'round Midnight

Hey keyboard. Its been a while...I haven't known how to bring this up but I cant take it anymore and I have to ask...what happened between you and me? We used to be so close in the MSN days. I feel like all this texting has distanced us. Before I used to be with you all the time so it was a lot easier for us to write things together. I’m not saying I cant write things with my phone, but its not as easy and fluid as it was with us. We were such a good team. I want us back. I want everything to be the way it was again. You and me and MSN and notepad. Remember notepad? And your beautiful arrow keys...when was the last time anyone touched you there. Now I cant even see the letters “WASD”. Back in the good days I used to go to town on your arrow keys. Remember that? And I would flick your space bar just like this in the Double Dragon days. Now look at us. I’ve let this younger generation come between us. I miss you. I miss the shortcut buttons you had for “volume” and “internet” and “search” that didn’t do anything. Hhaha we would stay up all night and I could never get them to work. I even miss the yellow hue your mother took on near the end of her life. She was beautiful. With the backwards “L” shaped return button and those deep keys...they don't rattle like that anymore, I can tell you that. I used to make your mother purr if I typed on her just right. Now the keyboards are all touch screen. They don’t make a sound. You cant even feel them. How can you have a relationship without feelings? They disappear until you need them and just pop up for you to use them like some cheap, desperate whore making a booty call. I don’t want that. I want you. We can get a desk together and you can have your own permanent space, and you can be as loud as you want. I need that. I need that feedback. I need that response from you....I need you keyboard....I need you to listen to me when I want to pour out about my day. Not the cheap embrace of a touch screen keyboard on a tiny screen on the subway. You. Your keys and warm rattle in the privacy of my own room, where we can stay up until three in the morning again, just like old times. But you’re a dying breed...and its getting harder and harder to hang on. I’m worried that by the time I’m old you wont be around anymore, and that scares me. I’m sorry I haven’t given as much attention to you over the past couple of years. I’m sorry I let it get to this. I love you keyboard. You’ve always been there for me to listen without judgement and I love you for that. You’re the best friend I ever had and Ill never let you go again. 

-Alex

Parental Disclaimer

Choosing to be a comedian, like any other form of art, is like choosing to have a terminal illness. You're bound to lose weight because of it, your friends will stop giving a shit about you and your parents actually mourn for your situation. When someone asks my parents how their son is doing, they change their tone of voice and look at the floor.
 "...Alex?...Alex isn't doing too well...He's decided to become a stand up comedian. We just don't know what to do..." Then my father wraps an arm around my mother as she bursts into tears. This is accompanied by condolences and many generous offers by relatives to send one of their successful sons or daughters over to try and help me be more like them. The similarities aren't across the board, however.
See, if I really was sick, when they came to visit me in the hospital, they would bring gifts and flowers and tell me everything's going to be okay. They might not know if I actually will be okay, but God damn it they'd lie and hope for the best cause that's what family does. Instead, I'm a comedian, so its the equivalent of my family coming into my hospital room, pulling a chair up next to the heart rate monitor, taking my cold, limp hand into theirs, and, as they stare into my tired and weary eyes, saying ".....how long to you plan on living like this?" in an "I know better than you" tone of voice. Then I flat line and they say, "I told him he wouldn't make it."
Its not so much about family telling you you're going to fail, as much as it is about family not telling you you'll succeed. If I told my parents I was a going to be a doctor, Id have so much support I wouldn't even need to study. They'd do it for me. I could live at home as long as I need. Money for school? Car? Gas? They can make adjustments to the families spending. When I told my parents I was going to be a comedian though, all I got was....."Well...you can do whatever you like." As in "You can develop a serious drug addiction if you like. Im not saying you should or you shouldn't. Im just saying you can." Its more of a disclaimer really. In case it all falls through, it wouldn't have been their fault for pushing me in this direction.
What I want to know is how come parents don't feel bad after spending all their college savings and pushing their children into a field like teaching where they go through years and years of school with nothing to show for it but a part time job at Shoppers Drug Mart and a Masters Degree for when the toilet paper runs out?

Iron Man 3 and some spoliers I think

Coming out of Iron Man 3 I’m reminded of a straight A student who begins the year with so much potential but slowly lets it all fall apart by graduation after letting their potential success get to their head and partying too much.

The writing in the movie seemed lazy to me. The lackadaisical attitude that was built in to Tony Starks character has now become the lackadaisical attitude of the writers showing through Tony Stark. Theres a fine line between a well scripted lazy character and just plain a lazy scripted character. There were too many “I got nothing's” and “You got me's” and “whatever's”. Yea these are funny, but thats not what i expect from the third iron man movie. Its like watching stand up comedian go up and just play off their own failure as a writer, which is a very important skill to have for when you try and fail as a writer, but nobody is ever going to want to pay to see someone talk about how lazy they are for not writing anything clever. This is where i feel Iron Man abused the trust of the people that payed to see it. Did most people like that movie? Of course. But most people also liked the first movie and it wasnt because the writers swung from one main stream reference to another. It was because they succesfully merged a superhero with that douche bag from highschool you secretly loved, despite his arrogance and ego. The ending also left me a little confused. At the end of Return of the King the cast didnt collectively take off their costumes and stop larping in the countryside, but thats all ill say. Lastly i just want to say that theres a scene where the Iron Man suits glove pulls Tony Stark to safety. This is totally a knock off of the part in Aladdin where genie saves Aladdin from drowning.  

