Monday, March 30, 2009

knock knock who's there zeddy the points bear! your mom got you a mountain bike with all her zeller's points! what have i done to deserve such kindnes

July 21st, 1992 I turned 7. On that day I received a blue skip-it, some barbie clothes, a vhs tape with 2 episodes of Dinosaurs on it, and a love of baseball. Initially we were all going to go see "Honey I blew up the Kid", but at the insistence of my best bud and neighbour Jerrod F., we all went to see A League of their Own instead, starring Geena Davis as beautiful and Tom Hanks as a trash can smoking a cigar. It was the same year the B-Jays would win the World Series (second year in a row!), thrusting the likes of Joe Carter and Robbie Alomar into the pages of United Way sponsored mini-comics about safety and saying no to drugs. To this day I still have most of my Donruss cards, in so-so condition, that we used to get for free in loonie surprise bags, with shitty tooth-breaking slabs of gum, even! My Wade Boggs rookie card has appreciated in value to about 30 dollars! My Nolan Ryan Diamond-Kings series however is still worth about 7 cents.

Anyhow, this caused me to take a trip down memory road when team sports were mandatory and tween geared movies were about wearin' cons and ralphin' from eatin' too much candy and being a part of a shambly whole against rich kids that wear nike issued black uniforms and not Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. :/
In fifth grade, when I was 10, we used to go to Olan's Pro-Hardware in Millbrook. It was the only place you could pick up sporting goods. My dad bought us a softball and we had a couple wooden bats, which I always had trouble lifting. Once Jerrod cracked me in the right ear with one and for 10 minutes I thought I lost my hearing. I would go on to repay him in full by shooting him in the knee with a BB gun in second grade. (what I'd give to see the 'Sorry I shot you!' apology note that came with his Sorry-I-Shot-You Wishing Troll) When I was 11 I got it into my head that I wanted to try out for the Millbrook three-pitch team, despite only being able to hit grounders and fouls, and being shitty at catching anything ever. Mostly I just talked to the other spaced out kids in the outfield. I remember all the cool dudes in my grade started smoking random shit they found in the conservation area because they claimed it made them 'run faster'.

Here I am age 10, before I would go on to star as Joseph Gordon Levitt's haircut in 3rd rock from the sun:Faces of my men-folk considerately blurred as I do not believe they want to be on my blog. Those shorts are both floral and corduroy, and no need to ask, the shirt is No Fear. Also looks like I kind of have a 'ner, eh?
This was a baseball glove my mom bought for me from Canadian tire with 14 dollars worth of saved up Canadian Tire money. I think we only had to pay a difference of 3 dollars "real" money. Back then everyone had their own tricks on breaking in a glove. I tried painting mine with oil and baking it in the oven for a couple hours.
And here's where I dibbsed my glove. Looks like I had some trouble writing my own name. The tiny complacent face underneath is really weird eh? It's like at the very moment I penned that little guy I saw a flash of what my future would be, and the expression that I would forever be doomed to wear on my face. At the time I had no idea that I would never grow into a great talent, or fail to conduct myself with a sense of justice and fairness and quiet inner grace, no idea that eventually I'd be just be sorta a dick with an elephant's memory about the bad stuff and the bittersweet stuff and a general fear of the future, re: gods garbage dump. Once MSC elementary was my whole world and now I'm too lazy to show anyone anything. I am planning my future by five year increments, I am running out of time, and I am not in the major leagues or the minor leagues.
In conclusion baseball is nice, grass is nice, shorts are nice, home leagues are nice, dying your bangs with koolaid is nice, gimp bracelets are nice, dogs are nice, here's a clip from the Sandlot:

Sunday, March 29, 2009

knock knock! who's there? a roomfull of suicide girls! can you tell them to come back later i'm crying

tonights episode of Kings led the youth plotline to the set of Gossip Girl's club "Victrola", what happened to blade-style basement clubs with blood sprinklers and prodigy? the last time i went to a 'club' was in peterborough at the rooster where my brothers promptly delatched from me and i sat on a vinyl silver couch drinking water. twice i was approached by bouncers and asked if I was alright.
then there was the time lee and i went to go get 69 cent tacos on st.denis. by the time we had returned a slick looking club opened up next to our house, complete with a red velvet rope and some potted palm frons. for about a month we'd joke about getting our shit together and hitting up the club across the street from the greyhound station and the holiday inn tht sounds like a mix of 'ecstacy' and 'salvia'. but we never went, and then one day Shwebb told us all that it was actually an office for software developers.
RIP Clubs 1982-2001

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

a tomb of one's own

today i took my business to peterborough's unembraced downtown core. over the years it has been brutalized by pensive grafitti about our statesmen, pervasive feelings of indigestion and sadness, and kids in oversize white t's on lowriders asking for change because they wanna buy a drink. fair enough. anyways, i hit up the old Y's buys by the bus station and there I found this stupid, stupid dress. I actually found it a couple weeks ago, but low and behold, no dumb idiot wanted to buy it.


