WHO DOESN'T LOVE A GOOD DOOR?

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:

1. Picture myself naked
   
   
2. Try to recite an entire Simpsons episode in my head (I've tried this before while waiting for things)
   
   
3. 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.
   
   
4. 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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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.