The Powers That Be

Do I believe in the powers that be. Well, no, not really if I’m being completely honest. Do I believe that there is a greater power governing the universes happenings? No. Cause that would take the fun out of those few little times where something super unlikely happens and I’m such a good sport about it. Instead, I believe that it takes a special kind of person to see the humor in life. For example, anyone else last night would have been annoyed, angry, confused, or any other sort of weak, girly emotion. But i find it funny that we would run into eachother. Its been so long since ive seen you that i almost didnt recognize you last night. Sure, youve looked better, and you were with some other guy when i got there, and I'm sure you didnt expect me to show up, but it happened. Its also strange that on a night where i invite some of my friends who had helped me through some of the tougher times in my life, i also happen to see you. Friends like Christina or Matt, ryan and francesco, friends who youve been in the presence of and know pretty well. My biggest concern, however, wasnt my friends, but the fact that you were in the same room as my girlfriend. In retrospect, that was a pretty risky situation, cause i could have ended up looking like a fool in front of everyone. Luckily, it didnt get to that point. You minded your own business and i minded mine. At one point i thought things were really going to fly off the handle when i accidentally got ketchup on you. It didnt seem like you noticed though. Thank god for that. You just sat there calm and cool. To be honest, i admire you for that. Part of me wished you had done something to grab my attention, but that part of me wasnt there last night, and the other part of me definitely didnt want that. The last thing i need is you getting sauce all over my shirt anyways because i wanted your “attention”. In the end it was nice seeing you again, and although it was tempting to get saucy with one another like we used to, I’m glad things were as dry as they were. At least that way we could avoid any sticky situations if you know what i mean. I guess what I’m trying to say is that i missed you, and seeing some other guy with his lips all over you made me realize just how long its been since ive had you in my mouth.
I love you chicken wings. If youre reading this, last night was last night, and today is today, and for both of our sake, i think thats the way we should keep it. Ill have a beer to that. And also, heres to not writing something depressing for once.

P.s. You were a lot fattier than i remember.

Heres What Happened...

Issue #1

Youre walking downtown late at night, maybe in chinatown, looking for somewhere to just get a drink. Maybe you want a coffee or a beer, but you think to yourself, "i always have coffee or beer." Just then you here a childish, but friendly voice from your right say "thats why you should have this juice were making" You turn to your right and in the narrowest crack in the wall you see a space. Not quite small enough for a door but not big enough for a window. Instead theres a small space. maybe ten feet wide, if that, and six feet deep. Leaning back on the hind legs of his chair is a white guy, in a huxtable-esque sweater, and a brooklyn hat that would make Mars Blackmon proud. Hes got a beard, wispy and white, like an old karate master and hes playing with it. Stroking it, looking deep in thought, or at least trying to. And as you stop and look at him wondering how he knew what you were thinking, his face lights up. "Hey Alex!", he yells, "I got one! I told you it would work eventually." Behind him theres a kitchen and the back of a guys head. Before his hair hes about six foot four, plus his hair its about seven two. Toiling over a tiny cutting board with a tiny knife and some tiny ingrediant, the giant yells out "Fine here." and, without turning his head, slaps a five dollar bill down on the counter behind him. You continue to stare not quite sure what he means until he explains. "Oh, i bet my friend in the kitchen that if i kept saying "thats why you should try this juice were making" to everybody walking by eventually it would line up with someones thoughts and they would stop. Ive made my money for the day. Time to close up shop. You want the juice by the way?" You ask whats in it, and the giant yells in a monotone voice, "Oyster and Peanut Butter" The guy in the hat smiles and knods his head, the sound of the drink satisfying his ears. "Really?" you ask. "Of course not" says the giant, "You want the drink or not?" You order the drink, and at the same time the guy in the hat says "ill have one too." as he slaps the same five dollar bill down on the counter. They bid you goodnight and slide down a great big, worn out garage door. The door was all covered in graffiti that must have been at least 30 years old from the looks of it. As the door hit the ground it was as though the shop didnt exist. No one would think it was an active space walking by it. As you walk away you sip your drink. It tastes like...peanut butter.....and oyster. Less concerned with the drink, you spend the rest of your night wondering who these two guys were, what they were doing there, and why the giant was blending oysters and peanut butter in the first place. 

Chinatown

I was in chinatown recently. Chinatown can be a magical place, but i've always compared being in chinatown to being drunk for a number of reasons. Namely cause you always feel sick, but for a million other reasons too.


The other day i was walking around and felt disoriented simply by the amount of signs and people around that i couldnt understand. It was like being in a nightclub full of drunk white girls yelling nonsense at eachother, except the drunk white girls were tiny chinese women and the nonsense was a legitimate language. Your ablility to figure out where the hell you are and which way your facing is completely gone. I like to think i have a great sense of direction. You could blind fold me, spin me around, tie me up in a berlap sack, throw me in the trunk of a car and drive for half and hour in as many directions you want and i would still know how to get to where im going. But enough about how i got here. When im in chinatown its like the bermuda triangle. Compasses dont work and electrical devices fail. Either cause their in chinatown or...cause...they were made in china. Still, i walk into a building and i dont know what it is.on the one side theres a wall of dusty merchandise that probably predates the cold war, none of it you would ever need like those good luck cats. So it must be a shop right? But then i turn around and theres a guy making dumplings and smiling at me with a gold capped tooth. Not to mention the merchandise itself is terrifying.


I went just before halloween to the candy isle and everything had a picture of a prawn or a squid on it and a little kid smiling next to it with a thought bubble of a doctor in it and the doctors yelling "SUPER HAPPY FUN GO GO TREAT SNACK YUM YUM". I ended up settling for a giant plastic elephant filled with those little jelly shots if youve ever seen them.


Every cashier in the area works like their at foxcomm. Really, theyre like woodchippers. I go up to the cashier and give her the candy and before i even took my money out she already bagged the product and handed me my receipt and change, while already having started the next customer. I think she actually took my wallet, took the money she needed, and put it back before i even reached for my pocket.


