.

MICHAEL JACKSON'S "IT'S A THRILLER"

2010-10-29T13:02:00.001-04:00

Last year I wouldn't shut up about Halloween, and this year I haven't even whispered about it. WELL IT'S TIME TO YELL HALLOWEEN AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS UNTIL THE HALLOWEEN MUMMY AWAKES FROM HIS TOMB AND BEGIN PREPARATIONS FOR THE MONSTER PARTY. HE NEEDS TO GET HIS GHOST COOKIES IN THE OVEN BEFORE THE GUESTS ARRIVE. THIS YEAR HE'S GOING AS A FIRE FIGHTER.

It worked! The mummy hath awoken

His cousin Cory had been tending the sarcophagus while he was asleep. This picture was taken right after Halloween Mummy woke up, and wouldn't you know it? Loyal Cory is ready with the Mummy's Coke, ice cold and in a branded cup, just the way he likes it. Do you have anything to say this year Mummy?

I wish you nothing but the spookiest this year, blobs and gulls! Bring two costumes while trick or treating so you can back to the houses that give out full sized chocolate bars. And if you're going to murder someone, Halloween is the funniest day to do it.

Sorry for that last piece of advice. I forgot this guy is a real deal mummy. I once saw him eat a dog. He filmed it to prove his loyalty to all the cats he knows. You think the musical "Cats" was huge in Egypt? In Egypt it was just called "GODS". I bet the guy who had to introduce the cast during special appearances got tired of it real fast.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...THE CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST OF CATS
CAST CATS
CAST CATS
CAST CATS
CATS CAST
CATS CATS

I was a cat once for Halloween. These supposed "cool men" kind of made fun of me I think, even thought I had the funniest 'stume there. That's not entirely true, there were a lot of good ones. The guys were probably scared the cat was going to make off with all the cheese (hot butts (babes (girls at party))). What creature will I morph into this season?

Our boy Chuck Sheen as Ricky "Wild Thing" Vaughn of the Major League franchise. The real Charlie is more wild than the fake Ricky these days, what with the drugs, hookers, nudity and wardrobe from the sitcom he's in. My woman is tingling with anticipation because of her fondness for this full man from Two and a Half Men. She doesn't watch that show. She likes the Charlie Sheen of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Pfffft.

Speaking of sports movies starring young hunks who sex scandals, I finally saw YOUNGBLOOD last night. It was waaaay better than I thought it would be, although the story suffered from a lack of anything. The hockey stuff was great though, and thumbs out to a steamy sex scene.

I think I meant to say "Thumbs Up" up there, but I like thumbs out too. It's a hitchhiker reference. In this case the term means, "Sure, I'd pick that up".

SKIP THE LINE AND HEAD STRAIGHT INTO SLOP

2010-10-26T10:44:00.017-04:00

Hello world and welcome to Rob Ford's Toronto:

Okay okay, that's not really fair, but ever since our city elected this guy last night, the hamburger jokes have been frying up fast and tasty. I say not fair because everybody was on this guy's giant ass for not liking immigrants and homosexuals, yet we burn him every chance we get just because he's a husky man, and that's not fair to the other huskies in the world who love Chinese people and who get a real kick out of Glee. Do we burn him because he burns others? Let's keep burning him.

I don't totally hate the guy. At least he's cheap like me and dislikes unions, what with their high wages and exclusive members-only shoes. But he also dislikes bikes and the arts, which I associate with on a daily basis. Luckily, neither of these things can be stopped unless skateboards get less dangerous and sports become more beautiful. Back in July I compared him to a puppet of a supervillian. If I was right, Ford will be dead in a couple of days and the Joker will emerge as our real mayor. So the real question is -- who would make a better mayor -- The Joker, or The Rob Ford?

ANSWER ME LORD!

