It is time for me to leave this place. I've been here about nine months. I guess I've carried my baby to term, and NOW THE PLACENTA IS READY TO COME OUT!!
Um, sorry.
What I mean to say is, I'm moving my journal. I don't have a lot of problems with blogger, which hosts my journal here, but I have lots of problems with Enetation, which takes care of my comments section. As you all surely know, it sucks. It's extremely slow and defective. Half the time it's not even available. So I'm moving to livejournal. Yes, livejournal, which I bitched about in these very pages. I maintain my gripes - it's a little too much like the mafia - but the pluses outweigh the minuses.
So, see ya on the other side:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/claudecub/

Those of you who use our fair city's transit system must have seen this ad for the International Academy of Design and Technology... for a school that deals in visual arts, their ad looks pretty awful. It features a young man with weird pursed lips, glasses from the seventies, and some sort of sleeveless cardigan that I don't think was ever in style. He's looking at the camera, and his gaze seems to say, "Yeah, I'm a nerd. So what? You wanna make something of it?"
Don't provoke him! He's a member of the sleeveless cardigan nerd gang!

I read in the paper that Michael Jackson apologized for dangling his baby off a balcony.
Who did he apologize to, the baby?
The poor guy needs help. Lots of it.

For once, a negative comment about the tv show Survivor in my journal:
If I have to see one more gratuitous extreme close-up of a Visa credit card I'm gonna puke.

"Pizza offer ends hostage siege" - Toronto Metro
Ah yes, the old pizza offer trick - works every time!

Today a woman on maternity leave visited the office with her baby. I held it for about ten minutes. It was so cute - it was fascinated by my beard and kept touching it!

Some bitch was blasting Christmas songs at 4am while I tried to sleep last night. IT'S ONLY THE MIDDLE OF NOVEMBER FOR CHRISSAKES!

Up to now it's been fall, but now it's pretty much fell.
The trees are naked and there are piles of dead leaves everywhere. This morning I saw a school bus which happened to brake on one of those piles. It slid about five feet.

OHMYGOD! Have you seen the gorgeous musclebear in the Bissell vacuum cleaner ad?? FUCK!!! I NEED HIM!

I hate admitting this, but I like Jim Belushi's body.
Now no one can accuse me of holding anything back in my journal.

Yay! I just found out two of my favourite bands - R.E.M. and Radiohead - are both in the studio working on new albums! Woo-hoo!

Headline of the day, from Toronto Metro: "Grandpa shoots terror squirrel".

Pet peeve of the day: When a second sequel to a movie comes out, the filmmakers (and several members of the entertainment press) suddenly call the three movies a trilogy, as if it was meant to be three movies all along. It's pretty silly when they later come out with a fourth movie. (Case in point: the Indiana Jones 'trilogy'; they're planning #4 as we speak.)
(I realize no one but me cares about this stuff, but it's my journal, so what are you gonna do about it? Oh yeah, you could stop reading. Shit.)

Yay!! Steve Martin will be hosting the Oscars again! Hosts over the last ten years or so have had their moments, but he was the best. As for Whoopi, she should be permanently banned from that show.

You know that ancient bit of wisdom, "You can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friends"? Well, after what I experienced on the subway this morning, I'm thinking it should be the other way around...
**(Click HERE for another nose-picking entry!!!)**

An interesting development at work. Last July I had an incident with our IT guy making some homophobic comments. When I confronted him and told him I was gay he was quite contrite, but I was never convinced that he realized his wrongdoing. Well ever since then (except for an awkward period following our chat) he's been extra nice to me, and he seems to be making a point of showing me he's not homophobic. A few days ago he pointedly mentioned that a 'very attractive guy' came to the office looking for my colleague. And today he winked at me. I shouldn't jump to any conclusions, but I feel as though I helped him see that gay people are human beings. That makes me feel good. Of course I realize that not anyone would derive that lesson from such an incident, which means that this guy deserves some credit.

I would like to apologize to readers of this blog. My entries have been infrequent and mostly uninspired lately. The tide ebbs and flows. Let us all hold hands and profess our faith that this public journal will soon be interesting to read again.

My imagination is a little too vivid for comfort. I'm very sleepy this afternoon, and I've started imagining nodding off and impaling my eye on the pencil that's always in my hand when I'm proofreading.

You know those movies where zombies are taking over the world? That's what I was reminded of yesterday on Survivor (what, you thought you were getting away without my weekly update?) when the soulless members of Shii Ann's tribe voted her out. That leaves Jake and Jan as the only likable survivors. It would be refreshing to have someone their age win.
I light a candle for you, Devil Girl (sniff sniff).

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"How can you fly with eagles when you are dealing with turkeys?"

I'm in a pissy mood this morning.
I still don't understand morning people. What's wrong with them? Are they just insane?

Okay, I know one thing this journal doesn't need is another entry about Survivor, but... too bad.
Even after five seasons, if a show can still make me exclaim out loud (yeah, that's right, as opposed to all the exclaiming I do inside my own head), "What? Oh my god!" and the like, then it has to be a pretty good show in my book. Tonight, the show surprised me twice. First, when Robb, the most despicable person on that show to date, all of a sudden had a personality make-over and became likable. The second time was when everyone in his tribe voted him off.
Now that's television.

Ever have one of those days/weeks/years/careers when you go, "What?? It's only 2:25p.m.??? Fuck!"

Yesterday I was eating pudding (as I am wont to do), and there were "jokes" inside the little pudding cups that have got to be the lamest I've ever read. Here are some samples:
What's at the end of a rainbow? - The letter "w".
What kind of nightclub do computers go to? - A disk-o.
Why do cats love computers? - They like playing with the mouse.

Isn't this one of the seven signs of the apocalypse?

Painting class was a little better yesterday, because I did my own thing instead of what the teacher said to do. I know there's a lesson in there somewhere... We were supposed to learn about perspective (or, as one bright student called it, 'perception'), but I got bored and worked on a little abstract thing that turned out not horrible.

Fucking fall (foul) weather. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the worst season of the year, when mother nature turns into a bitch and breaks it to us not so gently that summer is definitely over, and it ain't comin' back til 2003. The season where you know there is no nice weather to look forward to for another five months.
I tell you, bears have the right idea.

I know this will come as news to no one, but... man, the people in tv commercials are creepy.

If someone asks me "So, what's new and exciting??!" one more time, I may just explode. I know it's just a figure of speech, but some figures of speech should be outlawed. Do you know how much pressure that is? For the record: there's barely ever anything new. As for exciting, well, maybe twice a year. So quit it already!!!

I've said it before, but I need to say it again. The people who write reviews on the Internet Movie Database are fucking IDIOTS! Most offensive here are people who can't spell saying Red Dragon is a better movie than some of the previous films featuring the Hannibal Lecter character. The previous three films were all made by real directors, whereas this one was made by talentless hack Brett Ratner. The only things saving the movie are the story and the actors, but even they can't completely escape Ratner's deadly bland touch.
Click here for my review (it's actually a list of all my imdb reviews).

Quote of the day:
"You're going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters. And people who talk at the theatre."
Actually it's from yesterday, on the television show Firefly. Finally, someone else who understands that people who talk during movies are damned!

Okay kids, time for Survivor highlights...
Finally, the good guys (you know, the team NOT composed of vapid zombies) won both challenges. Robb, who has officially become the most vile survivor in memory, helped his team lose the reward challenge by attempting to strangle Clay. Later on, Robb would describe himself as 'happy go-lucky'. Yikes.
Meanwhile, Jed, who was voted out, used the non-word 'awesomeness' in his farewell speech. Way to make an exit, brainiac.

Boy, can I ever not draw.
I'm taking a painting class, and tonight was the first session. We had to draw a plant. I'd scan it to show to you, but it might damage the scanner. And not just because it's oil pastel.
The teacher's a little flaky. She used the word 'lyrical' twice. One more time and I can legally break out the machine gun. Right?

Quote of the day:
"Respect THE COCK!"
Frank T. J. Mackie, Magnolia

Amen.

I might as well make it official: I am NOT a cake person.
In fact, I can really relate to the saying, "Let them eat cake." Particularly the "them" part.
If I was asked to choose between eliminating cake or potato chips from the universe, it would be a no-contest decision to dump the cake.
Thought you should know.

Does anyone believe in romance anymore? Anyone at all?

I had a candy bar. That helped.
NO TAPE WORMS FOR ME, THANKS.

Ah shit IM falling asleep at my sdekss

Quote of the day, from Major League II, which I swear I haven't seen:
"Women: you can't live with them, and they can't pee standing up."

Has anyone seen the front page of today's Toronto Sun? Holy. Fuck. Get yourself a copy NOW. (This means you, Mike.)

"I woke up, and one of us was crying."
- Elvis Costello, "I Want You"

Wow.

Thank you, Kirby.