The best part of chinatown for me though is also the worst part. Im not proud of how often i go to it and i really wish i didnt because ive spent a lot of money here, but i still go. Some guys go for pleasure. Real sleazy, low life characters i hate being around. Guys sitting in their torn up chairs, panting and breathing heavily while they mutter to themselves. Sweating through their shirts, riddled with acne as they get off playing Starcraft or World of Warcraft. Im addicted to internet cafe's. Ive made it a rule that i dont go in while the suns out but even then its still me and a bunch of pre-pubesant korean kids playing video games together in a small, smelly room. This is a low point in my life but one thought always gets me through. "At least im not an acne riddled pre pubesant korean kid"

The REAL Zombie Apocalypse

Say what you will about Star Wars, i was never really attached to the bastard child of George Lucas anyways. I was always a fan of Lord of the Rings: good, wholsome fantasy fun. But it seems theyve both gone the way of the goose who was cursed with the ability to lay golden eggs: slaughtered mercilessly in an attempt to find endless amounts of money in its stomach, and when nothing was found its innards were shaped into eggs and sold anyways (see: Bourne Legacy, Taken 2, Expendables 3(Expendables sucked anyways the first time around but it was a welcomed suck, now its an unwelcomed suck, like a leech)). You want your zombie apocolypse? You got it. But its not with people, its with movies. Movies are being resurrected from the dead to aimlessly wander the world, feasting on the brains of the children who are too young to appreciate the originals and what they once meant to people. Thats what this is! There IS a zombie apocolypse going on! Its just in movies!

...Lock and load...

Now that Disneys bought out Lucas Films theyve agreed together that theres going to be an episode 7 to the star wars saga which will then apparently be followed by an 8 and a 9. “Im happy to see the movies passed down from generation to genreation” says George Lucas, the sick fuck. Reading his words brings to my mind the mental image of a cult affiliated-louisiana-inbreed-back swamp dwelling-priest-father talking about his many daughters from his many wives, born to live in captivity on his sex farms used well into old age when theyre unattractive and unfertile. This is what the movie industry is. And movie crossovers? Incest. Straight up.

I’m beginning to feel like Star Wars was born for one purpose. Mass prostitution. And, I have to admit, I feel for the poor girl. Times are changing and things that were once shocking and wrong are becoming socially acceptable. Like swearing in front of a lady, now its become acceptable to sell and trade our children for use by strangers. (its a metaphor for movies and their makers, dont get too excited you sick fuck)

Unfortunately my beloved Lord of the Rings seems to have gone the same way, but at least The Hobbit its still being directed by Peter Jackson. Still, i cant hold out much hope that the story in the movie will be anything similar to that of the original book. I mean, how on earth can a book shorter than The Fellowship Of The Ring be made out to be longer than the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy combined. Its like what they do to the chickens at McDonalds. If we stop and look at just the past year in movies alone, we can easily see some of the worst cases. Id like to share one trilogy that was near and dear to my heart, until a fourth movie was awkwardly attached to it, like a pinky finger surgically attached to a foot. No, not Indiana Jones, even he at least still had his whip. Im talking Bourne. They didnt even CALL Matt Damon about these. They just went ahead with it. Matt Daemon literally woke up one morning, opened up the movie listings page in the paper, and yelled “Honey....remember that time i came home at 6am really really drunk and couldnt remember what i did the night before? ...I think i did another Bourne movie...” The first two movies had different directors, fine. But even they stayed somewhat relevant to one another stylistically. This fourth one had literally nothing to do with the others. No sneaking, no cool soundtrack, not even any cool countries to visit. The Philippines? Who the fuck wants to see the philippines? No offence to the “flips” out there but im just saying,, Canadas not on the radar either.

My point is we need to be ready cause the pots about to bubble over with remakes and sequels and thats when the apocalypse. After that we can have our cleansing but until then i suggest we bundle up with our favorite oldies and indies and lock and load till the whole thing blows over.

Things Im Thinking When Getting Slammed at Work

Uh oh...I hope the 5 second rule works with soup...

Rainy Day..Rainy Life...

The rain drops collide with my window
it makes my house cry
the sun doesnt want to come out
i dont want to come out of the sun

i never understood what nihilism was
so i gave up trying to understand it
just like the world gave up trying to understand me...

when i call her she ignores me
when i text her she doesnt respond
when i need her she isnt there...
...why did she have to lose her phone..

Things Im Thinking When Getting Slammed at Work

Dear Jesus,

Now, I know I haven't been to your house in a while and it might seem i only celebrate your birthday for the gifts and cake, and i havent been to your funeral in a while either, which, if i may say, is every year so its kind of unfair to expect me to show up every year. YOURE the one faking your own death. It was cool the first time but now its just rude. We all know youre faking it.

Anyways, all im saying is this is totally unfair. Its a Tuesday night and im already out of carpaccio and prosciutto, not to mention my gelato is all melted cause the freezer doesnt want to work and were still seating people. Im on my own here! Lets cut a deal, ill fast forrrr...say 15 days, no meat no dairy, and in exchange you clear out some of these people or give me a third arm or something.

Let me know what you think. Try to get back to me soon, im running out of dessert plates. Plus my managers Italian is starting to sound angrier and his hand gestures are starting to look like he's killing someone with an ice pick too.

Cool, thanks.

-Alex

Poli Sci

Rob Ford. What can i really say about him that you havent already read on every paper, magazine, flyer, blog, facebook status, bumber sticker, or tshirt already. Hes fat, which wouldnt matter but when youre already losing, like he is in my eyes, i associate his weight with greed and gluttony, like one would with Jabba the Hut. Theres rarely a time where i see him on tv and his tone of voice alone doesnt make me cringe. So far his decision making skills seem to have stopped developing at around the stubborn age of seven. He presents no give, not even when an entire city believes the complete opposite as him. Hey, integrity is great but when youre in a position of power its dangerous. As far as danger however i dont think anyone needs to worry about Ford steering us into a wall, i think he just wants the drivers seat cause its more comfortable. So i say, give the baby his bottle until the next election where in we'll yank it away from him and let him cry himself to sleep.