LORD - Yeah, hello
Me - Joker or Ford?
LORD - On the football pitch? Joker.
Me - For mayor of Toronto
LORD - Ford you idiot, the Joker is a maniac
Me - What about Mel Lastman, he was kind of a maniac.
LORD - Shhhhhhhh
Me - What?
LORD - Shhhhhhhh
Me - I hate your riddles.

Yesterday I voted for a new mayor and this morning I voted for abolishing omelettes from my life. The results? 1-0 in favour of no more omelettes. I also got huge support for my recent bill decreeing new slippers. The funds were allotted and I'm now 13% more comfortable than last quarter.

I hate omelettes and yet I keep making them because I enjoy the process of making them and because Bobby Flay said you can tell someone's a good chef by how they make their omelette. I gotta be ready in case I ever run into that guy. Anyway, they never taste like anything good no matter how much butter I use or what I put in them. Today I tried to make a classic French-style omelette with mushrooms, onions, brie and thyme. It tasted like shit! I don't even really like mushrooms that much. I like them mixed with other stuff, but on their own they're garbage. In that sense I like my mushrooms like I like me at parties where the 'other stuff' is other people. That wasn't even worth mentioning.

So I think that's it. No more omelettes. If you spend the night at my house because your house exploded the day before due to a domestic dispute or lab accident, or you come by for a morning analysis of the previous night's late night programming, I'll make you one by request, but I'll be eating Mini-Wheats.

IS YOUR DINNER BRAVE?

2010-10-21T13:00:00.005-04:00

My chicky-bear is sick today, which means I could be headed for Sniffles County on the Cough Express some time in the next couple days, unless Sheriff Immune L. System rounds up the Virus Gang and send them to the local jail. Don't let this news stop you from trying out our new secret handshake the next time I see you.

You know what would be a perfect time to try out the new handshake, besides at my annual Boxing Day Nog-Off? Your town's next Handshake Rodeo OR GONG THE SHOW, this Friday at Comedy Bar.

Seriously, this show is really fun for everyone, even your most boring friends who always say they're going to come but never do. Lure them in with the promise of figs and spices. Once they catch a whiff of what our Rocks are Cooking, they'll be hooked and forget that Comedy Bar doesn't sell figs and spices, but nachos, burgers and a great mac and cheese. You can wash all that down with one of their fresh beers, guaranteed cold and fizzy.

What do you have to lose except $5 and a Friday night? Haven't you heard? No one goes out dancing anymore because dancing can make you sweat and doctors are now saying that sweat is as important as blood, which makes sense! There's a new kind of vampire lurking outside the nation's most humid locker rooms and trendiest hot yoga spots. Physical activity and tough exams are now as harmful as smoking. The only thing you can do to survive nowadays is eat lots of vegatables. The rabbits have known this for years. Have you felt their fur? Excellent fur, tasty meet, nice teeth.

And don't bother going outside and walking around because it's so boring out there. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of fall beauty already. At first I was quite taken with its colours and crispness, but now I'm starting to remember that my slender frame can't handle the coming chill. I gotta wear gloves just to feel how cold it is, but I can't tell because of the gloves. Fall is simply a waiting room full of magazines with very nice covers. When you start reading the magazines you realize you don't care about Wired's Social Media Innovator under 40 for the new Millennium 2.0 and next thing you know you're in the dentist's chair getting drilled and filled. The dentist is winter. I like my dentist though, I'm a lucky man.

You ever have those stretches of time where you take really good care of yourself? I'm currently in one and feelin' smooth. I've been flossing more, shaving with a razor and cleaning up after myself. Those who are like this all time are OCD, right? When I shave real close I feel like a youth again. People tell me I still look young but I don't believe it because I have the hair of a middle-aged man. I guess that's my residual self image at work. Imagine I had a full head? I'd probably be completing a successful run as a teenage heartthrob on Degrassi with six Geminis in my rucksack to boot.

This hasn't been a very successful blog post probably because it relied heavily on elaborating on reasons why you should come to our show tomorrow. Here's a Fishbone video:

This song was once on a Beavis and Butthead and it has been in my head and on my various walkmen ever since.