I woke up this morning, and really didn't feel like getting up. So I pulled up the blinds, to help wake me up, and what do I see staring back at me? The fuckin' MOON. Actually, the moon is the brightest thing out there. It's f---ing NIGHT out! How am I expected to get out of bed, when GOD IS STILL ASLEEP??

I hate it when talented actors who are not viewed as such confirm the general public's false opinion of them. To wit: Why, oh why did you decide to join Hollywood Squares, Alec Baldwin, Ellen DeGeneres and Burt Reynolds? Don't you guys know how much you shine in the right projects?
Which brings me to my second point. I realized recently that I often feel sorry for celebrities. I guess I see them as the underdog. I hope Winona Ryder gets off. I hope Robert Downey Jr. never gets arrested again. I hope Michael Jackson gets the therapy he needs.

Watched the Survivor premiere yesterday, and it hooked me yet again. It helped that the right person got voted off. This group seems refreshingly less sleazy than the last one. Jake Billingsley (the old guy) and Ted Rogers (the token black male) are the only ones that struck me as being remotely attractive among the men (big surprise - a fit, handsome older guy with facial hair and an ex-football player).

Some things are too good to keep to oneself. Some things, you have to share. Ladies and gennelmen, I present you with today's spam:

TELL YOUR GRANNY WHAT TO DO! ZWF
Click Here to see OLD WHORES GETTING IT ON!!!
Click Here to see THE HOTTEST OLD LADY SITE ONLINE!!!
THESE GRANNIES WILL SHOW YOU THINGS YOU NEVER SEEN BEFORE!!!
SNOW ON THE ROOF MEANS FIRE INSIDE,CUM AND GET IT!!!

I don't think comment from yours truly is necessary...

An entry in someone else's journal triggered what amounts to the last straw regarding my tolerance for something. Every time the media describes someone like James Gandolfini or Dennis Franz as having sex appeal, they invariably have to call them 'unlikely sex symbols', and they always try to attribute their appeal to anything except the man's physical appearance. Because, god knows, IT'S UNTHINKABLE THAT ANYONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND COULD POSSIBLY FIND THEM ATTRACTIVE. Fuck you, media, for propagating narrow, ancient, destructive and inaccurate stereotypes about what is and isn't attractive. FUCK YOU!!!

Do you ever do this thing when you're eating something with dubious nutritional value where you try not to look at it too closely, and you give it only a few chews before you swallow it? I just did that with the beef teriyaki I got from the food court. I feel like I can relate to those contestants on Fear Factor.

Now it is time for me to write my LiveJournal entry. So first, a disclaimer: Some of my best friends are LiveJournal users!
It seems everybody has an opinion on this journal-writing site, and I am no exception.
LiveJournal is like the mafia, or one of those exclusive secret-handshake men's clubs. It's got quite a snotty aura about it, for something so trivial. The only way to have your very own LiveJournal web log is for another LiveJournal member to 'sponsor' you. And each LiveJournal member can sponsor only one person. (Lord knows what happens to them if they try to sponsor more.) But hey, LiveJournal doesn't want you to feel excluded. If you want to comment on someone's entries, you're allowed. Of course. But you have to declare your identity. When you go to post a comment, you have to choose between 'LiveJournal user' or, um, 'anonymous'. I guess if you're not a LiveJournal user, you're not special.
For a parody of LiveJournal by someone who hates it for different reasons than me, click here. Make sure to read the comments!

I swear, this is my last entry on the subject of This Modern World, but finally, someone other than me who thinks Dilbert is mediocre:
http://www.salon.com/comics/comics1961209.html

By the way, if I've at times given the impression of hating all americans, that wasn't my intention. I just tend to be critical of anyone with an inflated ego.
David Lynch is american, isn't he? LOVE him.

I can't say this enough: I love this Tom Tomorrow guy. I've just read an interview (dated October 2001) on his site. If you don't want to read the entire thing, at least have a look at his answer to the question, "What in your opinion is the root cause of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon?" In this age of apathy (which I'm guilty of as much as the next guy), it's nice to know some people out there are wide awake.

Check out the latest edition of Tom Tomorrow's sharp, funny, and on-target comic This Modern World. The guy is brilliant.

No offense to my straight friends and family, who are excepted from this, but... straight men can be such idiots!!
Recent evidence came to me in the form of an article in The Onion about this guy who's mooning over Christina Ricci and who seems to think he's Mr. Cool. Have a look for yourself - it appears this deluded fool has never heard of grooming. I've found this to be quite a widespread affliction among straight men; it simply doesn't cross their mind to take care of their looks at all. This isn't a question of vanity. It's a question of being, at the very least, presentable to a world outside your own bedroom, and possibly, if you're a bit more ambitious, to actually look, ya know, kind of attractive. Dude, you've gotta aim at least that high, if you're looking to impress Christina Ricci.

You know, when they said after the terrorist attacks that these events brought the real America to the fore? At first, I thought they meant, that's when americans found out what they're really made of - courage, hope, helping your fellow american, etc. I thought, fine, if that makes you feel better, great. But I now find that pronouncement to be more true than I knew. Heck - just look at the gigantic cheese contest that's been on your television for the last week or so. Turning tragedy into an endless circus? - now that's the real America.

Some people might say I'm a bit behind the times here...
Season 4 of The Sopranos has just begun on HBO (or it's about to; who knows - I'm not rich, so I don't have HBO). I've had season 1 on tape for a couple of years without watching it. Well, yesterday I began to do just that, and I'm blown away. I've only seen the first two episodes, and I never want this show to end. I already know I'm going to buy it on dvd. It's fucking brilliant. The best tv show I've seen since Twin Peaks. And as a bonus, it stars maybe the woofiest actor working today, James Gandolfini.

According to the paper, the Canadian senate thinks people over 16 should be allowed to smoke marijuana.
My first thought was, "It's about time."
My second thought was, "Wow, I can't believe a group of people with an average age of 64.5 made this decision."
The article goes on to quote detractors of this idea, who say, "There is no such thing as safe recreational use of drugs." Well, if you're going to use that as an argument, it looks like it's time to make alcohol and nicotine illegal too. God knows they kill/harm a LOT more people than pot ever could. David Griffin, executive director of the Canadian Police Association, called the senate's report "a back-to-school gift for drug pushers." What an idiot! The last thing drug pushers want is for marijuana to be legalized, because that means it can be sold in stores, which means the pushers would be out of a job!
All that being said, I think they should legalize marijuana, but they should make the legal age 18, and do the same for cigarettes. While I believe 16-year-olds are generally fairly worldly and not idiots, they are still very susceptible to peer pressure, which could cause them to develop a really filthy, harmful habit (smoking cigarettes), or to use pot unwisely.
These thoughts sponsored, by the way, by someone who has never smoked a joint in his life and has no interest in doing so.

Spam o' the day: "SEXUALLY DERANGED LESBIANS!"
Girls who like girls. I have to ask. Isn't it redundant to say that they're deranged?
(I'm asking for it.)

Hey homes, check out this artist - she's awesome:
http://www.kirstenjohnson.com
I saw her paintings at the outdoor art show this weekend. One of those things where you're always saying, "Oh, if I had money..." And Kirby, allow me to precede you by adding, "...or a sugar daddy".

A squirrel riding a dolphin whilst humping a can of Five Alive. Yup, that's what feeling alive is all about.

An unexpected side effect of my trip to Chicago is that it made me sad that I'm not independently wealthy. I always knew I wanted to travel, but actually doing it and having a good experience made me realize just how badly I want to travel, and that I want to do so extensively. Maybe I'll start investing in lottery tickets...

Aw, Mom, spam for breakfast again?? Sorry, but I couldn't resist sharing this one: "Stacey, Solve Your Tax Problems Yet?"

Okay, I cannot say this loudly enough:
THE PEOPLE WHO WRITE REVIEWS ON IMDB ARE F***ING IDIOTS!
Which is why I started writing my own reviews on imdb (The Internet Movie Database).
I just finished glancing (I couldn't bring myself to actually read those atrocities) through the site's reviews for The Shawshank Redemption, which is by all accounts the most overrated movie in the history of film. Okay, I'm exaggerating: one of the most overrated.

Oh yes, and a runner-up to the funniest spam subject line I've gotten (see entry August 12):
AMATEUR WIVES DOING IT ALL AT HOME!
What's an amateur wife?