"Rappa Jappa Han Solo Bringy Wingy"

Sketch Premise

Premise, premise, premise, premise, cheese...old cheese, grilled cheese, cheesecake, cheesequake, the moon is made of cheese.....the cow jumped over the moon..brown cows make chocolate milk...chocolate milk has as much sugar as pop..jamie olivers food revoloution..fat people in america..were the kids of america whoa oh, 80's music and clothes...
i love pastel colours. the world would be better if the government invested in a city wide sound system that always played new wave synth pop from the 80's all the time and everyone had to wear government issued pastel coloured suits from the 80's. Also, there would be no new technology, only tapes and shit. technology JUST before the internet. If i were in charged i would make this so. it would be heaven. Saturday detention would be reinstated and groups of teenagers from all walks of life would spend EVERY saturday


OH I NEED A SECOND ONE
UHHH A FRUIT FRIDGE WHERE ALL THE FRUITS AND VEGTABLES FIGHT WITH EACHOTHER WHEN THE DOOR SHUTS

A Christmas Carol

To be sung to the melody of "Noel"

No Elves, No Elves

No elves, no elves

the workers did strike

My accountant messed up

should have hired a...jewish accountant

Now the elves have all resigned

No one here to make toys

Going to outsource my labour

to chinese girls and boys

-

Twice the hours half the pay

One small break everyday

Plus one billion less children

who need toys christmas day

Homeless children, orphans too

They can all come and stay

Just dont hire the sick kids

theyre dead anyways.

-

Make my list and check it twice

see whose naughty or nice.

Give the rich kids good presents

give my workers some rice.

For Obama end the war,

all the girls iPhone4.

All the black kids get freedom..

all the white kids LONGBOARDS!

Ship the presents to the states

kill Steve Jobs for Bill Gates

Merry Christmas to all

on this holiest date.

Waste Managment

A Chinese writer named Chen Wei, was sentenced to 9 years in prison Friday for publishing an essay that was critical of china’s government and communist political system, and ive been too lazy to write a new blog. This demonstration of one nations restrictions on free speech have me thinking about my own privileges and what i've done to both abuse and waste them.

Every day i realize more and more how much i have and how much of it i take for granted. At first it started with food and starving children around the world who have none. Then, as i got older, it was clothes, then warmth, shelter, education etc. Now that im 20, ive started noticing even more things i would never have understood at a younger age. The right to vote, for example, a right thats abused by half of the population every election. But the right to free speech is whats on my mind now. This is a right that is both abused and wasted by almost all of those who are fortunate enough to have it bestowed upon them. Theres proof of this too. Just look at all the facebook statuses and twitter updates that are constantly popping up online. At least 90% of them are just garbage. We are privileged with the right to express our thoughts and ideals in whatever way we want and were facebooking about how little of last nights party we remember. Most people never think twice about the fact that they can walk into a mall and yell out “FUCK STEVEN HARPER HES A SHITTY PRIME MINISTER AND THE LIBERALS SUCK” and yet, the second you confront someone about polluting a bus with profane language over your cellphone conversation, they immediately remember their God given right to free speech.

When we look at all of this it seems like im making a big deal of something trivial that isnt hurting anyone. So you updated your status to your favourite Ben & Jerrys ice cream flavour with a heart next to it, thats not hurting anyone. Maybe not, but heres a man in China who was AWARE of his restrictions but who STILL decided to face the full consequences of posting something he felt could inspire a revolution. Heres a man who felt that 9 years of prison was nothing compared to a lifetime of potential geniuses and leaders being oppressed by their government and who decided he was going to accept the fallout of his actions, no matter how unjust, in exchange for a chance to speak out against his oppressors. This really puts in perspective what we have and what were wasting, like the privilege to say something smart out loud, that we instead use to say something stupid. With the type of freedom we have comes a responsibility to use it wisely and effectively, something many of us have failed to do.

I for one would gladly give up my right to free speech if it meant Chen Wei could have it instead, cause he would put it to much better use that me. I mean, look at this blog for fuck sake. I make myself sick...im gonna go pour hot wax on to my chest..that'll teach me.

Stand and Deliver

Tuesday, September 17^th, 2011; a date that will forever go down in history as the the first night I ever performed a set at a comedy club. The day leading up to that set was largely unfruitful. I woke up with productive intentions. I was going to run some errands, do some shopping, and then devote the remainder of my time towards practising my set. When 6 pm rolled around, naturally, the only thing I had done all day was eat, mill around the house, and watch Lord of the Rings, which is the type of behaviour one should expect of me whenever I'm given free time. Eventually, the time to leave for the club came around and, despite my lack of preparation, I was calmer than a tranquilized cucumber. I figured the small amount of preparation I had was sufficient, and that in the event of any unforeseen circumstances, I could just rely on my impeccable improvisation skills just like I did through-out high school. As the minutes passed, however, I found myself growing more and more anxious. This was the only thing in my life I really wanted to do and I was about to wing it for no reason other than sheer laziness. Then the negativity started. “You're not worth the opportunities you've been given, you lazy ass”, I thought to myself.

I arrived at the club and took my seat. The show started and we were blazing through the acts at a frightening rate. With every passing comic, I could feel my heart rate gradually getting faster. Then it was the last comic before me presenting and I knew it was fight or flight at this point. (For the record, my heart rate is actually going up as I recollect on this moment and try to illustrate it with words) In the 11^th hour, though, the most peculiar idea dawned upon me and suddenly I was calm. I figured, it's my first time doing stand up and I'm about to waste it by trying to be funny. There it was, my always reliable, divine last minute epiphany, as though god himself channelled me so that he could see a good show.

