AN AIRPLANE IS THE FASTEST CHAIR I'VE EVER BEEN ON

I went to the hand therapist today and got two whole pages worth of exercises that should give me the strength I need to be able to put on my pants without saying "oohhhh come on.... SHIT... ohhhhhh".

Besides exercise, the other option was to join Team Toronto at this year's Special Thumb Wars, where those with damaged thumbs are able to participate in our national sport without the embarrassment of losing to someone with the thumbs of titan (regular thumbs). I just don't think I'm ready for that level of competition. I tried a simple hitchhike from the SkyDome to Chinatown and though I did get picked up, I wasn't offered any mints because my thumb didn't extend high enough to warrant a minting. Basically, I jumped the gun and I don't want it to happen again.

So, now that my general health is inching closer to 100%, I'm running out of time to use my disability as an excuse to do nothing.

I have to start generating some career "heat" so that I'll finally be able to move out of my parents' bathtub and into my parents' dog's cage, which resides in a pretty good basement of a house that's small with a big backyard.

I scribbled some notes down on a kid I was babysitting, and then had her transcribe them while I say in the La-Z-Boy and watched her old man's Rumpole DVDs. These notes will form the foundation of my pursuit of golden success.

Step 1 - Increase Visibility

I'm going to have to put greater effort into attending this city's hottest events. I made the mistake of skipping the Holt Renfrew's recent "A Salute to Rubies" soiree in favour of my favourite hot dog vendor's birthday. He didn't even know it was his own birthday and forgot who I was. I still got what I wanted, which is one of everything except double root beers.

Step 2 - Network

It's one thing to actually attend these events, but it's a whole other thing to socialize and make important contacts. I've made the mistake in the past of forgetting my business cards, instead kissing those who request them, because I feel my kisses are memorable and really represent what I stand for -- wet tongues and sexual excitement.

Step 3 - Personal Brand

You can't be a visible personality without knowing what your brand is. Mine is high octane, pedal to the medal adrenaline meets Beavis, and in order to be successful I have to represent this whenever I'm in the public eye. I've been pretty lax lately, displaying a brand that has more to do with bad clowns and harmless old cats.

If you see me on the street, don't hesitate to invite me to your next power lunch or coffee circle. It's time I stopped pretending I'm a helpless little elephant who only uses his trunk to poke and prod at my own poo. And if there are any stylists out there who might be into dressing a slim guy who wears the colour blue better than Robocop EVER did, please reach out to me before I forget that I asked.

RUBBER CHUBBER

Every now and then I get an email from someone who meant to send it to someone else. Usually, these emails are fairly run of the mill, subjects like "are you still pickling things?" and "I went to the doctor and she said I could stand to clean my arms". But I got one the other day that is the perfect marriage between a standard email from a loved one and nonsensical spam email from a guy named Hotball Discovery.

This particular piece was supposed to contain pictures, except the sender didn't know how to attach them, so it ended up showing these little grey boxes. At first glance I'd easily be able to figure out what the pictures were since there are captions, and the subject line for the email is "Potential cake images...". I figured I was about to read captions like "Here's that car from Cars", but to my delight, I got the following:

Subject: Potential cake images...



This is Chatsworth - or 'don't know' as Benjamin calls him!!!



This is Mtambo - who is from Africa and has a triangle light!!


This is Frostini.

I realise that it will probably be too hard to make a cake with these characters but see what you think!!!!

Lots of Love,

Sharon xxx


I'm going to try to guess what she's referring to.

Mystery #1 - "Chatsworth"

To make sure I won't embarrass myself, I checked to see if there are any popular children's cartoon characters named Chatsworth. There aren't any. If there were, this whole post would be ruined and you'd have to go back to volleyball practice instead of sitting in the bathroom stall with an iPad and a 12" Pizza Sub.