Almost as soon as I got off the plane in Chicago on Friday (I've just come back from there), I realized something. "So this is where they breed them," I thought. You know, stocky guys with (sometimes without) facial hair. They all come from Chicago. ALL OF THEM.
In unrelated news, I'll be moving to Chicago in the near future.
What else to say about the place... Well, it seems its motto should be "Just Throw It In The Lake". My host and guide during my stay was very knowledgeable about Chicago's history and its architecture, and every second story he would tell about the city seemed to feature the phrase, "...so they dumped it in the lake...". Don't ask me.
Aside from that, I have nothing but praise. Since my friend is an architect, I got an architecture-slanted vacation, and all I could think of while gazing at Chicago's numerous amazing buildings is how bland or ugly most buildings are in Toronto.
Other things I've noticed:
1) It's a macho town. The buildings are masculine, the men are manly (see first item in entry), they have a bunch of those burger-type restaurants with Irish-sounding names, they're very proud of their football (by the way, it now makes sense to me that their team is called the Bears), etc.
2) Chicago is twice the size of Toronto, yet there, strangers on the street say hello to you. Not most of them, but some of them.
3) Chicago drivers sure love their car horns. They'll use them at the slightest excuse.
4) Three of the architects I learned about on my trip (Dankmar Adler, Ken Lyon, and Louis Sullivan) are woofy men. What is it about architects?
5) Chicago is the only city I know that has a street named after itself. Draw your own conclusions...

I work in one of those offices where lots of people go on vacation in the summer (or are all offices like that?). On the summer days that I'm not on vacation, it's so quiet here it's creepy.

A guy from Xerox came to the office today to explain the features of our new photocopier/fax machine/printer/pizza oven. Here's a sample quote for your personal enjoyment:
"I'm assuming we don't have any transparencies kicking around?"

I usually never pay any attention to rap, but I just happened upon the lyrics to a NWA song on the internet and saw the light: rap is hilarious! See for yourself:

"To a kid lookin' up ta me
Life ain't nothin but bitches and money.
Cause I'm tha type o' nigga that's built ta last
If ya fuck wit me I'll put a foot in ya ass"

I would like to add to the entry with the URL (two below) that though I find that shirt amusing, I don't think much of the guy who runs the site. He sounds like someone who's very bitter and not very happy. And he calls himself an atheist, but he says God is a murderer. Maybe I'm a little slow, but can someone explain to me how God can be a murderer if he doesn't exist?

And the winner of the prize for funniest spam subject line is...
"Claudecub Give Your Woman Multiple Orgasms!"

Here's a test to determine who has a sense of humour and who doesn't. Go to this URL:
http://www.atheists.net/pages/T-shirt_download.html

What a furball of a Monday morning. Bleah.
Three things:
1) Ever notice those ads on the subway? There's one of a miserable-looking, teary-eyed scarecrow, with some symptoms listed (itchy, watery eyes, etc.). And that's it. There's no way of knowing what the ad is for. I found it a bit alarming - I needed closure on that ad. Eventually I found it. The ad is supposed to be paired off with this other picture, where the scarecrow is all happy cause he took his medecine. Whew.
2) I found a rusty-green-coloured Froot Loop in my cereal bowl this morning. I ate it. If you haven't heard from me in a week, send an ambulance.
3) The photo on today's cover of Metro Today features quite plainly a man with his arm around another man's shoulders. They're not the subject of the photo. I really appreciated the casual quality of it. What this photo says to me is, "This is normal." My enjoyment of this photo also reminds me of how ridiculous it is that gays are generally not thought of as a normal part of this world.

Things that make you go 'barf'...
Headline in Metro Today: "World Youth Day faces $30-million deficit"
Excerpt: "Organizers are now planning to launch an ad campaign, calling on the goodwill of the public for donations."
Fuck goodwill.
While this Catholic love-in was going on, some people I know commented that it was nice to see this many youths gathered in one place with predominently positive energy. I agree. But is it worth wasting 30 million dollars on? No. For starters, Catholics are the most hypocritical religious group on the planet. This opinion is based not only on having been raised Catholic and being surrounded by them until I left home after high school, but also based on events in the Catholic church that everyone is familiar with, plus stories I heard during World Youth week about attendees asking for directions to the nearest bathhouse, as well as quite a bit of (pre-marital!) sex happening. There is also, of course, the big joke about the word 'catholic', which means, according to Webster's dictionary, "all-inclusive... broad in sympathies, tastes, or understanding; liberal". Tell that to gays, as well as to the entire female population, who are two of their biggest targets for discrimination.
Whenever I think of Catholicism, what I picture is a moldy, ancient book with an inch of dust on it.

Obnoxiousness, thy name is Vin Diesel.
I hereby encourage everyone I know to boycott this cocky idiot's movies.

Okay, now the comments are back and I look like an idiot. Awesome.

It appears the site that provided my 'comments' option has vanished. This is not the first time I have this type of problem with a site that ends in ".co.uk"... My apologies to everyone I wrote to bragging about this wonderful new option on my site. Can we move back into caves now, when things were so much simpler?

Okay, now where the fuck did the 'comment' buttons go???
Please have patience, everyone, and remember we're dealing with a very dull-witted child named Internet.

Latest gripe of mine:
I've noticed (not on my journal) people posting disparaging and/or hurtful comments on other people's blogs without signing their name. I think that's the height of cowardice. It also doesn't give their comments much credence, that they won't even sign their name to them. Reminds me of kids ringing someone's doorbell and running away. It's not so funny when it's presumed grown-ups doing it.

Man, I really hate comma splices. Know what I mean, guys? They just fuck my shit up.

Yay! I've finally got the comments up and running. Don't be shy, people.
Current phrase I overuse: "That being said".
Watch for it!

Today's internet rant.
When people tell me they met someone on the internet and fell in love without ever meeting, I don't buy it. They only let themselves believe they're in love because it's a pleasing idea. You never really know someone until you meet them face to face. On the internet, no matter what their intentions, people present themselves in a very specific, limited way - you're only seeing a fraction of the picture. There are substantial (crucial, even) parts of their personality that don't come through, no matter how honest they may think they're being. It's easy to nurture fantasy over reality on the internet. (Strike that - it's more accurate to say that it's difficult not to nurture fantasy over reality on the internet - because of human nature.) I think that's one of the main reasons for its popularity. I'm no different - I play that game and enjoy it. But maybe the difference is that I make sure I stay aware of it. That way I don't let it get out of hand. The internet is a toy. It only causes harm if you take it too seriously.

Went to Wonderland today.
Dragon Fire: A fun roller coaster with lots of loops, and almost no line-up. A-
Minebuster: Lots of hills, but an extremely bumpy coaster; most likely to make you puke. C+
Thunder Run: Really tame coaster, but sorta fun, with part of it in the dark. B-
Timberwolf Falls: You will feel 200% wet after you get off this straightforward soaker. A-
Top Gun: Best coaster there. A smooth, thrilling ride. A
Vortex: Similar to Top Gun but somewhat bumpier. A-
White Water Rafting: Too tame, and the line-up is long, but fun anyway. For some reason, the ride you're most likely to bond with strangers. B
I like the Bat too, but we didn't go this time, so I won't rate it. And I refuse to go on the one where you stand up.
I definitely recommend to go on a weekday. It's busy enough to be fun, but not as crazy-busy as it gets on weekends. Also try to go when they're predicting about 25 degrees with a mix of sun and clouds. Warm enough to go on the water rides, but not so hot you die from walking (actually today I renamed it Paramount Canada's Wonderland Walking Park Incorporated).
And to finish, a heartwarming episode from my day. I was lined up to get in the front car of Dragon Fire, and as we were about to get on, this eight-year-old kid (who was lined up for the car behind us) looks up at me with his doe eyes and says, "Hey, could we go in front, cause we want to see?" I might have agreed, except that, as he asked, he was getting ready to get into the front, assuming I would go along with his request cause he's a lil boy. So I replied, "Maybe another time." and got in. Guess what kid: I waited in line to be in the front car SO I COULD SEE. Next time you do the same. I love kids, don't you?

I'm attempting to install a thing (that's computer jargon for "doohickey") that will allow my thousands of readers to post their comments. Wish me luck.

One thing that makes web logs so great is that if you have a special experience by yourself, you can share it with your friends online. For instance, last night I dreamed I coughed up something that looked like a big (about the size of an eyeball), colourful bug. I was in some person's living room, and for some reason, I spat it out into their newspaper rack. Then, realizing that I shouldn't have done that, I went looking for it, but it wasn't there anymore. We searched and finally found it in the aquarium. I tried fishing it out, to no avail, so my mom showed up out of nowhere with the idea of emptying the aquarium of water. After we did that I had lost sight of it again, until my niece pointed out a trail of slime moving away from the aquarium. I woke up around then.
Ah, the wonder of internet journal writing.

SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA SONYA

I probably shouldn't do this, but I'm going to make fun of someone else's blog now. But I'll be nice; I won't tell you who it is. I don't even need to say anything derisive about it; it speaks for itself:

- "they should all just relax and go out for some starbucks"
- "i lOve yOu guYz !!!!! lets dO sOmethinG!! bUt nOt this week end.. i have tO wOrk! YAY!!"
- "i'm going to go and eat some waffles... hahah.. by the way, i didn't eat waffles for dinner last night... i had POTATO SALAD!!! hahaha..."

I'm having visions of our society in a handbasket, asking for directions to hell...

Anyone see the scary picture of the pope on the front page of the Toronto Sun today, accompanied by the headline (in font size 98 or something) "HE'S HERE"? If they were trying to evoke the movie Poltergeist, it worked.