My name was called and I went up on stage, and, right off the bat, I was presented with a problem. I was up too early and the girl before me hadn't finished setting up the mic stand. After what felt like the most awkward eternity ever, she set up the stage, shook my hand, and left the stage in a frantic rush leaving me to deal with the silence. I took a deep breathe, smiled, and calmly said, “Well that was awkward...I came too early” It was smooth sailing from that point on. I sat on the stool and told the crowd I just wanted to take in the moment that was my first set, so I just sat and looked out at them. It wasn't much of a set, but they ate it up nonetheless. After a quick joke, the red light turned on and, just like that, the sweetest two minutes I ever experienced were over. I was hooked. I was ready for another round in the arena. Drop whatever beasts you want in with me, I was ready to die for this.

After our sets were done, I rounded up some of the crowd and we all went out for celebratory drinks. I intended on trying a seasonal harvest beer by Sam Adams they had, but settled for a different craft beer called Barking Squirrel. I was very satisfied with this product. I made friends with the bar tenders and got to taste the new beer anyways. It turned out to be a pretty good night...until we decided to go to McDonalds...

I got a bunch of people craving McDonalds, something I've gotten exceedingly good at over the years, and, after paying our bills, we started to head over. I ended up having to wait for my company who had to use the bathroom just as we were leaving. Eventually we got over to the McDonalds just as everyone else was leaving, but I still wanted my burger. Me and my two friends, Jay and Mike, ordered our food in the crowded restaurant which, oddly enough, was still bustling at 1am. The crowd in the store consisted of some students with open books in front of them sitting at one of the tables; three British soccer fans wearing matching jerseys who remind me of the soccer heads from eurotrip; and a drunk, loud, gay black guy wearing a trilby. Me and my “col lieges” made small talk with the Brit's and found they were visiting from Whales. It was going rather smoothly until the drunk guy started throwing his garbage at Mikes face. As politely as possible, Mike ignored him and continued the conversation. The drunk also continued. Then, after he ran out of garbage, he decided the most productive thing for him to do at that point in his life was to spit his partially masticated big mac on Mikes face...

Needles to say, temperatures were flared at this point and the yelling began. Tensions grew and although nobody exchanged any punches, I had lost my appetite in all the commotion. I ate one of my burgers, but where there was usually pleasure laced with the guilt of eating fast food, there was only guilt. While walking to the subway, I was about to eat my second burger when I saw a homeless woman mumbling to herself and decided it could go to better use. I handed her the burger. She took it and continued mumbling. I would be lying if I said I wasnt expecting a “thank you”, but im also not offended I didnt get one. She had more important things on her mind.

As I neared the subway stop I looked around at some construction workers paving the road, now that it was quiet, and reflected on the nights happenings. I felt it was one of the more eventful nights I had had in a long time and just as I was about to cross the street and go down in to the subway, my heel sunk in to some fresh asphalt. Normally I would be concerned for the well being of my shoes, but I found myself smiling instead. See, my shoe was nothing a little soap and water couldnt fix and I had just immortalized this most memorable night of my life by leaving a heel print on the very street it took place on. 

Just A Small Piece Of My Strange Day

Today i saw a girl hit the back of a parked truck while riding her bike. The site of her crashing wasnt nearly as disturbing as her painful cries for help. As i ran across the street i failed to remember to check both ways myself. Luckily i was ok. She was a different story, though. She kept yelling about her arm and how she thought she might have broken it. I was more concerned about her spine. By now a cop had run over followed by a small group of spectators and maybe one or two people. I fell in the former category while the latter were down by her side comforting her and assuring her it was going to be ok. I dont know why i froze. I always do in these situations. When i look back i find myself wishing i had done more. At the very least, i wish i told the police officer not to move her around so much. Already having been late for a show with friends i decided to leave. I asked the police officer if there was anything i could do to help. When he said no i was on my way.

Shaken by the entire situation i found it difficult to focus on where i was going and what i was doing. On the one hand i had a show to get to and there were multiple people around, plus a police officer, to help her. On the other hand i find myself regretting leaving and wishing i had done more. Missing a show is nothing to me if i know i could help someone in a situation like that. There wasnt much i could bring to the table anyways other than misplaced comical relief, and i didnt feel like being myself at the time. I much rather would have been one of my sisters whose extensive knowledge on first aid would have been needed.

Just makes me wonder if anything in my head will ever be needed...

I used to get mail...