DIGGING THIS NEW CORN ALBUM

2010-10-18T18:45:00.000-04:00

To all those who were waiting on the edge of their seat all week to find out whether or not I cleaned oil residue off the top of a cabinet in my kitchen -- I did! I used the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, which is basically a nice, heavy piece of foam. So it wasn't magic, it was foam. But I gotta say guys, it was very satisfying to clean something that I could've got away with never cleaning. I had this incredibly sadistic image in my head of us moving out and the next tenants coming in, checking the top of the cabinet to see if we left any gold up there and cursing us for never cleaning it. I'm not that kind of guy though, I'm a liker, not a lover and not a fighter, but a nicer. At the end of the day I'm just a man who is willing to clean up his mess so others don't have to unless I don't like the other or the mess is poo.

The real question is: how do I prevent this from grease slick from happening again? I don't want to clean grease like that again because it had all my most hated feels - sticky and oily. And no, doctor, I'm not going to stop cooking with oil and frying bacon because I like the sound of sizzles and milk just doesn't do it for me. Actually, I love milk. I don't drink enough of that stuff. Ever since they stopped running those ads that framed milk as a magic elixir that turns frumps into babes and dumps into hunks I haven't really felt the urge. But damn, that stuff is the most refreshing white drink around so long as it's cold and not old.

I hope that by watching that you're enjoying this new paragraph with a cool glass of beef milk. The topic of this baby is Jackass 3D, a new movie that I saw on Saturday. What a nice little time at the theatre! The immortal words of Timothy Leary really help to describe the experience - "Turn on, tune in, drop out". First, the movie is turned on, then you tune in on all the funny stupid things then drop out of your seat laughing at farts, dicks, injuries, poo and barf.

And how about MAD MEN??? See, I'm no philistine. I love poo movies AND critically acclaimed television from a guy named Weiner. If Mel Gibson ever does a one man show or a Joaquin Phoenix style faux documentary or even some sort of an album, it should be called "CRITICALLY ASHAMED". Anyway, MAD MEN? How about the stunning Jessica Pare? I was in the Montreal Fringe Festival in 2003 or something, where she co-hosted the awards ceremony and having already seen her breasts several times and being a fan of her face, my heart went boi-oi-oing. I thought that when she ended up in Hot Tub Time Machine as "naked tits in hot tub", her career was shot, and now she's Don Draper's wife, which is one of the top female fantasies going today. Others include:

- Being Oprah's Gayle
- More singing in sports
- Being Kate Winslet
- Sexts from Brett Favre
- Purse tester

Am I right, ladies?

I know more about women than Jonah Hill knows about the Burger King menu.

I know so much about women, that when I go on a date I can go to the bathroom for 15 minutes and not even care.

I make Hugh Hefner look like a regular Hugh.

DABBLE IN APPLES

2010-10-11T18:49:00.001-04:00

I'm definitely thankful for the butt-load of of everything in my life that isn't shitty, which, thankfully, is most of it. I have the best family and friends and even my enemies are stylish and know how to party, so really I should be spending this Thanksgiving weekend throwing up leaves and singing Lightfoot tunes to the homeless. Since I do things my own way with a touch of traditionalism, I instead celebrated by eating a bunch of birds, watching a dude-certified amount of sports, and cavorting with aforementioned family and friends.

Today being the last day of the "nice holiday", I've been trying to get things done around here. Not all things, I mean the toilet could use a scrub and there are hats everywhere, but still. In the process of completin' shit, some minor frustrations have arisen, and since I'm thankful for everything I thought I'd highlight some stuff I'm not thankful for just to make you realize that I'm no angel.