Yesterday I took one of those time-killing internet tests to find out how gay I am. That sort of thing is fun and all, but such a test should really end after the first question (something along the lines of "Do you sleep with members of your own sex?"). I mean, what does it matter whether or not I wear tight t-shirts? I sleep with men: I'm gay. The end.

Why is it that I feel like Norman Bates when I'm around women?
Um, don't spread that around.

I'm starting to wonder if I should just call this blog 'today on the subway'.
So today on the subway, around 7:45 am, I had the good fortune to sit across from a man who not only picked his nose shamelessly, but also placed the fruits of his labour in his mouth. It was just a wee bit too early in the day for that.

Dave has brought my attention to a serious problem: people who use faddish phrases. It is very annoying. If I have to hear someone say 'ciao belle' (excuse my probably iffy italian spelling) one more time, I may just have to vomit on their shoes.

This morning on the subway, I swear the conductor announced the next station as "blea-lahleulaala".

Yesterday I walked past an "inner-city" basketball game. I thought, wow, this is something I've heard about and seen in movies and commercials, but never experienced myself. I should write about it in my journal. I was with Dave at the time, and that's exactly what he said I'd end up doing. I normally try to put stuff in here that hasn't been exposed to anyone who will end up reading it, but fuck it:
I thought: "urban" kids, playing basketball in a casual, yet "funky" fashion... something was amiss. After a moment's thought, I figured it out. THERE WAS NO MOUNTAIN DEW "CODE RED" SODA TO BE FOUND ANYWHERE IN SIGHT.

If you want to have a good laugh at my expense, visit my website's recent movies page, where I make some comment about "the first three-thirds" of Minority Report. Real slick. Yeah, the rest of the movie sucks, but the first three thirds are awesome.
So, it's, like, the height of summer, right? So what do I do? I get sick. And the doctor thinks it'll be three weeks before I'm well. Couldn't this lame-ass virus wait for some crummy season to attack me instead, like fall or winter? Ack, I say. Ack.

I'm sick (make your jokes here). Be back when I'm better.

Oh yes, and a quote from today's edition of Metro Today (the story is about a hot dog eating contest):
"Takeru Kobayashi amazed onlookers as bits of his last bun oozed out of his nose."
Just who are these amazed onlookers? And how else do they get their kicks?
Wait, I don't think I want to know.

You want the boys to like you? Have a member of your family come visit. I went out to eat with my sister tonight, which apparently gave everyone outside the illusion that I've "got it goin' on" (or whatever it is the kids say these days).

CUTE, INOFFENSIVE STORY - you know, for kids!
On a somewhat lighter note, this morning on my way to the subway I saw a squirrel crossing the street. A car came along and it looked like that would be the end of the line for Mr. Squirrel. I'm not sure exactly what happened next - maybe its tail got caught under a tire a bit or something - but it sent the squirrel spinning. When it came to a stop it took off real fast and climbed up a fence. It stopped up there and looked around. I could almost read its expression: "What the fuck just happened?"

I had an interesting post-Pride incident yesterday. I was talking about the parade with our IT guy at work, and he (unexpectedly) started saying some pretty foul homophobic stuff ("they should put them all on an island", etc.). I was shocked; this is a guy I've gotten along with great for over a year, and he had this ugly side I'd never seen. This was the first time something like this happened to me, and I couldn't just sit there. So I told him, "Just so you know, I'm gay, and it hurts me when you say stuff like that." I was pretty emotional and had to walk out of there. When I came back later he apologized. Usually when people apologize I just say "that's okay" or something, but I couldn't bring myself to say that in this case. I told him he didn't have to like it or even understand it, but that he should accept people even if they're different from him. I wish I'd had the chance to talk to him a bit more about it, but I'm glad I got as much out as I did. I think I actually had a positive effect on him.
In the end, I'm glad this incident occurred; it made me feel proud.

Pride was good this year, despite a few moments of trepidation. I mostly just walked around alone all weekend, stopping to spend time with groups where I knew someone, which made for a different experience. (I must say by yesterday I was getting tired of it all, though; I actually went home around 8.) I took tons of pictures, which I'm really looking forward to seeing, and I met some really nice people, which helped renew my faith in humanity. Of course, there were the usual attitude cases floating around, but this year I used Pride as an occasion to see these guys in context, and how little they matter.
I can't believe the amazing weather we had. You won't catch me complaining about the heat, that's for sure, because 1) I complain about the cold all winter and whine about summer being so far away, and 2) I now have an air conditioned apartment, so the only real disadvantage of hot weather - trouble sleeping - doesn't affect me anymore.

I've had a few people comment on the fact that I've been lax in my journal entries lately, and I've had a few people tell me they liked my journal. I've also looked at some of my old entries myself, and damn if there isn't some good stuff in there. Maybe that's what I need to be able to continue it - feedback.
I didn't before, but now I wish I had one of those journals where readers can post comments.

My legs and feet are killing me, but I'm not nervous anymore.

It's gay Pride weekend. There are things I really enjoy about it, but for some reason it also makes me nervous. I find I have to make myself go out into the crowds on Church. I could easily stay inside all weekend and barely regret it. I wonder what that means.

Thought of the day: Maybe there's more to life than sex after all.

Dave asked me if I'd given up on my blog. I haven't consciously, but I seem to keep forgetting about it these days. I'll give it a bit more time and see how I feel.
Yesterday I finally began clearing some of the boxes from my living room (they've been there since I moved). More than half the pile is gone now, which feels good. The motivation: my parents might be dropping by for a visit this week.

Oh my god! You (if there are any of you left out there) must have all thought I'd died! I don't know why, but this journal has totally left my mind since last Thursday! Weird.
Let's see, what's happened... I got a new bathroom sink. That's about it. I know it doesn't mean much to you, but believe me, this is the most excitement I've had since... well, see June 11 entry.
Other than that, I've made my first cd on my new computer. I think I'm done buying Maxell brand blank cds. Before when I was having problems I thought it was just because of my crappy cd writer, but now that I have a good one and they're still causing me problems...
(my repeated use of elipses is a special gift from me to you, Dave)

I just realized I say "for some reason" too much.

For some reason, I have a Johnny Cash song in my head: "How high's the water, mama? Four feet high and rising."

I bought a new computer on Sunday, and Dave, who was a big help with the purchase, was shocked that I didn't mention it in yesterday's entry, so here we are. It's very exciting, actually. I'm in the process of moving stuff from my old hard drive to my new one. I don't know about you, but my life doesn't get any more exciting than that.

In today's edition of Metro Today:
"Man Slain With Umbrella in Dispute"
I know there shouldn't be anything funny about that, but come on - with an umbrella?

I love summer! I love riding my bike! I love this weather!

I've figured out that Morgan Freeman and Phillip Seymour Hoffman are my two favourite contemporary actors. I can't think of anyone who does great work with more consistency these days.

Headline of the day: "Woman Has Bad Hair Day, Loses Case".
Metro Today is a goldmine for these. This one doesn't beat the champ, "Man Found Dead Under Cow", from a few months back, but it'll do.

I had a good day today. It's not often that I feel I can say that. It wasn't anything specific that happened. It was just my general attitude towards everything. I had energy. I was rolling with the punches. I figure it's the cereal I've been having for breakfast, so I bought some more today.

My computer has been fucking me up the ass for the last little while, and, oddly enough, I'm not enjoying it.

Yesterday I forgot to mention the cheese. We stopped at a dairy on the way back to Toronto, and I bought some fresh cheese curds that are OUT OF THIS WORLD!!!
Next to the dairy was a tiny petting zoo and a little playground area featuring extremely phallic-looking things on springs that kids are supposed to ride. When they're bouncing up and down, the whole thing moves past the land of mere suggestiveness.

Back from the wedding. It was nice. I took a nature walk today with some of my friends who went. I saw both a deer and a rabbit! I'd never seen either one in the wild before. We also saw a dead racoon, a cow skull, and some ruins. The whole thing was very Blair Witch-y. I even got separated from the group for like, 4 minutes.

Defying all odds, I found a dress shirt I like fairly quickly, and a gift too. I even wrapped it.
You know, the more I say it, the more 'dress shirt' sounds girly.

I'm going to a wedding on Saturday, so I have to buy a dress shirt tomorrow. You have no idea what an ordeal this is. All I own are jeans, shorts, t-shirts and plaid. Plus I don't like shopping for clothes. The fact that I'll be wearing a dress shirt should constitute their wedding present. Oh well, might as well look on the bright side. Now that I'll have a dress shirt, I'll be able to wear it to other dress-shirt-type things, like funerals. Yay! Every cloud has a silver lining!

current mood: head up own ass
current music: what, you think I can hear f---in' music in there??

I find dreams fascinating. I love the way my brain processes stuff. I do think they're significant, because I believe they mostly consist of stuff you don't let out during the day but which needs to come out. Now apply that theory to me dreaming last night that I was engaged to be married (to a woman) but was cheating on her with a very attractive male member of her extended family...

