THE BASKETBALL IMP

Subtle weekend partying

The clock has struck "Friday" and the weekend has begun. Back in the old days that meant buying cake and wine and going out to find the biggest butts in the burg. Now I'm thirty-one and although I still know how to grease the streets when push comes to shove, I can't rely on my powers of old. This has forced me to come up with some alternative ways of partying when I have the time to actually do so (my old lady is always after me to wash the rice and clean up after the bugs). Here's a quick list of some subtle ways you can party this weekend without all the vomit and tight clothes.

This is the kind of hangover you'll get if you take my advice

Use conditioner BEFORE shampoo

It feels pretty weird at first but so does snorting gin out of a wooden spoon the first few times you try it. I don't know if it actually makes a difference with regard to the shininess and lustre of your hair but it will make you feel alive before the eggs start frying. Quick note: if you get fond of this move and incorporate it into your daily routine then end up in prison somehow, you might want to stop using it. In the joint, using conditioner before shampoo signals to the other inmates that you're a vegetarian and next thing you know you'll be on garden duty faster than the warden can say "fresh peas?". 

Drink coffee from a bowl

What is a mug? Simply a vessel, not unlike a tub, half of a globe, a hole in the ground or a simple bowl. Drinking your morning joey from a bowl will ignite a sense that you probably didn't even know you had - the sense of quaff, meaning to drink down or guzzle. Too often we rely on our sense of sip in the morning, stunting some of the lesser known senses and partying is all about inhibition and the embrace of all senses from the top of the hair to the end of the warts on the toes. 

Use a grocery bag filled with clothes as your pillow

If you've already followed the first two tips then you'll be straight knackered by the time Saturday night rolls around. Traditional partiers seek thrills well into the night so we must strive to do the same. Find a regular sized grocery bag and fill it with your most interesting clothes to make a custom pillow that will lull your head into a world of unfamiliarity that will naturally metastasize into a safe version of psychedelia (you'll get tired and toss and turn a lot).

Watch TV wearing headphones

For this move you'll have to find a way to plug a pair of headphones into the audio output of your television. It might prove to be a lot of work but it will be worth it and you'll feel as if you're IN the TV rather than simply hanging around it and eavesdropping on all of its conversations.

Download three new fonts

It doesn't take a hacker to install new fonts, and many don't realize that there are millions of free ones on the Internet to experiment with just as a junkie eats garbage in case something within packs a zing. I'm not talking about run-of-the-mill variations on the ones you've grown sick of, I'm talking about fonts based on some of your favourite logos from film, TV and the handwriting of Kings of old. When I started using the Bladerunner font on all my homemade birthday cards, I received in return some of the best thank yous and pats on the back that I've ever experienced and I once saved an entire town from snakes.

(T)RICK "SHOT" JENNINGS - WORST NICKNAME

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.

DON'T HAVE A FAVOURITE COLOUR? HOW ABOUT MEDIUM GREEN?

It's days like this that I feel like a big pile of hay -- hay being the most boring substance on Earth next to paper. It's hard to be the host of a website such as this when you feel like a pile of hay, because you readers are like sharks. Sharks don't eat hay because it tastes like hay, and like humans, sharks enjoy the pleasure derived from tasty things like meat and shrimp. Meat and shrimp are packed not only with nutrients and world class flavour nooks, but also hilarious jokes and pop culture critiques. I'm going to potentially make an ass out of you and me, and choose to believe that you understand what on God's Green Shirt I'm talking about.

The point of all that avoiding spelling out my mood, was to avoid stating the obvious which is:

I always start my day with a big mug of loose excrement

That fat cat Garfield was right about everything, from loving lasagna to hating dogs and Mondays. That guy hated Mondays and he didn't even work! Is that why people thought it was so funny, or was it because it was coming from a generally funny cat?

Anyway, it's real tough for the privileged to go to a job after a weekend packed with experiences that would get a "thumbs up" from most modern party champions. Not the kind of party champions who go to exclusive events and Internet-approved bars and clubs; the kind who need to be holding an open cell phone, a cigarette or a Internet-approved value beer or else see their cred be flushed down the cocaine-dusted toilet bowl. I don't go to those things because they never serve chicken wings and I can only handle so many female bangs before I throw up my arms and say "save us Vidal Sassoon!!"

On Friday me and the fellas put on the third edition of GONG THE SHOW and it was the best one yet. Here are some choice shots from disgruntled Raptors fan, Andrew Steenberg:

Law & Order alumnist Phil Burke gets some "face time" with host Brendan Halloran

Georgea and Sarah dressed as cats have a cat fight, which straddled the line between adult entertainment and funny adult entertainment.

