ANOTHER YEAR, ANOTHER HAIRCUT, ANOTHER YEAR WITH NO GARDENING

Per the custom, I'd like to end the year by thanking our 2009 sponsor, Stripes' Original Toy Horse Wheelchairs out of Dundalk, Ontario.

And since it's now official you can all breathe a sigh of relief, as I just inked a new deal for 2010 with Ike Stripes, President and CEO of the company. If you have a toy horse and it's not injured enough to kill for glue, give Ike a call and he'll set you right up. Buy today and get a free cassette tape of the Dundalk Legion Pipes and Drums doing all your Scottish favourites including "Sand in my Kilt" and "The Lass Loves to get Partied".

2009 Year in Review

PROFESSIONAL

I continued to casually search for a new job again this year to no avail. But I did take steps toward something by taking an advertising class at Humber, which I dominated. I think I've learned that you can't just set a deadline to find a new job, you just kinda have to go with the flow and wait for an opportunity or go out there and give it 110% and create opportunities which is the toughest part of job meat. You stew that meat slowly and it'll become tender, so take your time and do some activities while you wait.

PERSONAL

2009 was another banner year on the personal front, with no tragedies and no emotional rollercoaster rides. I still have a woman and an apartment, and in 2009 I got to know Liv's family a bit better. They're all well made humans, from top to bottom, brain to toes. My brother and sister moved closer to me, so the Macaulay Clan has strengthened its stronghold on Queen West and we all look forward to taking down the McInnis' when we meet in the highlands for our annual battle.

My stomach problems persisted this year, which my mom keeps reminding me is "something I have to live with". I think I have learned to live with it for the most part, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to stop complaining about it or making myself feel better by bringing it out into the open.

RECREATION

I had another good year of writing this blog and doing comedy, although in the middle of the year I got kind of frustrated and was thinking of not doing it any longer. But thanks to the encouragement of my friends and because I love doing it, I'm still getting up and trying to make people laugh whether by myself or with Andy as part of Jet Fighter Pilots. We opened for Scott Thompson this year, got some new costumes and did some fun shows, but we still don't have a real plane, so if you have one for sale, let us know.

I think I've taken steps to alleviate the stress of growing up and I think I may be coming up of my quarter life crisis slowly. Me and some dudes are looking to get organized in terms of writing and producing some new comedy stuff and I figure as long as I work hard, I can't be upset at my progress. The 2010 slogan is going to be "If you're at a pet store, you might as well buy a frog", which I think speaks for itself.

Now with the final word on 2009, a year which I attended many sporting events, I am honoured to introduce our year end celebrity guest, Wade Boggs.

Hey Sluggers! Your old man, Daddy Wade here. I'm sorry I didn't send you any gifts this year, but my powerboat needed new decals and it was my other family's turn for new pants. I know I didn't see you guys at all, but trust me, I'm the same as I was at the end of 2008 -- my moustache remains, I still wear Reeboks no matter what and I haven't lost my lucky screw yet, so really you didn't miss anything. Hopefully you listened to me and didn't change at all, because I did warn you that I probably wouldn't see you in 2009.

Hey Wade, sorry to interrupt, but do you have anything you'd like to say to everyone out there and not just to your estranged children?

No no no, I wasn't talking to my kids, I was talking to my ghostwriters, Tom Clancy and Franklin W. Dixon. We've been working on my autobiography for six years now.

When's it going to be released?

We're aiming for an early 2006 release.

How's that going to work?

By the time this mother is done, time travel will be as common as burgers and fries and the publishing world is going to be a totally different industry. My book will be the first released prehumously.

That sounds ridiculous, and by the way, Franklin W. Dixon is a pen name referring to several different authors.

Holy shit you're annoying. The guy isn't the guy who wrote the Hardy Boyds, it's a different guy, and trust me, my Franklin W. Dixon is not only a better author, but he also makes a better Swordfish Picatta, my favourite dish.

Is there anything you want to add before you leave?

Yeah sure, um, let's see, okay, if you're writing an autobiography don't be scared to make some stuff up. For example, in real life I was a ball player, but in my autobiography I'm a plumber because everyone likes hearing stories about the yellows and browns if you know what I mean. Also, if you happen to visit Shanghai in 2010 take a peak around and see if you can find my watch. I lost it there last year. It's black, digital, and if you press all the buttons together a parachute pops out just in case. Thanks guys!