"Chatsworth" kind of sounds like an English butler, but the fact that Benjamin's nickname for him is "Don't know", means that perhaps he's more like The Blank from Dick Tracy or Dark Man from Dark Man. With this in mind, we end up with something like this:

I could see this being on the cake, with a caption like, "Happy Easter Benjamin, Can I get you anything? A soul perhaps?"

Mystery #2 - "Mtambo"

We get a bit more specific with this one, as we know Mtambo is from Africa and has a triangle light. I'm pretty sure that means the picture she meant to attach was Dikembe Mutombo in an Iron Man costume:


Mystery #3 - "Frostini"

Sharon provides not further clues, but this one is obviously an Italian snowman:


It also sounds like it could a hip hop slang term for cocaine.

Other things to consider:

I wouldn't be Toronto's leading private investigator and collector of Kool Aid man memorabilia if I didn't consider all angles. There is a possibility that this "Benjamin" is not a child, but a full grown man/sex slave. Notice how Sharon signs her name with an "xxx", the worldwide zip code for everything kinky. Perhaps Chatsworth, Mtambo and Frostini are simply names for Penises that Sharon has conquered.

In conclusion, this is probably a mystery best left unsolved. Until next time, I'm Donald Faison.

2 RATS FOR THE PRICE OF 2 RATS. WE'RE TALKIN' RATS, NO DEALS

Another February down the throat! It tasted like bile mixed with walnuts. That actually sums up February quite nicely because it basically boils down to:

Valentine's Day + RRSP Deadline = February

With everyone swappin' bile on V-Day and putting as many walnuts as they can into their RRSPs, we have a perfectly harmonious February equation.

I hope that made as much sense to you as it did to me while I was half asleep in the bathtub, listening to the audiobook of Christopher Pike's latest teen thriller, "www.thehauntedshed.com/blood".

Let's look ahead to March:

March is a gateway month. I don't mean that if you try a hit, you'll end up hooked on November by the time December rolls around, it doesn't work like that. I mean that once you step through March's hideous mouth, full of jagged teeth with remnants of winter's bagels between them, April's soft, warm Uvula is waiting to bat you around like an infant in a maze of speed bags.

I'm so glad I was born in April. Sometimes if I'm feeling down, I remember that I was born in a month that is universally loved, from school children who like drawing bunnies, to religious dudettes who cry softly, light candles and put on some Babyface while reflecting on the life of their main man Jesus, to the Crow who can't wait for April showers to make him sad enough to get out there and do the best damn job he can.

Let's see what's in the news:

Windows 8 is about to come out. I should update, I'm still using Doors '89.

The Monkees' Davy Jones died. Did you know he was going to be a jockey before someone realized little girls would want to have sex with him?

It's Justin Bieber's 18th birthday. When you have a certain amount of money, you shouldn't even be allowed to celebrate birthdays because birthdays were invented so poor people have something to look forward to. Rich people even started the tradition of giving gifts, because they thought the old tradition of eating roast chicken while your loved ones each tell you a story, was too boring. Now poor people feel they have to give presents and most of the time, the birthday boy ends up disappointed because he wanted a villa just like Justin Bieber but instead gets some new Leafs pencils.

I hope at least some of this either made your day better or helped you to cheat on a test somehow. Just in case you are cheating, and it hasn't, here's some bonus material that may help:

ROYGBIV

BEDMAS

Basketball Diaries starred Leo DiCaprio

> = greater than < = less than $ = no problems

I'D LIKE TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE -- TUB. OF. WASTE.

Congratulations to Snooki "Nicole Polizzi" Italian on her pregnancy. It takes a lot of guts and a relatively healthy penis and vagina to create a baby. People Magazine just released this exclusive ultra-sound photo:

"Congrats, it's an.... entity. Awwwwwwww"

I just got back from a week in Florida visiting my future mother of laws (I got engaged in December. I put the ring around a snake, then tied the snake into a ring, then put that around my neck. She cried weird, man).