I played a middle-aged man that happened to walk by the bar and became a judge, while Andy portrayed strung out businessman who didn't know what year it was.

Greg Cochrane amazes by playing something called a "Stringed Jolly"

Mark Andrada drinks 12 eggs with beer and spit, while cat lady Georgea and 3-time champ Jon Blair stand by to catch vomit.

I also played a rousing game of frisbee golf with DJ Wes Allen, and this guy from Connecticut we met on the course who loves the Legend of Zelda waaaaaay more than frisbee golf. He kind of reminded me of Gandhi from Clone High, but I say that about every American guy I meet.

On Sunday I went to the Queen West Art Crawl to check out Rachael and Julia's respective booths, while eating corn and pork before playing a three man tennis match. Beat that you socialites! I just love taking advantage of a mixed-use facility such as The Park. All your activities blend into a delicious smooth drink:

The art inspired my hunger, which led to the corn, which inspired my tum tum to eat a pork sandwich, which gave me fuel to play tennis, artful tennis, beautiful ground strokes inspired by the strokes of the art and artists I had just seen. Then I visited mom and dad!

My next post will be post #500, and will feature a collection of this site's top poo jokes over the years, as well as greetings from some of your favourite characters like fart king Dingbat Ploof and absentee father, Wade Boggs.

WHEN IS THE NEXT ADVANCEMENT IN SCREEN WINDOW TECHNOLOGY GOING TO COME AROUND?

What did I do on the weekend, Darryl?

Oh nothing much...

...just WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF REC LEAGUE, CO-ED SOFTBALL, PLAYED THE BEST TENNIS OF MY LIFE, WATCHED LIVE MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL, DOMINATED A BEACH AND ATTENDED A COMEDY NIGHT.

Today I went to work and did laundry. BUT WHILE DOING LAUNDRY I DRANK A BIG, COOL ICED TEA. There were a lot of little bugs in the laundromat though, which made my already itchy skin feel itchier thanks to my highly evolved human mind. Do dolphins get itchy? They must. If there's anything all us animals hate, it's bein' itchy. If the Worldwide Council of Earthen Life congregated, the first topic would be "itches" and then things would go to shit because the humans would complain about too many rats and the vipers would complain there aren't enough rats while the rats mutter to themselves in a heavy, New York accent, "we don't give a fuck, all we need is garbage and dirt pisan, pass another jug of free piss".

This week I'll be heading in for my last haircut of the summer. Once you start losing your hair, haircuts aren't about excitement and new looks. It's more like cutting your toenails or bathing your dirty old dog -- it's just something you gotta do or else people will think you're some sort of wolf man with a smelly pet. Sometimes in public I'll be wearing some home cut jean shorts and an old basketball jersey and I get scared people will think I'm a vagrant of some sort, which is of course preposterous, but so is cooking in a dark kitchen for a week because you don't feel like buying light bulbs. Anyway, when I feel like this I make an effort to highlight something that makes me look like a successful businessman, like I'll check my phone or take out my Mat & Nat wallet and flash it around a bit. The good thing about having a decent wallet is that you don't even need money in it to impress people. I learned that from a course I took called "RICH ON THE OUTSIDE", where I also found out that you should always have something shiny on, even if its just a piece of tin foil dangling from inside your nose.

VICEROY CONTENT

Okay, I'm having a damn mental breakdown right now guys, holy crow. It's Saturday, right? So like, I'm supposed be all relaxed and have all sorts of urban activities stored in my smartphone's scheduler app, you know? Well first off, I don't even have a smartphone, so like, what the hell? Second, I want to play tennis, the original extreme sport, but like, there's rain? This isn't London, England, it's Toronto, Upper Canada, the nation's sunniest hamlet! So I need my exercise but there's a Fresh Meat 2 marathon on MTV, which is a show about 20-something psychos wrestling and having sex for money, so, like, my brain is flip flopping like a stunt clown. Breakfast is over, so I don't have to worry about that, but lunch is on the horizon and I don't have anything thawed.


This has been an exagerated account of what has happened to me so far on Saturday, May 1, 2010. If I get kidnapped this afternoon, the police will be able to use the above in their investigation and I will allow it to be re-printed in all major newspapers and the hottest gossip sites on the web.