My old diary tells me that to give light, must endure burning. Lover of vague, mystical sounding meditations-on-dualism that I am, this gem is, quite perfectly, my new life suit. Buttoned all the way up, it commands respect at any formal to semi-formal event, noted for being "business in the front", but check out.... ....the stupid party in the back!
things i like about this dress:
-it's the formal attire of someone who takes last summer's huge trend (in my home) of sleeveless denim jackets ("summer 08's") very seriously
-it perfectly fits into my plan of dressing like the male equivalent of Nick Cave's son, Jethro Lazenby Cave, if young Jethro was more Sauble Beach and less Cliffs of Dover, more pizza and less pizza-flavored absinthe.
-if i wear it on a sunny day i'll be blessed with a trashy fan-shaped tan on my back

also, here's a poster i did in grade 8 that's literally covered in dirt. there are three renderings of blood, oozing or not. This was for a unit we did on the book "Shantymen of Cache Lake". Look at my stupid lascerated(ing?) "H". My poor mother.

Thursday, March 19, 2009


oh, sorry. did i forget to tell you guys that thursday is spa day? whoops. grab some shopper's drug mart brand face masks and come on over.
give me your poor, your tired, your hardened calluses yearning to be ped-egged.

Monday, March 16, 2009

new bloggerdashes

are up, courtesy Lauren M Cookowitz, because everyone loves to remember that time they were funny once

knock knock who's there a: a woman oh no offense i like this joke better when a dude tells it

Stumbled across this article on ONTD, required reading for all the no'maams please, just all the most righteous broads, Roseanne, Poundstone and other darling angels sounding off on chicks with schticks (sorry).
CAPITAL quote:

PAULA POUNDSTONE (NPR’s "Wait Wait ... Don’t Tell Me"): I followed a man one night — Steve Sweeney, who is now a radio guy in Boston. The last thing Steve Sweeney said was, "So I was eating out the cunt of a bear." You know, that’s hard to follow. Suddenly my joke about busing tables ... So did anybody deliberately exclude women? No. And I could have played along. But I knew that wasn’t where I was going to thrive.

Friday, March 6, 2009

500 days of makeoutclub blowjobs

The williwaws are blowing mild air across the arctic shelf, theres a little spring in everyone's step, the snow is melting and revealing beautiful mud and yellowed grass and cigarette butts, so surely it must be that time of year again, time for Juno 2!!!!

This movie has it all, let's recap!

- Deschanel unabashedly singing the smiths, fuck, i love a free spirit as much as the next guy, but really? the smiths? arent they a little underground? Frankly i think a sweet ref like that will be lost on a lot of the viewership

- It makes perfect sense that Gordon-Levitt's character, probably with a cool name like Holden Caufield, or Dashboard COnfessional has a sage child friend on hand who, with glibness, candor, and comedic life experience, can take control of the situation and talk him down from great emotional distress

- Wait, is this one of those movies that starts with the end??

- choregraphed dance scene after he boffs her

- mostly i'm just so disheartened that people are still making movies that aren't Pride and PRejudice serials.

- There's probably a scene where she makes him slow dance on the street/sing along to a kinks song in public and he's nervous at first but then he's like 'frig, hey world, i'm in love with this little lady, and i don't think it needs to be said, but she's an f. spirit"

- and then she gives him back his album of photobooth pictures :)

So make sure to save the date July 17th because thats the one year anniversary (shy a few days) of when the last Harry Potter came out!!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

firth we take manhattan

"AHHH, WHY WONT YOU LET ME MARRY YOU BRIDGET JONES!!!????"



okay so i just watched "he's just not that into you" what a shit storm that was!! can i just go back in your stomach now mom? at least through the walls of your uterus i cant see scar jo's heartbreaking peekaboo rip in the ass of her jeans.

on that note, this is more a reminder that good things come in british sizes! a toast to helen fielding, building her empire on women that believe if a dude asks you if you're a dyke, it means he totalllly knows you ain't, and he thinks you're pretty.



So after watching BJD and BJD2: edge of reason, I would like to call for a return to Austen/Bronte courtship formulas where all men are our lords and any women worth their salt in marriage is probably enlisted to a life of indentured servitude at your estate. Frankly both movies had too many fey laddish fight scenes to the tune of Geri Halliwell's Its Raining Men and not enough scenes where dudes looked like they were going to cry because they loved the Zeg ssooo hard.

Dalhousie's just not that into you

I've just been watching "He's just not that into you" on my computer and everytime they say "he's just not interested", I picture these words coming from the various Deans of Admissions.

from a convo with lauren:
me: always an undergrad never a masters

lee on grad school:
Lee: 2 million cambodians died because someone like your or I was charasmatic with peasants