Thanks for reading in 2009 everyone. Who the hell knows what will happen in 2010, year of the bat? I'll probably get balder, older, more wise, less whiny and more dangerous because you never know when you'll learn karate.

Regards,

LOVING THIS NEW DRINK 'ALCOTAR'

THE YEAR IN PHOTOS

For as long as I can remember I've been using my eyes to view images. This year was no different, and thanks to modern technology and the fact that I'm not a dumb child anymore, I was privileged enough to make my own images for the world to digest and then shit out into their brains. The following is a selection of these images I created for various reasons -- some were made for fun, some for eroticism and some are there just to change the way humans think about everything. My art has the power to do that.

Here's a t-shirt I designed that never got produced. All sales were going to benefit the Dr. Pepper Social Club of Red Deer, Alberta, but they didn't like it because they don't support anything but sort of cherry flavoured pops, but not Mr. Pibb.

I found this archive of old pictures on the Internet and this one really spoke to me on a severely emotional level -- I cried into my toilet for 10 minutes. In order to share it with the world I added some text and tried selling it to the Peel District School Board, but everyone ended up crying into toilets and figured the kids would too, so it's now at the Louvre where its waiting until no once cares about Mona Lisa anymore when it will take her spot.

This is a fake cereal I invented when I realized that there aren't any cereals shaped like noodles.

Here's an alternate banner I made when I was making banners. Ultimately the Lamborghini banner won out, but I still like this one because I find that kid to be really stupid and that cat is utterly beautiful, which really captures my artistic philosophy of "Handsome Idiotic"

I talked about Jon and Kate Plus 8 a lot this year, finding their divorce and fame-whoring irresistible. This image captures their divorce well, with a funny devil jerk representing the dark nature of a family divided.

Back in university I invented a new way to graffiti things, which was to highlight some classics from our past. When I did it here, I added some graffiti I think you might see in the future, a time when mailmen won't exist and Gatorade will make a line of clothes.

One of my favourites of the year, this drawing shows the link between the letter 'B' and Butts and Boobs. As you can see, the letter was tailor made to represent two of the most discussed body parts in the world today. I sold this story to Dan Brown and he flipped his lid.

Todd Van Poppel has a balloon in his pocket

Roberto Alomar doing charity work as usual

This one is pretty typical. In ten years you're going to look at it and say "oh yeah, him. People didn't like him."

Make sure your router is tuned up for the rest of the week when I talk more about 2009, a year that I probably won't ever think of as being the best, but definitely not the worst either, so it's like Ghostbusters 2.

BRANDON BRAND'S LEGO LAND RUBBER BAND BAND

The main character of this Internet site is now done his holiday commitments, and can proceed to enjoy a week off, supping on leftover hams and birds and just generally kicking it 100% hot style.

I had a great little Griswold Family Christmas, the major themes being homemade soups, partying, Avatar, gay aprons and being tired.

Because my family's house only has two extra beds, one of us kids has to sleep on a couch. I took the bullet on Christmas Day and it sucked blood so bad. It was minus 40 and the couch in the basement is unreasonably narrow. I woke up at 6:30 after falling asleep around 3:00 and then got into my parent's bed once they woke up and dreamed about aliens and when I was awoken by my dad, I was like "man, there were some good shots in that dream, I gotta remember those".

What do you mean gay aprons? My mom got me a new apron, thinking it was really manly because it has a bunch of cowboys on it. But she didn't notice that the cowboys are shirtless and ripped, thus making the apron suitable for people who like that kind of thing - girls and boy-girls. We all had a good laugh and enjoyed a running joke for the holidays, kind of like the worldwide favourite of farting three times at Christmas and saying "ho ho ho Santa farts oh yeah".

The actual piece. Gay or not gay?

I got some other great stuff including some cookware, clothes, chocolates, Leaf tickies, Leafs coat, books and rare spices and silks.

Jon and I tried to mobilize a mass Mississauga Avatar screening, and we succeeded to a point. It all broke down when we got to the theatre and realized that movie theatres are really busy on Christmas night. Two different groups of people ended up seeing two different shows and we didn't even get to IMAX that shit. Anyway, the movie was visually splendid but the plot was too much Fern Gully Dances With Wolves. Positive vibes though, and I still say you should see it in 3-D because the look of the think will plump your hot dog to perfection.