Is the song "I Get Around" by the Beach Boys about being a slut?

I brought the scotch to the party, and I'm the only one who drank any. And I'm pretty sure I won't be drinking much more in the future either. 46% alcohol not my thing.
At the party I discovered Triumph the Insult Dog (from the Conan O'Brian show), and I'm in love. We watched a clip of Triumph insulting the members of a Star Wars line-up for ten minutes, and I almost died laughing. Luckily, I found the clip on the internet and downloaded it for myself. I noticed there were other Triumph clips there, which I plan on downloading in the future. Viva internet!

I've been a bit more lax of late as far as writing in here regularly. Them's the brakes.
Going to a bachelor party now. Debating whether I should bring a gigantic bottle of scotch.

Anger, frustration, head full of too much information... ah yes, I'm feeling like myself again.

I'm having a rare moment of serenity. It began about a half-hour ago. It seems I always have something to be anxious about. This thought came to the surface (not for the first time) after I left work today and I examined it. And I realized I really have nothing to be feeling bad about right now. I know it won't last long, but I can savour it while it does.

I've been listening to some tapes I made or bought in the 80s lately. I noticed that the popular songs of the day were generally very repetitive. But then, I wouldn't know whether that's still true today. I don't listen to much popular music these days, on account of the fact that it's crap.
Hey, I'm 30, I have to start saying stuff like that.

This edition of Survivor may have been more interesting than the last two, but it was also the one that got the nastiest, with some of the contestants taking this game way too seriously. Although it's safe to assume that none of them were at their best, considering the conditions they were living under. The barf-worthy lowest points: as always, the beyond-blatant product placement, and the stupid american flag-waving on the last episode. Patriotism is a fine thing, but when you tag it onto a show that's about something no deeper than cold hard cash, it's pretty repulsive. And quintessentially American.

"Kraft" spelled backwards is "tfark".

The score, after tonight's Survivor episode:
Neleh - down one point, for being so smug
Sean and Pappy - down a point each, for forgetting this is A FRIGGIN GAME
Pappy - down an extra point, for thinking he's better than Sean
Vecepia - even
Cathy - up a point, for suddenly being the most likable person on the island; I hope she wins the fucker.

WOO-HOO! I'm on the internet! And I can use my phone! It's a miracle! I'm an internet whore! Fuck me, internet!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Due to popular demand, pent-up anger wins over poisonously bad jokes. Go figure. So:
These fucking Sympatico people are driving me up the wall! Don't you just love the way salespeople make maddeningly complicated things sound so simple you'll think you'd died and gone to heaven? Over the weekend I ordered high-speed internet. The guy on the phone told me as long as I have a USB port, I'm fine. So today the package arrives and I start reading the instructions. It says I have to plug the ethernet cable into my ethernet card - WHAFUCK?! I quickly notice that no hole in my computer fits what's at the business end of this "ethernet" cable, so I call the fuckers. The guy starts by telling me I have the option between the USB method and the ethernet thingie. Then it sounds like someone wacks him on the side of the head with a gun, cause suddenly he's saying, sorry, no, the only option is the ethernet thingie, and I have to go buy an ethernet card if I want the high-speed pleasure to begin. At this point I'm ready to open one of this guy's veins and PISS in it. And what the fuck is an "ethernet card"? Does Hallmark sell those?

Wow, that was some display of pent-up anger yesterday.
Well, it's either that or jokes like this:
Guy picks up girl in a bar, takes her home. In bed, she notices he has a small dick and loses interest. He asks her why and she says it's because his organ is small. He replies, "I didn't know I was playing in a cathedral."

Your choice.

Can I just say really loud,
WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT HOCKEY???!!! WHO CARES ABOUT STAR FUCKIN WARS???!!! WHO DA FUCK CARES ABOUT DOING A REUNION SHOW FOR EVERY F---ING PROGRAM THAT'S EVER APPEARED ON TELEVISION???!!! YEEEEEEAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHH!!

Thank you.

...very sleepy...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

My apartment is becoming a stagnant pit of hell. Well, not that bad, but you get my drift. It's creepy how slovenliness can get out of control. You know, "Hey, there's already one empty cereal box on the kitchen counter, who'll care if I leave more?!" It's gotten to the point where I think I'd be better off setting fire to the place instead of cleaning it...

Okay, time for the finals of my Worst of the Worst contest! Act like you care!
WHICH IS WORSE?
the cold or vomiting? - b
vomiting or onions? - a
Vomiting wins! Hurrah! Three cheers for vomit!!

Don't worry, ladies and germs, I haven't forgotten round two of the worst of the worst showdown (see May 7 entry). Here are the semi-finals (yes, I am milking this for as many entries as I can):
dance music or the cold? - b
disturbed sleep or vomiting? - b
Okay, that leaves us with the cold, vomiting, and onions. Stay tuned...
In the meantime, please join me in a moment of silence for Rob the Limo Driver, who was voted off of Survivor tonight...

I'm in a right bitchy mood.
My annoyance accrued in snowball fashion over the course of the afternoon.
Maybe it's because I went to the medical lab this morning and they drew enough of my blood for the entire staff to take a bath in.

Sometimes I wish I could take photographs with my ass.

Ha ha! Just a humorous little joke, folks!
I thought of a fun game. Here are ten things I don't like: bad hair, dance music, the cold, the movie 'Baby Geniuses', having tired legs from walking, disturbed sleep, walls painted off-white, vomiting, onions, raisins. I will now pit them against one another until there remains standing only one victor, the worse of the worse. Here we go.
WHICH IS WORSE?
bad hair or dance music? - b
the cold or the movie 'Baby Geniuses'? - a
having tired legs from walking or disturbed sleep? - b
walls painted off-white or vomiting? - b
onions or raisins? - a
Stay tuned for Round Two!!

Sometimes I wish I could take photographs with my eyes.

Bought my second painting this weekend. This is a painter I've been meaning to buy from for a while; I was really happy to finally find the right painting. She works in different styles and media; this one is a nature scene done in Group-of-Sevenish impressionism, with rich, dark colours.
What does it mean to be 30? To me, nothing negative. I roll my eyes at the ones who bellyache that they're getting older at 30. If anything, 30 makes me feel more substantial as a person, and more attractive.

Let's see, how can I work underwear into today's entry...
Where do you go for your UNDERWEAR needs? I myself buy my UNDERWEAR at Costco's.
Heck, I'm wearing some right now.
You know, some UNDERWEAR.

I thought you'd like to know, I solved my underwear problem.
Am I going to tell you how? Um, no.

I'm leaving for the weekend straight from work tomorrow and I have to pack tonight. I just realized I have just run out completely of clean underwear, because I've been putting off doing the laundry. What to do? (bring your dirty underwear claude) No! That's the Dark Side talking! There must be some other way... tear some old shirts into rags and tie them around my waist?... go commando?... shit, I'm in a tight spot here.

Today I went to see a new doctor that someone recommended to me. Whether or not you count the fact that the receptionist told me his boyfriend liked me and I could have him for one hour, the visit was a success. My new doctor (whose office is located only five minutes from my apartment!) showed genuine interest in me (as a client; go wash your mind out with soap) and is putting me through a satisfyingly thorough check-up, featuring blood tests! X-rays! Urine samples! (I can't stand those doctors who listen to you breathe for twenty seconds and call it a day.) Plus, he set my mind at ease regarding my ongoing chest pain (all together, kids: it's called COSTOCHONDRITIS).

Armed with some juicy coupons (merci, Manal!) I went to HMV and bought a shitload of dvds. It's like Christmas!

It always seems to be a Saturday when I forget to write an entry. And my brain is too tired right now to come up with anything of interest to compensate.

Confession time.
I had the tv on Muchmusic (something that normally never happens in my house) and this N'sync video came on. And I... well, the song didn't suck.
bye now

Heavy day.

Ah, the Cinemathèque.
I went there tonight for the first time to watch Peeping Tom. I don't think I will ever go again.
What a ghastly collection of snobs and geeks! And as if that wasn't enough, the curtain closed on the last shot - before the movie was over! I mean, in a regular theatre that would bother me but it wouldn't surprise me. But this is supposed to be a place for people who think of movies as art - and the people who run it have no more respect than this for the experience of film-watching? Yeeaaaargh!
If you read in the news that it burned down, you'll know who did it.

I want everyone out there to know that I started saying "it's a good thing" years before I even heard of Martha Stewart. And I didn't turn it into some sort of 'look how cute I am' catchphrase either.

Looking back, I can hardly believe just how much my gayness came out through my tastes in music growing up. The most obvious giveaways (at different stages): disco (though I was too young to dance in clubs), Madonna, Abba, Pet Shop Boys, Duran Duran and Depeche Mode. Luckily (or, conceivably, unluckily) for me, everyone in my hometown was just as clueless as I was about this sort of stuff.