Billy Got No Talent

The only reason i can think of for having gone to Heavy T.o., REALLY, was just so that at a later point in my life i could say "Well...I was at the FIRST Heavy T.o. back when it used to be good" This is actually my motivation for a lot of the things i do and already im starting to reconsider my choice in school for september. But anyways, we left at about noon to get to the show. Slowly as we got closer to out destination via TTC, more and more band-shirt wearing fans began to collect on the subway carts. By the time we got to the last bus, it was clearly just a mob of metal heads. When we finally got at the park i was greated with a quarter mile walk to the two stages in the distance. We had arrived just in time to miss the first two shitty bands and catch Volbeat instead, a band which i had never heard before but actually didnt mind all that much. Mostly because of the lead singers adorable danish accent.
    As they started playing i began to walk around and look for a vendor who was giving out earplugs (shut up). After going kiosk to kiosk for about half an hour i finally found ONE place that was selling them, a pair for TWO DOLLARS. Now, two dollars doesnt seem like much but when you look at it by its cost to weight ratio, its the most expensive thing ive ever purchased. So i bought them but immediatly found myself scared to wear them. I guess by walking around my subconscious decided for my brain that i was in danger and i couldnt relax. As i was walking i kept looking at people. Everyone had tattoos and spacers and piercings. Christ, the peircings. Its no wonder they didnt have a metal detector when getting in, if someone wanted to sneak in a gun they could just hide it in their face. I came to the conclusion that my best bet was to just avoid eye contact with everyone. They could smell the fear. I looked up and somebody walking by locked eyes with me and at that moment i knew he wanted to eat me. All i could think of was the scene from sean of the dead where everyone had to blend in with the zombies, so i simply did as the zombies did and threw him the horns while yelling 'SLAAYYYYERRRRR"...there was a split second of uncertainty, but then he returned my salute.
I was with matthew whose mom kindly provided us with ice cold bottles of water before the show, you know, those big two litre ones. My biggest mistake of the day would by far have to be drinking all of it so early in the day. What had happened was i immediatly became thirsty but had to pee desperatly at the same time, which made me feel somewhat ungrateful in a way. I told matt i was taking a leak and was off to find the bathroom. At the back of the park was lined a few dozen porta pottis. People plunked in and out of random ones. I stood in contimplation for a minute but knew i couldnt hold it in for seven more hours. With no way of telling which of the identical stalls was cleaner on the inside than the other, i said a quick prayer and chose one. I felt like i was on that game show "Uh Oh!" where you pick the wrong door and they drop a bunch of green stuff on you, except in my head the green stuff was blue...and littered with hundred of different peoples shit. It wasnt that bad. I did my best not to touch anything and was on my way.
I met back up with matthew and was watching mastadon. Next to me stood two of the biggest, scariest, Kerry King looking guys i had ever stood that close to in my life. One of them was smoking a marijuana cigarette. I knew what it smelt like cause ive been around the block a few times in my day. I was pretty tense, trying to look scarier so that nobody fucked with me, but its hard to look scary to a guy whose boot probably weighed more than me. Half way through this thought though he turned to me and offered me a puff od his joint, and with that gesture all my feelings of fear were immediatly replaced instead with a warming sense of welcome and hospitality. I kindly refused and carried on with my heroin when matt wanted to move up.

A few shows had passed and at about mid day i started to feel hungry, probably from the contact high i had acquired from being around...the air in the park. I told matt i was going for food and proceeded to hunting.The only food that appealed to me was hot dogs. I hate hot dogs by the way..so imagine the other choices. Anyways I ordered one and the guy said "five dollars". "WHAT IS THIS, PANDA MEAT!?" i yelled. He laughed and continued to grill the black and white sausage. Since the guy laughed I just pretended part of the five bucks was to feel funny and bought one. As I walked away I took a bite and choked breifly after remembering how much I just paid for a hot dog, though. I eventually finished it and within ten minutes, i wanted water. Of course a small bottle of water is three dollars and a blow job and of course i paid it, it was fucking hot. On second thought, though i should have just bought one from a vendor...

Slayer came on and a bunch of shit happened and it was really fun- the REAL highlight of the night was watching billy talent ACTUALLY GO ON STAGE AND PLAY. Bottles started finding their way to the stage, one of them full of coke actually hit the drummer head on. I thought this was a sad display of behaviour for a bunch of alleged "music fans" but in the end they shouldnt have been there and it was pretty funny to watch. I cant imagine what Mrs. Talent was going through watching that from home though. Poor woman.

If you replace all the people with chimps and put a big banana on stage you would have a similar effect.
-matt

Mayor Leaves CIty During High Concentrations Of Gay Behavior

WELL well well...it would seem that this whole time that i THOUGHT i was writing blog after amazing blog, i was instead in a comatose like state of laziness, which is a shame because i feel like some of the blogs i thought i wrote were really good. However the time has come  to wake up to reality and actually write A BLOG, and i have JUST the topic. While i read the newspaper today, i decided that the most prominent bit of news to talk about is how the mayor of the city isnt going to the gay pride parade and why i seem to have more common sense than these figures and yet am STILL not aloud to use some of the equipment at work.

Past mayors David Miller, Mel Lastman and Barbara Hall have all marched in torontos pride parade, and have shown their dedication to the community by doing so. Mayor Ford, however, recently stated that he wasnt going to be attending the parade because he instead needed to upkeep a family tradition of going up to the cottage on canada day weekend, presumably to get shit faced and have sex with his cousins. Yes, it seems cottaging is more important than attending one of the biggest parades YOUR CITY is hosting.

Now, i dont know what his dad's did to him when he was little, but apparantly it had to do with Fords immune system because hes scared he might catch the ``gay`` if he attends the gay pride parade. Over the course of Ford's campaign he has managed to establish that him and the gay community dont exactly "get along". By consistently not taking part in gay events through out the city and making comments that range anywhere between "slightly homophobic" to "why the FUCK did we vote for this guy", the mayor has made it clear where he stands on the subject of homosexuality...and book reading. In 2006, Mayor Ford had this to say about aids..

"It is very preventable. If you are not doing needles and you are not gay, you wouldn’t get AIDS probably, that’s the bottom line.”

A mayor..a mayor said this...not some misinformed teacher that was accidentally hired by a principle who didnt sleep the night before the job interview...a mayor, elected by approximately three million torontonians, all of which, dont deserve the democratic voting system they so embarrassingly abuse.

This is a man who cant understand why more women were diagnosed with aids than men in toronto, and suggested that “Maybe they’re sleeping with bisexual men.”

Its at this point in my blog where id like to stop and tell a little story. This is a story about a little german boy who grew up with a unique set of beliefs. His beliefs were his own and he never acted upon them...until he managed to work his way up in the political ranking system until he got high enough to acquire the influence necessary to start a holocaust and exterminate three million people that belonged to a specific group who HE thought didnt deserve the same rights as him because of their beliefs and lifestyle. He did all this by hiding his beliefs until it was safe for him to express them. Then, slowly but surely, the people began to blindly follow their leader like sheep following a sheep herder. And ladies and gentlemen...did you know that little boy grew up to be.....Adolf Hitler! Thats right.

Now, am i suggesting that the city of Toronto is comparable to sheep in its beliefs? No, although personally i dont trust people in general if theyre in groups larger than three. I AM suggesting, however, that its not worth finding out first hand. As mean as it is to compare Rob Ford to Hitler, if he cares about all humans and wants to show it, he'll understand that by making this comparison hes helping me prove a point. This is why comments like the ones above shouldnt be tolerated on ANY level.