On Boxing Night we put on a comedy show for our friends and the show itself was loose, silly and scary. Not really scary, but you gotta put tension in your writing guys. We partied hard and successfully afterward, drinking beers and playing this game called Butt-Head where teams put on velcro hats and attempt to score points by throwing balls and having them stick on one of the hat's scoring areas. Sounds like Christmas right? Kid tested, Santa approved, Jesus lukewarm.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS UNLESS YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE

Merry Christmas!

Did Sants visit your home?

Get off the Internet and go fill up the old man's egg nog, would you? Help out your mom and clean up!



HUG YOUR SISTER FOR ONCE MAN
Play with the dog everyone's sick of

Don't throw out the stuff at the bottom of the cereal box, give it to your cat

Just have fun today

PROM WARTS

Happy Ch'Eve all you former little babies.

2009 years ago, the Virgin Mary was super pregnant and pretty pissed that she was having a baby even though she never got to boing. Joseph got her some bananas and some cinnamon, which back then was like perfume, dessert and money combined, but she still wouldn't stop nagging until the next day when she had Jesus and these rich guys showed up with free stuff. In the spirit of the season and the spirit of end of year end lists, here are Mary's top ten complaints while waiting in a dirty old barn on Christmas Eve:


10. "Joseph! Can you find me an actual blanket, this sheep won't stay still."
9. "I think my water just broke... no, wait, it's just more pig piss seeping into my dress again. Joseph, I swear, I hate you so much right now"
8. "For the 15th time, Joseph, would you get that fucking owl out of here?!"
7. "It's so damn cold in here I'm scared my birth canal is going to freeze."
6. "You may be a good carpenter Joseph, but you suck shit at finding hotel rooms."
5. "For the last time, if it's a boy we're naming him D'Angelo and if it's a girl I like Toopsy."
4. "First I don't develop breasts until I'm 19 and now this. What's next? Arthritis? Fucking grey hair Joseph?"
3. "You're buying me a goat after this Joseph, you know that, right?"
2. "I hate my nose so much. My nose combined with your common sense? This baby doesn't stand a chance."
1. "So cold, so tired, I'm hallucinating Joseph, I can see the...I see the future! It's glorious... there's a king named Weird Al and a tome called The DaVinci Code. Uh, It's over. Now all I see is a shitty husband, three rosters and a pile of cow shit."

This is also post number 400, and I thank anyone who's ever read this thing and wish you all good tidings this holiday season. I leave you with one of my favourite holiday songs:

SHARE YOUR RAISINS LIKE THE HONOURABLE GRAPER YOU ARE

Your December 23rd Advent Chocolate looks like this:

But you left your calendar next to your hot TV and it melted so now it looks like this:

When you finally eat it, you turn invisible and immediately decide to take it here:

Where you meet:

And together you build:

Sorry for recycling old gags, but I'm at the point now where I don't want to do any kind of work until the holidays are over, and even though this isn't my job and it's fun, I'd rather be watching UHF with a bag of Crispers and a Dr. Pepper. Plus my holiday hasn't even started yet so it makes me want to be lazy even more.

Tomorrow is going to be post number 400, which is just in time for the best day other the Christmas, which is of course,"Ch'Eve". I'm not going to do anything special so don't cancel your plans if you're a fan. If you're not a fan and you're reading this because you were searching for a picture of grandmas in a pool then I welcome you and hope that your home country is in good financial, social, and scientific shape. Merry!

YOU HAVE THE BIGGEST EYES I'VE EVER LAUGHED AT

I was performing at The Loner Show's five year anniversary on Sunday so I had to PVR the hotly anticipated Survivor finale instead of watching it live with chips and candy. My heart almost stopped when I got home and realized that only 47 minutes out of the three hours had been recorded because we ran out of storage. Luckily I realized this at around 11:49, and since the west coast feed started at 11:00 I pulled off a huge move by recording it while watching the first 47 minutes of the original thus missing but 2 minutes of action. Get it? Do you the technology I speak of?