"Hi there...mmmmmm...welcome to the new world"

1. That shitty oil residue - When you like frying stuff in oil like me and Paula Deen and you don't have a hood above your range like me and Chuck D, you end up with all this sticky greasy stuff all over your damn kitchen. Today I was looking for mouse turds when I noticed a particularly gross patch above our cabinets where we keep an assortment of decorations to keep me inspired while I make spaghetti. Now my Gizmo doll, Pee Wee Doll, Masters of the Universe Lunchbox, oversized dragon stein and Lord of the Rings pewter Ent goblet are covered in this shit, and I'm all like "is there a product out there that will gently clean these possessions? Will I clean them before I leave this apartment? I'm going to mad if I move and I take that stuff down and remember that I forgot".

UPDATE

I wrote that earlier. I took all that stuff down and when I was trying to wash the Gizmo doll his head fell off and now all of a sudden my day has gone Toy Story and I can't get Randy Newman out of my head.

You know why the body likes gravy so much? Because it's basically already poo.

I got distracted by that thought. The not thankful for list will be discontinued, and I'm not sad about toys anymore.

STUFFED SACKS

2010-10-07T12:51:00.002-04:00

I don't think I'm scared of ghosts anymore! I watched a show on the Amityville Horror the other day and when it started I was like "oh shit, no looking in mirrors for me tonight" but by the end of it I was like "if I need to check my butt out, no big deal". If the show hadn't explained why the whole Amityville thing is bullshit, I probably wouldn't be so brave right now. The only really scary part was when they said these psychics were investigating the house and they set up a camera to take pictures automatically and one picture was this one, with scary ghost boy:

And the psychics who were there were like "there were no boys in the house!". But then I read that this picture surfaced two years after the pictures were taken so obviously someone just threw their son in there because you know, "gho$ts".

Here's the thing about aliens and ghosts: why do ghosts only show up indoors and at night? What do they care? If they were real they'd be haunting 24-7. Remember this video I made?

Point proven. And aliens? Same deal! If they're so smart, you'd think they would've figured out day-time probings and spooks by now.

LIVING THE LIVE MY CAT ALWAYS WANTED

2010-10-05T10:47:00.007-04:00

THANK YOUR GOD OR YOUR MOTHER THAT YOU'RE HUMAN TODAY

Hi Toronto, it's me again, and yeah, it's raining, it's cold, summer 2011 is as far away as it's going to get, but hey, we're human! Raise one of our innovative, non-natural beverages, and lets celebrate!

Chances are you haven't won the lottery. Even if you have, you probably just have a garage full of jet skis, a bunch of friends you don't want and a few cases of Teddy Grahams. Stop for a second and think like human leader Socrates -- you've already won the lottery -- you're a human!

There are millions of species here on Earth and only one is smart. Us. You could've been a worm or worse yet, a delicious mountain goat. You're privy to things, thoughts and stuff that ALL other animals around here can't even begin to comprehend. Next time you're bored just look at windows for goodness sake! They're a see-through, semi insulating, noise reducing forcefield and even our dumbest and poorest get to enjoy them whenever they want. The closest thing animals have to a simple window is the ocean, and we own that too. We don't even care that we can't breath in the water, we just have as much fun as we can in and around it. The water's beaches also gives our most attractive citizens the chance to show off the most ultimate bodies on the planet. Sharks, eagles, bears and gorillas have pretty smokin' bods, but to the point where only our weirdest and most perverted would take one over a homo sapien.

Don't be glum. Be smart like the human you are. Invent a new meal or build a fort. We build forts for shits and giggles, not for survival. Think you're tough wolves? Nice house.

BRIEFS IN SHORT

2010-10-04T22:45:00.002-04:00

Over the past week I've seen some of the most heartwarming, and at times, heartbreaking television. Watch out books, Marshall McLuhan was right -- "TV rules". Did you guys watch Battle of the Blades last night? So many stories! Such good moves. Great show. I like how the show is like Dancing with the Stars and American Idol etc. but instead of glitz and glamour, Battle of the Blades is hosted by an old man and a little bald guy. Actually, most Canadian television personalities are some combination of old/little/bald.