I HEREBY GIVE NOTICE THAT I LIKE WAFFLES BUT NEVER EAT THEM

The last couple of days happened to fall on the weekend, and on the weekend most of us don't work. With this freedom I ingested far too much brewed beer and golden whiskey, topped off with a Sunday night hot Italian sausage bought off the streets, meaning today my stomach feels like it doesn't want to be involved with my body any longer and is letting me know by being a fucker. So yeah, shit day so far on the health front. Let's see what else is happening, this April 19, 2010 AD.

The weather is sunny and sort of warm. From my office window I can see that the Gardiner Expressway is flowing smooth like a cream soda down the throat of a guy on death row who needed just one more sweet can of the good stuff before he's roasted. The Rogers Centre, or "Lonely Turtle" is in its closed position and crane operators across the city are telling each other jokes using Morse Code and simple Bic lighters.

I'm wearing my new shoes again in an effort to stretch them out some more and I remember that I don't like the taste of lamb.

I finish the bag of Life Brand sea salt and malt vinegar peanuts I've been working on for a week and a half, and despite an unfavourable initial reaction (they smelled like farts when I opened them) I would for sure buy another bag next time I'm looking to peanut.

After toasting the Internet at a party on Saturday, my friends and I decided that time travel movie sequels are the best sequels - T2, Back to the Future 2, Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey.


The last time I had a hot dog or sausage from the street was maybe 1.5 years ago and my body reacted in a similar fashion, which is why so much time had elapsed between chow downs. I don't want to give up these treats because I think they taste really good and I love all the toppings available, but at what price guys? The next time I get a craving and succumb I'll give you a full report, including toilet talk, and if the same thing happens I may have to give up these tubular delights, ending the Age of Hot Dogs in my personal time line.

RAN AWAY PARTYING

Because our last couple of summers here in Toad-ronto have been the meteorological equivalent of bull crap on toast with a side of dog shit and moose piss for dessert, I've learned not to take nice days for granted. Hence, last weekend I made full use of Earth's exterior and strung together a nice little few days.

The key to enjoying nice days is preparation. Thanks to the real life seers who predict the weather, myself and an entire city were hotly anticipating Friday, Saturday and Sunday, so I spent most of the week, mentally, physically and psychologically preparing for what was to come. I told everyone I knew that I'd be in the park all day Friday with a baseball mitt and a baseball ball. I also brought along a book, a notebook, sunscreen, an iPod and some beers that were bought the day before, because despite its name, "Good Friday" is bad for the Beer Store being open. Also knowing that the grocery store would be closed because Jesus HATED shopping on Fridays, I bought some sausages and some buns on Thursday knowing full well that someone's grill would be lit. I was right and we ate sausages.

I really patted my own rear for having the foresight to apply sunscreen, but I missed a few spots on my forehead and scalp, so now I have what looks like a birthmark on my head. I wore a hat to cover it up most of the weekend because to me, looks are the most important thing in the world next to money and tight pants on foxy chicks.

WHAT I LEARNED

I was talking about capes with a few friends and someone mentioned how capes and hats were originally worn to ward off the shit that was thrown out the window by our idiotic ancestors who couldn't figure out the science of toilets. I like to think that the reason superheros started wearing capes was when Superman first started fighting crime in Metropolis and people were weary of him so they threw their shit in his direction when he'd leap on by. I like to picture him at the library, reading Earth's books on early fashions and after several hours and several Earl Grey teas, he finally came across the cape, which he saw as the perfect shit thwarting accoutrement to his "just tights" costume.

My birthday is on Thursday, and already my most ardent supporters have been showering me with gifts. My brother and sister go me these shoes:
My dad made me a pen worthy of the president of a large corporation and my mom bomb got me some new threads and some European currency for my upcoming trip to the Italian continent.

I LOVE YOU MORE THAN MY DAD HIMSELF

THE PLAN FOR THE WEEKEND

Any weekend requires a delicate balance of party and errands, and this weekend is no different. If all goes to plan, the following is probably what will go down, unless I win Lotto Max, in which case it'll pretty much be the same but with more iPods.

Before I leave the house I have to feed my two mimmys, Tupac and Candy Doll. They're a cross between a kangeroo, a hamster and Adidas has something to do with it also, I forget.

I have to babysit my neighbour Tanya and her doll Patty Cakes and they love nothing more than going to the Pizza Tree at Bathurst and Lawrence:

Next, it's off to visit my personal shopper "Handsome" Howard "The Truth" LePage:

Last weekend, the grunge inspired outfit he put together bagged me six chicks and got me free fries at the club.