This is merely a visual

I'd get into how Russell got straight fucked by the Survivor jury, but if you didn't watch the season you'll have no interest. Instead I'll move on the to the most complusary and at the same time most enjoyable activity humans participate in, which is of course eating.

The other highlight of Sunday was roasting a chicken and having it all to myself. I got to eat all the best parts -- the breasts, the drums, the bones and the feathers, which I first braised in Chianti then finished by lightly frying in barbecue sauce, Missouri style.

We have an old Viking range from the 50's or something and when you see it you're like "cool, it's old" and then you use it and it's like "shit, it sucks", so I've never had much luck in making oven-cooked meats. But this time I knocked it out of the park and will probably make it again until pork season, which begins when the first black rose of the spring sprouts forth in a small village outside of Chicago.

As we inch closer to Christmas, you're probably getting sick and tired of hearing carol after carol, but there's probably one you've never heard. I first discovered this "lost carol" when snooping around the study of a well-known construction worker who invited me into his manor after I accidentally crash landed in his pool while trying a new trick on my blades. Anyway, I think you might enjoy it:

"Bethlehem Snow"


I was there, I saw the birth, the new King brought to this Earth
The little town of Bethlehem was radiating mirth

But I sold rugs and had to split my camel packed and ready
I said "goodbye!", ate some figs and rode on, fast and steady

Before the gates, the sky went dark and a chill filled the air
I looked up to the stars above and white shit fell on my hair

"What the hell?" I asked Denis, my brown camel strong and true
But he just smiled, licked his lips and dropped some sandy poo

Chorus:
Snow in Bethlehem is bullshit even on Christmas Day
You get real cold, your feet get wet and cows eat frozen hay
Women wear more and beer ain't refreshing and I don't own a hat
I had to kill my camel Denis and wrap myself in his fat

Now I'd seen a lot of things, including bearded chicks
But it never snows in Bethlehem so I assumed dirty tricks

I punched a man who walked on by because he looked real dumb
By then the snow was four feet deep and my balls were getting numb

I ate some snow because it was free and all the world went black
It wasn't snow but instead was bleach that had fallen from my sack

Chorus:

Snow in Bethlehem is bullshit even on Christmas Day
You get real cold, your feet get wet and cows eat frozen hay
Women wear more and beer ain't refreshing and I don't own a hat
I had to kill my camel Denis and wrap myself in his fat

ONE OF THESE GUYS IS GOING TO WIN A MILLION BIPPINS

Oh boyd, that weekend was a real tease. I had a lot of fun and had Santa on the brain, but the reality is that I have to work this week so the sugar plums are going to have to wait a few days.

On Friday night our company had its annual Christmas party, which was at King Street's Spoke Club this time around. We had three hours there to dominate the open bar and stuff as many canapes (little food) into our holes as possible. There was a bit of dancing, a bit of Rock Band and a bit of art that looked like oysters. My goal was to fuel up because me and my partner were to host the after party at our warehouse, which is what snowboarders call their homes.

Being full adults now, we decided we should make our party a bit less chip-centric and serve some decent snacks and decorate a little. Liv tinseled up the joint like it was a prize spruce and I bought some cheese, crackers and fat deli olives. Oh! And some dry roast peanuts, one of the most underrated forms of the popular nut. They're kind of like Molson Stock Ale or Cherry Blossoms -- time goes one but they stay exactly the same and remain steadily popular despite no promotion and unnecessary pageantry.

Everyone was partying really hard and some of the best characters I know were all there and probably wanted to forget their troubles or celebrate their successes with holiday fun. Plus, there were surprises!

First, despite a bout with bronchitis, fellow Internet person Alicia came by with her two pals. They were all a key addition to the party roster and I look forward to "jamming" or "juking" with them again at some point.

Secondly, we finally had some quality time with our great neighbours Jenny and Sandy who came by for a bit. It was a home and home series with them checking out our cool spot and then myself going over there to scope their chambers. After a magazine swap and a couple of brews, we became 100% friendly neighbours, which is as deep into politics as I get. Oh, and by the way, if you were at the party send me an email if you want to purchase the picture of you on the toilet that I took with a camera I stashed in the light overhead. 10 bucks!


On Saturday I went to an X-Mast party at my cousin's house, where we did a solid gift exchange at which I procured a selection of British candy thanks to my cousin who lives across that big salty river we call the Atlantic. I was still tired and hungover from the party the night before but it was a good time regardless, and I got to see what all my cousins are doing for haircuts these days.