Then there was this thing on Project Runway where this little guy told the world that he's HIV positive, and then his outfit won the challenge and the whole world was just hugging each other. He inspired me to share my secret, which is that I hate toads. Just kidding, I don't have any secrets and I don't mind toads, except those big ones that take your money if you don't solve their riddles.

Yesterday I went apple pickin'. There's nothing heartbreaking about that, unless you're a freak who thinks apples are living things too, and shouldn't be eaten. I guess those people don't actually exist because they wouldn't be able to eat anything except like, Tang. Before pickin' we went on a hike at Rattlesnake Point, famous for once being the backdrop to an episode of "My Secret Identity". In the episode Jerry O'Connell had to stop a wood nymph from turning the forest into a real deal gremlin patch. Anyway, the hike turned into a full-on cross-country bushwhack headed by my friend's dad, who is in his sixties but still climbs mountains and skis like a damn ice croc.

Once of several hills we all almost fell down

We had to climb this fuckin' face

So now I have way too many apples and a bunch of cider. If you come over I'll provide you an apple feast. I've already fed three weary travelers and here's their review:

"My favourite part was the apples"

"Pretty good, but way too much ham in the apple gumbo"

"Cool bathroom at that place"

WINDOW WIDOWS

2010-09-29T14:07:00.018-04:00

You guys know me, right? I'm the most reliable friend you have. I'm on time for everything and if I tell you I'm going to lend you a movie I bring it the next day, and even recommend which bonus features to check out. This makes me a valuable member of any social sphere and very well should give me a leg up on today's job market, although my ratio of one job interview a year will tell you otherwise. Sounds like I live a life free of wishing a genie will come out of my Gatorade, right?

Too bad, not true. Being a guy like me means being a guy who sweats the little things because being reliable means you like having your life in perfect order and can't comprehend when others aren't as good as you. When someone throws this order off, it throws your day off, which throws your week off, which may or may not throw you month off. It depends how many buffets you manage to hit.

I think I've touched on this before, but when you're 500 posts deep, it gets tough not to repeat the same things, especially when your life hasn't had much variation, so bear with me and you'll be rewarded at the end.

Take this last month for example. Remember how I rent this little office unit with three other friends so we have a place to write and bring girls to? Recently there was a changing of the guard, with two members leaving and two news coming in. Unfortunately, the two outgoings both lost their keys to the place somehow, and since I inherited the title "Head Office Man", it was my job to get new keys.

The keys aren't the kind you can copy so I had to contact the property manager who kind of looks like an extra Almost Famous. He's a pretty nice guy, but from the first time I talked to him I knew that our reliability quotients were way off. He never answers his phone and rarely calls you back, so for the last couple of weeks I've been leaving him messages while assuring my new office mates that I'm the key to the keys. I was reaching a boiling point, which for me means smiling less, but still, I was miffed big time.

Yesterday the guy finally got the keys and I giant cloud lifted in my head. I think people like me almost welcome these little issues that we care way too much about because the sense of euphoria felt when all is said and done feels so good.

That story wasn't very interesting, but such is the life of a guy who doesn't do extreme sports. Oh! A mouse ate our last bagel the other day! I'm currently trying to kill it.

Here's your treat:

WHY CAN'T BABIES JUST EAT WHAT DOGS DO?

2010-09-27T14:50:00.013-04:00

Film Review

CATFISH

Like most people, I went into much hyped buzz machine Catfish thinking I was about to see Blair With Project meets the Matrix meets Jaws. Instead, I saw what felt like an after school special from the year 1999 about people on the Internet not being who they say they are.

The film's marketing campaign instructs you to make sure NOT to find out what this movie is about before you see it. This is wrong information. The only reason they did this was to trick teens and me into seeing it. And like, what the hell? How can they get away with this? It's like telling people "buy my book, but don't find out what it's about. Trust me, it's sick." and then you buy it and it's just a bunch of stories about a red wagon that gets passed down through generations, told through the eyes of the wagon itself and then in the end the wagon is a metaphor.