The MINUTE a political figure refers to a specific group of people, and then refers to the REST of the worlds people in the same sentence, the warning lights should go off, and we should rise as one to slay them.

This is a rule ive created as a general guideline, and it works. You CANT get around it. Watch.



"I think all people are equal"   =   GOOD!

"I think all people, and blacks, are equal.   =   WARNING LIGHTS!



See! So What im trying to say is that people need to learn how to recognize the early signs of danger so that we can stop it before we accidentally empower someone who will turn canada into the next germany. NOT that theres anything wrong with germany, theyre cool and produce nice cars and all...but iiiiiii dont knooow if im ready to take my eye off of them yet...

So a deer walks in to a bar...

 Its been a while and ive been busy, what with the newborn and all, so heres a quick update on recent events.

Our family got a puppy recently and hes super cute but weve completely spoiled him and now hes got the dog equivelent to ADHD. This in turn has led to me taking the role of "disaplinarian" in the house because i dont want him to live the same life i did, getting kicked out of his classes, being put on medication and eventually wanting to become a comedian for a living. I want him to grow up stable and healthy, maybe become a doctor, who knows. In the mean time ive been laying down the hammer and sparing no expences in his schooling. Waking up, feeding him on time, as many walks a day as he needs, EVERYthing. Ill let you guys know how that works out.
in other news, i recently did a twelve hour shift at work and was slowly going crazy due to pent up anger from not getting to go home. Before the end of the night, however, a potato sent from God himself i believe, that was shaped like the male reproductive organ appeared and made my day. Theres a picture of that potato below. Viewer Discretion is adviced. Afterwards however i found another potato that resembled a heart (be it a very unhealthy heart). I kept this potato aside and waited for my manager to come by. When i saw her, i called her over and offered her the heart shaped spud and said "Take my heart, but please dont bake it." She laughed and thought it was cute. I have her right where i want her :).
Last thing i can talk about before i fall asleep on my keyboard is the bb gun i just bought. Just a cheap daisy red ryder but fun none the less. Me and francesco went to a parking lot near a park to test it out, and it worked. Not well, but it worked well enough. Then the sights fell off. Its what i get for buying the cheapest gun there was. Anyways, we looked for the sights for about 45 minutes and called the quits at about 1am.
Heres the interesting part..
So just as were leaving the parking lot (facing the park and trees) four giant, fullsized deer, yes DEER, come out of the trees and start nibbling on the leaves and branches. This was a family of DEER. How they managed to survive in such a small park is beyond me but i saw them. I tried to take a picture but it was too dark. Not that it mattered anyways , cause by the time i put my phone in my pocket the dear were already under attack by francesco and MY bb gun...one of the smaller dear got hit and ran away frantically taking its family with it...
So that was my short encounter with a pack of dear. I hope i get another chance to see these dear and maybe watch them for a bit, seeing as i feel a natural kinship with wild animals. Duck, deer, hummingbirds, all creatures are my family. Heres hoping.

Anyways im tired and my left eye just fell asleep so ill talk to you later. Goodnight.

Only after i uploaded this photo did i realize how stupid my blogs have gotten..

Take my heart, but please dont BAKE it.

My New Friend (REVISED)

After accidentally hitting "F" instead of "D" on the keyboard during my last blog, and laughing EVERY time, i thought id "improve" the blog and post it again with all the "ducks" replaced with "fucks". Enjoy.

Today I woke up to a tapping at my window. I feel like Edgar Allan Poe. Initially, I wrote off the tapping as raindrops being blown off the roof and landing on my window, seeing as there were only five or six taps at a time. But after a few more taps it struck me that the tapping was in the same spot every time. Well, this called for investigation. Expecting to see a tree branch or squirrel at my window, I pulled apart my curtains and jumped back in shock from what I saw…a fuck. A fuck had been tapping on my window all morning. Did it want something? Was it lost? I don’t know, but as soon as I made eye contact with the fuck, who was equally as surprised as I was, it started slowly waddling backwards, almost as though to say, “Whoa dude. My bad, wrong house…”

Anyways, after coming to my senses I ran to the kitchen for bread so that I could feed my unexpected guest. I grabbed a slice of bread off. It was an end piece because nobody in my family likes that part, thus making it the most expendable. When I returned, however, I couldn’t see the fuck anywhere. It had left, just like that. Im not sure if it had to do with the bugs bunny plushie laying on my bed or the fucks natural disposition towards rabbits…and there hunting season, but either way, the fuck was gone. Regardless, I opened my window and threw out some torn up pieces of bread in hopes that it would return. It still hasn’t, but tomorrow is another day so heres hoping.

I cant explain why im so excited about this fuck, but I really want it to come back. I think about making friends with it by slowly earning its trust with small food offerings and eventually building a friendship. I told my friend ana how I felt about the fuck and she said it was just sad, which is true, but ill explain my feelings anyways. See, life’s been getting me down lately. Work sucks so every time I finish im left in a bad mood, but I don’t have any friends to go to cause theyre all tied up with school, and its not like I have a girlfriend cause im too busy with other things like…lego and shit…anyways, all of this has left me feeling lonely and depressed lately.  But then, out of nowhere, heres this fuck that just comes tapping into my life…and…I don’t know…I guess I just feel like life would be a little bit better if I knew that this fuck was looking forward to seeing me everyday because being able to make this fuck happy and knowing that im important to someone would make me happy…so if youre reading this…please come back to my window tomorrow. It’s the bottom left one with the Buddha statuette in it. Ill be waiting with an entire loaf of bread…