Then it's off to L.A., to impersonate Matthew Broderick at the Oscars one final time. There's a picture from last year's ceremony with me and Seth Rogen as Sarah Jessica Parker. This year I heard they're getting David Allen Grier, who is a real pleasure to work with and one of the best cooks I've ever met.

Have a good weekend troops and don't forget to tip your butlers.

I'VE NEVER MET YOU BUT I KNOW FOR SURE THAT YOU DIG HOLES WELL

Yesterday I was in a bad mood because the pressures of life squeezed the sunshine and baby cheeks out of my soul. I think it happens when everything I'm currently doing seems kind of stupid. I'm usually satisfied with at least one thing that I'm working on but some nights when the moon is full and the fridge is empty, I feel I have nothing to be excited about and I turn into a dick head werewolf that's more dick head than wolf. Fortunately it usually doesn't last that long and today I've regained some chi and can start thinking about how to maximize my weekend with an eloquent mix of partying, errands and reasonably priced meals.

Weekends certainly have changed over the course of growing up. When you're a kid the weekend is mostly about cartoons and no school. Friday nights were not even really part of the weekend and Sundays included church and homework so it was Saturday that was, and still is, the King of Days.

Instead of watching cartoons my kids program the software for an iPhone app that points you in the direction of the nearest Mortal Kombat machine.

When you're a teenager you begin to associate weekends with beers because you want to be an adult and because you still want to watch cartoons but don't want to admit it, so you drink beers thinking it'll cover that shit up and maybe if you're lucky you'll experience a hungover like in your favourite movie and skip cartoons altogether.

This poor guy did have sex but he was disappointed because it didn't feel as good as scoring a goal in the big soccer game and he was really looking forward to topping that.

Young adults use weekends to find mates and drink, this time using drinks to make it seem like mating isn't the first thing on everyone's mind, unless you're a Guido from the Shore, in which case you're so honest with your sexual motives that you reduce the opposite sex to mere "creatures".

Will you be our Jew?

When you get to my age the weekend means no work mostly with beers helping you to forget that Mondays always come back. This is unless Earth wins the space lottery and everyone gets six hundred Malrax dollars each, which, believe me, is more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life without Mondays. We'd probably resort to the calendar of GenManz 7, the party planet, where every day is Hot Dog Day.

I assume that when you have kids you basically just show them that cartoons are on in the morning and they do the rest.

If you think of it as a baby sandwich latching itself onto human man to drain man's life force, it takes on a new meaning.

COOL RANCH CHEERIOS

No hamburgers on the weekend, but I did revisit two films of my youth for the purposes of nostalgia, entertainment and education, because hey, if we're not learning we're just a pile of bones with natural bio-shirts.

The films in question were Gremlins 2: The New Batch and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, two sequels which I prefer over their more popular and better reviewed predecessors. The same can by said for Caddyshack 2, especially the scene when Dan Ackroyd makes Robert Stack that silly burrito. The only thing I noticed about these tremendous features is that they seem a lot shorter now than they did when I was a smooth chested youngster. I also noticed that the Gremlins don't really care about killing anyone, they just like to party really hard and if we get in their way they'll bite and who can't relate to that? Thankfully these movies held up to my adult expectations and remain in the upper echelons of my international film institute, which resides in the part of my brain that should be reserved for theorems and the drive to succeed in business.

The other highlight of the weekend was going to see our Toronto Maple Leafs thanks to my brother who got me tickets on St. Christmas day. Unfortunately, our team is dog shit and we lost again, but since getting tickets is so rare for me I still had a great time and everyone got home safe and sound, bellies full of peanuts like a wealthy magician's assistant. Speaking of magic, this lady in front of us was wearing an official NHL Don Van Massenhoven referee jersey with added fur for extra elegance:

Don was being honoured at the game for refereeing a buuuunch of games so she must be his tennis partner or something.

My twelve year old self would've really enjoyed this weekend, but like the man me he would've wanted some Cherry Coke too. It really burns my loaf that we can't get that drink anymore because it's definitely my all-time favourite pop. My all-time favourite paup is Bryce Paup.

"You can have it back, I can't eat it."

I'm mildly satisfied with this post but I don't think it's going to catch the eye of U2 frontman, Bono, who I'd really like to work with because he seems like a really great man and he knows his sunglasses better than Ray Ban or Sparky Oakley.

ANYTHING CAN BE 'LOOT'

I spent most the weekend under the blankets eating nibblies and watching cheerleader movies.

Yeah right, that's a twerp's weekend.