I would've liked it much more had I known what it was about because my expectations would have been met. When I was a kid I was happy if a movie had adventure or Paul Hogan. Nowadays, I like a movie if it meets or exceeds expectations and hate it if it doesn't, no matter how many nipples are in it. Admittedly, it isn't fair to hate a film if it's totally my fault for imagining it to be something it's not, but I have a wild imagination and I know what I want in life (all you can eat fries, movies with wizards). That's why Catfish is such a dickhead!

If you're like me and want to see a movie about magic and thrills, then Catfish is not for you. If you're a sap who has never watched Dateline and doesn't know that most of the stuff on the Internet is fake and find pretty boy romantic types pretty, then go see Catfish. And there is no actual catfish in the movie. This guy just mentions them at the end in some analogy. It would be kind of a nice part if not for the fact that I expected the "catfish" in Catfish to be a codeword to a treasure barge, sort of like the movie Swordfish but with a treasure barge, or like the main guy is murdered and his body is found in a catfish pond and it seems like the catfish know something.

In conclusion, I can't wait for Jackass 3D.

A NEW GENERATION OF BANDANA WEARERS

2010-09-24T13:40:00.002-04:00

I'm still pretty hungover from the 500th Post VIP event held last night at PUD Loungé. We even ordered one of those champagne dogs, trained to sniff out cologne and perfume and bring you the trendiest drinks in a little purse around its neck. Ours was named 'Arthur' I believe.

Now that I'm 500 posts deep, it's time to start campaigning content for the one thou synth post spectacular, this being my first attempt.

Recently, I was riding the subway, and across from sat this gaggle of eastern Europeans who were all dressed in the same colour palette of tans, greys, khakis and light blues. I tried to take a video to show the world, this being the Internet age after all, but I don't think you can truly appreciate the symmetry unless you were there:

They were dressed the way aliens would if they came to Earth and took human forms. It was like they were kind of stylish, but there was just something slightly off, and the fact that they all matched even though they were wearing unique pieces made me sweat. I should've given them the alien test as invented by my friend Jon -- just offer them a banana, and if they say they're allergic then they're aliens. Since humans are evolved from monkeys and monkeys' favourite food is bananas, then naturally all humans are receptive to those yellow mushers.

I don't claim to be a fashion expert or anything, but I've watched my fair share of Fashion Television, mostly thanks to my dad who tuned in because it was the only place you could see naked chicks for free on a Sunday afternoon. It was a great learning tool for a young man, as I was able to appreciate the body of a mature woman while learning about Tom Ford. That guy hasn't aged a day since I was a boy!

It was with this keen fashion eye that I spotted this image promoting a Vancouver Community College's fashion program on a newswire website the other day:

There's a lot to discuss here. I think you could sum it up by saying "Captain Jack Scarecrow". The outfit isn't horrible, but it's not flattering in any way and those net mittens make the model look like she (he?) is trapped in a cybernetic concentration camp. The shoes look as if they were stolen from the reject bin from the wardrobe department of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and there appears to be what looks like a tail hanging from the back? I've never seen a person wear a tail who I haven't wanted to pour a milkshake on.

The main issue with this image is the photo itself, which looks like the photo of a model from America's Next Top Model who gets kicked out in the very first episode. Here's what the judges had to say:

"Girl, why you cover that pretty face up with all that hair?"
"It looks like a still from a Michael Jackson video"
"This just ain't sexy, girl"
"You look like a ballerina from 'RENT'"

This is student work, so it's unfair to be hard on the designer, but of all the pictures to send out to the media, this was the best one?

CLARIFICATION

A lot of ladies were highly turned on by the photo gracing the cover of post 500, and wondered what was up. They were taken by a man named Farris in a European hostel some four years ago, with my Liv present, as a way for me to give back some beauty to Mother Earth, since she's given me so much (lakes). I fully understand someone questioning my sexuality after this information as well as this fashion-centric post, but I can assure you that even though I appreciate handsomeness and a good pair of slacks, my "compass" will always point "north" for "babes".