I just remembered a dream I had last night. I dreamed that we (I'm not sure who 'we' is) were gonna have a campfire. I was really excited because that meant I would be able to get rid of the rest of my Maple Leaf weiners (see April 12 entry).
This - this - is what my mind sees fit to rehash?!!

The band: Sonic Youth.
The album: Washing Machine.
The track: Becuz.
The guitar moment that comes in at 3:38 rips me in HALF.

Getting to the end of a book is like the apocalypse.
While you're reading the book, if it's good, you live in its world. Then, you get to the last page, and the universe as you know it vanishes.
It's enough to drive one insane. Except that now you're in this world, the 'real' one. You chuckle to yourself, you touch your furniture and have a drink of water. But how real is it? When it ends, will there be yet another universe waiting for us to live in?

I was just watching the movie Nixon, and I have two things to say.
First, Oliver Stone is one of the only contemporary directors I would feel comfortable calling a genius.
Second, about an hour into the movie, there's a surprisingly erotic moment featuring Bob Hoskins (who's hot to start with) and his servant boy. There's no sex, but it's one of the most erotic moments I've seen in a movie ever, mostly thanks to Hoskins' performance.

You know, doctors suck a little. I say a little to compensate for the thousands who say they suck big time. Because, when you come right down to it, most of them are too arrogant, but they DO know a lot about what's going on with the human body.
But.
This is the order of events.
I had a cold. I was having some bad coughing fits. My chest started to hurt, so I went to the clinic. Doctor said I had walking pneumonia. Gave me antibiotics. During the week that followed, I seemed to be getting better, but at an almost imperceptible pace. Then one day my chest started hurting bad again and I returned to the clinic. Different doctor this time. He said I pulled something in my chest, gave me painkillers/anti-inflammatories.
I think the second doctor's diagnosis was the correct one, but even he was really wishy-washy about it. I just don't understand how they can prescribe stuff that alters the way your body works without being sure it's what you need. And if the second doctor is right, that means I took ten days of antibiotics for nothing, which is very bad because antibiotics are to be avoided when possible, because they weaken your immune system.
Why did neither of them suggest I get an x-ray, especially if they were so unsure?
As things stand, I'm still waiting to find out if I'm gonna have to go get a third opinion.

I just found out that my birthday, in addition to being a Mexican holiday, is also the beginning of Emergency Preparedness Week this year. Could I be any more blessed?

I've just been referred to as being "as bright as a Jersey cow standing in fresh pasture in early May after a gentle rain shower" by Jim.
I thought everyone should know. Draw your own conclusions about Jim, or about myself...

Go see Rick's Journal, people, cause I said so. Also because you won't regret it; he's cute, he's funny, and a good writer.

Drugs rule!
Starting around yesterday afternoon I was in some of the worst pain I've had to endure in my life (I apparently sprained a lung or something). The doctor gave me some drugs, which was like giving my pain a one-way ticket to the Bahamas. Have a nice trip!

This one's for you, Sterling.
Since I've lived in Toronto (7.6 years or so) I've noticed an amusing habit people have around here. That would be referring to places such as Barrie or Ottawa as 'northern Ontario'. Do you know how many ways in which this is wrong and laughable? If you look at a map of Ontario, you'll notice that those cities are in the southernmost third of the province (in Barrie's case, make that fifth). Now, by what stretch of the imagination is that northern Ontario?
I like italics.

An envelope that says Lisa. A photo of me at about ten years of age. An empty margarine container that I use for laundry soap. A Sharp calculator that I think I found in a classroom ten years ago. A calander with a picture of a ladybug. An almost-cool black baseball cap that says Feds in red lettering which I got at some job training thing months ago and which I will never wear cause I don't wear hats.

Ah, boredom.
Where would we be without you?
Oh yeah, that's right - we'd be having a good time.

I ate hot dogs for dinner. They didn't have Schneider's weiners at the grocery store, so I got Maple Leaf. What a mistake - by the third hot dog, I felt the way I logically should after a few helpings of warm rat entrails. (I don't know how Schneider's avoids that effect; maybe they're made from better-quality rat entrails.) What, oh what will I do with the rest of this package of weiners? Sigh.

What does it mean that I don't read the papers or watch the news?
I think it's possible to live your entire life looking out for number one. But I guess it's not a good idea. Logically, you should have to give as much as you take. What do I give? I could make you a long, detailed list of what I take, but what do I give?
It's pretty easy to have a high level of self-awareness when you're totally self-centred. It's not so easy to change.
I get philosophical once in a while, but it almost never changes anything in the way I live.
Don't worry - my journal entries will be light and fluffy again before you know it.

It's called walking pneumonia, and it sure do suck. Now my lung hurts if I turn over in bed. On the bright side, the doctor has me on some antibiotics that are giving me diarrhea. Yup, feeling pretty sexy right about now!

You know that feeling, like someone's sticking a knife in your ribs, on the right side of your chest? Yeah, you know the one. Well I've got that feeling right now, every time I cough or clear my throat or move too suddenly. I took two Advil over an hour ago, but they may as well have been candy. Maybe I should've tried six or eight.

For those of you who don't know yet, I bought Art. No, I didn't buy the rights to the name 'Art'; I bought a painting - my first ever, so I'm pretty excited. I'd been looking around for a painting to get, and I found one at this opening at the Swizzle gallery on College at Dufferin. The artist, Mark Ciale, dates my friend Dave, but that's not why I bought it. I guess it reached me. Mark's work has a sense of humour to it, but not an obvious one - that's what appeals to me. His paintings don't have titles, so I gave mine a name. It's about the size of a paperback. I won't bother describing it; I'd rather let you wonder what the hell could be on a painting that I named 'Nun Cake'...

Shit, I did it again - missed a day (I don't suppose I can somehow blame this on having to move the time forward).
I hope I'm not starting down a slippery slope, but maybe missing a day here and there should be expected. I mean, when you think about it, life is too unpredictible for me to be expected to remember or be able to write here every single day.
That being said, I'll continue to try to write here every day.

One of the translators where I work does handwritten corrections on his first draft which I have to enter into the document. (He doesn't know how to use a computer. I know, don't get me started on this guy.)
Ever notice how some people's handwriting is downright offensive? Sometimes I have to ask my colleague for help in deciphering his.
"What's he trying to write? What's that ugly balloon?"
"Oh, I think that's an 'l'."
"Oh my god! Quick, get it away, before it tries to eat the children!"

Ack. What a crummy day. No particular reason, nothing horrible happened. It just seemed that today shit was hanging from every branch. I guess it makes sense - we need something to balance out those days when you feel great for no apparent reason. But man - it just never ended. No matter which turn my narrative took, it was coloured in crud.
The good news is that usually, when one of those days is over, it's over. It's bedtime for me, and not a moment too soon.

Came home early from work today to get some rest. Ironic, cause they're drilling on the balconies outside. Only, from the sound, you'd swear they were drilling inside your head. Very restful...

Played Atari with Dave tonight. Kicked that bitch's ass at Tennis. Now he's my Tennis bitch.
Ask him he'll tell you. In fact, every day this week I'm sure he'll stop people on the street and say, "Good afternoon. I'm Claude's Tennis bitch." Come to think of it, I should have made him wear a shirt that says that...

I'm still sick. I'm very impatient with illness. It inconveniences me. All weekend I've been a good boy, resting and drinking water like it's going out of style. What do I have to do, kill a goat?

Someday, someone will have to tell me what bunnies, chocolate, the colours purple and yellow have to do with a religious holiday about an event that wouldn't feel out of place in a horror movie.

Yes, I know, I skipped a day. Well I was sick (still am) and almost fell asleep at the computer last night. That'll have to pass as my excuse.
I guess it's a crummy way to spend my four-day weekend (yes, I love working for the government), but then again, most of the people I would've spent time with are busy or out of town, on account of the holiday.
Good Friday is actually my favourite holiday, if I had to pick one. As a child, I would have picked Christmas, but the charm of that one has worn off. Growing up I went to church every week (not by choice), and Good Friday was the most dramatic of the religious holidays, what with Jesus being crucified and dying. Also, Good Friday isn't a commercial holiday. We're not inundated by Good Friday greeting cards, posters, commercials and toys. (Can you imagine a toy crucifix that says "My God, why have you forsaken me?" when you press the red button at the back?)

Ah, foreign people and their attempts at english. I just finished putting together a tv/vcr/dvd cabinet (3 hours of frustration, thank you) that was made in Vietnam, and the instructions are... interesting. Stuff like "Do not tight any screws in this step."
The Twin Peaks dvd I got from Hong Kong is similarly amusing. The back cover states that Twin Peaks "mixed the small-town melodrama with the sinister quirkiness". And who can lose with goofy chapter titles like "Lost of Love" and "Death All Together"?

I just finished watching this week's Survivor. I don't care what anyone says about the show - it's brilliant. Sure people act differently in front of a camera. Actually, what could be argued is that their true natures come out. Sure the show is edited for maximum effect. What do you expect - it's entertainment! Survivor is a combination of social study and soap opera, and I can't think of anything more fascinating on tv right now.