Ewan's rocking a 'Sweepy Skywalker' as I wear the crown as King of Nice Moves

Santa's almost here! Don't forget to buy him some cream!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSuitSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

This whole thing where ladies where tights and as pants is getting real big. It started out as a trend created by hot, leggy, round butts, then spread quickly to hipsters and the type of female who looks like the Jersey Shores. But now everyone is getting in on the act, including people who are too concerned with following trends to stop and think about what they're doing. Just yesterday I saw a lady who was not thin, walking down the street wearing not even tights but pure pantyhose as pants, showing just about everything, including her barely there underpants and every peak and valley of her surface. Ladies -- don't forget -- pants are still cool. If you're proud of your wiggler and want dudes to stare at at, then by all means, wear as little pants as possible. But if you think it's only the only option, think again.

With that I give you my FAVOURITE TRENDS OF 2009:

- Eating soup through licorice tubes then saving the licorice to wager at a monthly Pog Tournament at any local sports bar

- Tricking the elderly into buying hockey cards, saying they'll need them if they ever want to withdraw money ever again

- Tattoos of your favourite report card

- Calling pants "Leg Socks", socks "Foot Coats" and hats "Hair"

- Calling a pizza a "Cheesy Stuart"

- Claiming you're related to Tom Green and proving it by calling a friend of yours who will back up your story and who is also pretending to be related to Tom Green but to an entirely different group of people

- Sweating a lot just so you look wet and can brag that you have a pool that you don't have

- Filling your toilet with sand and making a garden and then shitting in your outside garden

My favourite real trend of the year is hamburgers. In Toronto there's been a huge flood of gourmet beef places, and for a cow lover like me, it's the best thing that could happen in '09 next to the fabled re-launching of Triples cereal.

THE PURPLE RIBBON ON MY SWEATER MEANS I SUPPORT CD PLAYERS

I went to the mall for my first round of Christmas shopping and I managed to bang out Liv's gift package in a mere half hour. This means that I'm either a consumer genius or a clueless idiot, depending on her reaction, leaving me in either the "dog house" or the "kiss tent". I'd tell you all about what I bought, but since the tradition of giving gifts relies heavily on the element of surprise, I'll instead tell you about this fun game I played as a boy.

For this game you need a tennis ball, three people and a diving board with a pool.

The game is called "Nighthawker" and was invented in grade 6 I think.

One guy jumps off the board while one of the other guys is at the side of the pool armed with a tennis ball. The jumper tries to avoid the throwing of the ball while in the air. If he gets hit it sucks. You then go through the rotation as many times as it takes one guy to get hit 3 times. If you get hit three times you have to jump off the diving board with your arms and legs spread out and you can't try to avoid the balls that are thrown by the other two so you get hurt provided the other two guys are accurate.


In the suburbs tennis balls were like an important item in an RPG video game. They were used for everything -- as weapons, as tennis balls, as baseballs, as hockey balls, as currency, and for the family living in the marsh, as a late night snack. Me and my friends had this shitty phase when we thought it was fun to hide in a park and throw tennis balls at cars, then running away if they stopped and got out. I once devised a scheme based on this pastime to get free pizza.

For this scheme you need:

A tennis ball
Two teams of dudes
An abandoned house in the neighbourhood or a fake address
A park

First, a call is placed ordering a bunch of pizza to the abandoned house. In my case, there was a house on my street that had almost burned down that was perfect.

Then Alpha Team waits in the park at a point where they know the pizza man will drive by. When that happens Alpha Team pummels the delivery vehicle with tennis balls. If all goes to plan, the guy gets so mad that he stops, gets out and chases Alpha Team.

Beta Team, who is hiding across the street, then makes haste, enters the pizza car and takes all the pizza they can carry. By the time the delivery man gets back, his supply has been depleted and when he checks the house he was supposed to deliver it to, he'll realize he's been duped, return to the parlour and maybe get fired. PERFECT PLAN. I got the folks at Disney/Pixar to create an accurate graphic of what the plan would've looked like in my neighbourhood:

I never actually did it because it's the dumbest thing ever, but still, I think it was pretty flawless. The only "if" was the driver getting out of the car.