We had a great time and I didn't even get sunburned because the whole time I wore a leather cat suit with "CREAMY STUD" etched into the back. Did I wear a hat? No, I just grew my bangs out and gelled them horizontally giving me a stiff natural, that not only keeps the sun out of eyes, but also gives me something to crunch with my fingers while I'm waiting for dinner to be served.

Did you know that the elderly in Florida have their own version of Gorillaz called Gaterz, which is a collaboration between Alan Thicke and Gary Larson? It's waltz music but with a sped up, jazzy vibe performed by a band of cartoons. There's:

Soup - Frontman. A cool flamingo who spends his nights searching for cola. He's got a very deep voice.

Sand Dollar - Bass guitar. A grandson who loves his pets. Has picture of ice cream sundae on shirt.

Deep C - Guitar. A fisherman whose guitar is shaped like a lighthouse. Married to a middle-aged mermaid ghost.

Cigar Ron - Percussion. A Cuban golfer who can take his eyes out and juggle them.

Most of their songs are about beach life but sometimes they mention pools.

In reality, we lied by the pool, shopped at outlet malls, marveled at foreign products in grocery stores and watched TV with commercials we'd never seen before. Do you think when Floridians come to our part of the world, they look at maple trees the same way we look at palms? We think palms are so cool, but I think I'd take a maple over one any day, even though I'm kind of bored of them. We just like palm trees because they scream "CORONA BEER BIKINI".

COME AROUND NOON, AROUND NOON, NOON

My hand is still strapped into a piece of mold-able plastic to keep my thumb from the dangers of city life, the most hazardously being potential thumbs up to those extra grungy pigeons who look smarter than teenagers and to local celebs who want to give autographs more than the public gives shits about them. But yeah, its functionality is returning!

My typing speed is back up to 900,000 bpm, and I'm slowly integrating my injured left hand back into my shower routine, meaning shampoo is being more evenly distributed over my baby sized/baby soft head and my right pit is getting the full soaping it deserves.

What does all this add up to? The return of the Jedi, "Jedi" being my old college nickname, given to me because I always got boners when I'd speak in front of a class. I got so tired of having to explain that I was hornier than crazy, that I'd pretend I was using the force to make it rise. I was later voted "Most Likely to Explode". School daze indeed.

Okay, so we're all back. First step of a comeback -- look at what you've done previously, beat the shit out of it and then try to remember the last time you saw Suburban Commando.

I've always had a hard time trying to figure out exactly what this blog is, which would explain rampant inconsistency, mostly due to battling with my inner-monologue over what's funny and what people want to read. Since it's been five years and over 500 posts, I don't think it really matters because as far as I can tell, Steven Spielberg hasn't read any of it, and any money I make outside of work is from selling fake Kate Gosselin autographed diapers to middle-aged women who only use the Internet to check postal codes.

What does that mean for you and your family? Much of the same! With my 1st meta-carpal bone now surgically repaired, I'm free to type until I learn backgammon, then it's allllll backgammon, baby.

Before the adventure continues, I just have to re-assure myself -- was my broke-ass paw a good excuse for writing next to nothing on this world-infamous website? Two new characters answer:

Sandra No'h

No, you could still type, granny style, and your brain wasn't all that effected by the whole thing.

This is true, but every humourous thought I had ended with "...but I ain't even got the thumbs for it."

No, you could've just typed short things that kept the audience interested.

Poetry is dead!!

No, you could've made little vlogs and posted those.

Nobody likes my voice. It was once likened to that of a "pre-pubsecant cat boy who is trying to imitate his gay dad"

Malcolm "Yes"

Yes brother, do whatever you do, there are no wrong answers, only wrong people with wrong answers.

Poignant.

Life moves pretty fast; if you don't look at a bit you don't see it.

Alright.

Stalemate! Anyway, bear with me over the coming months as I re-integrate myself into cyberspace, where the stars are message boards and the planets tmz.com's. I can't promise you true happiness, but I can almost promise you that you'll never, ever barf from eating a Skor bar.

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

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

"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

THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERY STRING

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

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.