Goin' straight to bed.

Well I finally had it. I went to Pizza Hut, found a way to ask for it without naming it, and I ate it. (Only *hard-core* fans of this web log know what I'm talking about.) And after all that fuss, it wasn't even worth it. Well, at least I won't ever have to find a way to ask for it again.
Rest in peace, P'Zon.
(happy, Dave?)

Wow, those were some of the boringest (I love making up words) Oscars ever. Why?
1) Whoopi
2) I wasn't excited about any of the nominated films
3) more sober attitude than usual, perhaps in wake of you-know-what
Also, I think it's embarassing the way Hollywood is celebrating the fact that there were three - count 'em, three - black actors nominated. This is supposed to be remarkable? You call this progress? When less than half the nominees are white, then I'll be impressed.

And the comedy award of the weekend goes to...
...this guy who introduced the movie at the Cumberland this afternoon. I was there to see In the Bedroom. This usher comes to the front of the theatre, and already I'm rolling my eyes, because these guys are usually really bad. He said something like this, in sort of a monotone: "This is a great movie. It's about the triumph of, huh, the human spirit. Of good... over evil. Great movie. Hope you enjoy it. Now I'm going to go refill the napkin dispensers."
Brilliant.
p.s. Greetings to Kortright the Maple Dog.

I heard Dave sing tonight. He's part of a choir. I saw their last show, before Christmas, but this time Dave had his own number, so it's the first time I really heard him sing. It was special because it's an important aspect of his life that I haven't had the chance to be much of a part of. The coolest thing was to find out that Dave sings beautifully. I hope I'll be lucky enough to hear him again.

Was this National Cranky Old Lady Day or something? First there was the lady who asked me if I HAD to use my building's back door (I was meeting someone there), as if I was doing something unbelievably rude (she was having furniture delivered, but how could I have known?). Then, five minutes later, there was the lady in my building's office (I was there to get a visitor's parking pass) who told me to get out of her way because she was talking to the receptionist. Then there was the lady at the bakery giving her husband shit for - oh, I don't know, existing, probably.
Whatever you do tonight, don't go outside.

Hello. I'm alive.
Okay? Can I go now?

This morning I saw a woman on the subway. She had great hair, and I really wanted to tell her. What I liked most about it was the colour. It reminded me of melted butter. Or wheat. Or a sunset.
Or butter-covered wheat at sunset.

Tonight I watched the new television program "Andy Richter Controls the Universe". Everyone should watch it. It's at 8:30 on Fox. On Tuesdays. It's very funny and clever, which is what I expected from the star. I saw three car commercials in a row during the show. Who do they think is watching Andy Richter's new show? 'Car And Driver' subscribers? One of the car commercials featured snowboards, which makes so much sense really.

Some days I could kick the internet in the teeth.

Movie trailer shorthand:
If there's dancing in the preview, it's a period movie.
If the preview is made up of scenes with no dialogue, it's a foreign film.
If the preview is a minute or less in length, and the movie is due out in six months, the budget for the movie was at least $125 million.
If the preview shows characters from the movie laughing, it's either a "life-affirming dramedy" or a comedy without any funny scenes.
If the preview features several pop songs, the movie is guaranteed to be a piece of shit.
If there are no previews, please tell me where you go to the movies.

Do you think certain movies would have been as profitable if they had goofy or unintelligible titles? What if Home Alone had been called "The Great Snow-shoeing Adventure"? What if Raiders of the Lost Ark had been called "That's Some Hat!" And yes, what if Star Wars had been called "The Postman Is Grhunndhutlu"?

I'm getting old:
1. I used to love Coca-Cola; now it's like drinking battery acid.
2. Macdonalds burgers are bricks in my stomach.
3. Most contemporary popular music is crap.
4. White hair is starting to come in.

What to do?
1. stop ingesting offensive substance
2. stop ingesting offensive substance
3. stop ingesting offensive substance
4. yay! I like white hair.

Overall, not a bad deal.

Stop taunting me, you crazy bananas! Oh, you want me to go there, yes you do. Crazy bananas!! Yikes!

And that's pretty much where I'm at right now.

...and the Big Slice of Moldy Cheese bad taste award of the week goes to:
livejournal user 'five0xpres'.
Actually, the award should go to whoever is responsible for that misguided, vacuous painting.
Like my friend Dave said on his blog, good thing I have a strong stomach.

...and the comedy hero of the day award goes to...
Today I switched subways at Bloor and Yonge cause I had to go east. So I get on, the doors close, and the driver announces, "Bay station is next, Bay station." I couldn't believe it - I thought I'd made sure I was on the right train. Then the announcer comes on again: "I like doing that. Sherbourne station is next, Sherbourne."

I had a fucked up dream last night. There was this guy who wanted me, and I told him I wasn't interested. I kept running into him, and he persisted in trying to pick me up no matter how many times I rejected him. Eventually he became dangerous. He showed up at my house, and I knew I had to kill him. So I did. I didn't just kill him, though. I'll skip the details, but it was a pretty gruesome and cold-hearted scene. Right after that I had a peaceful dream about picking grapes and rasberries in my dad's garden with my niece.

I guess an analyst would have a ball with this stuff.

I remember in high school, I would fall asleep in some of my classes. It didn't really matter what class - law, math, biology. I'm not narcoleptic, and I got enough sleep, so what was that about? Is my boredom threshold really low? I felt bad back then, because it wasn't necessarily the teachers' fault (one of them was actually sorta hot), and I can't imagine anything more insulting than a student falling asleep in your class. But now it sort of makes me smile because it was as if my body was so brutally honest that it didn't even pretend to care what anyone thought. It figured I was bored and wouldn't retain any of that knowledge, so it might as well rest.

They say to be a good writer, you've got to write every day, thereby exercising your writing muscles. That's one of the things I was thinking about when I decided to start this journal. They say you should write even if absolutely nothing of interest comes to mind, so that the muscles don't stiffen from inactivity. Even if the words staring up at you from the page/screen make you embarrassed that you wrote them, you have to keep going. Even if you're repeating yourself or writing gibberish, you should continue writing down the words. Don't censor yourself - after all, it's trash; no one will ever see it. It'll never be published.
Oops.

Thank goodness for the limited half-life of sentimental value.

Some days, I could kiss the internet.
Just now I was reading my favourite magazine, Entertainment Weekly, and they mentioned a bunch of dvds that aren't available in North American stores. The pilot for Twin Peaks was on the list - I've wanted to have a good copy of that thing for the last ten years (all I have is my own crappy recording from when it aired). They named a website where rare discs could be found, and suggested looking on ebay. Well the website didn't have it, so I checked out ebay, and tons of the thing are on sale there! And no one's buying them, so they're cheap!
So, five minutes after reading that article, I won an auction for an UNOPENED copy of the Twin Peaks pilot episode dvd with a bid of a mere $16.61! Yay!!

Pizza Hut has a new product - I've seen it advertised on tv - and it's tearing me apart. Pizza Hut is my favourite pizza, and it looks like they've started making panzerotti. So obviously I'm pretty excited. The problem is, they gave their new product a 'hip' name, so that the kids will think it's cool.
Well, I can't say it. No more than I could say 'to the extreme' out loud. I know if I said it, it would make me vomit. And that's exactly the opposite of what I go to restaurants for.
So, my dilemma: how do I sample Pizza Hut's surely delectable new treat if I can't ask for it by name?

If anyone out there thought my life was easy, think again. I deal with stuff like this every day.

Did I mention that Leonard Maltin gave Blue Velvet one star less than he gave the Sylvester Stallone movie Daylight?
Sorry, I can't get over it.

Mon ami Marko vient de déménager à Toronto. Souhaitez-lui la bienvenue, tout le monde!
For those of you who don't understand french, I was merely quoting the great existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre in an astoundingly apropos way. (If you felt awe-struck and didn't know why, there's your reason.)

Leonard Maltin is obsolete.
I used to buy his yearly book because it was a useful reference and because his opinion didn't offend me. Well now, the Internet Movie Data Base is infinitely more comprehensive, and I think he's a bad critic. Anything that has an edge (David Lynch, taboo subjects) automatically loses points with Lenny. For instance, he has nothing but praise for The Silence of the Lambs, but he gives it three and a half stars instead of the full four because "the subject matter is at times repellent". God forbid a movie should ruffle your feathers! No, according to the old Malt ball, the most important thing is for movies to be tame and have nice costumes and locations, like Dances with Wolves (which had no trouble earning four stars).

Life lesson: you gets what you pays for.
Especially when it comes to free websites.
Exhibit 1: The host for my website doesn't charge me anything. Obviously, that's too good a deal to be true. So for the last two months it's been defective and I've been unable to update my website. Very annoying. I'm moving to a new host.
Exhibit 2: My favourite website, musclebear.com, has apparently been left unattended since November. There's a note there that says something like, be back in a few weeks, take care! It's March and we're still waiting, like the kids in some of those period tv movies: "Ma? When's Pa comin home from th' war?"