In reality I went to Comedy Bar a bunch to see renowned chuckle wolf Todd Barry, who made everyone laugh with jokes. The rest of the time was spent cooking a delicious stew, listening to Purple Rain, touring thrift stores and going to one birthday party with beer. Each activity produced success, as the stew was hearty and hot, the Prince hasn't changed of course, I found a couple of key sports jerseys and a couple of street looks while shopping and the party was fun because it was the kind with friends.

Based on the early Christmas toy commercials, things that glow are still in BIG TIME.

Yo check this guy out for no reason:



When I was a boy I actually liked singing quite a bit, but my dreams were destroyed when I failed to secure a major role in the school's production of Peter Pan. I had another chance the next year with Oliver Twist, and was cast as the police officer who shoots Fagin at the end. The parents didn't like that because I guess children don't know what dying is. Anyway, after I shoot the guy, me and the townspeople crowd around him, Oliver says some British shit and the play ends. The guy who played Fagin would always make farting noises while we were huddled around him and I had trouble containing myself, farts being the funniest noise at the time.

After that I went to a senior public school, got a smooth deep voice and packed my vocals away until they resurfaced with my first band "Jamal Inc." which I think was the actually the dumbest band ever. I wasn't even lead vocalist though.

You don't care about that and neither do I, so let's forget about, go read thestar.com and continue with our days. See you in Calgary for the Grey Cup.

Later!

- Cheeks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE REAL DEAL

For today's things, I thought I'd make use of the name of this weblog because I can't think of anything else to say, other than - "TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN"

What I did

This past weekend I did a few things. On Saturday I went to the Eaton Centre to get my watch fixed. The guy told me it'd take an hour, which made me feel bad because it meant that I had to kill an hour at the Eaton Centre, which was a hive of youth and commerce. I bought a book, looked for a shirt and bought a Gatorade and a bag of Tootsie Pops. I like going to the mall because it's like a snapshot of culture at any given time. The kids seem to like Apple Computers and clothes from Hollister. I could sit outside that store for hours and watch the ridiculousness ensue. I guess it's kind of like what the GAP was like when I was a boy. Was it? I didn't buy any, I just had Leafs shirts and sweatpants, but people bought that stuff right? I bought a No Fear shirt once because I thought it was cool. I was right. No one ever picked on me again.

I also listened to a guy talk to his girlfriend or friend about clothes. He was about my age probably and was saying how he wanted to buy more casual dress pants instead of straight up dress pants. His reasons? Comfort and style. Then he seemed insecure about the white shirt he had just bought. I think it's kinda funny that he was at the mall shopping and that's all he wanted to talk about. It's like if you went to a baseball game and all you did was talk about baseball. I guess that isn't too weird. Let me know!

At this time I was sitting on a leather bench eating a Tootsie Pop, killing the remaining 15 minutes of my watch repair wait time. Istarted to imagine a group of teens looking at me and thinking I was some sort of perv because I was just sitting there enjoying a lollipop and staring into space, and my beard is really shaggy these days. I had a response at the ready - "I'm just sittin' here man! Enjoying a Tootsie. You ever had one of these? The best kid, the best." But I was fine. No one picked on me.

If I looked up from where I was sitting I could see a giant Anne Hathaway ad for Lancome or something staring me right in the face. I thought it'd be funny if you saw a guy come into the Eaton Centre with a Thermos of coffee, plop himself down were I was sitting and gaze at that ad all day long.

My next stop was American Apparel because I needed two plain coloured shirts for the Star Trek convention later that night. I don't like shopping there because the staff makes you feel like you don't belong. They're kind of dicks too. The staff totally flirted and engaged with this hot girl in front of me in line, but when I got up there they barely gave me the time of day and told me I should get a new bank card because mine is more cracked than Amy Winehouse on a Saturday night! HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYEAH. I made that joke, not the cashier. Good huh?

The Star Trek thing went okay. It was tough trying to please both the big time fans who know everything and the others who were there for the bands who didn't know much at all. I don't know much at all actually. Basics man, basics.

We had to do another show right after and decided to wear our Trek outfits on the street. We thought we were the biggest weirdos until we passed by a guy dressed as a pirate. Like a really good pirate. I think his hat was leather. There's no way a pirate convention was in town that night and Halloween is a ways a away, so I'm fairly certain that was a real pirate.

When we got to Comedy Bar we realized we left our Jet Fighter outfits at the convention so we had to do another Star Trek set, only this time our audience was full of people who didn't give two shits about it. All things considered, it went okay.

On Sunday I went outside once and spent most of the day participating in online fantasy hockey drafts.

How I am

Not bad. How are you feeling?