My New Friend

Today I woke up to a tapping at my window. I feel like Edgar Allan Poe. Initially, I wrote off the tapping as raindrops being blown off the roof and landing on my window, seeing as there were only five or six taps at a time. But after a few more taps it struck me that the tapping was in the same spot every time. Well, this called for investigation. Expecting to see a tree branch or squirrel at my window, I pulled apart my curtains and jumped back in shock from what I saw…a duck. A duck had been tapping on my window all morning. Did it want something? Was it lost? I don’t know, but as soon as I made eye contact with the duck, who was equally as surprised as I was, it started slowly waddling backwards, almost as though to say, “Whoa dude. My bad, wrong house…”

Anyways, after coming to my senses I ran to the kitchen for bread so that I could feed my unexpected guest. I grabbed a slice of bread off. It was an end piece because nobody in my family likes that part, thus making it the most expendable. When I returned, however, I couldn’t see the duck anywhere. It had left, just like that. Im not sure if it had to do with the bugs bunny plushie laying on my bed or the ducks natural disposition towards rabbits…and there hunting season, but either way, the duck was gone. Regardless, I opened my window and threw out some torn up pieces of bread in hopes that it would return. It still hasn’t, but tomorrow is another day so heres hoping.

I cant explain why im so excited about this duck, but I really want it to come back. I think about making friends with it by slowly earning its trust with small food offerings and eventually building a friendship. I told my friend ana how I felt about the duck and she said it was just sad, which is true, but ill explain my feelings anyways. See, life’s been getting me down lately. Work sucks so every time I finish im left in a bad mood, but I don’t have any friends to go to cause theyre all tied up with school, and its not like I have a girlfriend cause im too busy with other things like…lego and shit…anyways, all of this has left me feeling lonely and depressed lately.  But then, out of nowhere, heres this duck that just comes tapping into my life…and…I don’t know…I guess I just feel like life would be a little bit better if I knew that this duck was looking forward to seeing me everyday because being able to make this duck happy and knowing that im important to someone would make me happy…so if youre reading this…please come back to my window tomorrow. It’s the bottom left one with the Buddha statuettein it. Ill be waiting with an entire loaf of bread…

Knife Safety With Alex

Part I

The Restaurant

I cut my finger open recently at work. It was a Saturday night, super busy.  I remember I was supposed to leave about fifty times that day. I started at 9am and every time I was about to leave, somebody would run out of something and I would have to make it. 

6pm: “Alex! Were out of stuffed mushrooms!”

6:30pm:”Alex! We need more Hawaiian Rib Eye Marinade!”

            7pm: “Alex! This stuffed mushrooms and rib eye marinade tastes like shit make it again!”

Just as im finishing up and about to leave, the salad guy runs out of crumbled blue cheese. Well, fuck, Im a block of blue cheese away from going home. My initial instinct is to put together the grating machine which quickly and SAFELY crumbles the blue cheese. But as I begin to assemble the machine, my then kitchen manager approached me with a revolutionary concept. Why not… get ready for it…crumble the blue cheese….WITH A KNIFE! At the time, his method seemed as logical as painting a wall with a fork, so I couldn’t help but ask for clarification. It remained just as logical. My clarification was a hand gesture of what I should do with the knife…this is the extent of my works training. I imagine his safety course consisted of a hand puppet telling workers that if at any point during the day they see blood on the cutting board, they should stay where they are and wait for an adult to come find them. But I digress, this is subject for another blog…or legal statement, whichever comes first. So I begin trying to cut the slick, greasy, round edge of the blue cheese wheel. Slicing the blue cheese thin enough to crumble was one obstacle, but holding the wheel in place so that it didn’t slide around was another problem. In order to safely cut anything, your one hand needs to always be out of dangers way. However, in order to hold the blue cheese in place, I ended up having to put my hand directly IN dangers way, and danger, as fate would have it, was determined not to let anything get in its way.  

                The knife went along my finger and sliced it open with the ease of a lightsaber through a confederate droid. My immediate reaction wasn’t anger but instead amazement at the sight of a wound similar to those in 300 and Gladiator. I took a moment to re-enact my favourite scene, then it was off to seek first aid. Armed with a tiny alcoholic swab and a bandage, I went to the bathroom and and started rinsing off my cut. I realized when the bandage wouldn’t stick to my finger cause of all the blood that I might need something else. Back to the first aid box I went. At this point, I was standing there with one arm under my armpit and another rummaging through the equipment looking for something that looked like a med kit from Call of Duty. I grabbed a few things and went back to the bathroom to try them out. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find an application for any of it, though, in retrospect the eye wash bottle was a wasted attempt. By this point I had dripped blood all over the floor and sink and pretty much everything else in the bathroom, and managed to leave a pretty solid trail of blood leading to the first aid box as well. My friend Jason saw this and decided to investigate, and, it just so happens I forgot to lock the bathroom door. So Jason opens the door and bears witness to a room covered in blood and me frantically trying to bandage myself up with pretty much the most useless medical equipment I could have grabbed. He saw the cut and said, “Bro, bro…you gotta go to the hospital bro.” So I wrapped some paper towel around my finger and discreetly walked up to my manager who was in the middle of…pretty much preparing and sending out thirty plates of food on the busiest night of the week and said, “James, are you busy” This turned out to be a bad choice of words so I reworded my statement. “When you get a mo’ I kinda need to see you in the back” And with all the subtly in the world, he yelled out “WHAT DID YOU DO!? DID YOU CUT YOURSELF!? SON OF A BITCH!” Everyone knowing about my injury really didn’t help but at least he got the message. So we go to the back and he wraps my finger up and gives me forty bucks for a cab to the hospital. I got my stuff and was leaving the restaurant when he yelled out one last thing, “Make SURE you get a receipt from the taxi!” His concern for my well being was heart warming and almost had me in tears. Just like that I was off to spend my Saturday night in the emergency waiting room. Who knows what evil lurks in the dark dank of Scarborough General Hospital…