My parents left this morning at two a.m. I don't understand. Every year they drive to Florida. What's the point in driving 15 hours a day to get there as soon as possible? If you're gonna do that, why not fly? They're retired; they should be relaxing and enjoying the scenery instead of giving themselves ulcers. I think what we've got here is 'old dog, new trick' syndrome. My dad's not one for change. And he does, after all, call himself a Catholic, which means that it's wrong not to suffer for your fun.

Oh yeah, something I forgot to mention yesterday. In church there are moments when you have to kneel. My mom noticed I seemed uncomfortable. She said, "Looks like you're not used to getting on your knees." My mom meant what she said literally, so any unchristian connotation you attach to that comes directly from your own soiled mind.

What a difference going to a nice church does. Growing up I went every Sunday to this drab-looking thing (it didn't help that I wasn't going by choice). Today we went to St. Michael's, which is gorgeous. My first impression upon walking in was how it felt like refuge from the grungy, noisy city world outside, and I could see why people go there. Other selling points were the choir and the dramatic organ playing. Then the men in robes started droning on about things I feel dubious about, and I remembered why I don't go to church. Still, overall an interesting experience I might want to repeat.

I have sinned. Which is why I'll be going to church today.
Well, not exactly; let me rephrase that. I told myself I would write in here every day, and yesterday I didn't. It wasn't laziness; I just forgot. I hope it's forgivable. My parents are coming to visit today, and last night I spent a few hours cleaning up. When I get in a cleaning mood (this is a rare occurrence), I get all wrapped up in it - that's the only way I can get anything done. So I forgot my journal.
I will be going to church tonight because my parents want to go. See what a good boy I am?

Um, I wasn't gonna get suckered into the latest edition of Survivor, but now that I've seen Robert The Limo Driver, I won't be able to stay away. He's the first yummy contestant they've had since Richard Hatch in season one. I've even already found a few passable pictures of him on the net.
In addition to my new boyfriend Robert The Limo Driver, the rest of the castaways seem to be a lot more interesting than the last bunch. That should make the non-Robert interludes easier to bear.

Just saw the "movie" Glitter. What to say... I'm actually surprised Mariah Carey's fans didn't make it a hit. After all it's a lot like her music (which someone in the movie accurately sums up as all sounding the same) - soulless and dull. It's not that there are a lot of horrible scenes in the movie (the worst part is the "hip" accent and vernacular affected by Mariah's very white boyfriend). It's just that it's so insubstantial it's barely there. It's a procession of clichés, and it doesn't rank very high on the 'so bad it's good' scale. But I do have to say this for the movie: so far as I could tell, the shots are all in focus.

You know those Pillsbury weiner wraps? Okay, so maybe you don't. They're like piggies in a blanket. Well, the way you open the container with the dough in it is you slowly peel off the label until it pops open. Well let me tell you, that is one of the most suspenseful food-related activities you can engage in. It never fails to make me jump when that container pops open. Tonight as I was pulling on the label I thought, "I know - I'll just act all casual, as if I couldn't care less if and when that thing pops open. I'll just stare at the wall as I pull the label off, not caring in the least about--aaaaaah!"

Damn. I swore I wouldn't get personal on my web log.

Apparently I didn't murder my hair. And I wasn't really hoping for more than that. Maybe I'll go all out and use a bowl next time.

I'm sleepy.

Hello. I cut my own hair today. What did you do?
I used my new clipper. I'm not sure yet if this was a good or bad idea. It's hard to tell if I fucked it up; I can't see the back, for one thing. I know I didn't do a professional job, but I wonder how much it shows. I'll have to wait and see how people react to it.
Isn't cutting one's own hair on the short list of stupid things humans shouldn't try doing?

Wow, sometimes I swear the internet is not very funky. I almost didn't make it here on time today (as you can see from the time of my post), through no fault of my own. For some reason it just took forever for the Blogger page to open, and then when I clicked to go to my log, the page wasn't available the first few times I tried. But I persevered, which is why you're having to listen to what I'm realizing now is a rather boring story.

Let me tell you about all I accomplished today instead. I accomplished three things I've been meaning to do for a long time. First, I bought a clipper for my beard (and maybe for my hair too; we'll see). I cleaned the fridge. I saw the movie The Man Who Wasn't There. Satisfaction on all counts. The clipper is everything I dreamed it would be, and the shopping trip was made pleasant by the company of friends, and we saw at least one jaw-droppingly gorgeous bear at the mall. The fridge looks a lot better than it did. The movie, though not one of the Coen brothers' best, was quite good.

You know when it's Friday, and you're tired, and you're getting into your comfy bed, and you know you can stay there as long as you like because you don't have to get up the next morning, and you think you might fall asleep before your head hits the pillow? It's a nice feeling, isn't it? I had that feeling tonight as I closed my eyes.
Then I realized I had yet to write anything in here today.
That's right: I tore myself away from the sweet, welcoming arms of sleep just so I wouldn't disappoint my legion* of fans**.

I hope you motherfuckers are happy.

*legion being defined as a minimum of two persons, which may or may not include me.
**fan being defined as a person who will not as a rule cross the street to avoid me.
***do not use in conjunction with any other coupon.

I take the subway to work every day. Most people are either reading or sleeping. If they're reading, these days it's either Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, or that free Metro Toronto paper. I had a slightly weird experience this morning. I was looking at everyone else's paper (yes, I'm one of those annoying people), and the headline on all of them was about a tragic train crash. The second headline was "Canada keeps medal hope alive", except on one guy's paper. His front page was the same except for the second headline. The one on his paper was about floods on Mars.

1) Did this newspaper come from a parallel universe?
2) How can there be floods on Mars?

I listened to some cds on my computer tonight. Take that, stupid busted-up amplifier.

In other (and old) news, Rosie O'Donnell is gay. Tom Cruise must be so sad.

And finally: Are those fuckin olympics ever gonna end?

The amplifier in my stereo system died today. I think. I know nothing about electronics, so I'm not sure; all I know is it won't turn on. But I hate it. I rely on my stereo. It's a machine, it should be infaillible. Now what do I do? How do I listen to my favourite tunes? I'm not very skilled at accepting facts I don't like. I would wait a few minutes, pull the plug, push it back in, and try turning it on again. When that didn't work I'd get upset again. Then I'd calm down again. Then I'd have a great idea, like pulling the plug out and pushing it back in. Then I'd be shocked (I probably had this betrayed look on my face too) that it still didn't work. "Wha?! Music thing broke?! Where music?! Whasgoin on?!"

Who needs candy when the Criterion dvd edition of Rushmore has just arrived in the mail?!!!
Candy is for chumps!
Bye!

Tonight I was looking for a videotape I could tape over. I came across this recording of Dances with Wolves. I started watching it. Man, is that ever a boring movie! And that may just be the most inexpressive performance of Costner's career. How the heck did that guy ever become a star?

Yo! I'd like to send a loud, Proud-Black-Woman (TM Dave P.) shout-out to all my homies livin in da ghetto!

I apologize.

I'm in a weird mood today. That happens when I stay in da crib - uh, I mean indoors - without talking to anyone. But I am being productive. I've been going through the junk pile in my living room. It's funny the artifacts you can dig up when you start going through your old stuff. I found some diskettes from high school - you know, those gigantic four-inch ones? I have to decide to either throw them out or turn them into art nouveau by framing them and hanging them on the wall. I can already hear the reaction of my four dozen or so socialite friends when they drop by for their usual martini: "Ah, Claude, how deliciously droll!"

Hmm. Maybe I should get back to work now.

What the fuck is happening to the weather? When I was growing up, there were seasons (god, that sentence makes me feel old). Now we barely have winter anymore. I mean, I hate winter with all my might, but shouldn't we be worried that it's this mild in February? Doesn't that mean the environment is getting fucked up?

In honour of this wonderful holiday, I am printing the first verse of lyrics from Nirvana's song 'Heart-Shaped Box'. Enjoy!

She eyes me like a pisces when I am weak
I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for a week
I was drawn into your magnet tar pit trap
I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black

And that, folks, is what Valentine's Day is all about!

I ate an orange yesterday.
About a week ago, someone at work gave me part of his, and I couldn't believe how good it was. He told me it was a seedless Navel orange, so I went out and got one. This orange was a big fucker, not some wussy-type orange. This was a MAN's orange. Actually, by the time I got to the end of it, I never wanted to see another orange again.

Isn't my life exciting? Don't you wish you were me?

How did you enjoy my first posting?
Perhaps this one will make more sense.
I went to a dog pound for the first time over the weekend with Sterling. They had one dog. A very cute mid-size puppy. We opened the door to its cage and it jumped me. It was so excited to be let out that it peed on my boot. That turns some people on, but not me. Still, it made me want a dog even more.

blah blah blah or something